#this is reminding me of the time i tried to map out the bunks

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

thank you 🥺😭 I enjoyed this way too much

Random Details in the Newsboys' Lodging House

@thatoneandlonelyemo2005 this one's for you :)

This isn't technically the lodging house, but look! An advertisement outside of what one can only assume is a bookstore for 10 cent novels right outside the lodging house. Is this perhaps where Jack bought (or stole) his cowboy comic?

Specs is not only sleeping in the most unnatural looking position known to man, but he is also exhibiting serial killer behavior by sleeping with his glasses on.

There are four milk bottles (and two darker bottles) lined up on the floor behind Kloppman in this picture. Imagine, if you will, Kloppman going out of his way to make sure his boys have milk to drink and then try not to cry about it.

My beautiful child boots is sleeping with his boots.

In the shot above you can really get a sense of all of the drawings, prints, clippings, and postcards that cover the walls of the bunk room. In Newsies UK, Jack's 'penthouse' is decorated in a similar fashion (the above picture doesn't quite do it justice but I'm not sure if I am at liberty of sharing boot screenshots.) It's really cool to see, whether intentional or not.

I also wonder whether these drawings and pictures decorating the lodging house walls might have inspired the musical in making Jack an artist?

Crutchy's hat is on Jack's bunk. Theory one: Jack and Crutchy are best friends/brothers and trust each other with their belongings. Theory two: Jack and Crutchy are best friends/brothers and Jack stole Crutchy's hat like siblings do.

Above you can see more drawings/pictures as well as the monopoly that Racetrack and Snipeshooter have on cups and drinking water. These are prime location bunks. If you wake up in the middle of the night and need a cup of water, you have to do through them (+ possibly Blink and Snipe's bunkmate who doesn't know how to wear socks).

More drawings and yup that is Mr. Rough Rider Roosevelt himself. Aka more proof that Francis Sullivan Jack Kelly is Teddy's biggest fan.

Bless these poor boys who don't know how to make their beds. Once again you can see more drawings and pictures tacked around the room. There's also a desk and chairs under the window with an oil lamp.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 7: Old Friends

Secrets can only stay secret for so long. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None but whole fic is violent and smutty so Minors DNI. 18+. No use of Y/N.

Length: 6.6k

Din was relieved that, when you emerged, you gave the girl a broad smile and asked if she wanted to play a game before leading her to the hold. He stayed out of your way, trying to watch you without showing that he was watching you. It was pointless. He knew that. In a few weeks or months he’d leave you on Dantooine to start your new life - one that would hopefully stick now that the war was done. There was no point in being your… friend.

“Let me show you some good climbing tricks,” you said to the girl, getting down on her level. “Just in case you don’t always have a jetpack on when you’re all grown up….” 

You helped her maneuver onto a crate, showing her how to gauge where to grab, good footholds, how to leverage her weight to make things easier. He smiled. You looked happy - or the closest to happy he’d ever seen you. It was the first time he thought you looked your age, like you had the hope of a life that fit you. And it wasn’t one that belonged on a bounty hunter’s ship. 

Layari started getting cranky and yawning earlier than Din had expected. He really wasn’t used to children, hadn’t spent much time around them and didn’t particularly want to. She ended up passing out on your lap as you read to her aloud from the data pad, one of your hands steadily running through her hair. 

“Would it be OK if we put her in your bunk?” You whispered, the girl nestled against your chest. “I think she might sleep through the night there….” 

Din looked at you both for a second longer and had a moment of wondering what you’d be like with a child of your own. He wondered if you’d ever even considered that as a possibility for yourself or if you’d spent so long being used by others you hadn’t thought of your own life. 

“I’ll take her,” he said, gently lifting the girl from your arms. She didn’t stir, just pressed herself against his armor, smiling a little. He realized that he probably reminded her of her father. He looked down at her. It was strange, thinking his armor was a comfort to someone. 

He found you in he cockpit after he put the girl to bed, in your usual place against the viewer, watching the stars blur past. 

“We’ll get there tomorrow,” he said, standing next to the hatch, arms crossed. You nodded, looking away from the stars and at him. 

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, being away from your child like that. The sooner we get her back, the better.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, sitting up a little straighter. Din frowned below his helmet. 

“For what?” 

“Everything,” you shrugged. “I fucked up at the party, I could have done that cleaner. I shouldn’t have broken down then, I’m better than that. And it’s not your job to take care of me when I do…” 

“No,” he shook his head, cutting you off. “But I wanted to.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Does this make us friends?” You asked, watching him. He wasn’t sure why but sometimes, when you looked at him, it was like you saw past everything - the beskar and the flight suit and the silence that came from years of working alone - and he had no choice but trust you with no defenses. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t have many friends.” 

You laughed. 

“Me either.” You looked at him for a moment longer. “Got a holochess board?” 

He couldn’t seem to get ahead of you in the game, the pair of you playing three and you winning each one. Your strategy was all over the map, you were unpredictable but you were effective. 

After the first game, you proposed making things interesting. Every time one of you lost a major piece, you had to share a story of a time you felt like a fool and take a shot of Corellian whiskey. Din told you about the first time he tried to fight a rancor, laughing as he explained how a lucky move being the only thing that kept him from losing his head. You told him about a time you tried to sneak into an Imperial base only to get lost in a ventilation shaft. 

Your laugh was contagious and grew easier with each drink, eventually gripping his arm across the table to stay upright, almost falling over in your glee. 

After the third game, you fought to get your breath back, glancing over to his quarters, making sure the child was still asleep. 

“You should sleep,” he said. Your hand was still on his arm. He didn’t want you to go. 

“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled. “It’ll be better tomorrow… This doesn’t happen a lot but when it does… anyway, it’ll be better tomorrow.” 

“It’s OK if it’s not,” Din said. 

“It will be,” you smiled. “Thanks… this was nice. Being… whatever this is. It’s nice.” 

He watched you go to set up your bed and he went to the cockpit, needing to put space between you before he wanted that space any less.

***

You really should have known not to drink after having one of your episodes. You felt lightheaded when you laid down, pleasantly so. The Mandalorian was different than you’d expected when all his guards were down. He still wasn’t a huge talker, but you were getting better at reading him. He was funny, a bit sarcastic and obviously smart. He was decent at holochess and you imagined he’d kick your ass if he had anyone to play with regularly. You were a bit out of practice too, though. It had been a while since you’d played with Sosha, her enjoying the game to keep sharp. You were the only one who would regularly give her a run for her money, though she won a bit more than she lost with you. 

The first time you’d ever been drunk was with Sosha, too. You were 16, the only two people on a ship and you’d found a stash of Spice liquor. You were jumping, had all night, and you figured if you were going to die in a war you may as well live a little first. 

It had been fun, though strange in hindsight. A bright spot in what had otherwise been a nightmare. You fell asleep remembering. So you should have known I would have turned into dreams. 

They started hazy, an adult voice and words coming from 11-year-old Sosha’s lips, stormtroopers running for her and away from you as you raced to put yourself between them, them never catching her and you never catching them. Just running and running and running until everything around you swam in starlight like you were flowing through hyperspace. 

Then, things shifted and you forgot where you really were. Dagres was there, giving you his cocky smile, Sosha rolling her eyes and calling him a flyboy but smiling when she noticed the two of you watching each other. Then, suddenly, he was gone, so close and yet so far and you couldn’t reach him as he fell, darkness swallowing him. 

Sosha was there then, beside you and behind you, alone on a planet that barely had the right air mix to be habitable. You were always short of breath and you were hiding from the Empire, two of them searching the area around the wreckage of your ship, you trying to keep Sosha hidden and safe. 

So when you felt hands on you, you fought. You pushed and screamed for Sosha to run and tried to see if you cold get your fingers around a throat or into eyes or your teeth into flesh. But all your fingers could find was fabric and metal. You tried to use your head as a battering ram, but your shoulders were forced down onto the mat below you. 

“Doll!” The Mandalorian was shouting, his fingers gripping your shoulders so hard you could feel them digging into your flesh. “It’s me! You’re safe, it’s OK!” 

You went limp, breathless beneath him, eyes darting around as where you were caught back up to you. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, you were sure he could hear it and you fought to slow it down, breathing through the feeling of panic. 

“You’re OK,” he said again and you were suddenly aware of his weight on you. His hands released your shoulders hesitantly before he climbed off of you. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I was dreaming…” 

“It’s OK,” he said, sounding breathless himself, flat on his back beside you. “Are you OK?” 

“I will be,” you nodded, breaths calming. You looked over at him. “Was I screaming?” 

“Not until I tried to wake you,” he turned his head to look at you. “You were thrashing, I was worried….” 

You just nodded, looking back at the ceiling. 

“Who’s Sosha?” He asked after both of your breaths had returned to normal. 

“A friend,” you said quietly. “We worked together, too, for a time.” 

“Rebellion?” 

You paused. 

“Rebellion-adjacent.”

You heard him shift beside you, the soft clatter of his armor on the floor. 

“You miss her,” he said. Like so many other things, it wasn’t a question. For the man behind the mask, you were very easy to read. 

“Yeah.” 

“I could take you to her instead,” he said. “We don’t have to go to Dantooine. Assuming she’s not…” 

“She’s alive,” you cut him off. “But it’s not possible. We’d both like it to be but it’s not.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” 

You both lay there in silence for a while, your hand slipping along the cold metal floor of the hold until you found his. He jerked it away at first, surprised, but slowly brought his palm to yours, lacing his fingers through your own. 

“Will you stay with me?” You asked quietly. “It’s better when there’s someone…” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll stay.” 

You rolled to face him and he gently adjusted to be against you, his hand at your waist, thumb softly tracing the outline of your rib. His helmet lightly met your forehead and you curled into him. Even with the armor, he was somehow warm. You wondered how he got used to sleeping with it on, if people who slept in armor ever woke up afraid they were dying. Your hand went to his chest, rising and falling with his breaths, a constant calming force. 

“Thank you,” you yawned. 

“Anytime.” 

The Mandalorian was gone when you woke up, but you were feeling more like yourself as you heard the small giggles of Layari from the galley. You got up and quietly found them, Mando’s back to you as he sat beside the girl. She was showing him something on the data pad with one hand, a spoon in the other as she ate breakfast. You smiled. 

“Mirdala, ad’ika,” he said to her. “Jii…” 

She looked up and saw you watching, her face lighting up. 

“Mesh’la!” She jumped up, took your hand and dragged you to the already overcrowded table. Mando looked up at you and shook his head a bit.

“Lek,” he looked back to her. “Mesh’la. But we should speak Basic, she doesn’t speak Mando’a.” 

“Don’t stop on my account,” you said, finding a ration that sounded passable. “I’ve never heard Mando’a before. It’s lovely.” 

You perched on the small counter and watched as they spoke back and forth. It was clear Layari was still learning, Mando gently correcting her word order or pronunciation from time to time. You tried to see if there was some linguistic root you could recognize and to piece things together, but there wasn’t one you seemed to be familiar with. 

It sounded harsh, at first, but when you just listened for a while, there was a musicality and flow to it you enjoyed. You could have been happy to listen to them speak back and forth all day. 

But before too long, you sighed and went to get ready for whatever Nevarro had to offer. Layari wandered out for the galley as you were braiding your hair, sitting in front of your usual crate in the hold. She stood next to you, hands behind her back, standing just taller than you from your place on the floor. 

“Yes, Darling Girl?” You smiled at her, not fully turning her way as you pinned a braid into place on your head. 

“Can you do mine, too, Mesh’la?” She asked, biting her lip. 

“Of course,” you smiled, scooting back and patting the floor in front of you. She plopped down, wiggling happily. “Can you braid?” She shook her head. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

You demonstrated the most basic technique, getting her long hair back from her face. She smiled, watching her reflection in the mirror, toying with a finished braid, twisting it between her fingers. Mando came up behind you, arms crossed, watching. 

“Ba’vodu!” She met the eye line of the helmet in his reflection, holding up the braid. “Mesh’la… What’s it called?” She looked at you. 

“Braiding,” you smiled, smoothing her hair as you finished another braid. 

“Mesh’la is braiding me!” 

You bit back the giggle threatening to bubble out of your throat. 

“Braiding your hair, ad’ika,” he said as you tied off the final braid. 

“There,” you smiled, draping the four braids over her shoulders. “All done.” 

She squealed before getting up and running the length of the hold, braids streaming out behind her. You watched her for a moment, awed by her resiliency. You knew better than anyone that one day, likely sooner rather than later, she’d need to reckon with what had happened to her. But, for now, she was just happy to have her hair braided. 

“We’re coming up on Nevarro,” Mando said, looking away from the girl and to your reflection as you started braiding the last chunk of hair that still hung loose. “Would you like to come with us?” 

You twisted to look at him instead of his reflection. 

“Yeah,” you smiled a little. “I would.” 

He nodded stiffly, going back to watching the girl. You finished braiding and got to your feet, brushing off the basic dress you’d put on. 

“What does she keep calling me?” You asked, still watching her. “And what are you calling her and she calling you, for that matter?” 

“She’s ad’ika,” he said. “It just means little one or a child that you’re close to. She’s calling me ba’vodu, which is uncle.”  

You nodded slowly, watching him. He fell silent, watching her run. 

“And me?” You asked eventually, laughing a little. “You won’t hurt my feelings or anything, promise.” 

“Well, she’s very fond of you,” he said, hedging his words. “And most of the women she’s known are always masked…” You watched as he struggled to string the words together. Eventually, he sighed and spit it out. “Mesh’la is beautiful.” 

You smiled in spite of yourself. 

“Too bad her dad wants her back,” you gave him a wink. “Otherwise, I’d keep her.” 

“I have a contact in Nevarro,” he said. “Layari’s father is meeting us there. He’ll also probably have more work for me but I know I need to get you to Dantooine…”

“I’m not in a hurry,” you said quickly, glancing over to him. “Feel free to do a job or two first. I… It’s fine. I don’t mind.” 

He gave you a stiff nod before going to the cockpit. 

Nevarro was different than other places you’d been. Maybe closest to Tatooine, a certain lawlessness to it that felt vibrant but threatening. You kept close to the girl, letting her run but not letting her out of your sight. The dress you’d chosen was nondescript but had enough pocket room in the skirts to stash your blaster and your knife. You might have been tired of killing but that wouldn’t stop you from taking the hand of anyone who touched Layari. 

Mando reminded you of the rebellion soldiers you used to travel with as you walked through town. His head never just looked straight ahead, instead scanning the city, always on guard. But you made it to his contact without incident, Layari happy to just have more room to run and jump than she had in her cell or on the ship. 

“Mando!” A large, broad man - though not quite as large as the Mandalorian - met you in the street, his arms wide. You instinctively tucked Layari behind you as she ran past, holding her there. You looked the man over. He was older than you - the Mandalorian, too, you thought - and seemed like the type who was out for himself and no-one else. “How’ve you been? Busy, I hope.” 

“Busy enough,” Mando said. His voice was friendly, enough that he didn’t entirely distrust this man. You loosened your grip on Layari. 

“Who have we here?” He asked, turning his attention you. You gave him a small, polite smile and offered him your hand when he reached for you. He took it, kissing the back of it while holding your gaze. 

“Just cargo he picked up a few quarries back,” you said. 

“Greef Karga. A man who got out of the game too soon if there’s cargo like you around,” he smiled, releasing your hand. Layari peeked around from behind your skirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric. He smiled and got down to her level. “And here’s the little one I’ve heard so much about! I’ve got your father inside, would you like to see him?” 

You looked down just in time to catch her nodding quickly. You took her hand. The man looked up to you and the Mandalorian. 

“Come on in Mando,” he said. “I believe we have other business.” 

Mando kept an eye on Karga as you went inside, putting himself between the man and yourself. You kept Layari’s hand in yours all the way inside. In an office at the back of the building was a man in armor like Mando’s. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you before now that you wouldn’t know what to call the Mandalorian when there was more than one of them in the room. He seemed so singular you’d almost forgotten that Mando wasn’t his actual name. The two men greeted each other before Layari almost tore from your grasp and ran for her father.

“Buir!” She yelled, jumping for him before he’d had a chance to even open his arms for her. She just trusted that he would catch her. And she was right. He caught her and pulled her into his chest, clutching her to him. He almost fell to his knees he was holding her so tight, whispering things you didn’t understand in Mando’a. It was almost too intimate to watch, it felt intrusive. So you pretended to look out a nearby window, absently toying with a stand of your hair. Karga slid alongside you, putting his hand on the small of your back. You fought the urge to stiffen. 

“Why don’t we leave them to get reacquainted,” he said, gesturing you to another room. You followed, door closing behind you, leaving the pleasant sound of Mando’a behind. Karga pulled out a chair for you at a table. 

“Tea?” He asked. 

“Please,” you replied, taking the seat. He pushed it in for you and made you both a cup of tea before sitting across from you. 

“So,” he said, taking a sip and sitting back in his chair. You straightened, chin up. You knew posturing when you saw it. “I heard Mando had help getting the girl.” 

“Seems like a hard thing to do alone,” you shrugged, taking a sip of tea. 

“Heard it was a young woman,” he said, eyeing you. You set the cup in front of you. You wondered how close a contact this was for the Mandalorian. If he was a threat, you’d have to hurt him. Hopefully that wouldn’t hurt the only way you had off this planet, too. After you were silent for a moment, he shrugged. “Been working with Mando for a while. He usually works alone.” 

“Wouldn’t know,” you said, taking another sip of tea. It was good. “I’ve only seen him handle a few quarries and even then, I stay on the ship. Just cargo.” 

“Not this time you weren’t,” he replied, leaning in close now. “So tell me, cargo. What skills do you have that made our mutual friend come to you for help?” 

You leaned forward, your arms on the table so your face was just inches from his. 

“People skills,” you smiled. He barked a laugh before sitting back in his seat again. 

“He is lacking there,” he laughed, looking you over again. “I could see how you may not be, if you’re not trying to freeze someone out. What’s your name?” 

You considered him for a moment as you took another sip of tea. 

“Amira,” you replied. 

“Amira,” he repeated. He didn’t question it. Not as insightful as the Mandalorian, then. “Tell me, Amira. Are you looking for work?” 

“Not at the moment,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. You were going to meet your mother’s cousin on Dantooine. You weren’t sure what you’d do after that, but you’d need to lie low for a bit. “I’m not planning to settle anywhere near here.” 

“What if you weren’t planning to settle at all,” he said, twisting the tea cup in his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to have people with Mando’s skillset on the books but I have plenty of jobs that require a… lighter touch. Someone like you could make a very comfortable living. I could front you a ship, get you started…” 

“Have me indebted to you in both credits and favor,” you quirked a brow at him. He laughed again. 

“You don’t miss a trick, do you?” He said.

“I wouldn’t have lived through what I have if I did,” you shrugged. You considered him for a moment. “Mr. Karga…” 

“Greef, please,” he said. You smiled. Just the response you were hoping for. 

“Greef,” you said, leaning forward again. “I’m curious, answer something for me. Are you interested in the skills you heard a woman connected to the Mandalorian has or are you interested in a way to manipulate him?” 

“Oh, you I like,” he said, giving you a half smile. He took a sip of his tea. “Honestly? Bit of both. He doesn’t… work well with others. But he always gets the job done, so what do I care? Anyone he decided to partner with is intriguing. How did you navigate that… sticky situation?” 

“Talking to the right people in the right ways,” you said.

“A valuable skill indeed,” he replied. “And even after hearing that, I hadn’t expected him to arrive with you. I’ve never seen him travel with someone who wasn’t a quarry or a mission…” 

“I’m cargo,” you cut him off. 

“We both know you’re more than that, Amira,” he crossed one leg over the other. “He could have just left you on the ship or told you to find something to keep you busy in town while we met. Instead, he brought you here. You’re intriguing for that reason alone.” He took another sip of his tea, finishing his cup before leaning across the table, leaving his face just inches from yours again. “I’m surprised he’s left us alone this long.”

As if on cue, the door opened with a hiss and the Mandalorian strode in, one hand on his blaster, going for Karga. 

***

It had been so long since Din had seen another Mandalorian, he hadn’t even noticed when Karga had taken you from the room. It was disorienting when he realized that you weren’t there and even more so when he realized that he wasn’t sure when you’d left or where you’d gone. 

At first, he was afraid that you’d gone out into the city on your own. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself - you obviously could - but what if something happened to you and he didn’t know? Finding you bleeding in his hold seemed to feel worse over time, not better. Your agonized screams, the frailness of your life seemed to haunt him. Not knowing where you were scared him. 

“She’s in there,” his brother Mandalorian jerked his head toward a door. “I’m sure she’s fine.” 

Din grunted but didn’t wait for him to elaborate. 

Luckily, you hadn’t gone far. You were sitting with Karga, the two of you leaning over a small table like you were either adversaries or lovers, eyes locked and arms crossed. Your attention flitted to him for a moment and Karga smirked, smug. 

“If you have dealings with me, you can take them up with me,” he said, gently grasping your shoulder and tugging you back in the chair so he could try to put himself between you and Karga. He felt your eyes on him. “She stays out of it.” 

Karga looked at you, a small smile on his face before turning his attention to the Mandalorian. 

“Just getting to know your associated a bit better,” he smiled. “Interested in understanding the woman who could capture the attention of Mando…” 

“I’m just cargo,” you said. He could hear the eye-roll in your voice. 

“She stays out of it,” he said, ignoring you both. His hand twitched toward his blaster and Karga noticed. 

“She’ll only be involved if you involve her,” he sat back from the table, smiling. “At least, when she’s here with you. If she takes me up on an offer later then…” 

“How’s Layari?” You cut in before the situation got any more tense. 

“With her father,” Mando replied. “He’d like to meet you.” 

“In that case,” you smiled graciously at Karga. “I appreciate the tea and the insight.” 

“Always a pleasure to entertain good company,” he smiled, giving you a nod. You gave Din a look as you passed, your eyes never failing to find his beneath his visor. You brushed against his arm as you went by and it was like it shocked him, acutely aware of your proximity even through his flight suit. He watched you go, eyes lingering on the door even after it closed. 

“I mean it, Karga,” he said, turning back to him. “She’s not on the table.” 

“I never thought she was something I could buy, Mando,” he said, watching him closely. “But you can’t blame me for trying to talk her into joining the guild. She’d do well. She’s an adult, she deserves to make her own choices.”

Mando grunted. 

“You owe me four quarries,” Karga said, sitting back in his seat as he changed the subject. 

“I have two,” the Mandalorian replied. “We detoured to Coruscant before I could get the other two. I still have time.” 

“I’ll take the two you have now,” he replied. “And see about extending the other two if you take on one more job for me.” 

Behind the helmet, his eyes narrowed. 

“What job?” 

Karga smiled and Mando sighed. It’d be a long one, then. 

When he went to find you, he’d gotten the job and two more pucks from Karga. The job he was torn on. It wasn’t really in his wheelhouse but it would take a while and it was one that you could come along for - that it would be useful for you to be along for. It would keep you closer for longer. But that isn’t why he’d agreed to it. Or, at least, wouldn’t admit that that’s why he’d agreed to it. 

You were on the floor of Karga’s office, Layari on your lap when Mando came in. Joha, Layari’s father, stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching you and the girl. She was showing you something on a data pad, babbling away while you nodded along. 

“She insisted… well, she just calls her beautiful, but… she insisted on showing her every image we have of home,” Joha said in Mando’a, voice low. “She wouldn’t leave without it. Your woman is kind, though, hasn’t acted bored once.” 

“Not my woman,” Din grumbled. 

“Whatever she is, I owe her my life,” Joha said. “You, too. Karga said you burned the place down and killed the man who took my girl. She’s safe because of you.” 

Mando tried to not look surprised. You must have gone back in to set the blaze. “Before I burn this whole fucking place to the ground.” You’d actually done it, even thinking you’d have been left there to burn with it. 

“If either of you ever need anything,” Joha continued. “You need only ask.”

He turned to Din and the gripped each other’s forearms in a firm shake. 

“Layari,” Joha said, changing to Basic and turning to you and the girl. You both looked up from the data pad. “Come now. We need to go home.” 

Layari looked at you and you smiled at her before she threw her arms around your neck, whispering something in your hear. You smiled wider. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you said softly, adding something in Bothese and giving her a tight hug. The girl went to her father, who picked her up, gave Din a nod, and left. You watched them go, a sad smile on your face, before getting to your feet. You had a mask, too, Din had learned. It was a look of calm assurance, total confidence, quiet power. It slid into place, your back straight and chin held high. 

“I’ve never been to Nevarro,” you said, sounding like the princess Din had first thought you were when you’d met. “Anything to write home about?” 

“You’re not missing much,” Karga said, joining you. “Besides, Mando has some work to attend to that means leaving sooner rather than later. Work you’re welcome to join him on if…” 

Mando’s hand went to his blaster. 

“I’ll let him discuss that with you himself,” Karga said. He watched Din as he moved to stand in front of you, your back still straight, face still composed. “But my offer still stands if you change your mind on… settling down.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, offering him your hand. He shook it this time before both of you went back out into the city, stopping to pick up rations and other supplies. 

“It’s going to be quiet,” you said as you both made your way back to the Razor Crest. 

“Won’t have to watch where I’m walking quite so much,” Mando said and you looked at him, a hint of surprise on your face. 

“Was that a joke, Mando?” You asked, smiling a little. He shrugged and you elbowed him playfully in the side. 

“Solmé?” Someone called. Mando only noticed your reaction because he was so preoccupied with everything you did. Your head almost turned, an automatic reaction to someone calling your name, and your stride stuttered ever so slightly. But you disguised it, adjusting your neck and staring straight ahead. “Solmé, is that you?” 

Your pace increased a bit and Din started looking for the person calling for you, readying to put himself between the two of you. But it was just a young man, around your age, jogging over to you from across the market, smiling and waving to catch your attention as he ran up. 

““Solmé!” He smiled even bigger, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s really you…” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to look confused. “But I don’t know who you’re talking about.” 

You carefully removed yourself from his grip and walked off. Din followed closely, but so did the other man. 

“No,” he said, catching up and walking beside you. “I know it’s you, Solmé. I can’t believe you’re alive! We all thought you were dead, we found Dagres’ body and you were nowhere, we all just assumed…” 

“I’m not who you’re looking for,” you cut him off. The man looked to Din, his eyebrows knitting together. He lowered his voice. 

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asked. “Is he forcing you to be here? Because if he is…” 

“No one is forcing me to be anywhere,” you said, keeping your voice low. “And I don’t know who you’re talking about, I’m not who you seem to think I am I just have one of those faces…” 

“No,” he shook his head, taking you by the shoulders. “I know it’s you, Solmé, I’d know you anywhere. We looked for you, after the battle. Dagres asked me to look out for you if anything happened to him but no one could find you and so many bodies were torn apart we lost hope…” 

You spotted an alley and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into the shadows. The Mandalorian moved with you, a hand at his blaster, ready to fire. 

“Teav,” you said quickly. 

“I knew it was you,” he pulled you into a tight hug, crushing you to his body. “I never thought I’d see you again, Solmé…”

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick. You hugged him back. 

“Is this guy…” he glared at Din, whose blaster hand twitched. “I’ll get you out…” 

“No,” you said, stepping back from him. “No, he’s helping me, we’re just passing through here.” 

“Let me take you home,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“I can’t go home, Teav,” you said quietly. 

“Yes you can,” he searched your face, like he was looking for a joke. “C’mon. With your connections? You can always come home…” 

“Not safely,” you said quietly. “Not for me or anyone who knew me then. Including you and Sosha. You know some of the things I did, what that would mean for people who still know me. You have to let me go, Teav. You thought Solmé was dead because she is. She can never go back.” 

“He asked me to take care of you,” he touched your shoulder gently. “And I told him I would.” 

“I never needed to be taken care of,” you shook your head and gave him a half smile. “Not then and not now.” 

“I know,” he nodded. “That’s why he asked me to do it. Because he wasn’t sure anyone else ever would. He wanted something good for you and I can’t…” 

“It will be good,” you reached your hand to his neck and pulled his forehead to your own. “It will. The war is over, we can leave it behind. It just will take more work for me than it will for you. But it will be good.” 

He closed his eyes and nodded. 

“Tell no one you saw me, Teav,” you said softly. “No one. Solmé is dead and she has to stay dead. It’s what’s best for everyone.” 

“But…” 

“Sosha knows,” you said. He seemed taken aback. “I’m sorry if she lied to you, but you can’t tell her. No one can know where I am now, it’s not safe.” 

“How could she have just let you leave?” He asked, shaking his head. 

“It’s best for everyone,” you said. “I promise.” 

He sighed heavily before pulling you into a hug. You waited for a moment and hugged him back. 

“I’m so sorry, Solmé,” he said softly. 

“Me too,” you said. He gave you a squeeze and then stepped back, giving another look at the Mandalorian. 

“You’re sure you’re OK with him?” He asked. 

“Teav,” you smiled and laughed a little. “Do you really think one man could get me to do anything I didn’t want? Even that one?” 

He laughed. 

“Suppose you’re right.” 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” you said. “Even if Dagres asked you to. But… It’s nice. Knowing that he asked, that he cared.” 

“He loved you,” he said. You closed your eyes and nodded. “And Solmé? It was worth it for him. I promise you, it was. 

“It was good to see you,” he said. “Even if no one can know.” 

The two of you shared a hug and he left, you watching the place he’d been in front of you well after he had disappeared. Eventually, you turned to Din. 

“What are the chances Karga had us followed and heard any of that?” You asked. Your mask was in place, no sign of the encounter at all. “I can’t afford to have a man like Karga know that… Solmé is alive.” 

“We weren’t followed,” Din said. He tried to think of the right thing to say to you but couldn’t find it. You finally looked at him, your eyes finding his immediately. 

“Let’s get off this rock,” you said, turning and heading for the ship. 

You were silent until the Mandalorian started the jump, with you almost tearing out of the cockpit the second you could. He made sure everything was running smoothly before he followed you. 

You weren’t in one of your hiding places this time. Instead, you’d pulled out the whiskey from the night before, sitting with your back against a crate, looking up at the ceiling with your eyes closed. 

“Whiskey?” You tilted the bottle in his direction, not looking at him. 

“Sure.” 

He took the bottle, turning away from you and raising his helmet just enough to take a drink. He left the seal of the helmet off before sitting beside you, close enough that your leg touched his. 

“Heard you burned the place down,” he said after a moment, handing you the liquor. 

“Mm,” you said, looking at him, your head resting against the crate. “Seemed like the best way to keep them from trying that again for a while. That and killing enough of them.” 

“That’s why you went back.” 

You just took another drink. You didn’t need to respond. He knew the answer. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, passing the whiskey back and forth. 

“I can help you,” he said eventually. “I can protect you from whatever - whoever - it is you’re running from. I can help. But I need to know.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you said, twisting the whiskey bottle in your fingers, watching the liquid slip around the glass before you sighed and looked at him. “But you deserve to know. I’m a risk - an even bigger one now that someone’s recognized me. I don’t think it will get back to anyone looking for me but I didn’t think I’d run into someone from my old life in a small town on a planet I’d never been to, either, so what do I know?” 

“I can help,” he said again. He meant it. Even more, he wanted to help. Wanted to give you what you needed so you could rest, find some of the happiness he’d seen you capable of the two days Layari had been aboard. 

You looked at him, the uncanny ability you had to find his eyes and hold his gaze on display again. It felt like you were looking right through him, past the helmet and armor and skin. You sighed, your gaze turning pleading, like you were begging for him to let you maintain the illusion. He didn’t give in, and you started at the beginning. 

[tazlov]

Viridian Mercy: Chapter 4

It was about nighttime in local time when I landed the ship, while Veth was sleeping in her bunk bed. I was wide awake, though. My thoughts have been pretty scrambled lately.

She cares for me, but I don't know if it's just part of the job, or if it's something else. She has certainly impressed me so far, if that flare trick had anything to say about her performance. And she was small… I don't know. I guess I shouldn't get too deep into it. Who knows where that train of thought would take me.

“...Hi, Sam.” Veth stretched as she rolled out of bed in just her boxers. (She has no lady bits to speak of.) I tried my best not to stare.

“Morning, doc. Or, I guess, good evening.” I gestured to the front window, and Veth rubbed her eyes as she gazed outside. Please, just put a shirt on…

“Woah… where are we?” She seemed dazzled by the gentle lights and bioluminescent masses of flora outside. “Does it have an atmosphere?”

“A poisonous one, yeah.” I took this as an excuse to stop glancing at her, and looked up which planet this was on our star maps. “Welcome to the sleepy planet of Phasorium.”

“I've never been! Wanna check it out?” Veth grinned at me, and I couldn't stop myself from snickering.

“Sure. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Oh, gods, don't say that out loud.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled as she retreated from the co-pilot's seat, finally finding some clothes to slip on before her space suit.

I followed her in kind, finding a different helmet as my old one had been damaged, and zipped up my suit. I turned on my radio. “Check.”

“Check.” Veth replied, lowering her visor. Go time.

We stepped into the airlock, the air hissing as we depressurized, then stepped into luscious greens and blues, squishy moss and gorgeous trees. They reminded me of giant weeping willows from back home, decorated with little fairy lights.

You wouldn't be able to tell it was nighttime here—this place was brimming with natural light from everywhere. I looked to Veth, and she was absolutely starstruck. 

“What do you think?” I elbowed her.

“It's…” She whispered through the radio as she took everything in. “It's beautiful…”

“Let's check it out a bit. You got our ship's location?”

“Y… yeah. Yes.” She seemed to have a hard time focusing. She checked a small hologram of the planet's topography, finding the ship in the center.

“Cool. Let’s go.”

We ventured deeper into the teeming jungle, with the occasional skittish animal hissing at us before scrambling away. The way I saw it, you've seen one amazing planet, you've seen them all. It was clear to me, however, that Veth would disagree.

She kept wandering further away from me, and I would try to catch up as she examined trees and bushes, vines and floating seeds that glowed and pulsated when touched. It was a cacophony of color, with dark red moss quickly mingling with bright green roots. I had a hard time trying not to trip. Veth was much more nimble and graceful than I was.

“Woah, look!” She pointed ahead, and I peered over her shoulder. A clearing was in front of us, with a dark lake of some kind of fluid. Didn't know if it was water, but the plants seemed to like it. Roots of a variety of sizes climbed down onto the walls of the lake.

Curious, I stepped ahead and analyzed the fluid. Sure enough, it was water, with an additional quality of extra oxygen within it. “Huh.”

“Do you wanna go down there?” Veth shook my shoulders excitedly. 

“Hell no!” I was astonished at the audacity. “If you want to, be my guest. Just make sure to—wait!”

She was already dashing ahead. I nearly tackled her trying to stop her. I slapped a hook onto her back, for safety. “Okay, there. Rope's about 50 meters long. Gimme a tug if you need a quick escape.”

“Okay byeee!” And then she hopped into the lake, feet first, and disappeared into darkness.

I was sort of shocked at her excitement. And her courage. She didn't strike me as the kind of person to just hop into the unknown like that. I guess there was still a lot more about her I didn't know yet.

“Wow! Sam, it's so cool down here!” She called out over the radio. “There's crystals and stuff here!”

“That's cool.” I took a seat on the edge of the lake.

“Woah, and fish! Weird fish! Awesome!”

“Heh…” I couldn't help myself. She was adorable.

And then… eerie silence.

I waited for a minute or so. “Veth? How you doing down there?”

I didn't hear a reply. But I did feel a slight tugging on the rope. I took that as my cue to pull her out…

And the end of the rope was empty.

“Oh, shit. Veth!?” I crawled towards the edge of the lake, scanning through the murky depths. I was worried I would need to go down there without any help…

But then something vibrated the water, something big enough to cause ripples. I stared in stunned silence as Vethailet floated up, eyes staring at me in a way I had never seen her stare before.

Her helmet was gone.

“Veth!” I reached out my hand to grab her, but she swam further away. I just wanted to know if she was okay. Her helmet being gone worried me.

But as she raised her head further, her long hair tendrils wading in the water, she only smiled at me, clearly fake. In this atmosphere, I was expecting her to choke to death. I guess they meant something else when they said “poisonous.”

The air poisoned the mind.

“I want to stay here, Samantha.” Veth tilted her head as she waded. “It's so beautiful here…”

“Veth… I don't think you're thinking clearly right now.” I pushed myself closer, keeping my hand outstretched. “Let's get back to the ship. Get you some air.”

“I don't want to go back.” Her smile faded as she gently shook her head. 

“Doc, really. Quit fucking with me.” 

“I'm serious.” She looked worried. “Do you really want to take me away from this place?”

Oh, man. She was in deep. I wasn't sure what to do… my words were never my sharpest weapon.

“Wh-what's so bad about the ship? About Viridian?” I laughed a little, nervously. She caught that.

“You.”

“What?”

“You hate me, don't you, Samantha?” Veth became shy, dipping half of her head underwater. I could still hear her speak. “You would have left me to die, on that Hauler.”

“What are you talking about? Dude, you're fine!”

“You hate me…”

“I-I don't hate you!” I was shocked at the accusation. “What makes you think I hate you?”

“The way you look away from me…” She stared at the ground, mimicking the way I've avoided her gaze in the past. “...The way you talk…”

“I… listen, Veth. I'm just kinda rough around the edges.” Self-reflection was also not a very good skill of mine. “I don't mean to be rude to you. I like you!”

“...You do?” Veth looked up at me with those… those eyes… they seemed glazed over and unfocused.

“Yes, of course I do! I mean… I don't like like you, but—”

“You hate me…”

“No! God damnit…” I tapped my fists together against my helmet, trying to think. She was forcing my hand. I had to be… genuine.

“Listen to me, Veth.” I put my hands down, against the edge of the lake. “Really, listen. I think you're great. You're smart, you care for other people, you’re tougher than you look… and I admire that.”

“...Really?” Veth tilted her head. Those eyes…

“Yes, really.” I hoped to God that this was working. “I like how you still love things. You think this planet is gorgeous, and that's great. You love that weird music you showed me the other day…”

“Yeah…” Veth smiled, unfocused, wavering. She swam a little closer. 

I stretched my hand out one more time. “...I think you're amazing, in more ways than one. And maybe I can try to be better about how I show that.”

“...Okay…” She approached me, finally, and I tried to be as gentle as I could, for fear of scaring her back into the depths.

“...Alright.” I reached for one of my rescue masks, and carefully placed it around her head. “Just take it easy…”

“W-wait—”

“No, it's okay…”

She struggled against me, but I was stronger than her, so she was forced to stay put as I started a line of proper oxygen. She coughed as it administered, writhing in my grip, then finally relaxed.

“Alright. There you go.” I pulled away now, but then jumped as she started collapsing. I caught her before she landed, and scooped her up while making sure the mask stayed put.

Well… better than losing her for good. 

It was about time we headed back, I figured. So I carried her as carefully as I could back to the ship.

The ship's airlock did its thing, and I was finally able to place her back onto her bed before stripping my suit. 

That was maybe one of the worst experiences I've ever had. I thought she was a goner for sure… I thought I didn't have it in me to try. But I did. And she's okay. I glanced back at her, out cold and still masked up, so I carefully slid it off of her face.

I looked at her for a little longer than I'd care to admit… hesitating. Thinking about all the things I had said. 

What scared me most, was every bit of it was the truth.

I looked down now, throwing the mask and its line of oxygen to where my suit was. 

Man, I needed a drink.

[asexual-hugger]

Chapter 3: The Escapee

IWWA RESEARCH FACILITY

ST. LUCIA

The head scientist leading the lab experiments, simply known by his recruits and staff as Boss, usually spent the lights-out time working in the lab or in his office. Every day he performed tests on the twenty subjects in the large experiment room, testing their abilities to the limit. He was around the recruits for most of the day, so when bedtime happened, that was his time to himself. He and the guards were able to take a breather from marching around and barking out orders at the junior soldiers.

The soldiers were in their rooms for the night. One of the guards walked down the hall of doors and knocked on each one as a reminder for them to turn their lights off. They were the perfect subjects, always doing what they were told.

Tonight, Boss was in the lab. He was going over the results for earlier that day. The soldiers had done more exercises in mastering their telekinesis. The room was average size, the only light coming from a bluish-white bulb on the ceiling over the wash station. Boss stood at the long table next to the sink, a pile of papers set in front of him.

He reached into the pocket of his white lab coat for his glasses when a loud, continuous alarm began blaring. His phone screen lit up on the table next to him with a banner flashing across it.

“What in the world?” He grabbed it up in surprise and read the message on the banner.

RED ALERT. SECURITY BREACH. TEST SUBJECT OFF PREMISES.

“Oh, you’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” Boss tightened his hand into a fist at his side as his expression changed from content to rage. He jammed his blaring phone into the back pocket of his pants and burst out of the lab.

“Bar the doors!” he shouted as he began passing by agents on their off hours. “There’s been a security breach! I repeat: there has been a security breach!”

“Boss?” One of the agents looked at him curiously.

“Where’s Michaelson? And Abrams?” Boss stormed down the hall with a couple agents struggling to keep up.

“The last I saw Michaelson, he was in the break room,” said one. “What’s going on, Boss?”

“I want all of you to make sure no one gets out of this building,” Boss barked. “Lane, did you do the lights-out sweep?”

“Yes, Boss. I knocked twice on all doors.” The one called Lane saluted.

“We just had a security breach,” Boss explained. “Grab Michaelson and Abrams. We need to fix this now!” He pulled out his phone and showed them the notification.

“Test Subject Off Premises? How??”

“I don’t know how! I just got the alert a moment ago. One of our soldiers is missing. Find out who!” Boss was raging.

“Yes, Boss!” Lane raced down the hall.

The two agents that had begun following Boss after he had appeared from the lab stood by.

“What do you want us to do, Boss?” one of them asked.

“Page Michaelson and Abrams,” Boss ordered. “They’re the most experienced fielders. Have them start the search outside!”

Boss glanced down at his phone and unlocked it, opening his tracker application. A map of the IWWA facility appeared on it, small red dots marking the locations of the nineteen remaining soldiers. All but one were holed up in their bunks.

“Aha! I knew it! That sneaky little rat!” Boss glared at the map. “Always trouble, that one. She was trouble from the day we took her in! She’s tried to escape so many times since coming here, and now she’s gone too far!”

A little while later, two more agents strolled down the hall, clad in full armor and wearing heavy combat boots.

“Agents Michaelson and Abrams reporting for duty!” The first agent saluted Boss. “You wanted to see us, Boss?”

“Yes, I did. Thanks for coming.” Boss nodded at Lane subtly. Lane nodded back. Boss showed the agents the blueprint of the facility on his phone. “I have an assignment for you two. I just received notification that one of my test subjects is off the premises. Find Number Twenty and retrieve her. Take her kicking and screaming if you have to. Whatever works.”

“Boss?” Abrams. His eyebrows raised.

“Number Twenty has fled the facility,” Boss explained. “I don’t know how, or why, but she somehow slipped past security. She was always a tough nut to deal with. When we discovered her, she put up quite the fight. She’s attempted escape one too many times, and this time, she’s tried my patience. No one is supposed to be able to leave here, and she just did. Find her and bring her home. There are severe punishments for recruits that try to get free.”

“Yes, Boss.” Abrams saluted.

“Agent Michaelson, geared up and ready for work, Boss!” Michaelson faced his leader confidently. “Is Twenty far from here?”

“Let me check.” Boss swiped a few times across his phone, searching past the facility and on to surrounding areas. “Dammit! She’s not even outside the building! I think she may have actually succeeded in clearing the boundaries this time.” He kicked the wall in frustration. “Dammit! That girl is gonna get hell!”

“Don’t worry, Boss. We’ll find her,” Abrams assured him. “We can locate her by her tracking chip once we start moving outwards. We’ve got our devices handy.” He gestured to his right shoulder, where a rectangular black device was hooked to his strap. “These things are ten times more powerful than a cell phone,” he reminded him. “They haven’t let us down yet.”

“Yes.” Boss nodded. “I'm glad that invention has helped you so well. Hurry. Knowing Twenty, she could be anywhere now, and getting further away. I knew I smelled a rat with her the first time she got out of the experiment room!” He muttered the last words angrily and turned to Michaelson. “She’s a slippery one,” he reminded him. “Use brute force if you have to. I won’t let any of my soldiers make a mockery of me or this organization. And tread lightly when leaving: it is lights-out hour, and we can’t afford to awaken the children.”

“Yes, Boss.” Michaelson and Abrams spoke in unison, saluted, and headed down the hall in the opposite direction. Their boots thudded softly on the hard floor. Other agents lingering around stepped aside for them as they passed.

“Let’s go, Abrams.” Michaelson spoke. “Time is ticking.”

Abrams swiped his key card into the slot by the giant metal door, the same door Twenty had opened hours earlier, and it creaked open. The two men looked back at the agents that were standing around and gave them subtle nods. The door closed slowly and audibly behind them.

Once they were a good distance away from the building, Michaelson unhooked the device from his shoulder strap.

“Okay, you little soldier, where are you?” he muttered, flipping the switch. The tracker hummed, and a rough map of the land around them appeared. A lone red dot was pulsing in place a couple miles north of where they were. “Gotcha.”

“Sir.” Abrams spoke a distance away. “I think I got something.”

“Me, too.” Michaelson began moving in a straight line forward. The dot didn't move.

Abrams moved in the same direction, following the signal.

“No movement,” Abrams commented. “She’s stationary. Zoom in.”

“Affirmative.” Michaelson pressed a button. The map moved on the screen.

“We got her. I’d know that sign anywhere.” Abrams.

“Looks like she’s holed up in some place called...” Michaelson squinted. “Sa Ka Fete Restaurant.” He frowned. “What in the green Earth would Twenty be doing at a restaurant of all places? It’s almost as if she wants to be found.”

“It’s Twenty,” Abrams commented. “Why has she done anything strange in the past twenty years? The girl’s a rebel. A true warrior. Now I know why Boss favors her so much. She’s got fighting drive. Perfect for our mission.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Michaelson rolled his eyes. “Let’s get to this Sa Ka Fete joint before we lose her again.”

They continued straight. The pulsing red dot grew closer. Whatever the recruit was doing, she was clearly in no hurry to leave. Perhaps they stood a chance and could grab her before she knew what was happening.

“Remember what Boss said,” Abrams warned. “Take caution. She’s managed to succeed in escaping all the way out here. If she figures we’re onto her, who knows what she’ll try to do next. I brought the sedative just in case she flails.”

“Right on.” Michaelson. “What should we do when we catch her? I can call it in to Boss.”

“That’s the plan,” Abrams answered. “We head in, grab the girl, and then tell Boss. We can’t risk her slipping through our fingers before he hears about it. Eyes on the prize.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Michaelson. “Eyes on the prize. We know where she is now. This should be a piece of cake.”

[clarklovescarole]

March 1938: Drawbacks of Fame

March 1, 1938 – San Francisco Examiner

While in Europe Clarence Brown will shoot some exteriors for “Idiot’s Delight,” the next Norma Shearer-Clark Gable opera. That reminds me, an interesting foursome at the Academy dinner will be Carole Lombard and Clark and Norma and Eddie Mannix – Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer wishes us to know that “Roosty,” the New York play, was bought for Mickey Rooney and not Clark Gable. How were we to know? 

March 3, 1938 – The Evening Sun

Miss Lombard, on location in Hollywood, wears a coat made from the pelts of two wolves. The pooch is wearing the pelt of an English sheep dog. He was a present from Clark Gable, who is fond of Miss Lombard and dogs, too.

March 4, 1938 – Hartford Courant

Clark Gable’s intimates say that Mrs. Rhea Gable has reduced her settlement demands, originally $300,000. 

March 4, 1938 – Chicago Tribune

11 A.M. – At Sunset and Vine Clark Gable and Carole Lombard sitting on top of his stalled roadster, fishing for trout…

March 5, 1938 – The Philadelphia Inquirer

Carole Lombard and the indispensable Fieldsy making a tour of the flood sufferers to find out how they could best be aided.

March 12, 1938 – St. Louis Post

For they are a suspicious lot, these movie stars. Always looking for hunches and calling attention to them –afterwards, Carole Lombard, for example, gets a sudden flash of an automobile accident and so won’t drive herself to the studio that day. Calls a taxi unless Clark Gable happens to be available for the chauffeuring. Carole had one bad auto accident – but didn’t read about it in the stars at the time. Read about it in the papers the next day.

March 15, 1938 – The Sydney Morning Herald

Clark Gable has taught Spencer Tracy how to shoot wads of paper with a rubber band and they are making life miserable for the rest of the cast of “Test Pilot.” The two stars are like schoolboys when they work together. Clark has challenged Spencer to a novel race. He will ride the motor scooter given him by Carole Lombard, and Spencer will ride one of his polo ponies. The race is over two miles. 

March 16, 1938 – Los Angeles Times

Carole Lombard Plans Secret Trip

Now that Clark Gable is on a hunting trip in Mexico, Carole Lombard is getting out road maps for a secret motor tour with her mother. She isn’t telling anybody her itinerary because she doesn’t want to be bothered.

March 18, 1938 – Los Angeles Times

Hedda Hopper’s Hollywood

Took some New York friends to dinner at the Cock and Bull, English inn out Sunset way, which seats fifty-three, but usually feeds three times that many.

We inspected a station wagon parked in front containing everything but a pipe organ. A whole family could set up housekeeping in it. Running hot and cold water, kitchen, Frigidaire, bunks, radio. With luggage strapped on the top. When I was ordering dinner, I spied Carole Lombard and Clark Gable sitting in the corner; then I knew whose wagon it was.

Carole must have been in disgrace that night for she was wearing one of her maddest hats. When she does something Clark doesn’t like, she wears for revenge a crazy hat.

Clark, usually careful of his diet, was wolfing everything from roast beef, Yorkshire pudding to English trifle, that delicious dessert guaranteed to put on an extra pound.

March 20, 1938 – Quad City Times

Clark Gable tried a “gag” on Carole Lombard recently and when he got the bill it called for $90, no discount for cash.

Believing some feathery Alpine hats too feminine for men’s wear, he sent two to Miss Lombard, who thought they were okeh to top off a mannishly tailored sport suit. She kept them.

Feminine friends fell in line and men’s hat departments were soon receiving a flock of requests for such hats.

March 26, 1938 – The Brooklyn Citizen

Now that Clark Gable is about to make a hunting trip to Mexico, Carole Lombard is making plans to take a motor tour with her mother…

March 26, 1938 – The South Bend Tribune

Being a Star Is Drawback, Gable Finds

By Jimmie Fidler

This business of being a famous star has its drawbacks. I covered a preview and happened to park my car alongside Clark Gable’s. He and Carole Lombard started for the theater with me, took one look at the swarming mob of autograph hunters and stopped short.

“Listen,” begged Gable, “be a friend and get the manager to let us in a side door.” I saw them sneak in and as the picture neared an end, I saw Gable begin to fidget. With at least a reel of the film still unseen, he suddenly clambered out of his seat and dragged Carole to the side entrance and out. And the whole punch of that particular picture happened to be packed in the last reel. They missed it all…

Carole Lombard reports that she was so incensed by a certain crtiic’s review of “True Confession” that she telephoned him and opened the conversation by saying, “You were unfair, I could shoot you.”

“What did he have to say?” I asked.

Carole laughed. “He said, ‘Miss Lombard, there’s no one I’d rather oblige, but you’ll have to stand in line and take your turn.’” 

March 28, 1938 – Pittsburgh Sun

Clark Gable has returned from Mexico and to Carole Lombard…

[mandospace]

Honey (Din Djarin x Reader Smut)

Summary: Din comes home from a long hunt tired and in need of his girl.

Word Count: 2,509

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DNI! Oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), language, uhhh fluff? Two idiots that missed each other? Idk what else.

A/N: I know I haven’t written in a long time but then this popped into my head tonight so I had to write it. I hope you all enjoy :) 

MASTERLIST

Din was exhausted.

The type of exhaustion that is bone deep, the kind that aches with every step you take. He had been gone on a hunt for the past two weeks and was currently dragging the dead bounty behind him. Despite being tired and dirty, the only ache that was consuming his mind and body was the ache for you.

It never used to be like this; Din could go weeks away from his ship and never felt the weary need to sleep in his own bunk until he had met you. As soon as you had joined his crew, Din found himself rushing through his hunts to get back to you — and that was even before the two of you got together. 

Now, it was like there was this invisible string that connected the two of you, the tension of it pulling him back to you with every step he took. Once the Crest came into view his steps fell quicker and the body behind him seemed lighter. It was as if knowing that you were safely tucked away inside his ship had renewed his strength.

The ramp screeched as it descended, a telltale sign that his ship was older than the Empire. He would need to get that fixed, but that chore was pushed to the back of his mind. Din trudged into the softly lit hull and shoved his bounty into the carbonite chamber — he didn’t even check to make sure that the bounty was standing upright — before he took off his helmet and tossed it to the side. He could practically feel the sweat and grime that clung to his skin after being away on a hunt for the past two weeks. He was sure he did not smell the greatest but he didn’t care, he only wanted you. 

“Mesh’la?” Din called. “Where are you?”

“I’m in here,” your voice sounded from behind the metal door of his refresher. Din smiled at the sound of your voice and the steady rhythm of water. 

He began shedding his armor and flight suit while he made his way towards you. The refresher door slid open to reveal the small room and the even smaller refresher stall that was closed off, hiding you from him. Steam filled the room with the scent of your shampoo — the scent of home. 

Without a second thought Din slid open the ‘fresher door and stepped under the cascading water, crowding you into a corner. 

“Din!” you shrieked, trying to cover your chest. “I’m naked!”

He couldn’t help the lopsided smirk that graced his face. “That’s kind of the whole point, mesh’la.” Din reached for you and pulled you into his chest. His arm wrapped around your wet waist while his other hand slithered it’s way into your hair. He titled your face back until you met his eyes and he almost melted down the drain when he saw their beautiful color. 

Not wasting another moment, Din tugged your face closer and slotted his lips over yours, sighing into the kiss. Oh, how he had missed this feeling. Din lived for the feeling of your body pressed against his, the feeling of your plush lips mingling with his. He tasted the mint on your breath and tried to breathe you into his lungs — he wanted to be completely surrounded by you in any way possible.

“I missed you,” he sighed, mouthing at the corner of your mouth before traveling down your jaw. Din relished in the shaky stutter of your breathing at his ministrations — a sound reminder that he affected you as much as you did him. 

“Missed you too,” you sighed, scraping your nails up his wide back, pulling him into a hug. Din buried his face in your neck, gripping you tightly to him. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the water from the ‘fresher washing away the grime from his hunt. 

A comfortable silence filled the air while you massaged his own shampoo through his curly locks, fingers detangling the knots that had formed from wearing his helmet constantly. Din hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp. He was always the one to take care of others, but it was nice to be on the receiving end of such pampering. He placed kisses to your forehead while you continued cleaning him, grateful for you and everything you did. 

Before long the water ran cold and the two of you had to end your relaxing bathing early. You each toweled yourself off and before you could reach for the pair of sleeping clothes you had set aside; Din had grabbed your hips and picked you up, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs. He hit the button to open the door and carried you out into the main hull of his ship and over to the nest of blankets that the two of you had made into a makeshift bed. After the two of you realized that his bunk space was way too small for both of you, you had made this makeshift bed in the corner of his ship.

Din dropped to his knees before carefully laying you down on the soft blankets. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and Din hovered over you, hands on either side of your head. He leaned down and captured your lips.

“I missed you,” Din whispered against your mouth. 

“You already said that.” He could feel the smile on your lips mirroring his own.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he pressed his lips to yours this time with more passion. A hunger settled deep within him, similar to the weariness he felt before but a hundred times stronger; fueled by every breathless sigh that passed your lips. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and moaned at the taste of mint. The combination of your shampoo and the taste of your breath was driving him insane. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up and into his body in an attempt to imbed you deep into his being. 

“Din.” That breathless moan that had slipped accompanied with the feeling of your nails scraping into his shoulders unhinged him. He could feel the hot ache of his cock throbbing between his legs and the fire that roared deep in his stomach. 

“Need to taste you, sweet girl,” Din moaned into your skin, his lips trailing down your damp body. He bit and sucked on your neck until he was positive that there would be marks later. A thrill of excitement raced through him at the thought of you walking through a market the next day, purple bruises littering your neck and chest while onlookers stared at the marks — his marks — that claimed you as his own. 

Din traced his tongue over one of your nipples before sucking the hardened peak into his mouth. His free hand made its way to your neglected breast and his thumb teasingly traced circles around the pert bud. He relished in the feeling of your thighs tightening around his trim waist and the way your chest arched into him with a shuddery breath. 

He mapped out the expanse of your skin, worshipping it with kisses and marks left behind in his wake. When he got to just below your navel his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, allowing him to sink lower on your body. He nipped and soothed the love bites he left on your inner thighs as he made his way closer to where you needed him the most. 

Din groaned at the sight of your puffy lips that were glistening with arousal. He pressed a quick kiss to them and buried his sharp nose in the soft curls at the base of your mound, breathing in your scent. Din couldn’t hold himself back any longer and relinquished his control to his most base instincts. His tongue darted through your folds, licking from your entrance to your clit while he tried to taste as much of you as he could. 

His name fell from your lips and your fingers curled into his hair at the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs. Din sucked on your clit and slowly worked a finger into your entrance before adding a second. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweet girl,” Din groaned into your pussy, licking at your clit while he curved his fingers up. Your hips raised off the blankets but he slung one strong arm over them to keep you still. “Hush, I have to get my girl ready for me. Be patient.”

You whimpered his name and bit on your fist at the immense pleasure. His fingers were slowly working you open and his tongue was relentless on your clit. Before long you could feel a building sensation deep in your stomach. 

“Din—,” you tried to warn him of your impending climax but the pleasure was too much.

“I know, sweet girl,” Din growled into your pussy, picking up the pace of his fingers and tongue. He could feel your orgasm approaching and he intended to deliver. “Come for me, sweetness. Come all over my face.”

As soon as those words left his mouth you were crashing into your orgasm, the insane pleasure brought to you by your lover coursing through your veins like tidal waves on a beach. Just when you thought you were about to get enough air, another wave of pleasure crashed down on you from Din’s continued movements. 

One of Din’s favorite things in the whole galaxy was making you come from his mouth alone. He loved the way your whole body shook from pleasure and how your thighs tightened around his ears from the intensity of your orgasm. Now was no different and Din drank your flowing juices straight from its source. 

“So sweet,” Din moaned and licked at your pussy while you came down from your high. Soon you were whimpering and shaking from overstimulation and Din decided to take mercy on you. He wasted no time and crawled back up your body so he could place his lips on yours. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and the two of you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. “Sweeter than honey.”

“I need you inside me, Din,” you whined. The entire time he was going down on you all you could think about was his hard cock that kept brushing against your ankle. You were sure the tip was already leaking precum so you reached down and grasped his shaft, thumb brushing over the tip — you were right. He whimpered at the sensation of your small hand tightly gripping him. “Please.”

“Anything for you, mesh’la,” he pressed his lips to yours fervently and gripped his cock at the base to line his tip up with your entrance. Din shuddered at the feeling of his tip dragging through your wet folds before notching it at your entrance. He grabbed behind one of your knees and hitched your leg over his waist as he slid into you with one thrust, both of you moaning at the sensation of him bottoming out. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetness,” Din dropped his head and bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He could feel your pussy squeezing around him and after being away from you for two weeks, he felt like he was about to come already. He pressed his nose to your neck and breathed in your scent as he tried to calm down. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

Your words were caught in your throat and all you could do to respond was card your fingers through his hair. He was so much larger than you and you basked in the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours. 

After a few moments Din was ready to move and he slowly dragged his cock out, shivers running down his back at the feeling of your walls trying to suck him back into your warmth. It took all of his strength to not pound into you and chase his own orgasm. After being away for so long, he wanted to make it memorable for the both of you. 

He set a slow rhythm and left you breathless with every drag of his cock. Both of you were a breathless, moaning mess at the feeling of the other. Din’s hands were firm on your hips and his forehead was pressed against yours in a keldabe kiss, leaning down every once in a while to slot his mouth against yours. One hand was buried in his curls while the other trailed down his back admiring the strong muscles that were pulled taut as he rutted into you. Your breaths mingled together and the air around you heated up a few degrees as your bodies moved together. 

Before long, Din could feel his balls tightening at his coming release. His grip on your hips tightened as he tugged them up towards him in time with his own, driving his cock deeper into you with every thrust. His name fell from your lips at the new angle and the grip you had on his locks tightened, pulling on the chocolate curls. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer, s-sweet girl,” Din stammered while he picked up the pace. He could tell that you wouldn’t last much longer either by the way your pussy was clenching around him.

“Come for me, baby,” you gasped against his mouth before pulling him into a heated kiss. It was sloppy and wet and extremely passionate and the use of his pet name sent him over the edge. 

Din groaned when he felt his balls pull tight and he spilled his seed into you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up and into his lap while he fucked his cum into you. His head was tilted back so he could reach your lips and his wide hands spread across the expanse of your back so that he could hold you to his chest. Your hips ground down on him as you rode him through his orgasm until it eventually brought on your own. Din’s eyes screwed tight at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his spent cock and he couldn’t help the animalistic growl that ripped through his body at the sensation of your pleasures combining. 

“I love you,” Din admitted, chest heaving against yours. He could feel the weariness from his hunt returning so he lowered you both back to your nest of blankets and pulled one over you. He grunted when he pulled his soft cock from your spent pussy — he would stay inside you forever if he could — before he settled down and pulled you into his arms. 

He felt you smile against his chest before you placed a sweet kiss on it. “I love you too.”

[iam93percentstardust]

Prompt: tony can’t get enough of Steve’s strength and Steve loves it bc he’s still quite self conscious of his body? 💚

I realized halfway through writing this that you probably meant for a canon-compliant fic, but I was already so deep into the worldbuilding for this little science fiction fic (seriously, you don't even know how much unnecessary worldbuilding I did) so I kept with it

Also on ao3 here!

~

“Steve!” Tony hollers through the communicator. Steve glances up from the board game he’s playing with Natasha and Clint and over at where the communicator hangs from the ship’s wall. He still doesn’t really understand the technology behind the communicators even after a year of being awake, but they’re hung all over the Avenger’s Shieldand he won’t deny that they’re useful.

“I’m here,” he says at a normal volume, knowing that JARVIS will easily pick up what he’s saying and transmit it to Tony. Tony’s just being loud because he’s always loud and because he’s down in the engine room of the ship with all its noises from the conversion of stardust into energy.

“Great! I need your muscley goodness down here like yesterday.”

Steve hides a smile and stands, passing his pieces off to Clint, who’s losing worse than either Steve or Natasha. “Here, you can have mine. Not sure how long I’ll be down there.”

Clint’s eyes narrow and Steve tries not to fidget under the cybernetic enhancements. When he went into the ice nearly three hundred years ago, mankind didn’t even dream of space travel, at least not realistic space travel, and now they’ve got colonies on galaxies as far away from their own, it makes his head spin. Humans have peace treaties with over two thousand alien civilizations. And mechanical body enhancements, meant to augment humans for travel and work and sometimes sheer entertainment, are as common as breathing. But Steve, with his serum-induced enhancements, is somehow still the odd one out.

“You know,” Clint says, “you don’t have to help him out if you don’t want to. Tony means well but that doesn’t mean he can’t be abrasive sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says truthfully. Everyone else on this ship seems to dance around his non-cybernetic enhancements—and around the fact that he’d been frozen in the ice caps, now stretching as far south as Florida, for three hundred years—but Tony never once seemed to care. He’s thrilled about Steve’s enhancements—no one else on the ship is quite as strong as Steve is, not since Thor joined the crew of the Milano—both because of what Steve can help him with and because of what the serum means for scientific advancement, though Steve hasn’t let Bruce or Yinsen take any of his blood yet.

He heads down into the belly of the ship, pausing once at one of the portholes to look out at the stars flashing by them. It still amazes him that humans have achieved all of this (and horrifies him that they achieved this but left their own planet behind).

Tony’s “lair” (as Clint calls it) is located at the very bottom of the ship. It’s here that Tony holds his court, making sure that the engines that run the ship are still intact and running smoothly, tinkering with other projects that the other crewmembers give to him, and designing improved systems for the Shield, whether that’s comms, mechanical, or even medical. Tony does it all. According to Natasha, Tony, who’s one of the few nonhumans on the ship, was once a member of high society on his home planet, Aur’a, but left it all behind to join the Shield and travel the galaxy.

Steve opens the door and is immediately met with a wave of heat. It’s always hot down here. Tony says it’s because of the celestial energy, that stars run so hot that even residue energy is still too hot for unenhanced humans to handle. Fortunately, neither Steve nor Tony are unenhanced, and Steve would be willing to bet that the reason it’s so hot in the engine room today is because Tony is working with raw stardust.

The copper pipes running the room are too close to avoid bumping into for someone as large as Steve, so he doesn’t even bother trying to avoid them, letting them brush against his skin as he follows the sound of Tony humming. When he’d first joined the crew, he’d been worried about Tony complaining that Steve couldn’t move around the engine room without knocking something over, but Tony has never once complained, only just made easygoing jokes about bulls in china shops and told him that the pipes are built to withstand forces a lot stronger than Steve. It had gone a long way toward helping him feel comfortable in the space and now he spends a lot of time down here, talking with Tony about the mechanics of the ship, even though a lot of it goes over his head.

He ducks underneath one of the pipes and rounds a corner to find Tony sitting on a bench, carefully chipping at a speck of stardust on the benchtop in front of him. Tony once told him that it only takes a miniscule amount of stardust to power the ship for an entire week, which is good because stardust is difficult to mine. Tony’s goggles are perched on top of his nose, giving him an owlish appearance. Steve finds it adorable, but he waits until Tony is done with the chisel before walking over to drop a kiss on top of his hair.

The rest of the crew doesn’t know that they’ve been seeing each other for a month. After their first kiss, Steve had asked if it would be okay to keep it quiet a little longer. Steve’s brain is still firmly convinced at times that they’re in the forties, so the idea that he can date a man and have it be as accepted as dating a woman is still a little foreign to him. Tony had been more than accommodating though, which is only one of the reasons Steve loves him so much.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims, clearly startled. “Didn’t realize you were already here.” He turns, pushing his goggles up to his hair. “Did you get even more muscley since the last time I saw you?”

“Tony, you saw me this morning,” Steve says amusedly.

“Right you are, Capsicle, but I still stand by what I said,” Tony shoots back with a cheeky wink. He runs his hands over Steve’s biceps, making a low purring sound under his breath. Steve just barely manages to hear it over the sound of the engines, and it makes him smile.

Sometimes, he still feels self-conscious about his size. Spending most of his life looking and feeling one way only to change in only seconds had been disorienting, and he hadn’t had much of a chance to get used to his size before he’d been thrown into the war and then frozen in the ice. Tony’s always good to talk to though when he needs someone to remind him that this is okay, that he isn’t taking up too much room just by existing. Somehow, he always manages to get to the heart of Steve’s insecurities and allay them.

He indulges in Tony’s warm touch for a little longer before asking, “So what did you need me for?”

Tony perks up, spinning on his heel and picking up the speck of stardust with his bare hand. “I need your help opening the converter door so I can toss this in. Something must have gotten damaged during the battle with the Hydra’s Scales, because it’s not opening for me.”

“Huh,” Steve says, following Tony through the warren of copper pipes toward the energy converter. He has no idea how Tony knows where he’s going without a map. Steve still sometimes needs a map and he’s lived on this ship for a year. “That’s not something you can fix?”

“Not with what I’ve got on ship. I’ll ask Fury if we can stop in Knowhere later this week. They’ve probably got what I need.”

“Wow, Tony Stark admitting he can’t jury-rig a solution from his lab. Hell must have frozen over,” Steve comments, grinning when Tony turns to scowl at him.

“You shut your mouth,” Tony growls.

“Or what?”

Tony’s eyes turn dark and heated. He slinks closer to Steve, runs his fingers up Steve’s chest, and purrs, “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

Steve’s brain shuts down. “Uh…”

“But not right now,” Tony says abruptly, tweaking Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He spins back around and marches off, leaving Steve floundering in his wake. He gapes after him for a second before hurrying to catch up.

“You,” he says, carefully bumping Tony’s shoulder with his—he doesn’t want Tony to drop the stardust after all—“are a menace.”

“That’s me: mechanic and professional menace,” Tony says cheerfully.

They stop beside the energy converter. Steve can immediately see what Tony means by there being something wrong with it. The converter is made out of some sort of transparent material—Steve doesn’t know what—so he can see right in to where something is twisted in the converter itself, partially fusing the door shut. Even Tony, with all his abilities as an Aurum, can’t reach into an active energy converter without burning his hand to ashes, and the converter has to stay active or they’ll be dead in space, so they’ll have to stop somewhere where he can make the necessary repairs.

“See?” Tony says. “I need someone who can muscle that open for me.”

“Well, I’ve definitely got muscles.”

“Mmm, yes you do,” Tony murmurs. Steve wonders if Tony’s thinking about the same thing he is: that time he pinned Tony to the walls of their shared bunk and—well, now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

He grabs onto the wheel and wrenches it to the left. Tony sure hadn’t been kidding; the wheel doesn’t budge at all. He applies more of his strength, muscles bulging. Under the squeal of metal, he hears Tony’s breath catch, and he grins saucily at him. Tony sticks his tongue out and gestures at the wheel again.

“Come on, Captain Crunch. Put your back into it.”

Steve, having no idea what Captain Crunch is supposed to be a reference to, makes a mental note to ask Tony about it once they’re done here. For now, though, he uses all of his strength and slowly—so slowly—the wheel turns, protesting the entire way. Eventually, he gets it open, letting another blast of heat into the engine room. Tony tosses the stardust in. It flares in the heat of the converter, setting off beautiful gold and purple sparks. Steve closes the door. It closes a lot easier than it opened. Tony hums thoughtfully at it.

“Well, that narrows things down,” he says, once the door is fully closed.

“What, that it was easier to close than it was to open?”

“Mmhmm. Only a few things that could be. Probably need to tell the One-Eyed Pirate though that we have to stop on Xandar instead of Knowhere. I don’t think Fujikawa will have what I need. Steve, don’t let me forget to tell Fury the course change.”

“Got it.”

“And thanks, by the way. Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve glows at the praise. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s nice to be reminded that even in this oversized, clumsy body out of time, he’s still able to do some good. “Happy to help,” he says honestly.

They head back to Tony’s little work area, Tony eagerly chattering on about the project he’s working on for Natasha. Steve listens, fingers itching for the drawing tablet he’d left in the galley with Natasha and Clint. Tony is lovely when he’s animatedly talking about his inventions. Steve has half a dozen folders saved on his tablet, filled with nothing but different poses of Tony.

Tony leans up against the workbench and pulls Steve in, looping his hands around his neck. “Now, where were we earlier?” he hums, eyes dark.

“Careful,” Steve warns, bracing himself with hands on either side of Tony’s body. “I might crush you.”

“You might,” Tony agrees, though he doesn’t sound concerned at all. “And I might like that. All that coiled strength pinning me down? Oh, honey, yes.” He shivers, a small delighted smile curling his lips up.

“You just like me for my body,” Steve accuses. It isn’t the truth and he knows that. Tony loves him for many reasons; Steve’s strength is only one of them. But it’s fun to tease his lover and Tony is always happy when he does. He frequently worries that Steve is too serious.

“Yes, darling, that’s exactly it.” Tony kisses him lightly. Steve lets himself lean into Tony’s body a little more, grinning when Tony shudders against him.

He pulls away, tucking his head against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how Tony always knows when Steve is feeling self-conscious about his body, but he somehow does and he always comes up with something that’ll help.

Tony strokes his hair. “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”

[midnight-sun-01]

The Price of Truth

Rating: 18+ minors, this ain’t it for you, get out of here

Pairing: OC x Crosshair

Warnings: these apply to the entire work and will not appear in each chapter: alcohol use, unprotected sex, violence, canon-typical gore, swearing, let me know if I missed anything

Wordcount: 4476

Summary: We finally get down to some action!! There's kind of a lot going on in this chapter. Also, action is hard for me to write, so it took me awhile, sorry about that!

Sorry if the formatting is weird, my computer is old so I had to get creative with posting this.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Poppy tossed and turned on her small bunk. Hunter was right; Wrecker’s snoring was incredible. She wondered how anyone in a 5-mile radius of his sleeping body ever got any kind of rest. How did the Bad Batch operate so effectively without sleep? Maybe you get used to it she thought, hoping, rather than believing it to be true. It wasn’t just the decibel level affecting her, however. The room was small, and while it was cold, she was missing the light breeze from her fan she normally slept with. The entire ship was hard, and the slightest noises echoed in a way her apartment didn’t. She had the lights of hyperspace flashing past reminding her of the endless light back on Coruscant. The similarity did not comfort her.

She turned over, picking at a piece of loose skin on her finger, and thinking of painful memories, of goodbyes that were too hasty-a life put on hold. Her friends had messaged her back, telling her they loved her and would miss her and to be safe. They had understood the job. Yet she still saw messages roll in of groups making plans for next weekend, people talking about how much fun they had together at dinner. She knew they had left her in their threads to make sure she didn’t feel left out, but the thought actually made her desperately lonely. Life went on exactly the same, even though she was no longer there. It was no one’s fault, but Poppy could not ignore the weight on her chest that pulled her downward. Tears pricked at her eyes but she pushed them away, not willing to give into something that felt like it could pull her underneath so easily. Willing her mind to quiet, she turned over.

Minutes later, or so it felt to her, a sharp rap on the door startled her out of a sleep she had not remembered falling into. Disoriented, she tried to make sense of the commanding voice on the other side of the door.

“Briefing in 10 minutes. We need to go over the mission before we arrive,” said Hunter.

“Okay, be right out,” she managed to croak, in a voice she hoped sounded reasonable, and heard Hunter’s footsteps recede.

She sat up, her entire body aching, and thought longingly of yesterday morning, when she had been in her own bed and had her house shoes. Trying to push those longing thoughts of comfort out of her head, she found a black shirt and pair of pants she could move easily in, pulled her unruly hair back into a braid, and pushed herself out her door before she had the chance to think too much about her new life.

“You look terrible,” were the tall sniper’s first words to her when she joined the rest of the group in the cockpit.

“Cross, really?” Hunter said as Poppy merely glared in his direction, still not awake enough to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, she does,” he said bluntly.

“You do look rather unrested,” stated Tech, glancing up from his data pad and peering at the dark circles under her eyes.

“I’m fine, just took me awhile to fall asleep last night,” Poppy said, trying to deflect any further conversation that brought attention to how exhausted she felt.

“Right, well, let’s get started with the briefing, and if we make it fast you may have time for a cat nap before we get into the thick of things,” said Hunter, moving forward and pulling up a holo in front of him displaying a map. “The mission is simple. We’re going to Felucia. Troops there are overwhelmed, and the Republic is pulling all forces out to regroup. A battalion of regs was separated and is caught in two different locations. Their Jedi general is going in to extract one half of the battalion, and our job is to go in and extract the other half. They’re pinned down pretty badly and taking extremely heavy fire from all sides, so it's going to be a smash and grab.”

While Hunter had been talking, Poppy saw Crosshair walk silently to the corner of the cockpit and heard the clink of a glass. She didn’t think anything of it until he was standing next to her, not looking at her, with his arm outstretched, and the smell of fresh caf hit her nose. She looked up at the sharp-featured face, but it was unreadable.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not wanting to interrupt the briefing.

“Don’t mention it. If one of us isn’t fully alert during this people are likely to get hurt,” he responded in a hushed tone.

She turned back to give the briefing her full attention, and thought she caught Tech’s eyes watching them behind his goggles, but they flicked back to Hunter so quickly she couldn’t be sure.

“What we’re going to have to do here is use the advantage that the terrain gives us. The group of regs we need to extract is in a bunker at the bottom of a hill, and Seppies are firing down at them from above. We need to sneak behind their lines, destroy the droid troops, and buy enough time for an air evacuation to come in,” Hunter explained.

“Felucia is full of various plants, fungi, and swamps, according to the database,” Tech stated without even bothering to look up from his holo. “While it is difficult terrain to move through, this might give us the tactical advantage we need to be able to slip through behind the droids unnoticed.”

“That’s exactly what we’re counting on here,” agreed Hunter. “We’ll drop in here,” Hunter gestured to a region of the holo map that looked thickly forested, “about 3 klicks north of where scouts tell us the primary unit of separatist forces are grouped. We’ll hike down, ambush them from behind, and obliterate the main force. After that, we should be able to break through the terrain into the base where the targets are pinned down. We’ll have air evac waiting for us after we clear the droids. Any questions?”             “Yes, I have a few,” spoke Poppy, and she felt all their eyes on her. “I’m sorry, but this seems a bit simple and trivial for a unit as advanced and successful as yours. Couldn’t air support just take out all the droids on the ground?”

“Felucia is overgrown with vegetation and extremely challenging to maneuver through for both ships and people. The ships available can’t get low enough to target the droids without risking the lives of the clones stuck in that bunker, and they have anti-aircraft weapons we’ll have to take out on the ground” Hunter explained. “Intelligence also suggests there is a tactical droid leading the charge, which is why Republic forces were routed so easily this round. Tactical droids have a harder time predicting our unit’s plans, so we have the advantage there. We can also expect several sniper droids to be in the mix and scattered higher up on the hills surrounding the bunker, so Crosshair,” Hunter turned to look at him, “it’ll be your first priority taking care of those while we go in behind the rest of the droids.”

“No problem,” Crosshair answered lazily, leaning against the counter, chewing a toothpick, and looking unconcerned.

“Will I get to blow something up?” Wrecker demanded.

“Yes, Wrecker, I’m going to need you to blow plenty of things up,” Hunter smiled lightly. “We’ll only need stealth for the first part of the approach.”             “Good! I hate stealth missions.”

“Where would you like me to be during this?” Poppy asked Hunter directly.

“Well, this mission is going to be dangerous. Not only do you have the certainty that we will all get shot at, but the terrain is not going to be easy to pass through,” Hunter said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I can make it through that terrain,” Poppy said confidently, and without hesitation, standing up straight. “My job is to document this. I need to know where I will be in the way least so that I can do my job effectively.”

Hunter still looked slightly uncertain, so Poppy cut the pretense.

“Where would Ric be? With the main group or with Crosshair?”

Hunter took a deep breath, and then answered fairly, “Ric would be wherever he could best document the action, which in this case, is going to be with the main group.”

“Great, then that’s where I’ll be as well. What gear do I need?”

20 minutes later Poppy had strapped on the boots that Fox had convinced her to buy, a brown parka, a tiny, pinhole camera about the size of a pencil eraser pinned to the front of her parka, and a small blaster strapped to her waist. Poppy’s job was to document, but it would have been foolish not to bring the blaster into an active combat zone. Battle droids were not capable of feeling mercy, and would certainly not hesitate to kill anyone they thought could be working with clone troopers.

Sitting in the cramped cargo hold with the members of Clone Force 99, except Tech who was piloting their final approach, she could feel Crosshair’s eyes on her where he stood across from her. She tried to ignore it and focus on everything she had learned during previous field assignments, but after several minutes, she found it too distracting.

“Do you have something to ask me?” Poppy questioned, as she looked him full in the face.

He shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the side and said, “You don’t look shiny at all.”

She couldn’t quite tell from his tone whether this was supposed to be a surprise to him or convey disapproval, but Wrecker and Hunter stopped their quiet, easy conversation next to them and watched warily.

“That wasn’t a question,” Poppy stated. “Is that a bad thing? Am I supposed to look like a tourist out here with you?”

“No,” Crosshair murmured in his gravelly voice, “But I do wonder how a civilian managed to get gear that would make them look like they fit in so well with a clone detachment.”

“I had help,” Poppy admitted. “A friend of mine, another clone, took the morning off his normal job duties to help me pick what would be useful.”

Crosshair shifted slightly where he stood. “Must be quite a friend,” he added a delicate stress on the last word, leaving no doubt in her mind what the implication was.

Poppy didn’t even bother to hide her eye roll as she shook her head, looking away.

“Still,” he persisted, “it must have been an important clone to have the authority to take time off of job duties. Normal clones aren’t allowed to do that.”

“If you must know, it was Commander Fox,” she said turning back to look at him. “My assignment required I work closely with the Coruscant Guard, so we got to know each other quite well. He’s been a good friend to me for a few years now.”

 “You know Fox?” asked Hunter, jumping into the conversation unexpectedly. Poppy nodded. “We’ve worked with him on a few covert operations on Coruscant in the past. I’m surprised we’ve never crossed paths with you before now. Fox is a good man,” Hunter said approvingly of the friendship.

Crosshair said nothing, but continued to watch Poppy out of the corner of his eye, chewing his toothpick moodily.

“Making the final descent into the atmosphere,” came Tech’s voice over the ship’s intercom. “Hold on, this could get rough.”

“When does it not?!” Wrecker asked, laughing loudly, just as the ship began to jump up and down.

Lights flickered, and she felt the metal shudder as the sound of a shell exploding on the other side of the hull made her palms break out in sweat. She gripped the sides of her seat, praying Tech’s exceptional mind could accurately calculate the best way through the explosions now rocking the ship from side to side. The lights cut fully off now, and in the few seconds of pitch black before the red emergency lights activated, she could only hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. Clutching her seat so tightly her fingers were growing numb, she squeezed her eyes shut, and focused on controlling her breathing as the ship rocked around her. Then, just when she thought things were fully out of control, she felt the ship finally level out, and begin to glide smoothly through the air. She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding as they touched down lightly on the ground.

“Did you have fun?” Crosshair’s smirking voice cut through the silence, and she saw him with his helmet on already standing ready next to the ramp, looking completely unruffled.

"I enjoyed the turbulence more than our conversation," Poppy answered, as Wrecker yelled, “That one wasn’t bad at all! We didn’t even get hit once!”

“Alright, everyone, let’s focus,” came Hunter’s professional, commanding voice. “We’re here for a job, not for fun, so let’s get in and get this done.”

The lights powered down. The members of the bad batch became more silent than she had ever witnessed, pulling on their helmets. The ramp off the ship opened. Poppy’s stomach clenched.

A thick fog obscured everything further than a few feet away from her. She walked down the ramp behind Tech, trying to keep her eyes fixed on his back, while she could feel more than hear Crosshair moving silently behind her.

 As she stepped off the ramp, her feet sank into inches of stagnant, swampy water. She inwardly thanked Fox for convincing her to buy those boots, because even though she could feel herself standing in thick mud below a layer of moss-filled water, her feet were not totally soaked through.

She gathered around Hunter with the rest of the batch, and he motioned forward twice with two fingers extended, then made a closed fist, and finally looked at Crosshair and pointed off to the right. The batchers all silently nodded and fell into line, with Hunter leading the group, Wrecker behind him, Tech following Wrecker, Poppy’s eyes on Tech’s back, and Crosshair moving silently at the end of the line.

They moved nearly silently, scanning from side to side, with their weapons drawn and ready. The only sound was the steady slosh slosh slosh of their cautious march through the swamp. The fog was so thick that objects seemed to loom suddenly out at her with no warning, making it difficult to move with any kind of speed or agility.

Poppy had been worried about being physically able to keep up with the batch, especially since they were all so much taller than her, but she found that if she focused on the rhythm of their boots, and not on the difficulty of the terrain, she was able to keep pace with them. She also found that the repetitive physical motion and silence allowed her mind to disengage from the task at hand. Instead of being crippled by the fear of the unknown that threatened to emerge out of the fog at any moment, she followed the monotonous sound, and focused instead on the steady trudge through the marsh.

She suddenly became aware that she had no idea how long or far they had been walking, and sensed a slight change in her surroundings. Looking behind her, she realized that Crosshair had drifted off without her noticing and was gone. She hurried forward and tapped Tech gently on the shoulder. He looked back at her while still wielding dual blasters, and she pointed at Crosshair’s empty place. Tech looked back, looked at her, nodded, and continued forward with their march.

So that’s what the third hand signal meant, Poppy thought to herself. At some point, Crosshair was supposed to go find the high ground, but she was astounded she hadn’t noticed him leaving. He had been so silent, and even though he was less than a foot behind her, she had had no idea when he’d peeled off from the group.

They came to a halt. At Hunter’s signal, Clone Force 99 spread out silently through the trees, fanning out away from her and disappearing into the fog. She looked around, and found a small bundle of trees growing closely together. By placing herself into this grouping she was able to give herself some protection and still be able to capture anything that happened on camera through infrared, as the fog made normal filming impossible. She spun the edge of the pinhole camera until she felt it click into place for infrared, and waited.

Then, without warning, the forest exploded around her. She gripped the tree trunk in front of her as explosions came from several places at once, their heat ripping through the fog and clearing it. Blaster bolts flew from all around her in the trees with a high-pitched whistle, and answering fire came back toward them. All Poppy could see was smoke and fire. She hurriedly turned her camera back to normal recording, and moved up from behind the tree slightly.

Two tanks were sideways on the ground, and the bad batch was wreaking havoc below. Hunter darted between the droids, blasting some, knifing others, his fluid movements weaving through the metal bodies. Tech darted out from behind a tank while firing both blasters at every moving metal target within sight. Wrecker ran like a rampaging Bantha at the droids, slamming some together, ripping others apart, and destroying every enemy in his path. The whole time blaster bolts ripped through the sky above them, hitting targets with precision and efficiency. Every time that Poppy felt sure one of the batchers was about to get hurt, or had not realized there was a droid behind them, there was already a bolt from the sky taking care of the problem.

The droids scattered. Tech rolled droid poppers, taking out the ones on the edges that tried to run. Wrecker jumped up on the last tank that was firing wildly into the ridgeline and dropped an explosive inside the hatch, leaping off just as smoke and flame erupted out of the top of it. Hunter was already searching the droid debris for the tactical droid’s head. Everything seemed clear, so Poppy proceeded cautiously down the hill to join the rest of the group in the remains below.

“Just a scouting party. Come on, spread out, we need to see if that tactical droid is here,” Hunter’s modulated voice rang out. They all fanned out to search, but Poppy had not taken two steps when searing heat passed so close to her head she could smell the edges of her singed hair.

Scrambling desperately for cover, she ran as fast as she could, splashing toward safety. She had no idea where the shot came from. Her legs would not work properly. She stumbled several times, pushing herself back up out of the swampy water each time she faltered, and finally flung herself behind an overturned tank. Seconds later, Tech was next to her behind the tank, peering around the side of it to check if more droid troops were approaching.

“Sniper droid was right behind you,” Poppy heard Crosshair’s low voice speak calmly through Tech’s headset next to her. She whipped around and stared at Tech. So the bolt that had nearly hit her had come from Crosshair’s Firepuncher?? What if he’d killed her? Had he done that on purpose, trying to show her his sniper skills, or had that been a warning to her to not mess with their squad?

“All clear, Cross?” Hunter’s voice came through the headset.

“Yes, sir,” came his calm response.

They crept slowly out from behind the tank and saw the smoking body of the sniper droid that had been inching toward them from the trees behind. Poppy’s legs were weak, her hands shaking. She took deep breaths to will the adrenaline away, but she felt as if she could run a marathon, and was grateful when Hunter said “Come on, the tactical droid isn’t here, but we’re almost to the base. Crosshair, keep scanning for more snipers.”

“My pleasure. Time to go hunting,” then she heard a crackle of static as he turned his headset to silent mode.

She had no problem keeping up with the quick pace Hunter set. It took them no time at all to make it to the bunker with the speed they were moving at, but when they got close they slowed to a crawl, and hid, concealed, in the swampy mist.

An entire battalion of droids was lower down on the hill below them, slowly loading shells into a cannon and firing them repeatedly at the wall of the reinforced durasteel bunker. The methodical coldness behind the droids wearing away the wall to destroy the life forms behind it was chilling. The noise was so incredible it made stealth nearly useless. Hunter tapped out two notes into his headset, and gestured Wrecker to him then pointed silently at the tank. Wrecker’s face split into a huge grin, and he shoved his helmet back on eagerly. Tech and Hunter split off to take opposite sides of the droids in front of them.

The steady hum, slide, and plunk of artillery being fired and spent shells being ejected echoed rhythmically. She wondered what they were waiting for, when another blaster bolt ripped through the air above. Poppy had no idea which direction it came from, but she could tell it had hit an important droid, as the rest of the troops scattered chaotically, like ants scurrying away from a sudden rush of water. Hunter and Tech lunged into the fray from opposite sides of the trees, carving down droids as they went. Wrecker charged in headfirst, slamming droids out of his way, and ripped the droids operating the cannon out of its confines. Taking control of the heavy artillery, he fired with impunity, laughing wildly the entire time and mowing down massive groups of droids with ease.

Poppy could see the tactical droid at the head of a column, trying desperately to restore order while his soldiers ran amok, their metallic voices echoing through the fog, but within seconds another bolt from above had rendered him useless.

It was all over within a minute, and all that was left was the acrid smell of charred metal and twisted wire.

At Hunter’s signal, Poppy charged down the hill, reuniting with the rest of the batchers. Hunter walked right up to the door of the bunker and knocked loudly, while Wrecker yelled “anybody order room service?” then roared with laughter at his own joke. Despite the sudden violence she had been exposed to, even Poppy couldn’t help but smile at his lighthearted attitude. Crosshair jogged down the hill to join them, handling his enormous rifle with ease. The door creaked open slowly and a clone shoved a blaster out in front of him, his hand shaking.

“Easy,” said Hunter, holding his hands up in front of him. “We’re here to get you out of here. I’m Hunter. Air evac will be here in 3. Do you have any wounded who need help out?”

The clone dropped the blaster to his side, leaning against the doorframe and holding a shaking hand over his eyes. “Thank the maker,” he said quietly. “I thought the Republic wasn’t sending anybody. We have 4 wounded, the rest of us are beat up and tired but able to fight if we need to.”             “That’s good. We’ll fight another day. Get your men ready to go,” said Hunter, clapping him on the shoulder.

A flurry of activity began at his words, with all the clones in the bunker grabbing whatever supplies they could take, and pulling the wounded out to be loaded onto ships first. Wrecker rigged the bunker with explosives so that the Separatists couldn’t use it for anything, while Poppy walked around the group, and let her camera soak up the activity in front of her. She attracted several curious stares, but most of the soldiers were so focused on the task at hand, she was able to move through them easily. Within minutes the hum of approaching engines cut through the air.

“Alright men, let’s get ready to move!” called Hunter.

The wounded men were loaded onto the first transport ship without a hitch. Poppy saw the relief on their faces as they lifted off, knowing a shower, bacta tank, and decent meal were close at hand. Half the remaining clone trooper battalion had been loaded and was departing on the second ship as Wrecker yelled “fire in the hole!” and the bunker that had previously been sheltering the troops was reduced to a tangled mass of twisted steel and rubble. The smoke from the demolition drifted through the trees where they were sheltered, and Poppy coughed to clear her lungs.

Shielding her watering eyes, she thought she saw movement in the rubble, but how could she? Everyone had evacuated from the building. Squinting through the smoke, Poppy saw a metal claw walking over the rubble toward her. A last handful of droids, determined to annihilate them. Every single clone opened fire on them, but the droids returned the blasts. The last transport ship was dropping lower and lower, the gunners firing from above. Droids didn’t feel fear, though, and they advanced relentlessly.

The ship hovered feet from the ground, and the final group of clones jumped on, blaster fire going in all directions. Poppy circled around the back of the ship to get on, just as a droid fired in her direction. The blaster bolt missed Poppy, but slammed into Crosshair, knocking him backward out of the ship and onto her.

They were both smashed backward into the mossy, swampy, water below. Poppy felt the breath knocked out of her as she was fully submerged in the foul smelling water, and reflex forced her eyes closed as Crosshair’s weight landed on top of her.

She could not breathe, she could not move, and she felt the muscles of her back contract as something sharp scraped beneath her shirt. Before she even had time to panic, Crosshair’s weight was gone from her, and someone had grabbed the front of her parka, pulled her out of the water, and tossed her onto the deck of the transport ship. She could feel it vibrating below her, taking off, as the gunners destroyed the last of the droids.

Coughing up filthy water and gasping for breath, she turned to look at who had pulled her out of the water, and realized that Crosshair was collapsed on the deck of the ship next to her, breathing heavily and lying across from her so that they were face to face, still gripping the front of her parka.

[moxfirefly]

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I��m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

[anthrogothic]

Body/Prision

so, here we go to the second part of the fic. ours has been exciting to write this. I hope you like it <3 (originally written in Brazilian Portuguese. sorry for any error).

Third part here

Pairing: Echo x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, anxiety, panic, a little violence but nothing much and ~some physical mentions~ (and echo being a baby who needs care)

Heading towards the lab, you went through documents and reports on your datapad connected to the data network, finding the files of your newly known atypical clones, seeing that there were still three to meet in person.

One of them, with a rather traumatic past in your opinion. Another look like someone who is difficult to deal with. And lastly, one similar to your fellow nerds from college. Already imagining your scientific conversations.

You find your sweet auxiliary Omega standing at the door of the lab. She is also a clone, young and adorable. With short hair, the same color as the sun (if you remember the last time you saw one).

But with Jango Fett's pure DNA in her cells. Only you and Nala know this. Your conscience always brings you that painful twinge whenever the memory occurs to you.

"Y/N! I was looking for you!"

The girl came running towards you, with a scared face, taking your right hand and pulling you with her.

"Hey Omega, Stars, what's up?"

You almost shuffled your legs trying not to fall.

"I've been sent to help with clone ratings today! But Echo is very upset and I can't get him to calm down!"

Before you could ask for further explanation, you were already being dragged to the door of the room.

Stopping at the door, Omega pushed you inside when you spotted the trembling clone sitting with his back to the door, on top of the gurney, aiming his blaster at the three doctors ahead.

"Echo! I found her!"

The girl's voice was a mixture of relief and determination. The other three doctors in the room are clearly pissed off, hands up in front of the clone.

"Y/N isn't even a doctor, Omega!"

He yelled one of them, straightening and clasping his hands at his sides.

"You should have brought security!" yelled the other.

"She'll do it! She is better than you all!"

Screamed the little girl, pointing a finger at the three. You put a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to calm down. Gently you addressed the clone, froze as he stared into your eyes.

It was him… that clone whose record you were horrified to read. He was pale. With metallic accesses on his shaved head, a cybernetic prosthesis that covered his ears, his right forearm also cybernetic and thinner than most strong clones you know. Only the legs, also robotic, were covered by his blacks. His eyes were frightened and his limbs locked together at his sides, his good hand, shaking, still holding the blaster.

"A-Are you Doctor Y/N?"

His voice was deep, shaky and fraught with anxiety.

You, already with your heart sinking at his state, approached slowly, removing your white jumpsuit and leaving it on a small metal table nearby, catching the clone's attention with your tight black outfit.

"Yes… Echo, right? I assume you have a panic attack due to your accident… you shouldn't be brought into environments like this."

Your voice was calm and sweet. Looking at doctors with dislike in your last words. Echo looked away, clearly uncomfortable. The hand that was armed, wavering, and your hand slowly landing on top of the blaster, lowering it slowly, the clone giving way.

Suddenly one of the already impatient doctors approached abruptly and grabbed your shoulder from behind you.

"Let's go! We don't have time for theaters! Sedation didn't work this time, but nothing a dose would not do well on rebel clones!"

Spotting the syringe the doctor was pulling out of his lab coat, Omega jumped on his arm as she screamed. You turned, startled, seeing the fist that the doctor was already closing to hit the girl. In a rush of adrenaline, you punched him in the nose, he staggered backward, and Omega took the syringe from his hand. The other two came to help the doctor, who pushed them away claiming he was fine, looking at you with hate.

"You're in big trouble, girl! And you too, stuck-up scientist!"

His voice really was scary. But suddenly, Echo's voice came from behind you like thunder.

"Do something with them, and you'll have to come to terms with me and my squad."

His voice, full of hate and gravelly. His arm trembled as he aimed the blaster at the doctor, finger on the trigger.

"Not to mention the possible murder he was going to cause with so much sedative in a clone with a body not yet fully mapped to know the consequences."

Snorted Omega right beside you, all proud with the syringe in her hand.

"Uh, Nala Se will love to hear that."

You said, crossing your arms and looking at the doctor in defiance.

The attacking doctor flinched, growling as he left the room. The other two fearful:

"Please, it's our first week here. Don't hand us over to Nala Se. We just obey orders."

Begged one of the doctors, this one was much younger than the aggressor, probably doing residency with another colleague.

"Withdraw then. And let the rest of the team know the behavior of that bantha in the lab coat! He doesn't deserve to be your supervisor. He is the one who has to be supervised!"

Your voice was authoritative and even. All that remained was for the men to nod and leave the room.

Echo threw himself onto the gurney, breathing wildly and running a hand across his forehead. You stopped in front of the clone and slowly sat down beside him on the stretcher. Instructing him to take a few deep breaths, then slowly exhale for a few more, repeatedly. Echo tried to follow your directions, faltering a few times but picking up his pace eventually.

"There is! We make an amazing team! I told you, Echo!"

Omega's voice trying to bring relief to the tense environment. She continued.

"Y/N is the best! She will be nice to you!"

You, realizing the responsibility that Omega gave you, nodded with the girl's words.

"Well… I'm not exactly a doctor, as we've heard… but I know enough. You can trust me, Echo."

The clone looked at you with less awe, bearing in mind what you did.

"I- I feared that I would go through the physical evaluations again. I know they are mandatory, but... they remind me of the Citadel..."

His gaze roamed the metalized room, filled with stretchers, huge equipment, and light panels.

The doctors just didn't care and sedated him whenever it became impossible to assess him. Putting gadgets into his body, pushing him into big gadgets and treating his cybernetics like pieces of scrap metal.

"I don't want to be a problem again... I know I have obligations as a soldier, but I can't be okay here!"

He squeezed the biceps of his other arm with his hand, trying to stay in control as he felt a new wave of anxiety.

You gently placed your hand on his back, feeling him recoil involuntarily.

"Unfortunately it's standard procedure… but if you promise me secrecy, we can only do the basic assessment, and it could be in your room, a theoretically cozy place for you. I can do that from now on if you want."

Echo sighed, relieved at the option before looking at you again. His expression is lighter. Omega already excited to see her clone brother a little more relaxed. You smiled and calmly guided him to the dorm.

All the way the three of you were shot with stares and comments. You scolding each one with your furious glare, Omega stuck out his tongue at the attackers, while Echo lowered his head every time. His tall stature, allowing you to see his depressed expression from below.

Omega opened the door as you arrived soon after, still next to Echo. Omega pointed to the bunk and you asked permission to sit, Echo, growing more and more stunned by your sweet attitude toward him, nodded.

Placing the small silver suitcase you brought along on the floor, you took Echo by the hand, inviting him to sit beside you.

You asked permission with each movement and touch the soldier's body, trying to be gentle, as if his body were the most sensitive of porcelain. You were curious about his cybernetics, but you chose not to bring it up.

Omega was sitting by your suitcase, legs crossed on the floor, handing out all the little devices you needed to gauge the clone's basic physical parameters, but never looking away from him.

You explained what you were doing and why, warned of any movement or approach of the small devices and their purpose. Echo just nodded, getting a lot more confident in you.

You can't help but notice the tight, visible muscles. The heat radiating from the clone's body. The sharp, attractive shape of his body in that tight black outfit. Feeling the slight reactions whenever your fingertips touched him. The shy look he gave you.

Omega looked uncomfortable, pacing back and forth when you were wearing the last device on Echo's body, checking his heart function.

"Omega, what is it?"

Echo said low but firm, surprising you by the contrast to the voice that trembled earlier.

"I lied to Nala Se, saying that I went to get more supplies with Y/N, that it would take her time to get to the lab, so I could take her to you. If the confusion gets to her ears, she'll find out."

Omega ran her hand constantly over the back of her neck and through hair, the little eyes fearful.

You widened your eyes at the girl, remembering that you was requested earlier and for her boldness with the doctor (as if you didn't know her). Already trying to devise a plan to cover up the improvised procedure with Echo.

"Hm... I can talk to some clone friends to claim that we left Kamino for a few hours… I don't want Nala Se mad at us. And about the fight, well, we just defended ourselves."

You said with a smug smile on your full lips, forgetting your hand resting on Echo's covered chest, your hand already warming the spot. He watched your hand standing there, your skin seemingly smooth, the fingers small and delicate, rising and falling with his breath and causing a strange sensation deep in his racing heart.

The way you welcomed him and tried to keep him safe. You defended him. Just like your brothers before it all happened. He hadn't experienced this in a long time. But like a knife, he slashed his thoughts and threw them aside. He no longer allowed himself to wander through such things, after all, what kind of relationship could he have, being like that.

He came back to consciousness with your movement, withdrawing you hand and standing up, Omega already picking up the small suitcase from the floor.

"A-Are we done yet?"

A slight disappointment was clear in the clone's voice. You crouched down between his spread thighs, looking him in the eye, giving the clone's eyes access to your light cleavage and your silvery cord that went between your breasts.

"We've finished the basics, Echo. You are strong and healthy. I'll be back to do the rest tomorrow, after my shift, if you're comfortable."

Your eyes were like adorable little twinkling stars. So comforting and sincere, just like you, all the time with him. He nodded, a slight smile breaking his pale lips, bringing a slight, sweet swell to his heart.

You stood up, carefully taking the clone's hand, pulling a pen out of your pinned hair, and jotting down your personal communicator code in the palm of his hand.

"Let me know anything, Echo. Drink water and do the breathing exercises before going to bed."

Smiling, you turned around, heading for the door, being caught up by Omega just after she gave your brother a hug. The door closed as you remembered to scold the brave little girl for her attitude earlier.

Echo was left alone. Only with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears in the dim light in the room. The raindrops hitting the glass.

He put his hand where yours was moments ago, reading your code by pulling his palm away from his chest. He was calm. Something impossible after days of evaluations.

But beyond that, he felt real, alive, and eager to see you the next day, as much as his guts and gears wanted to say otherwise.

[twdeadfanfic]

Feral Pt.6

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary:  Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.

Chapter 6/10 Words: 4095

You can find my other fics in my masterlist.

Last chapter…Daryl helped Dana to wash and cut her hair, and she made progress trying to make friends, and she started going on runs...

“Told you I’m fine…” Michonne grumbled, sat down on a bed, half lying against some pillows. while Rick, Daryl, and Dana looked at her.

She had come back riding that day, with some bruises and a sprained ankle. Apparently, for what she’d said, she had been on her way to check a residential area, when she’d been surprised by a group of walkers that scared the horse, and she’d fallen down, spraining her ankle. Somehow, the horse had not run away, loyal to Michonne, and she’d managed to limp and get back on the horse before walkers could reach her, putting down some with her katana from the horse before riding away, and she’d managed to get back to the prison.

“You could have died,” Rick said, stern. “What were you thinking?”

“If I hadn’t fallen on my ankle I’d have put down every walker there without a problem.” Michonne scoffed. “No, don’t look at me like that, like you don’t do stuff like that all the time, you both.” She waved at Rick and Daryl. “Also, you.” She nodded at Dana, though she hadn’t said anything.

“You gotta be more careful, though,” Daryl said, he was scared thinking how close Michonne had been to dying. “This goin’ out alone, being out for days on your own, ain’t safe.”

Michonne rolled her eyes. “Yes, because before you found Dana, you never went out alone and never put down groups of walkers on your own.” She had a point, but it didn’t mean that Daryl wasn’t worried about her.

“Daryl’s right,” Rick said. “We have a home, a safe place, and we need people here helping around, we need you here, and on runs, working together. Your home is here with us, you don’t need to be outside on your own anymore.”

“You know I have to…” Michonne said quietly, looking down.

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail before speaking again. “Michonne…we talked about it. He’s gone. Trail is cold. We ain’t gonna find him. I know you wanna, but you ain’t goin’ to, you’re just gonna get yourself hurt. Rick’s right, people need you here.” He, for one, would be less worried if Michonne were around, and she was someone that now Daryl could call a friend, family. Michonne looked at him and then down, but didn’t say anything.

“I couldn’t even see if there was something useful in that group of houses,” she finally said, scoffing.

“Place’s far enough that it’d be a waste to send the team if there’s nothing useful there, or nothin’ that we need to carry in cars,” Daryl said. “I can go with the bike, I’d be faster than the car, if there’s somethin’ worth goin’ I’ll tell Glenn.”

“I don’t know…” Rick frowned.

“Come on, Rick, you know I can get there faster than a car, and ride fast if there are walkers.” Daryl had ridden his way out of a big group of walkers more than once, while cars would get trapped more easily. “I’ll see if it’s worth sendin’ a group.”

Rick seemed to think it but finally he let out a sigh and nodded. “Alright…but not alone, you’re not doing a Michonne.” Michonne herself scoffed at that wording.

“Can take only one on the bike.” Daryl shrugged.

“Me,” Dana said quickly.

“Okay.” Rick nodded. “I’ll get a map so Michonne can point you where it is.”

“I could go…”

“Michonne.” Rick looked at her sternly. “You have a sprained ankle.”

Michonne let out a sigh, and Daryl knew that she didn’t like the inactivity, he understood that. “Okay…give me that map…”

*

Daryl was in his cell, making sure that he had everything ready to leave the next morning, when he noticed Dana looking at him from the door. “Hey, cat,” he greeted her. “You okay.” She nodded and walked into the cell, sitting on the bunk. “You sure about comin´ tomorrow?”

Dana nodded but then frowned. “Don’t want me?”

“No, I do,” Daryl assured her, sometimes she tended to think that maybe he didn’t want her around and Daryl hated it, but he just wanted her to be safe. “But not if you don’t want to, I can ask someone else, it’ll be fine.”

“I want to…” Dana murmured.

“Alright, cat,” Daryl chewed on his thumbnail, shy. “I uh…I’m glad you got my back.” Dana gave him a smile at that, and Daryl couldn’t help his own.

“Daryl…” Dana said, serious now. “Who’s Michonne looking for?”

Daryl let out a sigh, sitting down next to her on the bed. “This asshole…he called himself the Governor, he led in a town near here, Woodbury, most of the people in here were from that place, but he was a prick, crazy, attacked us, tried to kill us, then did the same to his own people so we took them in. He uh…killed some of our own…” Daryl tried to summarize, and he tried not to think on Merle, swallowing hard. Dana seemed to notice that something was wrong, because she nudged his arm with her head affectionately, like sometimes she did.

“So…we won, but he escaped…I spent a long while out there with Michonne lookin´ for him, tracking him, but he’s gone, never found anythin´. It’s like she can’t give up, though.” Sometimes Daryl wondered if he should still be out there too, looking with Michonne, but he was sure that the governor was away from there of dead. But if he were out there with Michonne, she’d be safer, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten hurt now…but Rick said that he was needed there, and he did like to be there, help around the prison, go on runs, find people in need and bring them to safety, he liked to be near his family, near Dana…he still felt guilty about not being out there with Michonne, though, about having given up on the search for the governor, and he missed her and worried about her when she was gone.

“Okay?” Dana asked, frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, just…dunno, can’t help but think maybe I should keep the search too, but it’s been like a year…but maybe I should be out there with Michonne.” Daryl shrugged, self-conscious.

Dana shook her head before she spoke. “You hunt for people, feed them, help them here, help in runs…you have to stay here.” Daryl blinked at Dana. They talked every day, but he didn’t think he’d heard Dana say so many words together. “Michonne…should stay too. But if she leaves and if you leave with her, I go too.”

Daryl was just more taken aback at that. “You’re safe here, safer than outside.”

“So are you, so is Michonne.” Dana shrugged. “You are…I…” She frowned, looking down, as if she didn’t know what to say. “You leave I leave with you.”

“Why?” Daryl frowned.

“I want to.” Dana shrugged again. “I want to be with you...I like to…” Daryl didn’t know what to say, but he was feeling emotional and his stomach was doing funny things, and so he looked away, swallowing hard, before nodding. “But…don’t leave?” Dana asked quietly.

“I ain’t gonna,” Daryl assured her, and Dana smiled softly, making him feel shyer. “We should uh…we should rest…gotta leave very early tomorrow.”

Dana nodded and she brushed his arm with her head again gently before getting up and leaving his cell towards hers.

*

Daryl and Dana left the prison early in the morning, when the sky was still dark and the sun was just starting to rise on the east, riding on his bike. It was a long journey, and Daryl didn’t stop until they were almost there and they could see some of the houses away, but still far enough.

Daryl turned to look at Dana over his shoulder. “Alright, there…” he waved towards the entry of the area. “Is where Michonne was ambushed by those walkers. I don’t want the same to happen to us, alright, so we don’t go for them, we stop far enough, make noise, and let them come to us so we can shoot at them as they come, alright? Not direct fight.”

“Waste of bullets.” Dana shrugged and at any other moment, Daryl would probably have agreed with her, but maybe Rick’s and Glenn’s ideas were rubbing on him, or maybe it had been the scares of Dana fighting a group of walkers alone and getting all bloodied, and of Michonne hurting her ankle in the middle of a group of walkers, but this time, Daryl wasn’t going to risk it, much less with Dana there.

“Bullets will be wasted anyway if walkers kill you,” Daryl just said. “Alright so, walkers go on groups and herds, for whatever reason.” Daryl had no idea why, neither was he going to investigate it. “So I’m hopin’ that every walker here is in the group and when we make noise, they all will come, so we won’t have to worry about others around the place later. If we see they’re too many, we’re still next to the bike so we ride the hell out of here, alright?”

Dana just shrugged but nodded. Daryl didn’t know how he felt about making plans, if it was a good one or not, usually Rick or Glenn and Maggie were the ones planning stuff while he just got things done. He hoped it was good enough and not a mess, but Dana wasn’t giving him any input.

“It’s a shit plan?” He straight up asked.

“No…I don’t know…don't plan much.” Dana shrugged and Daryl didn’t know what had he been expecting. “Just waste of bullets.”

“Won’t think the same if we find fifty walkers.” Daryl scoffed, nudging her softly with his shoulder before kicking the bike into motion again, driving slightly closer to the place. “Alright…” He dismounted and grabbed the crossbow, getting ready, while Dana did the same with her rifle. “Ready?” He asked, and when Dana nodded, he slammed the honk of the bike several times.

In a few seconds, Daryl could make the growl of walkers. Some stray walkers came from around, while a bigger group came from the small residential area, though luckily it was not a herd, but looking at it, Daryl was not surprised that Michonne had been ambushed and the horse spooked, and he could only be glad that she’d ended up just with a sprained ankle. If you didn’t know that there was a group of walkers around, you could easily end up in quite a mess. They had been right stopping the bike far from it to shoot at them.

“Alright, let’s clear the stray ones first, you the ones to the left.” It’d be harder to keep an eye on those than in the group. “Then we’ll shoot at the big one together.” Or else, they could just ride away if they got to close, but at least they’d have cleared the others.

They began shooting, clearing the stray walkers all around. “Shit…” Daryl heard Dana cursing and when he glanced at her, he realized she’d missed a shot, but she’d put down several walkers nonetheless. “You’re doing great,” Daryl encouraged her.

Soon enough, the stray walkers were down, so they focused on the bigger group before it could get too close. Daryl knew he wouldn’t have enough arrows to put down every walker in that group after putting down the stray walkers too, so he was glad that Rick had reminded him to take another rifle just in case.

“Keep going,” Daryl said when he ran out of arrows, dropping the crossbow and getting the rifle to join the shooting again.

“Knife?”  Dana said when there were just a few walkers left and already close.

“Alright…” Daryl nodded, if those weren’t the only walkers around, he didn’t want to risk getting low on ammo, not knowing what they could find inside the houses. If Rick had known the amount of walkers there, for sure he’d have sent a group instead of letting Daryl go on the bike, but Daryl thought he and Dana weren’t doing a bad job at putting them down, for now at least.

They left the rifles and grabbed their knives, rushing to the walkers, fighting back to back, grabbing the monsters and sinking the knives into their brains, and Daryl had to admit it, this was easier than doing it alone. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to clear them all before they got too close to him without Dana there.

“Alright…those are all for now…” Daryl said, looking around and Dana nodded, scanning their surroundings, but neither she seemed to notice any other walkers. Daryl looked at her and smirked. “Look, and you didn’t even end up all blood-splattered, that’s a real improvement.”

Dana scoffed, and before Daryl knew what was going on, she brushed her finger across the side of her blood-smeared knife blade and then ran that, now bloodied, finger across Daryl’s cheek, smearing it with walker’s blood. “Stop it,” Daryl turned his face away but couldn’t stop his smirk. “You know somethin’, coverin’ yourself in blood and guts of walkers works to walk across groups of them without them noticin’ you, or that’s what Rick and Glenn say, they did it once in Atlanta.”

“Really?” Dana frowned.

“Yeah, you gotta be quiet and walk slow, like they recognize us by smell and sound.” Daryl shrugged, he didn’t know much, he’d never tried it himself, but it was something useful to know. Dana seemed to think the same, nodding thoughtfully. “Alright…I’m gonna get the arrows back and then we’ll check the houses, yeah?”

Once they were ready, they got to the bike again. The residential area seemed small, just a single street lined with houses, it seemed that they had wanted to build more but had run out of time. Still, Daryl wanted to have the bike close, in case they might need to ride away for any reason, whether it was walkers or people. When he honked again, near a couple of the houses, he heard a sound and followed it, finding a walker trapped in a fence trying to get to them, and so he put it down by knife.

“Open doors on those houses,” Dana said, pointing at them. “No walkers, or trapped.” Yes, Daryl knew it made sense, otherwise, they’d have gone following the sound of his honk. “Closed doors.” She pointed at a couple of houses. There could be walkers on those.

“We check those first?” Daryl asked and Dana nodded.

They found a couple of walkers inside one, three on the other, almost dried already, nothing they couldn’t put down easily with their knives. There wasn’t much inside, as if people hadn’t been living there before walkers started roaming the world, though there was some stuff left from people that seemed to have taken refuge in there and seemed to have found a bad end.

“Looks like most of the walkers here were on those groups we killed,” Daryl said and  Dana nodded. Still, he knew they shouldn’t get too confident about it.

The houses with broken doors didn’t have walkers inside, just one in a closed room, and a few corpses lying around. Neither they found much stuff to carry with them, nothing that they couldn’t get in the bags of the bike, and so Daryl was glad that they hadn’t sent a full group. Still, it hadn’t been a total waste of time, there were some tools and knives around, and those were always welcome, also stuff that they could turn into something else, like pieces of fabric, and even a couple of cans of food here and there.

They found a walker lying in one of the houses, almost dried up but alive. Its legs seemed to have been torn, Daryl didn’t know how, so all it could do was crawl, reaching out towards them. It made Daryl feel more uneasy than he would admit, and he shot to its head, putting it down and retrieving the arrow before he kept on inspecting the house.

Before he could move, though, he felt Dana tugging at his shirt. “Daryl…you think…the people, can know what happens but can’t stop it?”She pointed at the dead walker.  “Like trapped inside?”

“I don’t know…don’t think so.” Daryl frowned. “Almost at the beginnin´ of all, I went with Rick and some others to the CDC, there was a crazy scientific there. He showed us some videos and scientific stuff, I didn’t understand shit. But he showed us that the brain died and then part like…kept workin’ again? I don’t know. But the people died before it so…I guess they’re really dead, don’t know nothin’, they’re not them, just…” Daryl shrugged, not sure of how to word it, not sure if he believed in a soul or something like that, that could leave the body or if that was bullshit, but he knew that those things were dead and not whoever they had been, they didn’t think or feel. “Just…just flesh I guess? Don’t think they know or feel nothin’.”

Dana hummed, thoughtful. “Good.” She nodded. “Weird…but good.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand it either…Now come on.” Daryl reached out to squeeze Dana’s shoulder shyly. “Let’s finish checkin’ everythin’ before it’s dark.”

Entering into the last house that they had to check, they were greeted by the sight of the corpse of a man who had shot himself in the head, and Daryl tried not to think what might have driven him to do so. Dana and him split to check different rooms, and at first it seemed like there wasn’t anything useful, but finally Daryl found a box with some cans of food.

“Found somethin’, cat?” He asked but there was no answer, and Daryl frowned, walking towards where Dana had gone. “Dana?” She seemed to have closed the door of a room behind her and the absence of an answer was worrying Daryl, even if he hadn’t heard any struggle. He rushed to the door and was about to open it when the door opened and Dana walked outside, seeming startled to find him there.

“Hey…” She sheathed her knife and pulled the door closed behind her.

“You okay?” Daryl frowned at her, feeling like something was wrong.

“Yes…found something?”

“Yeah, a box of…uh…” Daryl kept frowning, looking at the closed door behind Dana. “There’s somethin’ wrong?”

“No. Nothing useful.” Dana shook her head. “Come on.”

Daryl kept looking at her and the door, still feeling like something was off, and then he gently pushed Dana away from the door, opening it and looking inside before Dana could do anything.  Lying on the ground there was a little girl and a toddler, stab wounds in their heads, and judging by how they looked, they seemed to have died at the same time than the man who killed himself in the living room, but those two had turned into walkers before they were put down.

Daryl had seen a lot of shit in his life, both before and after the world changed and walkers were a thing, and still, the sight was like a kick to the gut and he swallowed hard, feeling his throat tight. Suddenly, he felt Dana’s arms wrapping around his waist, hugging him from behind and resting her cheek on his back.

“You didn’t need to see it,” she said quietly, and Daryl realized that she had closed the door for that reason, somehow she’d known how it’d affect him and she had tried to shield him from it, to protect him, and the realization made him even more emotional, and he found himself resting his hand on top Dana’s on his waist.

Daryl knew, in a way, that Dana worried for him, that she cared for him, the same way that he did for her, but seeing it like that, seeing her trying to shield him from something horrible, dealing with it herself in silence… A warm wave of gratitude went through him. It meant more than what he could say, he didn’t even know how to say it, he’d never known how to say to Dana what she meant to him.

He’d protect her and shield her from every horror of the world too, if he could, and he hoped she knew. He was glad that he had someone like her always with him, a quiet shadow that looked over him, had his back, tried to ease his way through the harsh word. Daryl swallowed hard, trying to control emotions that were getting out of hand.

“Let’s go…” Dana whispered, and Daryl let her tug him away from the door, closing it.

“Uh…thanks…” Daryl murmured, looking down. It wasn’t what he wanted to tell her, not only that, but he found himself unable to say anything else.  Dana just smiled softly, brushing his arm with the side of her head gently and affectionately, before she held his hand, tugging at him away from the closed door, and Daryl let her lead him out of the house, even if he felt more than shy with his hand on hers, and he tried to stop his mind and do something useful again. “Sun’s goin’ down, we should stay in one of those houses that still have doors.”

Dana nodded and they went to the one with fewer bodies, taking them outside. Daryl even dragged his bike into the house, helped by Dana. If for some reason people might happen to stumble into the place, which Dary hoped won’t happen, he didn’t want them to see the bike. Once everything was ready, they sat down in the living room to eat from a couple of the cans that they had found.

“Here, last piece of tuna for you, kitten,” Daryl joked, handing it to Dana, who scoffed but smiled

“No kitten,” Dana said, munching on the tuna.

Soon, they had finished dinner and the sun had gone down, leaving the room illuminated by a couple of candles that they had found in a house.

“I’ll take first watch,” Daryl offered and Dana frowned.

“There’s a door.”

“Yeah, it’d stop walkers, but not people, can’t be locked and I don’t wanna risk it,” Daryl explained, he hadn’t seen anything around that he could drag and block the door, the house seemed almost bare. Dana nodded, understanding. “Come on, sleep, I’ll take first watch and wake you later.”

“You better,” Dana murmured, curling down on the floor next to him, using her bag as a pillow. She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh, and then she reached out her hand so it was resting near Daryl’s thigh, fingertips barely brushing it. He wondered if she wanted to reassure herself that he was there…if maybe even she felt safer like that…he felt all warm inside at the idea and his stomach did something weird.

Daryl looked at her sleeping, feeling not for the first time how fond of her he’d grown, how much he cared for her, how much he liked to have her around, and when today she’d tried to shield him from something horrible, those feelings just seemed to have multiplied…or maybe they always were that strong, that many, but he’d gotten just more aware of them. They were overwhelming, but they felt kind of good too.

Smiling softly as he looked at her, Daryl couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to brush his knuckles over her cheek ever so softly. Dana’s eyes opened at it and Daryl froze, realizing that either she wasn’t asleep yet or he’d woken her up. He took his hand away, flustered and feeling his cheeks blushing. Dana, though, seemed content enough, as she gave him a lazy, soft smile.

Then, she was shifting to rest her head on his lap instead of the pillow, and Daryl's stomach did again those weird, nervous twirls, while his heart seemed to beat so fast that it could jump out of his chest. Dana gave him another small smile before she closed her eyes, snuggling more, and she reached out to take his hand and place it on her head. Daryl’s heart went even more out of control, but he swallowed hard and began to stroke her hair, gently and shyly, careful not to tug at it.

“You said you ain’t no kitten…lookin’ like one now…” He said bashfully, his nerves reflecting on his voice.

Dana’s lips curled up into a small smile, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Kitten just with you,” she murmured, making those funny twirls in Daryl’s stomach get just worse.

*

I just love them, I can’t help it.

Thanks to the people supporting this. If you enjoyed this please let me know your thoughts, and reblogs are always appreciated.

As always, excuse my English, is not my first language.

I’m going to reblog the taglist in another post to see if that way this shows up in the Daryl tags.

[regrettablewritings]

Maybe the gift rule, the bringing lunch, and the taking care on sick days for Poe?

Captain Dreamsicle it is!

Takes care of on sick days: Both of you, though Poe gets a bit more in by comparison . . . Poe is a man of many traits: He is sweet, hard-working, a little gung-ho but altogether just plain passionate. He’s also a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to his own health. The moment you so much as hint that you might be coming down with something, this man is on your case. You can’t even sniffle around him before he’s right in front of you, those big, brown eyes of his filled with almost puppyish worry. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle yet heavy with concern. He places a hand to your forehead, searching for any excessive heat. “You don’t think you picked anything up, do you? I know your bunk mate just came back from a recon mission --” And so begins the Resistance pilot’s transformation into a mother hen, however annoying as it may be. He can’t force you to stay in bed, especially if the infirmary insists that it’s just a slight head cold (at most), but he’s definitely going to keep an eye on you whenever he can: He has subordinates working close by you report back to him, sending him messages on his tablets as to whether or not you seem particularly light-headed or drowsy. He requests the droids’ assistance in making sure you stay in bed just so long enough that you get a confirmed eight hours. He makes sure your plate has only ever so slightly the bittest more of rations when it’s time for you to eat. (If you make any comment on this, he eagerly ushers you along, commenting on oh look at that lucky you! You don’t see the nod of thanks he gives to the person on ration duty, but you know they’re in cahoots.) And once he gets promoted to general, you can just forget about it! . . . But the moment Poe sniffles, it’s like he’s done a 180 on the matter: To him, Poe Dameron can’t get sick. And if he does, well, he can work it off. So many people depend on him now more than ever, and he can’t let them down by taking some down time just to fight off a common cold. Besides . . . doctors are a little scary. It may take some convincing (and fussing), but eventually, he does give in -- to a degree. Really, if you can convince him to lie in bed with you while he reads over plans and maps, it’s a win. Because you’ll inevitably massage his curls until he drifts off into a much needed sleep. He pretends to be frustrated that you let him sleep in the next day, but the truth is he greatly appreciates it in the long run.

Brings the other lunch at work: You swear that ever since he got promoted to general, Poe’s self-care has taken a hit: He’s up at all hours, he’s running around like crazy, and he keeps skipping out on meals, insisting that he’ll eat later! At first, you were very understanding of it: He did, after all, just jump ahead into way more responsibilities than he’d previously had as just a captain. Sure, he’d been trained for it, but that didn’t make the reality of what it was that much easier. You did your part where you could: Delivering messages, sitting in with him on meetings to take notes on anything that might be of use to him later, making sure BB-8 kept out of trouble . . . But really! Did the man seriously think he could get away with his third straight day of skipping lunch!? You had never been a particularly intimidating person but as you stormed across the base, expression stern as you carried a small tin case in your hands, everyone knew to stay out of your way. You sure wish you’d kept that same amount of confidence when you stormed into his designated workspace. Thankfully, he wasn’t in the middle of talking with somebody, but he was definitely in the middle of something. But you tried not to care about that: Instead, you found yourself focusing on how your beloved looked. He didn’t look sickly, and you’d certainly seen him in a worse state. But there were clear, tiny traces of him lacking proper or consistent nutrition. And rest. Nevertheless, he wore that boyishly cute grin when he looked up from his tablets and saw you. “Oh, hey!” he said, as though there weren’t threats of shadows developing beneath his eyes. He leaned back in his seat ever so slightly. “What brings you to this neck of my woods?” You bit your lip. Remain stern, you told yourself. Be gentle and loving, but make it clear you’re not going to mess around. “Castion told me he didn’t see you in the mess hall earlier. Or for lunch for that matter. So I’m here to deliver your rations,” you lifted up the tin container just a bit higher for him to take note. He nodded. “Thank you, hon. You can put it right there--” he nodded at a corner of his tech-cluttered desk-- “and I’ll get to it in a bit.” He then returned his attention back to the holo-map in front of him. You fought to release an exasperated sigh. “No,” you decided upon instead. You watched as the general blinked before looking back up at you. “Huh?” “I said no,” you informed, a bit more assertive than before. “You always say you’ll ‘get to it’ but according to BB, you ever really do. You take maybe, like, three or four bites and then you’re done. And that’s if you can be bothered to eat it even four hours after receiving it!” You could see Poe gently scowl. How rude: Ratted out by his own droid. He tried again, “Honey, I promise to you: I’ll eat it within the hour. All of it. Heart crossed and hope to --” He paused. “Get Force-blasted by Rey. Again. This time, on purpose.” You hummed. That was a fair proposition to make. But neh, you weren’t buying it. “Oh, I know you will,” you responded, walking towards the desk. And then around it, until you stood next to Poe. You didn’t set the container down. “Because I’m going to stay and make sure you do.” You threw in a cloyingly sweet smile. Poe returned with a smile of his own, albeit one much less composed and far more wobbly. Oh, boy. “Uh . . . Don’t you have something else to get a handle on, sweetie?” “Nope!” said, popping your ‘p’. A beat of silence. Poe eyed the tin. “But . . . I’ve got a lot of stuff to focus on, babe . . . I can’t exactly take the time out to just --” “For the Maker’s sake, Poe! I know you have a lot to do, but that’s no reason to keep skipping out on food. That’s frankly even more of a reason to eat when you can -- you’re not going to be of any help if you’re just a pile of bones, you know!” This time, it was Poe’s turn to do the lip-biting. You had a point . . . You continued, “Look, I know the rations aren’t that great, but you gotta eat something. In fact . . .” You popped the lid off. “How about a feed you?” “I’m not a baby, (Y/N) --” “No, but you’re being reluctant like a toddler. And in any case, if I feed you then at least you can keep your hands busy doing whatever it is you insist you need to do instead of actually putting nourishment in your body. Capiche?” Did he have any real say? No, not really. By this point, after all the ones he’d grown up around and encountered in the Resistance, Poe had learned when to fold in the face of a woman on a mission. Besides, underneath the resigned demeanor, he rather appreciated the gesture. You didn’t have to do this; you were just as important as he was to the Resistance as far as he was concerned. Yet, you were spending your time, making sure he was operating better than he thought he already was. And doing that? It made the disgustingly bland protein glob you spoon-fed him ever so slightly more palatable. Well, almost.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: (Since Christmas apparently doesn’t exactly exist in the Star Wars universe as we know it, I’m keeping a more modern setting in mind.) Every year, you would make Poe look you in the eye and promise that he wouldn’t go overboard with the gift-giving. You two weren’t exactly hurting for money, it just didn’t seem to make much sense to go and splurge on something that the two of you both couldn’t benefit from equally (a pool, a tv, a roomba, and so on). At least, to you it didn’t. Which was why every year, you reminded your significant other of this and hoped he would keep a lid on it. And every year, Poe would find some sort of loophole to squeeze himself through, or just plain break the rule, offering only the most sheepish of smiles when the reveal inevitably arrived. Though, if you were “lucky”, you’d be regaled the story of how he found whatever that year’s big splurge was and how he knew from the moment he saw it that it “had to be yours”. Which was how you wound up with a limited edition makeup set. And a gorgeous cocktail dress. And a diamond-and-pearl earrings and necklace set. And tickets to the touring version of that musical you’d always dreamed of seeing. And so much more. And every year, you’d be somewhat upset about it, but only a little bit: You’d learned long ago that none of this was done out of malice or to humiliate you by making whatever you gave him appear lackluster or bought on the cheap. This was simply how Poe was: He was a go big or go home type of fella and it only made sense that this type of mindset would carry over into how he showed you his love for you. To Poe, you deserved to be showered in gifts, and he made it his goal every year to shower you with the best of the best. There just wasn’t a price that could be put on surprising you or making you smile (well, on the inside, because on the outside you were weakly chiding about how he once again broke the rule). And you couldn’t fault him for being your loving, passionate Poe. Besides it wasn’t as though every year, he didn’t also gift you with a painfully ugly Christmas sweater to match his. 

Thank you for asking!! Hope I did okay . . .

[vercopaanir]

Teach Me to Fly

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Making space for yourself aboard the Razor Crest, the child enlists you to break an unspoken rule that leads to something new.

Rating: E for everyone!

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: None!

Notes: God, I didn’t intend for this series to be such a slow-burn, but it is what it is. C’est la vie! I appreciate feedback. Please forgive me if I’ve misrepresented something from Star Wars canon, I am not an expert. Also on AO3.

Keep Up | Go to Sleep | Teach Me to Fly | (later in series) Don’t Go Far

Traveling through the stars didn’t feel quite as mystical as you’d dreamed of when you heard of people going off-world. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see it for yourself, but other than the occasional shimmy and shake of the engines, the Mandalorian was an incredibly talented pilot who flew his ship with steady hands. It hardly felt different than being on solid ground.

That wasn’t due to the integrity of the Razor Crest, either. In the two weeks you had been aboard, you’d overheard him muttering quiet curses in another language any time something broke, fell off, or rattled somewhere in the ship’s engines. He would disappear into a crawl space in the floor or wall for a few hours, and you would wait nearby in case he needed help, keeping the child firmly encased in your arms.

He never did. Or, at least, he never asked for it.

It had taken you a full week to grow accustomed to the ship. You took your time, using both hands, exploring every nook, crevice, and corner of the hull. He didn’t forbid you from following him up the ladder, but you hadn’t been invited, either. So, you kept your exploring on the lower floor. It turned your hands cold and stiff until they shook, feeling the metal structure around you, but you created the map in your mind. There was a refresher, a rather large locker that you weren’t sure of the contents, the bunk you slept in, and then...further into the hull.

“Don’t,” the Mandalorian told you one day, as you started to step towards a colder corner of the hull near the back. You stopped, tilting your head towards him curiously. “Don’t touch anything down there.”

You considered the warning, the baby holding onto the hem of your robe near your feet. “Alright,” you murmured carefully, turning back. You stepped back towards his voice, where he was standing near the ladder that led up to the upper deck. The child chased the trailing fabric of your robe. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. You weren’t sure if you would have believed him, or taken him seriously if he had. The truth was a bit gruesome to someone like you-someone who had only ever lived in such a small corner of the galaxy. 

That night, you sat up with your back against the metal wall of the bunk, your knees drawn to your chest, and you stared straight at that dark, cold side of the ship. You couldn’t see the carbonite freezer he’d told you about, or the hanging encasements of his bounties. At first, the idea of people frozen in pain and fear left you feeling sick. 

But the more you considered it, you felt less unsettled you were, and more respectful you became. 

Living a life as a slave indentured you to an order of things. You’d seen the best and worst of most living creatures, and it was not hard to imagine the cantina owner hanging up on the rack. It wasn’t hard to envision the imperial officer who’d taken you from your home, slaughtering your village, your parents. For the first time in your life, you were seeing the bad things that could happen to bad people.

When you fell asleep, you dreamed of the Mandalorian hunting for the man who took your eyesight and drowning him in carbonite. You dreamt of him in the dark, rather than yourself, and you woke up more rested than you could remember being.

The Mandalorian found consistent work, but he never told you what planet you were on or where you were going next. Your curiosity was piqued, but you felt too timid to ask more about it. So far, neither of you interacted beyond what the child needed, and you were, in a small way, grateful. It took you days to accept you were no longer under someone’s thumb. Every time you brushed the back of your neck and felt the thin, healed flesh that had once held the transmitter, you felt dizzy. It didn’t feel real.

At least, not until the Mandalorian found you to give you a payment from some of his work. The credits were kept in a small money pouch, and you stared stupidly up at him as you held it like it was a detonator. You tried to thank him, but he simply spun on his heel and walked away before you could manage the words.

Such was the basis of your interactions. So whenever the Razor Crest landed, you gathered the baby up into your arms and stepped out into the hull, listening to the armored warrior descend down the ladder before he opened that mysterious locker. 

Your questions and interest grew each time over this routine, and finally, you couldn’t keep quiet. You stepped closer, setting the child down near your feet. “What are you doing?” you asked softly, tilting your head towards the light that came from the locker that was open before him. It caused his beskar to gleam, and you admired how it must have been polished.

His helmet turned toward you, and for a moment you were both still, staring at each other. The dim light from the locker illuminated enough that you could make out his shape, and you felt brave enough to take another step closer, leaning against the locker’s door. Would he push you away? Tell you to go back to your place? You didn’t need to be in the way, after all. You felt a sudden wave of reticence press down on your shoulders, but you resisted the submissive response.

“Tools of the trade.” His voice was even and low, but it held a lightness, too. 

Your stomach settled, and your shoulders relaxed. You tried to recall what little you knew of the creed of the Mandalore, and you felt your cheeks flush from your naivety. You asked, “Mandalorians use tools?”

A quiet noise came through the modulator of his helmet. It could have been a small, breathy chuckle, or even a fond sigh. He shook his head once before seeming to make a decision and reaching into the locker. He brought out something before turning towards you. 

“Here.”

Frowning, you reach out and recoil instantly at the feeling of icy metal, but his gloved fingers catch the delicate bones of your wrist. “Don’t-” you freeze, letting him draw your fingers back to the gun he holds. “Don’t be afraid.”

You swallow, taking the tips of your fingers and drawing it over the well oiled steel. Some kind of handgun, you think, hovering over the muzzle before tracing back down the barrel to the grip. He held it still as you studied it, the tension leaving you the more comfortable you became with shape. The cold dissipated the more your skin warmed it, and you tilted your head. “What kind of weapon is this?”

“A WESTAR-35 blaster pistol.”

You had never touched a gun before, never handled any weapon. The solid finality of it made you feel weak and flimsy, and you curled your fingers away from it and towards yourself. “Is it...your...favorite?” you struggled with asking, the words sounding stupid to you.

The Mandalorian seemed to consider your question, turning the blaster over between his hands before you heard him holster it at his hip. “It’s essential. Reliable.”

“How so?”

This was the most you’d ever spoken to each other, and even though it was out of your realm of knowledge, you were desperate to hear him speak more. You were desperate to talk with him more. You suddenly didn’t want to break the tenuous thread between you, finding his presence more comforting than you thought possible. It was an odd sensation for you, finding comfort in a stranger. You waited for annoyance to overcome him, irritation to cloud his demeanor or color his voice.

It didn’t.

“They can fire underwater. Sand, snow, dirt-nothing jams the machinery. Impassable to an enemy.”

The words made you shiver, but your lips twitched upward. “Like you.”

His helmet turned toward you again, regarding you. “This is the way.”

A slight tug at your ankle reminded you the child was at your feet, and you leaned down to pick him up. He cooed as he gazed up at the Mandalorian, and the bounty hunter’s gloved hand reached out to pet the small child between his ears. 

You followed him to the hatch, letting the hum of the lowering ramp fade before you asked, “Will you be gone long?”

He paused at that, a question you had never asked before. You wondered if he was so unused to talking with another organic life that it threw him off each time. You couldn’t blame him-no one spoke to you much either, before he brought you along in his ship. 

“I wouldn’t wait up,” the Mandalorian said, and you thought he might be happy. At least a little.

“Not much else to do,” you murmured, looking toward the child in your arms as he tugged your hair for attention. “For either of us.”

Warm air from outside ruffled your robe and dress, but the sunshine outside made you yearn to follow. The Mandalorian hesitated, swaying between descending the ramp and staying on the ship. Your eyes moved from beyond the world outside the Razor Crest back to his form, blinking inquisitively.

“D-Did I say something wrong?”

The Mandalorian shook his head then, stepping out of the ship and walking down the ramp. You sighed softly, hearing the door begin to close. You shifted the baby in your arms as he cuddled closer, his naptime nearing. You felt an odd sensation, a tugging in your chest to say something, to call out after him, but you had no idea what you would say. 

What did one say to a deadly warrior whose body count surpassed anyone else’s years?

“Be careful.”

He had a tendency towards hesitation when you spoke to him, and the slight pause in his stride as he walked away was no exception. You could hear it in the rhythm of his boots. You felt a small, self-deprecating smile tug at your mouth, and you reached out to the familiar electrical box that housed the buttons that controlled the ramp. You closed it, sealing you and the child in the safety of the ship, and let the sudden silence overcome you.

The baby was still tugging at your hair, and you sighed, stealing his little hand and kissing it fondly. His big eyes blinked up at you, and you gently butted your forehead against his. “Alright, let’s get you some food.” 

This was, arguably, the most difficult time. When the Mandalorian went off for work, the quiet and dark of the ship crept in on you until you thought you might lose your mind. The child, tugging at your ankle or babbling happily up at you from your lap was good company, to be sure, but it didn’t make up for your lack of occupation. Without toys, the child seemed just as restless as you were. You could keep him distracted with stories, simple ones you remembered from your childhood, but that only lasted so long before the little one was toddling off to find something else to get into. 

After finding him a small dehydrated meal in one of the crates, you suddenly realized you’d never known where the child sleeps. Usually, the Mandalorian would gather the baby from you every night and ascend up the ladder, or he’d collect him for a nap while the ship was on autopilot. You supposed the child could sleep in your bunk, and as you decide on this, you reach over to lift him up only to find him missing.

“W-Where did you go?” Your voice raises octaves higher, fumbling around the small corner you two had been occupying. Your hands frantically search for any sign of the baby, but a gurgling giggle from across the hull makes you perk up. “Oh! You little-!”

There’s laughter in your voice even as relief washes over you, and you clamber up to gather him in your arms. He tugs at your sleeve, grunting as if trying to direct you, but all that’s forward is the ladder.

“You want to go up there?” An answering coo makes you sigh. What could be the harm? “Alright. But you’re going to be napping, not playing.”

The baby fits in the bend of your elbow, and you’re able to shoulder your way up the narrow ladder onto the upper deck. It’s shadowed in darkness, and you fumble for a switch that might light the passageway, huffing in irritation. You supposed his helmet must have some kind of night vision specification, but did the Mandalorian really need everything so  dark ?

Your fingers tripped over a panel of buttons, and a sudden whisper of metal opened a set of doors nearby. Instantly, the passageway was flooded with natural light.

Sucking in a breath, you hesitated before stepping inside, your sight lighting up more than it had since before boarding the Razor Crest. 

The cockpit featured observational windows that bled the outside world in, and you blinked at the brightness, not unlike some deep-sea dwelling creature underexposed to the above world. The baby wiggled happily in your arms and continued to tug you forward. When he seemed to discover you responded to his silent pleas, he led you to one of the co-pilot seats where you found a makeshift cradle. 

“Oh. So you sleep here?” You feel the inside of the small space, finding it insulated and padded with something downy and plush. There’s a heavy blanket inside that you suspect was upcycled from another use, but the baby pulls it happily on top of himself. You can make out his two big eyes blinking from underneath, ears tucked down, and you hear him yawn. 

The scent of the cockpit hits you as soon as your mind begins to drift back to your surroundings. It doesn’t smell as metallic up here, you decide. There’s a wintry, sharp scent like trees, clean fabric and a layer of oil that comes from well preserved steel. Some of the switches on the control panel glow in front of you, and you can make out various colors from the sunlight dappling through the windows above. 

You sit carefully in the pilot’s seat, feeling uneasy leaving the child alone up here by himself. That’s the last thing you would want to deal with, you decide, imagining the ship suddenly lurching off while the little beastie played with the thrusters and dials unattended. You’re sure the Mandalorian would drop you off at the nearest port, and you wouldn’t be able to blame him.

As you languish in the streams of light, you realize the peaceful quiet outside the ship. You can hear the wind blowing, faint sounds of leaves, and the child’s quiet breathing behind you. It lulls you into security, and soon your own posture-usually perfectly, unfailingly straight-slumps back as you, too, fall asleep. Kuiil’s words of rest in safety echo in your mind.

When you wake up, it’s violent and sudden. There is someone there, and you lurch forward at the undeniable presence looming nearby. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Mandalorian’s voice says, his gloved hand resting on your arm. Your heart is thundering in your chest, eyes wildly searching for any sign of something wrong. The light is nearly gone now, save for the silvery glow of the stars, but as pretty as it is, you still feel as if you need to fight or flee. The child sits in your lap, staring up at you and cooing as he plays with the ends of a few locks of your hair, and his guardian is still looking you over. “Are you alright?”

You turn your face towards the Mandalorian. He’s knelt down by the pilot’s chair, where you still sat, and you take a few moments to assess yourself. You bring one hand up to the baby’s ear, gently stroking the little creature to reassure both of you that it’s alright.

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” you finally whisper, feeling suddenly miserable. The chair has left your back aching, your temples tight where tension is turning your neck stiff. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even...hear the hatch…”

“I tried to be quiet. It’s late.” There was another pause. “I told you not to wait up.” 

You take a moment to gather yourself, frowning gently at the discomfort of sitting for so long. It felt like all you’d done since boarding his ship was sleep, but...you had never slept so well, either. Even now, waking up discombobulated and tense, it was better than any of the nights spent in the cantina’s bunks, huddled on a sparse cot or on the floor with a sheet for a blanket and no pillow.

“Did you get what you came for?” you ask, tilting your head toward him. You could make out the faint shadow of his helmet, kneeling near your legs. “The bounty, I mean.”

“Put up a chase. I would’ve been back sooner, otherwise.”

His voice was a low, raspy baritone, and you wondered if he found it uncomfortable to speak after going so long without. You knew you did, at least. 

“I’m glad you were successful, then.” You slowly stand up, hissing as blood rushes back to your feet and your back seems to creak. The Mandalorian lifts the child from your arms as you stretch, and you rub your lower back with gentle fingers to chase the discomfort away. “I should do more to keep me from being idle.”

“You do plenty with this little womp rat,” he says, lifting the child up a bit higher. The baby giggles in response, and you smile at the sweet sound. 

“I could-” You pause, biting your lip. You’re aware of when he turns to face you, and you take a deep breath against the intimidation you feel bubbling to the surface. “I could do more. Be more useful, I mean.”

The silence between you is heavy with hesitation, and you can only imagine what he must be thinking. You try to hope he isn’t doubting you just because of your inability to see. The thought alone brings ire in your breast, and you flex your fingers at your sides, ready to defend yourself.

“Sit back down,” he murmurs, turning the pilot’s chair so it bumps the back of your knees. Your eyebrows fly up, and without question, you gingerly perch on the edge of the seat, feeling your heart flutter when he steps closer again. A breeze of scent-the smell of trees and outdoors, clean fabric and steel brushes your face. “Have you ever flown before?”

The question is absurd, but his lack of doubt is also...incredible. You’re not sure if it’s stupid or dignified. Your throat tightens and you don’t trust your voice to remain steady so you simply shake your head. 

“Right. Hold this,” he says, dropping the child into your lap without ceremony. You blink, securing the wiggling baby between your arms, and watch as he leans over the control panel. “I don’t think I can teach you how to fully fly a ship, but maybe...take off and landing aren’t complicated. You only need to know the controls for the propulsion and thrusters. The landing program does the rest.” 

Your heart begins to beat wildly, and you lean forward as he takes the next few hours explaining what every module, button, switch, and handle on the panel in front of you does. You take your time, feeling everything after he names it so you can commit it to memory. When your fingers brush over a red communications link, you sigh, “It’d be easier if they were all lit.”

There’s a brief pause, and you can hear his intake of breath through the modulator. The more you hear him speak, the more you decide you enjoy the sound of his voice. “It would?”

“Yes.” The child begins to squirm in your lap, trying to reach for a metal top that’s attached to a switch. You shift the child in your lap so he can see what his guardian is doing, and he moves to the other side of the chair while you speak. “I can make out shadows and some color and shapes when there’s enough light. It’s distorted at best, but it’s not total darkness. Not unless there’s light.”

The Mandalorian is quiet, and your eyes track his movements as he unscrews something on the control panel. He leans closer to your side, and you see him drop something into the child’s eagerly outstretched hand. 

“What’s that?”

“His favorite toy. There’s a button, here,” he says, moving quickly from the topic to kneel down again. “Under the panel. It lights the controls, but I don’t use it.” 

“Show me, please?” you ask, holding a hand out, palm up.

The Mandalorian takes your hand, cupping your knuckles and leading your fingers to the bulky nodule just beneath the lip of the panel. His finger lines up over yours, and he shows you how to press it with a little more force than the others. Suddenly, hundreds of lights that were previously dark flicker to life before you. The baby gurgles in delight around the toy half shoved in his mouth.

You spend a moment, looking at the glowing, slightly blurry controls, and you feel your eyes begin to sting. You’d never been trusted with something like this before, something so complex and skill-based. It was a far cry from cleaning dirty glasses and serving watered down liquor. 

Your companion takes a deep breath and leans his forearm on the back of your chair. “Does this help?” he asks, voice almost too soft for the modulator to pick up.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you wipe it away quickly. “Y-Yes. Show me how-how to take off, now,” you say, not asking so much as demanding with a childish eagerness.

The Mandalorian is a good teacher. 

In fact, he’s an excellent teacher. 

His voice is direct and patient, and he allows you to ask questions and make comments that don’t make you feel inferior. He stands over you, not hovering as much as observing, and you find consolation in his presence. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t treat you as if you’re made of glass, or because he’s not worried you’ll mess something up. Whatever the reason for his trust, you’re grateful for it, finding yourself smiling when you go through the motions of landing and he praises, “Good. Very good.”

The child begins tugging at your sleeve, and you realize it’s past time for him to be fed. As you start to get up, a gentle hand touches your shoulder. “Stay. I’ll bring it to you. Keep practicing.”

But he didn’t. He brought food for the child and yourself.

He set the plate of cold meat, bread, and cheese on the armrest, and you blink in surprise, looking up at his shadow. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

The Mandalorian was using an oiled cloth to wipe down the controls, not glancing at you as he worked. He points out, “You do it for me every day.”

“Yes, but-”

“Let’s practice take-off, now. It’s more in-depth.”

You sit back in the chair, letting the child pick what he wanted off the plate and nibbling on what was left, listening intently as the Mandalorian described different procedures and the pre-flight check-list. Something warm was building in your chest, slow and fervent, and every time his helmet tilted back to look at you, it deepened. You had never been valued before, cared for or thought of as more than a means to an end. And these feelings-they hurt, like the first breath of air you take after being submerged in water for far too long, but they felt sweet, too.

-

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons​ @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane 

If I forgot someone, please message me and let me know you want to be added. :)

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there? /Part 6/

I sat quietly in our barrack in Camp Shanks, New York City. It was so surreal that tomorrow we would be going to set our foot out from our home country. It made all of this so sickeningly real 

Skip who had just been laughing with Penk and Don, decided to plop next to me onto my bunk.

 “Ahh!”

And in the process bump me onto the floor. The shocked look on his face was too hilarious. “Sorry, sorry, fuck sorry Bambi”, he mutters as he scurries up and helps me once again to plop next to him.

I giggle softly and shake my head. “Don’t worry Skip”,I pat his head gently as he too chuckles. Then he turns more serious and makes it clear that he wants to have a more private conversation. We both turn so that we are on our sides facing each other, with our hands under our heads like sleeping children. Luckily being private wasn’t that hard in the noise the men were making. 

“you seemed pretty bummed about getting the pass to the city”, he starts softly. “I mean you don’t drink, and you usually spend the free time in the base anyway. I’m just curious to what was so special now?”, He finishes. I sigh. I could lie to him and make up a believable story about how I wanted to see the city before stepping out, or then I could be true to him the way he has always been to me. 

“I was going to spend time with my husband”, I whisper. His eyes widen at my confession. “He’s here?”, he whispers urgently. I nod, my heart racing so hard it feels like it’s on run to my mouth. I gulp and reach into my shirt where lies a ring on a chain with my cross. And on the ring there is a small engraving of my husbands name. 

I gently take the chain off and pass the ring to him. He takes a little time to inspect it and get his eyes work in the bad lighting. Then his eyes widen and mouth opens. I quickly jump up and slam my hand onto his mouth. 

“What the hell are you two doing?”, comes the voice of George Luz. I turn sharply and grab my ring away from Skip. “Talking”, I answer quickly. He just raises his brows and blows out some smoke. Then makes a face and nods. I turn back to Skip with a serious expression and mouth: “No ONE”

He just grins and smiles. “Not gonna have my Bambi thrown to the wolves”, he says tenderly and boops my nose. I breath out and smile back. It felt good to let it out. Skip was so dear to me, it always felt so wrong to keep lying to him. 

It also felt very odd to be sleeping with the men. I was now officially put into their barracks. Sink’s orders: “You’re familiar now, safe to start blending in.” And it was true, I felt more in touch with the men now. Even if Bill laughed at me because I was too scared to come down from the top bed of a bunk bed. Which lead to Bull gently lifting me down:

“There we go ma’am safely on the ground”

“Please, if I ever get a daughter, let them marry a gentleman with your manners”

I take a hold of Don’s watch and see it’s already 7.30. Shoot, I need to find Joe. “Joe!”, I shout and in my turn plop down onto his bed, like the true lady I am sitting with my posture perfect and ankles crossed. 

“Ye ready to go, Bambi?”, he asks and I nod. He slowly gets up and stretches his back. “Well off with us then”. And so he starts singing once again. A strangely pleasant and soothing sound.

I had asked Joe to escort me to the officers barracks tonight. I wanted to see Dick before we leave. If this was the last time I saw him, I didn’t want it to be just a brief tender moment. 

Once we made it to Dick’s barrack, he was already sitting on the steps with his garrison cap on and the dress greens too. I was still in my skirt, but the cap and the hobby jacket were long forgotten. 

“Thank you, Joe”, Dick nods to Joe as a dismissal. “My pleasure lieutenant”, Joe smiles and takes off. I turn to my husband with a tender grin. 

“I’ve missed you”, I whisper and put my hand on his abdomen. Just to soothe me that he’s actually there. 

“We’ve been together most of the day”; he chuckles. I shake my head still smiling. “Not like we used to be”, I whisper a little strained. His brows furrow as he brushes my hair behind me ear. He then sighs and cups my face kissing me longingly. 

His lips are always so, so warm and soft. The warmth and softness wasn’t the concrete feeling maybe, but it was the feeling that brushed my heart. I didn’t notice the tears streaming down my face before he pulled back. My hands were still around his waist, and his now cupping my neck. 

“Don’t cry, darling, not right now”, he whispers and kisses my tears away gently. “We should probably go a little further, someone could walk here any minute”, he then adds. 

I nod and give him a small kiss onto his adam’s apple, before moving to grasp his arm. Moments like this reminded me so much of our first meeting, well first time we actually got the words out of our mouths. 

3rd of May 1936

It was an early morning as Sonja Savolainen was smiling and singing in front of a group of young girls who were singing along with her. They all had their hymnals and catechisms out and smiles on their faces.

Sonja was only 18 and now substituting her aunt as a Sunday school teacher. She was a young, timid girl with a sharp head on her shoulders. Teaching the small girls during the Sunday service was something she thrived on. She was always very lonely with the people her age, not really having the will to socialize, the courage chat and having a strange accent to go and to top that a strong interest in education and research, had quickly left her the odd one out. 

Her mother had always said that she is too curious for her own good, but Sonja never saw it as a flaw. She wanted to learn more about everything, and she dreamed of a husband who would support her and be ready to built a whole corner of the world just for them. 

She was as pure and proper as a young lady could be. She worked hard in her parents farm, she rarely cursed and tutored children. All in all, she was a kind human being. But with the standards she set for herself, she ended up being self-destructive. 

“Alright, alright, children. We can sing more next week, I will still be here. Ms. Miller will come back soon, I promise”, she grins. All the eight girls were so sweet, and such dedicated little things. There was this one girl Lena, who had hard time reading, but Sonja promised to tutor her on Friday nights while she still was in Lancaster. In a months time she would be going back to Ham Lake, Minnesota. 

Slowly the girls get picked up by their parents. Sonja getting numerous hugs from the children and thanks from grateful mothers and fathers. And bless Lena’s mother who had brought her a small piece of raisin bread as thanks for her teaching. 

Now only ones left in the room were Sonja and small six-year-old Ann Winters. “Ann, darling, isn’t your mother picking you up?”,Sonja asks softly and kneels next to the still brightly smiling girl. Ann cutely shows her teeth as she giggles. “No, Ms.Sonja. my big brother will come though, he’s probybly lost.” Sonja smiles and almost giggles at the way the girl pronounces probably. 

“Well we shall wait for him, I’ll stay with you until he finds his way. Maybe you can draw him a map for the next time?”,she chuckles. 

“ohh, It can be like a treasure map, ‘cept the treasure is me”, Ann giggles making Sonja’s heart warm with her adorable little idea. 

“What a sweet treasure you are”, she says and taps the little girls nose. Their chat is interrupted by a knock on the door. Sonja quickly rises and goes to open it. 

“Hello, you...m-must be Ann’s brother”, Sonja almost whispers the last part as she looks at the man before her. There stands a tall, red-headed man with the softest blue eyes. Sonja bites her lip, he was stunning. 

Richard almost as red as his hair, as he looks at the woman. He was never the most confident with girls and he hadn’t expected his sister’s Sunday school teacher to be a pretty young lady. 

“I-I am, ma’am. Richard Winters”, he says and offers his hand. Sonja takes it smiling softly “Sonja Savolainen, please come in”, she almost whispers again. His hand is so warm and big, in contrast to her own small and as her brother said it, delicate, but chubby hands. 

Ann almost screams as she sees Richard. Richard grins and helps his sister get dressed and takes her catechism for safety keeping. “Dick, imma make you a big big map, and you will find big big me!”, she giggles enthusiastically. Sonja’s heart pumps so fast as she looks at the man. He is so calm so soothing, at least from the five seconds she’s interacted with him. 

“Forgive me ma’am for keeping you waiting, is there anything I could help with?”, he asks as he takes Ann’s hand and tries to keep her from jumping to the roof. Sonja really can’t stop her heart from jumping like Ann. 

“oh, no no , Ann is a very well behaved girl. It was a pleasure”,she says and starts to gather her own things. “off you two go, I can manage”, she finishes. Richard smiles at her softly. His own heart beating so fast that he cannot get the words to of “thank you, truly” out from his mouth. 

“Goo’bye Ms.Sonja!” Ann says and waves. Richard smiles and offers his free hand to shake again. “Thank you ma’am, we-we will probably see each other again”, he gulps. Sonja bites her lip again and takes his hand. 

“Lets hope so”, she says and then blushes blood red. Why did she have to say that. My god, why did she have to be so forward. Richard takes one look at her warm chocolate eyes again, nods and then takes off with his little sister. 

The moment their eyes had met, their souls were bound. 

Present

I grin stupidly at the memory. We finally find a dark corner where we can sit and talk in peace. We take a seat on this big rock with our arms still wrapped together. 

“You alright?”, he whispers as he looks at my grin. I nod and cup his cheek with my free hand. “You seem to be awfully in your head tonight”, he then adds. 

“Just thinking of you”, I answer and giggle as he still after all this years manages to blush. “Do you think that the lot we were looking at could be free in a couple years?”, I suddenly ask. He shrugs.

“If we get enough money from here, we can start making an offer”, he says quietly. “But we still need some money to built the house, so we’d still have to live in the barn.” I can see the pain in his eyes as he says those words. 

I smile at him tenderly now stroking his brow and take his garrison cap off. “I don’t really care, the barracks are even more uncomfortable. And in the barn I’ll have you”, I try to soothe. He smiles a little strained as he seems too to be deep in thought. 

“I did carry you over that threshold”, he says. I give him a sound kiss. “yes, you did”, I grin. 

Then his face turns grim. “And next time I carried you we were both covered in your blood”, he swallows. My grin fades and the tears try to gather again. I shake my head and kiss him softly again. I leave my face so close to his that our noses are touching. “I’m still here, Richie, and no one is taking me away”, I whisper. He presses his forehead against mine strongly and closes his eyes. 

He then presses his lips to mine with urgency. He maneuvers me so that I’m sitting sideways on his lap, his hands firmly supporting my waist. I deepen the kiss and press as close to him as physically possible with our clothing on. His other hand goes to cup the back of my head as I tangle my hands into his fire red hair. 

It feels so good to kiss him, to feel his arms around me. But it’s torture, because I want him, I need him. And this was only stoking the already existing fire. 

 When he pulls away I can see his pained face. 

“I-I need you, but I can’t do this. Not like this”, he says his voice rough, his bedroom voice. I can feel him against me. It all makes me so needy that I almost feel ashamed. It would, if I didn’t love this man as a part of my soul. 

And that’s how we sit. For an hour and a half. Trying to calm ourselves, softly talking, kissing and praying. 

@iilovemusic12us​

[voidstilesplease]

Attractions

Demigod AU Ficlet [3]

Stiles

"Stiles?"

Stiles turns around to the source of the call. He finds himself facing the new Ares camper. The boy gives him a tentative but wide, slanted smile, stepping closer. Stiles is not going to lie; the excessive gushing he hears from the Aphrodite cabin about the guy are well-founded. But he's not going to say that out loud. He replies, "Hey,"

"Chiron said to look for you," the boy tells him, looking far brighter and good-natured than what Stiles anticipates from an Ares kid speaking to a child of Athena.

"Give me a sec, will you?" At the boy's nod, Stiles rushes inside the cabin to retrieve the materials he prepared for their brief session today. He assigns one of his half-siblings to take over the cabin clean-up while he's out. When he returns outside, the Ares boy is standing patiently, hands in his pockets, watching the flurry of activities inside.

"Your cabin looks like a library," the boy comments when Stiles is near enough to hear. He doesn't sound mocking and what he said isn't in particular insulting, but Stiles gets defensive all the same. From his time at camp, he gets this automatic response to the Ares bunch.

"And yours look like," he pauses, and they both turn to look at cabin five right across from Athena. Its blood-red paint job is giving Stiles goosebumps. Not to mention the stuffed boar's head on the doorway with soulless eyes that seem to be following everyone's movements, and the ugly barbed wires on the roof. It's an angry-looking cabin that's very fitting to its aggressive and violent occupants. "-a nightmare."

Stiles expects the boy to sneer, but he gets a different reaction. The new Ares kid laughs. "You think it looks bad outside? It's absolute chaos inside." The boy turns to him, smiling cheekily. "You should come and visit sometimes."

Stiles stops short and takes a moment to consider the boy. He's never made an Ares kid laugh before, at least not that isn't derisive. They all think Stiles is stuck up even when he was only new to the camp. Only Fred, the head counselor, tolerates him, and he only does so because Stiles handed his ass to him in capture-the-flag last summer. His grudging respect is because he got beat by a rookie. Typical. This boy, though, doesn't seem to be corrupted - yet. It's only been a few days. Stiles replies with a serious, "I will," the boy's face lights up in return, probably mistaking it as Stiles flirting back. So he adds, "When it's my turn for cabin inspection. I give decent scores."

The quick shooting up of his eyebrows means he doesn't quite believe that.

But Stiles does. Last summer, he gave them 1/5. It would have been zero, but Fred had made an effort to upturn the bunk beds back in their upright position and shove all strewn underwear inside a box. He only hopes those were burned after and not distributed back to their owners. Stiles is a saint, considering.

He moves them forward, tracing the steps to the Big House. They walk side-by-side in surprisingly companionable silence for a moment, then Stiles begins introduction. "So, as your official welcome wagon, albeit a few days late," Stiles spreads his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood!"

The boy laughs a little and regards him with amusement. He looks pleasant, but it's disconcerting and just a tad suspicious. An Ares kid is not supposed to be a charmer, newcomer, or otherwise.

"My name is Stiles," he says, pausing in his tracks to politely offer his hand to the boy. "I'm Athena cabin's junior counselor."

The boy smiles and takes Stiles's hand in a firm grip. He mentally registers that the boy's hand is mildly calloused and only slightly bigger than his. And the boy's eyes are blue, like the sky and ocean on a fine day. 

"I'm Theo."

Theo is a nice name, too, his brain whispers kindly. Probably short for Theodore. Stiles knows another Theodore from his previous school. That Theodore is bland; this one is far from it. But he's not going to admit that out loud, either. 

Stiles clears his throat, breaking their contact. His mind runs on him sometimes (all the time); he hates when that happens. The last time it did, Stiles got humiliated by his crush in front of the others during combat training. What a fun memory. He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now. So he picks up his steps, and Theo follows dutifully, not losing the open expression.

"I'm supposed to give you a starter kit today: the camp's map, our camp brochure, and your study guide for our next sessions." Stiles holds up the book and papers on his other hand. "As much as I'd like to tour you around, we don't have that much time."

Stiles waves a hand to one of the Hermes kids, who's carrying a trunk-load of garbage for disposal. The boy smiles back brightly despite the strain on his face from the weight of the junk. Ever since day one, everyone from cabin eleven has been friendly to Stiles, most especially the head counselor, Kira. So, Stiles always makes a way to return their kindness.

He shifts back to Theo to find him observing the interaction with attention. It's not malicious, though, which still baffles Stiles. He didn't know there could be nice ones from his cabin. 

He continues as they near the Big House. "There's a meeting with Chiron and the cabins' head counselors in an hour. Haley, our head, went with Demeter and Dionysus' cabin leaders to Manhattan to deliver strawberries. You know, the camp's source of funds? You'll see that in the brochure," he says, raising the object in question. "I'll have to attend as a proxy."

They arrive at the porch, and Stiles motions for Theo to sit on a bench. He passes the materials to him, "I'll let you check these, and if you have questions, you can ask me."

Theo shuffles the papers absently before lifting his head, "I do."

Stiles is pretty sure he hasn't read a thing yet, but he gestures for him to proceed.

"How did you manage it?" He asks, a genuinely curious look on his face. "You're here for one summer, but you're already second-in-command."

Stiles searches his face and tone for ridicule. He doesn't find it, still suspects it, so he schools his expression to its neutral - not friendly, but also not dismissive. It's a sensible question, anyway. It's not every day that he gets one from an Ares child. "It's not all about tenure here at camp," he starts, gauging.

Theo leans forward to indicate he's listening.

Stiles takes a seat adjacent to his position. If this kid is civil to him, there's no reason not to act the same - even if Stiles still thinks their cabin is the worst. "The eldest or the longest camper automatically gets the head counselor post, and they assign their seconds. Usually, they pick from the next eldest campers, but they can also base on achievements disregarding age or length of stay."

Theo inclines his head, eyes level on Stiles. "Achievements?"

"Yes. Like winning in the camp's games, or successfully returning from a quest."

His eyes flash in thought, and it is with revere when he says, "And you did both."

Stiles blushes embarrassingly. He tries to mask it by ducking his head and rubbing at his cheeks. Stiles is suddenly self-conscious when he is usually gloating. Stiles never passes up an opportunity to rub it in an Ares kid's face how he's defeated them in capture-the-flag like he's born for it.

When Stiles looks up again, the boy is smirking at him, blue eyes darting around his face in a thorough examination. Stiles's guard kicks in again, feeling measured. 

He straightens in his perch, lifting his chin haughtily. "Yes," he makes sure that his tone is sharp. "I led my team to victory against yours. If you have any doubt to the legitimacy of that claim, you can remind Fred how he uselessly hung upside-down like a wet market chicken while I plucked the flag from his hands."

Stiles waits for the offended snarl and stream of profanities, but once again, he's knocked off his careful balance. Theo's face splits in a wide grin, and he laughs. "So, that's why he doesn't share details, the loser."

Stiles goggles, starting to feel annoyed by the unusual behavior. "Aren't you going to mock me and defend his honor?"

Theo snorts, "What honor?" He snickers for a few more and then puts his attention to the reading materials when he recovers.

Stiles finds the situation peculiar, so he stays quiet and allows Theo to read, answering when he has more questions and volunteering information that isn't in print.

Later, when they adjourn, he prepares to leave when Theo leans to tell him, "I'm not like my siblings. I don't hate clever people." He pauses, and with an easy grin, adds: "Fred might even be right. I think I'm attracted to one of them."

He doesn't wait for Stiles's reply - not that Stiles has one to that statement. He only stands there, taken aback, and red as a startled tomato.

Theo, finally displaying the familiar audacity comparable to his kins, winks. "I'll see you later, Stiles."

And well, it's impossible not to notice him everywhere now.

~•~

[1][2][companion]

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark (18)- Peter Parker X Stark!femReader

Word Count: 2434

Warning: Swearing

Author Note: Yes, yes I missed Wednesday’s update. To be honest- it completely slipped my mind with classes. I’m going to have to set an alarm to remind me or something lol. Anyway, let me know what you think of probably my favorite chapter of this story and if you want to be added to the tag list.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Kid, we have to talk. What have you been thinking?” Tony is pacing around the lab as Peter sits on the stool. He should be working on his physics homework, but Tony needs to talk to him. He’s been fighting on and off with you, he had to rescue Peter from a lake and now the DC stuff. “You could have blown Spidey’s cover so many times in the past weeks plus the alien tech stuff on top of that? You’re supposed to be neighborhood Spider-Man, not running off to DC Spider-Man. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that people needed help and I was there.” Peter says, swinging his leg, not looking Tony in the eye.

“Not good enough.” That makes Peter’s head pop up. “I looked up your suit info. Don’t lie to me. Your suit doesn’t even show being in DC after say nine thirty six pm on Friday night which is weird seeing as you were videotaped at the Washington monument on Saturday. So either there’s something off with the suit, or you messed with it?”

“There was, um, some faulty wiring?” 

“Nice try. Plus Y/N got pissed at me that I introduced you to Spider-Man first since you were trying to use him as a party trick. And then I had to rescue you from a lake. So either you need to explain what’s going on, or Spider-Man goes back to being a kid in a onesie.”

“Wait you’d take the suit away?”

“I’m trying to figure out where you’re at. None of this seems like the kid that told me he wants to help the little guy.”

“I’m trying to help the little guy, but there is also more I could be doing and you’re not listening. You’re too focused on everything except what I’m telling you. I’m trying to keep the little guy safe from this guy with the wings and you won’t listen. You don’t even seem to care about what I’m actually doing unless it involves Y/N.”

“That’s because she’s my daughter.”

“Who I happen to like a lot and all you care about is keeping her to yourself. You want me to keep a million secrets from her and that’s fine. But you’re making me hurt her and I won’t do it anymore.” Peter snatches his homework off the table and shoves it into his backpack before walking out of the lab. Tony can only watch as the kid walks out of the lab. This conversation went nowhere near where he thought it would go.

And the next few days don’t go any better for Tony. He tries to do what he thinks will help the situation so that Peter doesn’t have to worry about it, but when he has to rescue the entire Staten Island Ferry from being split down the middle, he’s pissed off. So yeah, he takes the kid’s suit. Because he’s worried. And nothing seems to be going through that kid’s thick skull.

Your dad was in a mood when you got home from Betty’s house that afternoon. “Let me guess you weren’t even at Betty’s house studying?”’

“I’ve been at Betty’s since school let out. Happy literally picked me up from there. What’s your problem?” You drop your backpack on the floor.

“My problem is you kids running around like you can do anything in the world and thinking that us adults won’t help you if you just reach out. Instead you have to skirt the rules and make up things. Then we have to come in to save the day all the time.”

“Clearly I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you’re in a shit mood, quit taking it out on me. Because I was having a relatively good day until now.”

“I was having a relatively good day until your boyfriend messed it up.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend so I have less than zero idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well Parker made his intentions about having feelings for you clear when he stormed out of the lab the other day clear so I thought he would have made a move by now. Then he goes and makes a huge mess that I have to take care of.”

“What are you talking about? There is nothing going on between Peter and I. Honestly if he was having a relationship with any Stark, I would guess it would be you since he spends way more time with you than he does me. But if he did something that you had to fix, that’s on him, not me. So quit taking it out on me.” You grab your backpack and storm up the stairs to your room. Twitter is full of stories about Spider-Man and Iron Man saving the Staten Island Ferry. He goes and makes a huge mess that I have to take care of. Holy Shit. Peter doesn’t know Spider-Man; Peter is Spider-Man. 

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, your wallet, your phone, and your purse, you make your way downstairs. Your dad is still pacing around the living room, mumbling to himself. He doesn’t even look up as the front door beeps, which says something about how far in his head he is. The brownstone is better than the tower at one thing- the paparazzi haven’t swarmed it yet. So you’re actually able to get out of the building without being swarmed like when you leave school. You should call Happy. He at least knows how to get you where you want to go. But you don’t want him to say no or worse tell your dad. So you’ll figure this out. 

“FRIDAY, can you pull up directions to Peter Parker’s apartment?” 

“Certainly Y/N.”

“FRI, can you not tell my dad where I’m going?”

“He has the ability to override your settings, but unless he does, I will keep your trip a secret.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” You look at the map on your screen and start walking towards the subway station. It’s been months since you rode the train, but it feels like coming home. You used to ride the E train all the time to go to Betty’s house and school, so this feels like going home. According to the map, Peter lives only four blocks from Nana and Pops’ anyway. It’s going to take some time to get there from where you live now, so right now you plug your headphones in and let your I Hate My Life playlist start playing. Song to Sing When I’m Lonely by John Frusciante plays and you let your head bob back and forth as the train clicks and clacks over the tracks. 

You look at the number on your screen one last time before knocking on the door in front of you. “I’m coming.” A voice from the other side calls. A female voice. Not Peter’s voice. “Hi?”

“Hi, is Peter here?”

“Uh, he is. I think he’s in the shower. Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of his. I’m Y/N Stark.” You realize it might be safer to use your old last name, but you’ve gotten so used to saying Stark now, that it’s too late.

“Oh. Peter told me.”

“Told you…?”

“About how he lost the internship. He never mentioned that his friend Y/N was related to your dad though.” Peter lost his internship? That’s news to you.

“My dad is trying to keep it kind of low key.” Not that he did a good job at that.

“Come on in.” The woman motions for you to follow her into the apartment. “I’m May, Peter’s aunt.” You follow her through the kitchen into the living room. “I’d offer you a snack, but I’m not much of a cook.”

“I’m good. My dad is kind of strict about what I’m allowed to eat anyway. No GMOs, all organic, no high fructose corn syrup, all those crazy rules. It’s kind of annoying to be honest.” May looks at the teenager sitting in front of her in a printed graphic tee that reads ‘I like coffee and maybe three people’, a pair of denim shorts and a pair of galaxy high tops. Much more summery than the fall weather that was starting to roll in but a cute outfit nonetheless. Before May can say anything in response, the bathroom door opens and Peter walks out in nothing but a towel. 

“I might have used all the hot water, May. Sorry.”

“That’s ok. Your friend stopped by.” Peter looks up to see you, but you can’t help but look at the abs he has somehow managed to hide the entire time you both have been friends. 

“Y/N? What-what-what are you doing here?” His hand falls to grasp the towel that's wrapped around his waist.

“Maybe you should put some clothes on before you try to have a full on conversation?” May suggests.

“Clothes. Right.”

“Boys.” May rolls her eyes. “So you go to MSST?” You nod. “Are you as into all the sciences as Peter is?” You shake your head.

“It’s probably the biggest disappointment about being Tony Stark’s kid is that I hate science.” You can’t help but scrunch your nose as you say this.

“Well thank god, because I can’t follow half of what Peter talks about.” May says with a smile. 

“That’s how I feel when him and my dad come up from the lab. I never have a clue what they’re talking about. But books, most movies, pop culture, I’m good with that.” 

“Well I’m pretty good at following those as well.” May smiles as she talks with you about some of your favorite books, movies you’ve seen recently, and even some news until Peter comes out and steals you. You follow him into a room that has a bunk bed and a ton of tech. It all screams Peter. You don’t know what to say to him, but luckily, Peter starts the conversation.

“I thought your dad would have told you we can’t be friends anymore.” Peter says crossing his arms and kicking some of the legos that Ned had left here across his floor.

“Why ‘cause you lost your internship? When did that happen by the way?”

“Today.” Peter looks at the floor.

“Right when you and him had to save the Staten Ferry right?” Peter’s eyes jump up to look at you.

“What?”

“I feel like an idiot for it taking so long to connect, but you’re Spider-Man. Which makes total sense. I never should have sent the video to my dad in the first place.”

“Wait, your dad found the video because of you?”

“You think my dad knows how to find Youtube videos?” You can’t help but laugh. “He’s good at science and stuff, but Youtube is not his forte. So why didn’t you just tell me? I know like half a dozen if not more other superheroes. Knowing one more, wouldn’t have been that big of a deal.”

“Your dad made me promise not to tell you.”

“Well he seems to have no problem telling me that you have feelings for me, so why is telling me about your alter ego a big deal?” Peter’s face falls, turning red at the same time.

“He what?” You step across the room, reaching out for Peter, but dropping your hand at the last second.

“It’s not a bad thing. It honestly makes me feel so much better about the fact that I may or may not have been feeling quite similarly about you. But I didn’t want to be that girl that had feelings for the guy a year older than her.” You shrug and your hand tugging your hair forward, trying to find something to fidget with. But Peter’s hand comes up to push your hair away from your face.

“So you’re saying that if I told you I like you…” His hand rests on your cheek.

“Then I would say I like you too.”

“God, Y/N, you’re making this awful day a million times better.” And before you know it, Peter’s leaning in to place his lips on yours. Peter’s kissing you- you should be kissing him back. He takes your lack of movement as resistance and starts to lean away from you, but you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back. You could keep kissing him until you needed air, if your phone wasn’t going off in your back pocket.

“Hold that thought.” You whisper into his lips as you pull out your phone, seeing your dad’s picture. You take a deep breath before picking up the phone. “Yes.”

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, where the hell are you?” Tony’s voice is harsher than you’ve ever heard it.

“I didn’t even know you knew my middle name.”

“Y/N I’m in no mood for games. Where the hell are you? You didn’t ask me to go anywhere and you didn’t ask Happy to drive you. FRIDAY says you requested I don’t ask where you went so I’m giving you a chance to tell me before I just override the system. Where are you?”

“I had to run an errand.”

“And that is at what location?”

“I had to run to Peter’s.”

“Why?”

“Does it really matter? You apparently fired him, so he’s no longer your intern. He’s just my friend.”

“It matters because you are fourteen and you left the house without telling anyone which you promised you wouldn’t do. Security risk remember? I’m sending Happy to pick you up. So finish your conversation by the time he gets there.”

“Fine.”

“And know you’re grounded.”

“How is that any different than how you already make me live? I’m literally allowed to go to school and come straight home?”

“You went to a party did you not?” And you have to bite your tongue to not spoil where you actually went.

“Ugh whatever.” And you hang up the phone.

“You snuck out to come see me?” Peter asks and you look up at him in confusion. Was your phone that loud? “Spidey Senses. I can hear way more than I’m supposed to.”

“Ah. Yeah, kind of snuck out. It’s not like it was really a secret. My dad could have easily hacked my phone if he wanted to.” You run a hand through your hair before looking up at Peter. “I don’t really want to talk about my dad.”

“Ok.”

“There’s a better way we can waste the ten minutes until Happy gets here.” You smile at him, and Peter’s hands wrap around your waist.

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