#Jellie is the best pilot around

[avastrasposts]

Frankie & Din

Ok, the brain worm inspired by @fuckyeahdindjarin post about which Pedro boys would bicker and fight has had me in a choke hold these past few days so I might've blurted out a 2.8 k one-shot with our favourite pilot, sweet Frankie and our favourite space boy, broody Din based on the line; "Go on then, space boy, fly this.” 

Happy Frankie (and Din) Friday!

Also, no warnings needed, this is just nonsense!

And yes, I did download a 34 page manual on how to start a helicopter to write this.

Frankie was immediately drawn to the sleek looking…airplane? The word didn’t seem correct for the silvery vehicle that stood parked on the asphalt, at the outskirts of the old airfield that stood host to the aviation fair. The vehicle glinted in the sun, a thruster on either side of the main cabin. They tapered off to sharp points, as did the cabin, giving the whole shining build a look of speed. It hovered just above the ground, seemingly not needing any landing gear. 

As Frankie got closer and circled around the vehicle, he noticed a figure stepping out from behind it. The man, at least he thought it was a man, was as shiny as the vehicle, clad from top to toe in glinting metal armor. Even his head was covered by a metal helmet, a black T shaped visor on the front. Despite his dark aviators, Frankie had to hold up his hand to shield his eyes under the peak of his cap, as the bright sun bounced off all the metal, He’s gonna start a fucking bush fire, he thought to himself. 

“Hey,” Frankie said, giving the shiny man a small nod as he walked up to the main cabin and looked into the open cockpit, “Nice ride.”

“Thanks,” came a gruff, modulated voice from behind the helmet. He was standing still next to one of the thrusters and Frankie noticed that he had a strange looking gun in a holster on his hip. 

“This thing, uuhh… a new prototype or something?” Frankie asked, putting his hand on the edge of the cockpit as he leaned in for a closer look at the controls. 

“Don’t touch that.” 

The shiny man’s tone was low but with a thinly veiled warning right under the surface. Frankie immediately took his hand off the cockpit. 

“Sorry, man, just curious about the controls, never seen anything like it.” He looked up at the helmeted man, “You fly this thing?”

“Yes.” 

“Cool.” Frankie pursed his lips as his eyes slid over the sleek form of the vehicle. “Wouldn’t mind trying it out if it’s available?” Frankie didn’t notice how the shiny man slowly tilted his head to the left, the visor trained on him. 

“I’m a pilot myself, you see,” Frankie continued, “Flew a heavy loaded Mi-8 over the fucking Andes once.” He rocked back on the balls of his feet, “yep, I cleared that ridge.” 

The other man silently crossed his arms, shifting his weight over to his right hip, as he watched the pilot circle back to one of the thrusters. 

Frankie squatted down, tilting his head to look inside the thruster, “I think you’ve got some rust here, pal.” 

“There’s no rust on my ship.” 

“Yeah, well, either you’ve got rust or you’ve got a pretty weird paint job,” Frankie poked between the blades as the other man uncrossed his arms and straightened up, the fingers of his right hand twitched and flexed, he he walked over to the thruster and stopped right behind Frankie. 

The shadow of the armored man fell over the pilot who had to crane his neck to look up at him from his crouched position. 

“Oh, sorry, let me just…” Frankie scrambled to his feet and shuffled to the side as the other man bent down and peered through the blades of the thruster, running a finger along the inside. As he pulled it back he gave the pad of the finger a hard stare, the rust red dust clearly visible. 

“Told ya,” Frankie said with a smirk, “this climate is hell on any metal.” He strolled over to the other thruster and peered through the blades, “Yup, you got some here too, pal. Personally I recommend Loctite Naval Jelly, best rust remover on the market.” 

The only response was a non-commital grunt through the modulator as the man stood up. 

“Soooo…how fast is this thing? Looks pretty zippy,” Frankie lifted his hand to pat the front of the ship but halted his movement as the shiny man turned his head and looked directly at the hand hovering an inch over the bonnet. 

“The original N-1 tops out at three point five parsec, this one has been heavily modified, I haven’t tested the max speed yet.” The armored man strode over to where Frankie was standing and rubbed his hand over the metal where the pilot’s hand had almost touched, buffing out an invisible spot.

“In English, pal?” 

“Eleven hundred kilometers per hour.” He ran his hand over the bonnet, caressing the smooth shape.

“Get the fuck out of here! Eleven hundred k per hour?!” Frankie’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, “You’re fucking full of shit!”

“She’s a repurposed N-1 Starfighter fitted with the original Nubian Monarc C-4 hyperdrive and two added J-type Nubian 221 sublight engines.” The pride in the man’s modulated voice was evident as his hidden gaze drifted over the sleek starship. 

“Ok, this is some serious hardware,” Frankie’s voice was impressed as he did another lap around the vehicle, “any chance of a test flight?”

“It’s a one seater, sorry,” the other man’s voice betrayed that he was in fact, not sorry that the ship would seat only one person. 

“Oh, that’s ok, I’m a pilot too, remember?” Frankie walked over to the cockpit again and looked in, keeping his hands away from the edge this time. “Just show me the basics and I’ll get a feel for it in the air.” He looked up at the armored man, trying to find his eyes behind the visor as he gave him his most serious look. 

“No.” 

“Not even pilot to pilot? Professional courtesy?” 

“No.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, man, “ Frankie sighed, taking a few steps back and admiring the ship again, swiping his cap off his head for a scratch before cramming it back down, “She’s a real beauty.” 

“She’s a spaceship, not comparable to the vehicles a regular pilot flies,” the man said, “your skills won’t translate.” 

“Ah, man, c’mon, I’ll take you up in the Mi-8 as a thank you,” Frankie pointed over to a large army helicopter parked a few rows away. “She’s not as fast as your baby here, but she can fit thirty seven troop seats, kinda handy when you need more than just the one guy to show up.” 

Frankie tilted his aviators down his nose, giving the other man a look up and down under the beak of his cap, “No offense, your armor is very bad ass but sometimes you need a full company of soldiers, ya know?” 

The shiny helmet tipped to the right as the armored arms crossed over the metal chest plates. 

“Ok, ok,” Frankie said, “I’ll make you a deal, if you can fly the Mi-8 right off the bat, I’ll shut up, you’re the better pilot.” The visored helmet came up and stared at Frankie, “But, but, if you can’t, then you show me the ropes on this baby and I get a test drive, low speed, low to the ground, I promise.” 

The shiny man seemed to consider Frankie for a few long seconds, the gloved fingers drummed on his metal pauldron. 

“Ok, deal. I’ll fly your helopticer.” 

“Great!” Frankie grinned and motioned towards the Mi-8, “And it’s heli-cop-ter but uhm, hey, man, whatever,” he gave the armored man’s gun a quick look as the black T of the visor looked at him. 

…

“Ok, here we are,” Frankie stepped into the chopper’s spacious hull and hooked his aviators into the neckline of his t-shirt, “pretty nice huh?” 

The other man looked around, taking in the utilitarian set up, no comfort, strictly focused on practicality and gave a barely perceptible nod, “Reminds me of my old ship, a Razor Crest. More space than the N-1.” He walked over to the cockpit and took a look at the interior. “What kind of fire power do you have?” 

“Uuhh...at the moment, six weapons stations, for rockets and bombs, and two side-mounted machine guns, but all inactive in this particular one.” Frankie tapped the empty mount attached to the chopper.

“No lasers?” The other man’s helmeted chin tilted up, surprise in his voice and Frankie’s eyebrows knotted. 

“No, no lasers, we use bullets on this planet, pal.” 

“Huh,” came the modulated reply, the visor turning back to the cockpit as he stepped into it, looking around the controls. 

“You need keys for this thing, or what?” he asked, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. 

“Hey shiny, that’s the wrong seat,” Frankie snarked, stepping into the cockpit. The other man froze for a moment before he shuffled over to the other seat as Frankie’s chuckled, he felt pretty confident about this bet. Leaning back against the side of the co-pilot seat the man had just vacated, he crossed his arms and grinned. 

“Go on then, space boy, fly this.” 

The visor snapped back to Frankie who just arched an eyebrow at his own reflection, bouncing back at him from the smooth metal. 

“Keys.” Came the flat, modulated response. 

“No, no keys, you just activate the circuit breakers,” Frankie replied, watching the armored man scan the control panel. Through the modulator came a small huff. 

“Hrrrmm…” Frankie cleared his voice, “over here,” he said, leaning over the smooth metal of the shoulder piece and pointing to a row of switches. 

The other man flicked them and his fingers hovered over the next set of switches marked Banks for a few seconds, before he flicked them too. 

“And then the battery…” Frankie said, pointing to the dial when the other man’s gaze roamed across the panel. The dial had several settings and the gloved hand grabbed it but didn’t turn it, another huff coming from the modulator.

“DC Battery Buses,” came Frankie’s voice from behind him and the gloved hand turned the dial to the correct position before he sat back against the pilot’s seat, scanning the controls again. Frankie waited patiently, arms crossed, as the shiny helmet searched back and forth over the panel. 

“Hey, man, let me cut you some slack, ok?” Frankie finally said. “The deal was strictly speaking about flying, I’ll start her up and then you can take over.” He pushed off the co-pilot’s seat and stood behind the other man, “Shift over, pal.” 

The armored man sat still for a beat and Frankie reached out and tapped the metal pauldron, “Hey, buddy, you still hearing me?” 

“Yes.” The man stood up, and Frankie took an involuntary step back, the broad metal armor filling up the space between the two front seats, dwarfing the other man. 

“Uuuhh…yeah, so let me just start her up,” Frankie cleared his throat and squeezed himself between the seat and the very solid wall of metal in front of him and sat down in the pilot’s position. While his fingers danced over the control panel with practiced ease, the other man sank down in the co-pilot’s seat, watching the pilot flick a number of switches and dials while the machine slowly came to life around them. 

“Throttle on, Auxiliary power on, Rotor brake off,” Frankie mumbled, “Engine one start, engine two start.” WIth a hum the large rotor blades above the chopper started moving, making the other man lean forward and look up through the windshield as they slowly turned, picking up speed. 

“Alright, there we go, you’re up, space boy,” Frankie grinned and stood up, moving back behind the pilot’s seat again. 

“Don’t call me ‘space boy’,” the modulated voice had a surly tone as he moved across. “It’s Din.” 

“Nice to meet you, Din. I’m Frankie,” the pilot said, sitting down in the vacated co-pilot’s seat. “Now, there’s your stick, nice and steady on the up, give her power on the throttle but easy does it.” 

It turns out there are some similarities between Din’s shiny spaceship and the behemoth Mi-8 helicopter, physics are still physics. And although the large machine wobbled, the mandalorian managed to make it rise more or less straight up under Frankie’s watchful eyes. Going down was less smooth, the landing gear smacking hard against the asphalt, making the helicopter groan as Frankie winced. 

“Nice landing, man, but let's not make it a habit, ok?”

“Dank farrik.” 

“You owe me a ride, pal,” the pilot grinned from ear to ear, as he reached over and flicked a couple of switches, the roar of the Mi-8 slowly dying down. 

“Hrmph…” 

…

Frankie bounced on the balls of his feet as the two men made their way back to the N-1 starfighter, the setting sun glinting off the smooth metal. 

“Man, much as I love my chopper, I’ve got to give it to you, Din, she’s a real beauty, look at those lines!”

“Try not to touch the metal, I just had her polished.” 

“Yeah, of course, pal, of course,” Frankie strode up to the cockpit with Din reluctantly trailing behind. “Uuuhh…how do I get in? Just jump or what?” 

Din nodded, a low sigh heard through the modulator as Frankie grabbed hold of the edge of the cockpit and hoisted himself up. He surreptitiously buffed out a fingerprint the pilot had left behind on the shiny metal finish. 

“So…let’s see…” Frankie hummed to himself, letting his fingers trail across the buttons on the panel of the N-1 as Din nervously hovered by the cockpit, flinching as Frankie started flicking buttons. 

“You might wanna step back a bit there, pal, I got this,” Frankie grinned at him, the glass dome sliding back over the cockpit and the engines roared to life. 

“Wait..what!” Din spluttered as he had to stumble back, Frankie grabbing hold of the yoke and revving the engine. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back!” Frankie yelled, a wide grin on his face, before pulling back on the yoke, the N-1 taking off, leaving the mandalorian on the ground, coated in dust. 

“Dank farrik!” Din reached back to engage the phoenix pack, only to grasp at air, the damn thing was still stored on his ship!

Looking up he could see the starfighter zip across the sky, climbing higher. 

He punched the comms link on his vambrace, “Bring her back now or I will bring you in cold!”

“Hey, you’ve got direct comms to the ship, awesome!” Frankie’s voice crackled through the receiver, “Don’t worry, I just wanna clear the atmosphere, I’ve never been to space. I’m almost there.” 

“Come back now!” Din roared through his helmet but Frankie ignored him, a strangled gasp coming through from the N-1. 

“Holy shit, Din…this is incredible…” Frankie’s voice was laced with awe as the starfighter breached the Earth’s atmosphere and shot into the exosphere. “This is fucking incredible, man. It’s fucking space!” 

“Don’t go further out, we’ll lose comms, Frankie,” Din turned his head up towards the sky, watching the thermal trail of the N-1 disappearing up past what his helmet visor could track. 

“Don’t worry, I just…fuck…I just need to take in this view,” the comms went quiet for a minute, all Din could hear was Frankie’s shuffling inside the cockpit as he turned his head to take it all in. “Man…I can’t believe you get to see this on the daily, you’re one lucky fucking pilot, Din.” 

“Yeah, it’s pretty incredible, I guess,” Din conceded.

“Alright, I’m coming back, lemme just….there, got a shot of it, Pope’s gonna blow his fucking mind when I instagram this shit.” 

The starfighter soon appeared as a tiny glinting dot in the sky and Din focused on it, following its decent back down to earth as Frankie smoothly pulled the ship out of the dive, leveling out and gliding back down to the asphalt, letting it hover just above the ground as he slid back the cockpit glass. 

“Holy fucking shit, man! That was fucking incredible!” Frankie jumped out of the N-1, slapping Din on the shoulder, as he bounced around the thrusters, “Absolutely fucking incredible!” 

He stopped and grinned at Din, his smile nearly splitting his cheeks. “Man…I cannot fucking believe you get to do that every day. I never thought I’d say this, but fuck, that actually beats flying choppers!” 

“Yeah, it’s wizard,” the mandalorian said, the modulator betraying a bit of glee as Frankie continued to bounce around the N-1, snapping shots of it from every angle. 

“Uhhm…” Din tilted his head and jerked his thumb behind him, “I’ve got a…an acquaintance, she’s restored an old Razor Crest. If you want, I can check if she’ll give you a good price, if you’re interested.”

“You serious?” Frankie stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide under the brim of his cap, “a spaceship?”

“It’s not an N-1 starfighter, but I think you’ll like it.” 

“Lead the way, pal!” Frankie slapped his hand on Din’s metal pauldron before hastily retracting it, “Sorry ‘bout that, I’ll just….” he surreptitiously buffed the metal with the sleeve of his flannel shirt under Din’s hard gaze. 

The two men walked off down the airfield as the sun dipped down beneath the horizon. 

“Hey, maybe when I get this ship, we can work together?”

“No.” 

“I bet you need extra cargo space sometimes.” 

“Hrmph…”

“Everybody needs a bit of extra space, pal”. 

“Maybe.” 

“Hey, lemme tell you about that time I flew over the fucking Andes!” 

“No.” 

The End

@imaswellkid Though you might enjoy this too!

[carmybearzattos]

hey i’m not sure if you’ve gotten this question before but do you have any random carmy headcanons?? i feel like talkin about the best boy in chicago :)

omg no one has asked me this before ty! i spend all my time thinking about carmy so i would love to talk about the bestest boy <3

ok assorted random messy carmy headcanons:

• he’s got undiagnosed adhd and i’ve got an entire list of justifications for this headcanon if anyone cares

• carried round a little teddy bear when he was a kid because i mean he’s literally called bear someone bought that kid a teddy bear.

• his favourite meal he’s ever had is something mikey made. probably the braciole

• got some jokes made at his expense by the international staff at noma for being italian american. “you don’t know how to make real authentic italian food, your family makes american garbage” kind of stuff

• probably had one dickhead teacher at school (everyone’s had at least one) who wanted him to stand up and read aloud in spite of his stutter. got shit for that and for not making eye contact with the class when he spoke. poor boy suffered so much at school :(

• first thing he ever learned to “cook” as a tiny little baby was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. he doesn’t remember this bc he was too young but mikey put him up on a chair in the kitchen and showed him use a butter knife

• more of a mikey headcanon, but little mikey *did not* want another younger sibling. was not into the idea at all. then carmy was born and he immediately loved his baby brother more than anything in the whole entire world 💔

• the idea of virgin carmy is very endearing to me and just makes sense given the combination of his anxiety, the way his self hatred manifests in him just not allowing himself like anything good at all, and his lack of social life. but even if he has had sex before he’s still like had zero relationship experience but i mean that part’s canon.

• i like the idea of his angels tattoo being the very first one he got since it’s for sugar and mikey

• i don’t know when and i don’t know how but he gets that denim jacket he sells in the pilot back. me and jeremy allen white are in agreement on this.

• his mommy issues fascinate me. i don’t think she was ever abusive to carmy but between trying to run the beef and raise three kids on her own she probably didn’t have as much time for him as she wanted to and when she was around she was stressed and agitated and not great company. like her sons she probably had some undiagnosed mental illness going on and that had a big impact on carmy. probably worse than it did with mikey and sugar since they had their dad around longer. and i imagine carmy’s probably more like his mom than he ever wants to think about.

• speaking of his dad, i think carmy hates himself so much he probably sometimes thinks “oh maybe if i hadn’t been born maybe my dad would still be around. maybe one more kid was just too much and if it had only been mikey and sugar it would be fine.” he’s wrong of course, but this is the same boy who blames himself for mikey dying.

um ok i probably have a million more carmy thoughts but this is running long so here you go anon!

also if anyone ever wants to come into my ask box and talk about carmy (or sydney or richie!) please do i love to hear people’s thoughts!!!

[anxiouspineapple99]

Doing the SFW Alphabet for my girl Avery today!

I tried to get it done for OC Sunday but it just didn’t work out lol.

• A -Affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection)

She is a big physical touch girl. Hugs, back rubs, touches on the arm, hand holding. Even platonically she is a touchy feely girly. She also shows affection by making things for people. She’ll crochet you an elaborate orange blanket if you mention in passing your favorite color is orange and you may need a new blanket in the next 6 months. Are your hands always cold? Expect mittens randomly one day. She’s huge on anticipating other people’s needs.

• B -Best friend (how would they be as a best friend? how would the relationship start?)

She’s slow to warm but if you can break through the barriers she has up you can expect a good time. She’s loyal, compassionate, and adventurous. She’s down to bar hop or sit at home for a book club.

• C -Cuddles (Do they like cuddles? how do they cuddle)

She LOVES cuddles. Any cuddles are eagerly welcomed. She prefers being the little spoon but she really just loves the contact. Her favorite cuddle is anytime she lays on top of Tech with her arms around him and her face pressed to his chest. She loves listening to his heartbeat while he mindlessly fidgets with her hair and stares at his datapad.

• D -Domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down wasn’t really in the cards for Avery before. But with the fall of the Republic…and then meeting Tech she could definitely see herself settling down. Assuming that’s what a certain goggled someone wants as well.

As for cooking and cleaning, she did a lot of it around the temple. She’s enjoys cooking and is good at it. As for cleaning…she is more organized chaos. Mostly because she can be forgetful or gets distracted mid task. She gets the job done though.

• E -Ending (if they had to break up, how would they do it?)

She’s a “rip the bandaid off” gal. No dragging it out. No false platitudes. She is kind yet firm. She is not a “we can be friends” person either.

• F -Fiancee (how do they feel about commitment? how quick do they want to get married?)

She’s surprisingly not concerned with commitment. She never really agreed with the “no attachments” aspect of being a Jedi and believed as long as the attachments were healthy, love and family should pose no threat. As for getting married? Well…that all depends on how long it takes Tech to ask her… 👀

• G -Gentle (how gentle are they? phsyically, emotionally)

Being a physician and carer for the youngest of the youngling in the Jedi Temple means she’s adapted a very soft touch both physically and emotionally. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is exceedingly compassionate, empathetic, and tender with all living beings.

• H -Hugs (how often do they hug? do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

She hugs all the time! She hugs Tech unexpectedly multiple times a day. She usually sneaks up behind him and squeezes him around the waist. Her hugs are warm, safe, and comfortable (according to Omega at least.)

• I -I love you (how fast do they say it)

She holds out until she knows that it is really how she feels and it’s reciprocated. So she rarely says it first. I mean… she’s really only said it once.

• J -Jealousy (how jelly do they get? what do they do when they are?)

She’s not really the jealous type. That falls into the “unhealthy attachment” category for her so she falls back into Jedi training if she feels jealousy prickling at her.

• K -Kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss? where to they liked to be kissed?)

Avery is a soft and slow kisser. She really savors the moment and loves the intimacy of taking her time. She does a lot of caressing of cheeks and chest. She’s a big fan of fingers in the hair (hers in his and vice versus.) Kissing is a…whole body sensory event for her.

She loves giving Tech soft forehead and nose smooches if he’s in the pilot seat. If he’s standing up she’ll stand on tiptoe and smooch his chin or give him soft kisses on his hands. When things are a little spicier she loves nibbling on his lips, neck, and collarbone.

As for receiving? Tech’s morning and evening forehead kisses leave her doing giddy leg wiggles. Sometimes he will surprise her with a kiss to the inside of her wrist that absolutely melts her every single time. She loves when he’s kissing her neck or her jaw when things are getting a little hot n heavy. And the standard making out is always a winner for her.

• L -Little Ones (how are they aroundchildren)

She’s great with children! She loves them and one of her favorite jobs in the Jedi Temple was caring for all the baby Jedi younglings in the nursery.

She adores Omega and tends to be a little mother hen with her. (Omega did you eat breakfast? Omega have you been drinking enough water? Omega that is a teenage boy and he is stupid and smelly.) They sometimes have girls nights where they eat snacks and watch holofilms and do each other’s hair in the most stereotypical girls night trope ever.

• M -Mornings (how are mornings with them?)

Cranky until she’s had her fourth cup of caf. She glowers silently until Tech places cup number four in her hands and gives her a good morning smooch on the forehead. If given the choice she’d lay in bed until midday.

On the rare occasion she and Tech get a bed and it’s not just her stacked on top of him in his rack or curled up in his lap while he’s in the pilot seat, she does her best to convince him to stay in bed for cuddles. It’s about a 50/50 success rate.

• N -Night (how is the night spent with them?)

Evenings are for reading or crochet. She reads holonovels, medical journals, anything and everything. If it’s a romance novel, she sometimes reads the spicy parts to Tech to…entice him. Sometimes she just reads excerpts to him because they’re just plain bad and they laugh about it.

When Omega has a hard time sleeping, Avery will sing her one of the lullabies she sang to the younglings.

Sometimes Tech asks her to sing them too, when he’s working on a project. He says it’s soothing. Those nights they usually fall asleep wherever they happen to be at.

• O -Open (when do they start revealing about themselves? do they say it all at once or reveal slowly?)

Avery keeps just about everyone on a need to know basis. She won’t tell you until you need to know. She’s opened up more with the Batch and is prone to spouting off random information. But personally? She is closed off until she knows she can trust you.

• P -Patience (how quick to anger are they)

She has that Jedi patience coupled with working with children AND in healthcare. Her poker face is top notch and she will hold her shit together with a singular rubber band if she needs to.

• Q -Quizzes (how much do they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget everything?)

She misplaces person belongings daily. But details about people she cares about? That is remembered. She also does double time to help Tech remember too. Not that he forgets per say but he can get distracted with projects and she’s always there with a “Tech, darling. X important event is today.” when he is especially wrapped up in work.

• R -Remember (favourite moment in the relationship)

When Tech introduced her to the purple Endor Rose. They were talking about interesting flower species they’d encountered and Avery started talking about her favorite flowers. Tech immediately had to show her the purple rose because he was positive she would love it and now it’s her new favorite!

Tech is now on a mission to figure out how to successfully cultivate them off the surface of Endor.

• S -Security (how protective are they? how would they like to protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

She will throw her body into harms way 10/10 times to save someone she cares about. No second thought. No hesitation. However the first time Tech stepped between her and real harm? BBgirl short circuited for a moment. She didn’t realize she wanted to be protected just as much as she does the protecting. She had no idea what to do or how to feel. Now? She loves when Tech gets a little overprotective of her. She still will 10 out of 10 times sacrifice herself of course. She’d never let Tech get hurt on her behalf.

• T -Try (how much effort is put into dates/ anniversary/ gifts/ everyday?)

She’s putting 1000% into all of it. She is so head over heels for Tech that she just loves putting forth the effort. She loves anticipating his needs and doing things for him before he realizes he needs them. And he’s started doing the same for her. There is a lot of give and take for them. She understands he processes things differently and she gives him the space he needs to do so. As a result, he’s been willing to bend a little and do more of the relationship habits she enjoys.

• U -Ugly (bad habit of theirs)

She’s that person who brings their pet with them…everywhere. She’ll be respectful if someone has an allergy but other than that? She’d carry Nuna in a bedazzled bag if she could.

She’s also a bit of a control freak. She’s unlikely to ask for help because she likes things done a particular way and relinquishing control and allowing someone to do it differently? Torturous.

• V -Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

An average amount I suppose? She loves looking cute but she’s going to pick sleeping in or comfort over getting excessively dolled up. She is meticulous about her hair care though!

• W Whole (would they feel incomplete without you Tech?)

She would never say it out loud, but yes. She would absolutely feel incomplete without Tech. He completes her in a way she has never known and cannot understand.

• X -Xtra (extra head canon)

She received a healing crystal for her thirteenth birthday from her master. It’s one of her few prized possessions and it never leaves her person. She always has it in a pouch on her. She adored her master and still misses her dearly.

• Y -Yuck (what are some things they wouldnt like in general or in partner)

Not a fan of the dark side of the Force. Palpatine always gave her the willies.

In a partner, she would hate someone who didn’t challenge her. She hates mind games. (She loves Tech’s straight forward honesty for this reason.) and someone who hates animals is a deal breaker. She and Nuna are a packaged deal.

• Z -Zzz (sleep habits)

She’s a fitful sleeper thanks to Order 66. The nightmares still occur but less frequently. When they do happen, Tech is always there either to hold her until she calms in her sleep or to hold her through the choking sobbing when she is jarred awake.

She’s a starfish stomach sleeper. Steals the whole bed.

Ragu Ragu—All day for u: @dystopicjumpsuit @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @wings-and-beskar @mandos-mind-trick @moonlightwarriorqueen @mooncommlink @eyeluvmusic21 @littlemissmanga @ladyzirkonia @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @808tsuika @msmeredithrose @freesia-writes @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @the-bad-batch-baroness @multi-fan-dom-madness @523rdrebel @isthereanechoinhere96 @wolffegirlsunite @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations

[subtile-jagden]

Emil Schäfer - Part 1

Family Carl Maria Emil Schäfer was born on 17 December 1891. Named after his father, he went by the name Emil. He had two younger sisters. His father was a fabric manufacturer; two things Emil had in common with his flying comrade Werner Voss whose father had the same profession and also was from the city of Krefeld in western Germany. They also went to the same school, not at the same times though as Werner was six years younger.

Military service and Work After his graduation in 1911 Schäfer had to do compulsory military service but was able to join the Einjährigen-Programm, so he only had to do it for one year instead of the standart two years. He chose to serve with the Hannoversches Jäger-Battailon Nr. 10 (Infantry) in Goslar. After that, Schäfer was destined to join his father's company and become a merchant. For that he did internships with some of his father´s business colleagues. He had the opportunity to go to London and then to Paris, making him fluent in English and French. Originally he had planned to stay in France for some years, but the year was 1914 so destiny had other plans for him. His father came to Paris to bring him back to Germany, eventhough the imminent threat of war wasn´t yet taken seriously from neither the Schäfers nor their French colleagues: “We joked about our departure, drank to seeing each other again soon, and separated as the best of friends”.

War time service 1914 - 1915 Schäfer, in the rank of Oberjäger, tried to rejoin his old regiment, but was ordered to Westfälisches Jägerbataillon Nr. 7. His first mission was the occupation of Liège, Belgium after its capture the days before. His task was to secure the train station and the bridges around the city. But Schäfer was eager for a more active role in the war: “Hopefully we'll get to the enemy soon. I don't like the police service anymore”. His wish soon came true, and on September 1st his unit is deployed for the storming of Maubeuge. After several days of shelling the fort, they managed to take it. 52,000 men on the French side were captured by 18,000 German troops. After that they were supposed to march on Paris but another unit needed help and after a march of almost 100 km in two days they managed to prevent an enemy breakthrough of the lines.

On September 26, 1914, the course of the war changed for Emil Schäfer when he was shot in the leg while taking the town of Chivry. He had to spend almost 7 months in hospitals and in rehab before he could walk again. The result of the injury was a shortened left leg, which made it difficult for him to walk long distances. He returned to his unit in April 1915 which was still in the same area where he last left them; the city taken and the soldiers deep in the trenches. There he stayed until the end of 1915. He had started to get bored and was also struggling with his injury; his leg was healed, but he found it difficult to walk and stand for long periods of time.

Pilot In January 1916 Schäfer started his pilot training in Köslin. After successful graduation he was sent to Russia in July to join Staffel 8 of Kampfgeschwader 2. His main task was to attack Russian positions with bombs and machine gun fire. “We start twice or three times a day. Occasionally tethered balloons are charred and Russian planes shot down.”

Emil wrote extensively to his parents, describing a day in the life of a pilot: “At 4:45 in the morning my orderly appears and throws me out of bed, half an hour later I appear in my oldest and dirtiest outfit in the dining car, where the gentlemen from squadron 8 and 9 gradually arrive. Coffee, milk, sugar, bread and occasionally a little butter is delivered. Almost everyone still has a pot of jelly, jam, butter or sausage. This first breakfast is very hearty and plentiful, because if you are unlucky, it must be enough for the whole day. Then we go to the airport. When we arrive, the planes are ready. I walk around my good old machine, checking a turnbuckle here and there, then I get attracted. Schubert helps me into my flight pants, buttons, buckles, zips up the various fasteners, has crash aids, goggles and gloves ready. The squadron leader gathers the six crews around him and issues the order. My observer and I now go back to our plane. The plane is started, we take off. Six minutes after the start we are almost 1000 meters high. We're over the city on time, I'm heading straight for the train station and the bombs are already falling. 600 kilograms of the most powerful explosive ammunition poured over the buildings and facilities. Then we go home. The square is lively now. The fitters take over the machines. The observers gather with the squadron leader and report; the pilots still have work to do on the machines, are talking to the fitters, the foreman, and to each other. When everything is done, it's off to the cars and home to the residential train, where everything is discussed again in detail over the second, also very thorough, breakfast.”

In January 1917 Kampfgeschwader 2 was sent to the Western Front. Schäfer was now part of a Jagdstaffel (fighter squadron), flying single seater fighter planes. His first victory almost cost him his life, having to crash land after shooting down a French flyer. Now that he had a taste for being a real fighter pilot, he turned to a former comrade he met in Russia: Manfred von Richthofen, who had recently taken over the leadership of his own Jadgstaffel. In mid-February, Schäfer got the okay to switch to Jasta 11.

[acreaturecalledgreed]

ill clarify and expand on why being pissy at ppl for "mischaracterizing" your faves irritates me so damn much

for starters, there are SO many characters i adore who i vehemently disagree with the way majority fandom characterizes them. like genuinely just hate it. theres even people who characterize my faves in a way that makes me not want to interact with them at all.

i will gripe about it! ill grump about how much i dont agree with it and why.

but to go to any single one of these ppl in that fandom and go "actually the way youre characterizing them is wrong and displeases me so clearly you dont actually like this character" is some of most entitled fuckwit behavior i have ever seen. holy fuck.

furthermore

what counts as "mischaracterization" will always be an extremely fuzzy line, for many reasons

-when you consume a piece of media, you are not seeing every single facet of chosen character. you literally cannot. there is not enough time in any media in the world to sit you down and show you every last facet of that characters personality. and people who have very similar facets to their personalities can have other ones that are Drastically different from eachother. you are interpreting a character in different ways. that is fucking normal.

-you do not get to decide whose characterization is "more correct". unless the goddamn creator of the media in question pulls you aside and says "you, specifically, and only you are characterizing this character correctly, and i totally intended for there to be one single way for this character to be interpreted and no variance or fluidity at all. congratulations you Won At Character"

-irl people do not act perfectly "in character" 100% of the time. people will do and say and think things they normally wouldn't a lot. because we are a mech suit being piloted by electric meat jelly. and the meat jelly is weird, and likes to do its own random things sometimes.

-what is the point of getting mad at ppl for being different than you in characterizing a character when you can sit there and think "hmn, i wonder Why they see the character that way" and then use that to add even more depth and nuance to how you see that character

-so many of yall whine that ppl arent being creative enough in fandom and then you turn around and get mad at ppl for doing fandom "wrong". you literally cannot have both. unless someone is being a huge fucking twat*, there is no reason to decide that the way they fandom is too weird and wrong.

-imagine being so bad at so many things that the only thing you can stroke your ego with is being The Best at Being Fan Of Character. that is genuinely sad.

*you Know what i mean. attacking others, being a bigot, responding to criticism of bad behavior by throwing a tantrum, etc

[clockworkcourier]

König shows up long after lights-out, a thermos in one hand and a flimsy cardboard box slowly getting crushed in the other. He has to duck under the top of the doorway, slipping into the infirmary and taking in the smell of copper and antiseptic.

Adler's sitting at her desk, face half-lit in washed-out white, dark circles prominent and ghoulish under her eyes. She looks up, and her exhaustion is briefly chased by something bright and warm. "Hey," she says.

"Busy?"

"I probably shouldn't be," she replies, giving a throwaway gesture toward the chair opposite of her, which he takes. "Give me an excuse to call it quits for the night."

König grins under his hood and holds up his offerings. "Glühwein and pastries?"

Adler gives him a faux-scandalized look. "Herr Operator, are you consuming alcohol on company premises?"

"It's KorTac tradition," he replies, sagely.

"I knew I adored you for a reason," she says, immediately pulling two coffee mugs and a handful of napkins out from a drawer in her desk. "Honestly, I was afraid you were going to say it was hot chocolate."

He pushes the thermos across the desk to her, then busies himself trying to reconstitute the box's original shape. Fortunately, the pastries survived relatively unscathed, aside from smears of jelly and chocolate on the roof of the box. He gives her the biggest piece of Streuselkuchen, knowing there's no way she can say no to it. In turn, he helps himself to a lopsided strudel. Adler—bless her—pours generously into each mug. Once everything's doled out appropriately, she gently taps her mug against him with a quiet, "Prost," which he returns.

He lifts the bottom part of his hood up to the arch of his nose in order to drink. If they weren't on base, he wouldn't bother with it around her. They've known each other for years now, and she's never balked at his scars. But there's far too much risk of another operator (or Doctor Nick) coming into the infirmary for any number of reasons.

Adler practically sinks into her drink, visibly relaxing in her chair and sipping it like she's rationing it out to herself. "Ohhh, you're the best," she murmurs. "You can smuggle alcohol in here whenever you want. I won't say a word to Hutch."

"That's what I thought you'd say," he replies, setting his mug down for a moment to help himself to his strudel. "You seemed, ah, stressed."

"More than usual?"

"Mhmm."

He catches it—that half-second flicker in her eyes that lets him know he's hit the mark with sniper accuracy. She doesn't say anything right away, and he knows better than to press it. Adler's like a cat in more ways than one, including her reaction to coaxing.

Two more sips of her drink and one bite of her cake, then, "What do you think of the new helicopter pilot?"

König blinks, taking another drink while considering who she's talking about. The new pilot has a very plain name—Schneider or Schiller or Schmidt—and a German accent wrapped finely around his English. König's so used to German, Austrian, and Swiss soldiers filtering in and out of PMCs that he didn't pay the new pilot much mind when he first heard him. Clearly, Adler's opinion is different. "I don't know," he finally says, honestly. "I hardly noticed him."

She nods, reaching up to crumble a piece of cake between her thumb and forefinger until it falls as dust onto her napkin. "Herr Schmidt," she says, like it's a punchline to a joke. "Paul Schmidt, to be specific. No callsign or nickname. Two incredibly common names that would never draw suspicion.."

He catches on. "You know him?"

"I do."

"Where's he from?"

"The KSK," she says, then shrugs. "Was from the KSK. Not anymore."

König's brow furrows, even though he knows she can't see it. "He left the KSK?" he asks.

"No." That confirms one suspicion. "He was ejected."

"Fuck," König says under his breath. People don't get kicked out of the Kommando Spezialkräfte unless it's under dire circumstances—truly awful behavior or war crimes even the Bundeswehr can't sweep away. "What did he do?"

He sees Adler's hands tighten on her mug, knuckles briefly going bone-white before she frowns and relaxes her grip. "I don't know," she says. "I heard so many rumors after it happened. That he detonated an explosive in a populated area. That he killed another KSK operative. That..." She swallows hard, and König thinks she's known the truth all along. "That he knowingly killed civilians."

Silence floats between them, like something perched and leering. Then, König asks, "Who is he?"

Adler gives a short, terse, fucking bitter laugh. "Depends on who you ask. He has so many aliases that I don't think there's a real person under all that," she replies. "Josef Doss, Sebastian Krueger, now Paul Schmidt. Who knows who he'll be in a month?"

König nods, and at the same time, he can see threads of a backstory fraying at the edges of her narrative. The bitterness, the black rage threatening to cut through her composed exterior. He then thinks of how close Doctor Nick's been to her lately, how this is the first day he's seen Adler without him at her side. Doctor Nick undoubtedly knows this, knows what's afflicting his wife's psyche, knows what this helicopter pilot's done.

There's no easy way to ask for the answer at the root of all this. Instead, quietly—gently—König asks, "Which one did you know?"

"I knew Sebastian Krueger," she replies. The bitterness slides into a saline melancholy—one that she immediately chases with a fortifying drink. "I don't know him anymore."

[darkened-storm]

“Follow the light.”

Steph sighed impatiently, training her eyes on the penlight the doctor waves in front of her. She’d been through emergency medical exams a hundred times before, yet the doctors never seemed to understand her need for efficiency.

Steph knew she was perfectly fine, this wasn’t her first accident, after all. No, she was more anxious about the state of her Zoid, and the pilot she’d sacrificed it to save.

Across the room, Becky stood with her arms crossed against her chest, tapping her finger impatiently against her arm. Her cousin had been unusually tight lipped since their arrival in the medical, and Steph could sense an outburst brewing beneath the mop of blonde hair.

Usually, Steph was the one to fly off the handle. Becky didn’t do incredulous - except on special occasions. Apparently, Steph basically destroying her Zoid and almost dying in the process counted as a special occasion.

Steph thought it best to break the silence first.

“How’s the second Lieutenant?”

Becky forced herself not to scowl. “In the medical bay. He suffered a concussion when Anna took him out. He’ll be cleared after a few hours of observation.”

Steph nodded, her expression unreadable. For the first time, Becky had no idea what her cousin was thinking - and that frightened her almost as much as forcing open the Liger’s cockpit when Storm had been unable to eject her pilot.

Silence hung around them, thick as fog. Then Steph asked, “And the Liger?”

“It’s a mess,” Becky said, not bothering to sugar coat it. “The armour is ruined - and the command system freeze fried half of the onboard circuitry.”

Steph flinched, which Becky found oddly satisfying - her cousin should feel guilty for making her worry like that! She sighed, tugging on her ponytail in frustration. “It shouldn’t be a problem for Dr D to fix though,” she relented. “Heck - Van’s certainly done worse.”

She had be scared of course, when she saw Van do things like that. As pilots went, he was as reckless as they came. But her blood didn’t run cold when she watched Van take on four genosaurers on his own. Her bones didn’t turn to jelly as she waited with baited breath for Zeke to eject his pilot at the last second. It didn’t bother her when Van made the impossible possible, because Becky knew that he’d be okay.

Her cousin, on the other hand, wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks, so Becky never had to consider Steph’s mortality, or her own for that matter. Until now.

“Why would you risk your Zoid - your life - like that?”

Steph said nothing, carefully picking the dirt and grime from beneath her fingernails. Her eyes flickered discreetly to the monitor displaying the hospital patient vitals. And then Becky understood.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steph agreed. “Oh.”

Becky sighed, feeling the last of her anger evaporate, giving way to a sense of relief. After a moment she said, “I didn’t think blondes were your thing.”

Steph made a strange sound - something halfway between a hiccup and a laugh, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Relieved to see some colour on her cousins face after the ordeal, Becky decided she could let her off the hook - just this once.

“You scared me,” she said wistfully.

“Sorry,” Steph muttered. “If it makes you feel better, I think I scared myself.”

[paddlegirl]

Note: This isn't actually my theory, it's just something i made for fun. Also I'm sorry if your childhood gets ruined because of this, amd I will not be responsible if it happens. Okay, here we go. Also TW: Death of children and some drug use.

Jelly Jamm. What to say about it? Oh yeah, it's quite a colorful and optimistic show. It revolved around 5 alien children: Bello, Goomo, Mina, Rita, and Ongo, on a fictional planet named Jammbo, which relies on music. But did you really think that the inspiration of the show, or more specifically, the children, was all about music? Well, let me tell you the true dark story behind these colorful characters and you'll probably have second thoughts.

On August 29, 2011, a week before Jelly Jamm was created, five children in Spain have been reported dead, and these kids were what inspired the five main characters. Here we go:

Miguel Lopez was no older than 9 when his life ended. The boy suffered from ADHD, which made it hard to make friends. Because of his behavior, he had a hard time fitting in at school, and the other students would bully him. However, the only friends he actually had was Carlos Gonzalez, his best friend and classmate, which they would always play superheroes together as well as other games, and a stray dog he liked to call Coco. He also has a passion for music, and when he walks home from school, he would always stop to hear the mariachi bands play on the street. One day, his parents were fed up with their son lacking friends, and his mother, who was a doctor, prescribed her son with medication for his ADHD. This, of course, wasn't really a good idea, as Miguel soon became addicted. As a result, he would have abnormal thoughts like a planet where everything ran on music, and also how he felt like an alien on said planet. 3 days later, he was found dead in his room, foaming at the mouth, with his prescription pills scattered and the pill container lied next to him. From this, we can conclude that Miguel died from an overdose. Because of his hyperactivity, energetic personality, and love for superheroes, he was the inspiration for Bello.

Carlos Gonzalez, he was the child that inspired Goomo. Though his end wasn't as disturbing, it wasn't any prettier either. Because his parents were often pretty busy, he spent most of his life with his grandmother. Though his grandmother loved him very much, Carlos felt so alone without his parents. Like his best friend Miguel, he was also bullied by many students, mostly because of his lisping disorder and slight chubby appearance. This did not stop him from having fun though, as he had Miguel by his side at all times, even if they weren't around each other. Carlos was also interested in airplanes, and he and Miguel would be seen making paper planes. Carlos always dreamed of becoming a pilot one day, but his parents wouldn't hear of it, as they were too worried that he might get hurt severely. Of course his family was pretty overprotective towards him. Anyway, Carlos has this condition where he tends to sleepwalk while dreaming and the medications that would treat sleepwalking didn't really work on him. That's what lead him to his demise. One night, he was dreaming about flying an airplane, and because he lived in a high apartment room, he literally went to the roof and jumped off, killing him.

The inspiration for Mina was a girl named Savannah Reyes, one of the smartest girls in school. She lived with her mother, as her father had left to explore the marine life, and was never heard of again. Her mother was extremely strict with her only daughter as she valued success over love, saying that social media was bad, friends were simply distractions from more "important" plans, and tries to make Savannah's life "perfect". Everything had to be perfect! However, this sorta had the opposite effect, as the departure of her father had put stress on both of them, more specifically, her mother. Her mother was extremely strict yet irrational at the same time, as every day she would neglect Savanna by locking her in her room for prolonged periods. As a result, Savannah would spend these periods of isolation home-schooling herself and conducting experiments on her own. Ever since the Mysterious disappearance of her father, her mother had began locking Savannah in her room more frequently, and even going to the verge of actually abuse her, verbally AND physically, probably to let out her feelings of guilt and shame for the father. As mentioned before, Savannah's mother was rather harsh and strict on her daughter, scolding her whenever she wasn't in the house while neglecting her at home as if she didn't exist at the same time. The breaking point, however, was when Savanna had a science project coming up, and she wanted it to be based on chemistry. Her project had gone wrong, as she accidentally inhaled the toxic fumes, making her severely ill. This was the Absolute reason why her mother was strict about mistakes, though she was accused of poisoning her daughter, and was arrested and sentenced to prison.

Rita, or rather her human counterpart, Rosanna Garcia, has also died of poison, or rather venom. Here's her story. Rosanna was a very happy and optimistic little girl who could make other feel happy, even if they had a deep depression. This was because her parents wanted their daughter to have a happy life. Their philosophy is that people who are more optimistic and happier would live longer. They also helped animals who were hurt or abused by their previous owners, which is why Rosanna always thought all animals were her friends. Every Christmas and birthday, she would always wish for the same thing: another pet, usually a kitten or a puppy, but also some other adorable baby animals. However, on her 7th birthday, when she got a pet, it wasn't a dog and it wasn't a cat. It was a snake, a Diamondback Rattlesnake. She couldn't be any happier with her new pet. However, when she tried to pet the snake, the snake BIT her! It hurt like hell! This led to a fatal illness which couldn't be cured, and the poor girl had to go to heaven. As for the Rattlesnake, which Rosanna named Dodo, most likely where Dodos came from in the show, she was sent to a zoo for dangerous animals, and was later smuggled for her skin.

Hector Marquez's death probably has the saddest story out of all of them. Unlike the other kids he was almost a teenager. And also unlike the other kids, he was an orphan with mental health issues. He was mute, autistic, and his headmistress was extremely abusive because of his problems as she was an ableist, despite it being an Orphanage specifically for Disabled Children. The headmistress finds fun in torturing the children, as every month there are less and less children there. Now some of you might be wondering where these children go. Do you believe that all of them get adopted by desperate married couples with no children? Well, actually, that's what happens to only 10% of the lucky surviving orphans, the rest of them get brutally murdered and burned, usually because of bad behavior throughout the month, being considered too "undesirable" for a family to adopt, or mostly because the headmistress finds it fun. Before she became the head of the orphanage, she was a performer who would go around dressed as a cartoon dinosaur for children's birthday parties. The problem came when Hector accidentally spilled grape juice on her costume. This minor incident led her to a serious amount of rage and hatred for disabled children. Back to Hector, despite his depression, he enjoyed sitting on the headmistress's couch reading books until she came back, his favorite ones being about famous people who were disabled like him. Before Hector was dropped off at an orphanage at the age of 3, he lived with his mother, who was a travelling pop star, who would always bring Hector with her wherever she went, even on stage. His father, on the other hand, was a rock star and promised to come back for them when he moved to Japan, but had died in a car accident. By studying his parents, Hector wanted to be just like them when he grew up. However, his mother dropped him off at an orphanage when she developed cancer, and has died 2 days later. Now, miserable with his new life, Hector wanted to break out someday. However, one day, it DID happen. At age 12, Hector, still depressed as being away from the orphanage wasn't any better without his mother, decided to end his own life near a tree in a graveyard, which was the same graveyard where his mother was buried. He found a nearby rope, constructed a noose, tied it to the branch, and hung himself, dead. The body was found a week later and he, too, was buried, next to his mother. At school, Hector was a popular boy, known for his taste in music and chill personality, similar traits to the character he inspired, Ongo.

And to add a final nail to the coffin, the children born on Jammbo are all just reincarnations of all 5 of the mentioned children back on Earth. So, there you have it. Nobody knows for sure who inspired the king and queen, but it's most likely from other cartoon monarchies. Still think the chatacters were all based on music? I didn't think so. Well, have a good night(if you can.)

[m-jelly]

Hi jelly

It's me again 😊

Can I have a request where reader comes from a noble family and was about to go into an arranged marriage so she runs away and joins the scouts with the help of erwin because you know she knows him when he sweettalks the rich people to provide money to their expeditions so they are like good friends and reader has this very high class actions and words she says and the vets are kinda make fun of her since they are friends also gradually reader and levi fall in love and they get married and it's like our captain with his foul mouth and reader with her classy etiquette attitude it's all fluff and humor ❤

Hello, hello, hello my lovely! Happy to do this. I have practice with fancy talking in a previous Ao3 story, so I should be alright writing the way the reader speaks <3 I gotta pick if I go for cannon or an AU, because I kinda don't want Erwin or Hange to die...(I'm in denial, send help)

Rough diamond.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: romance, falling in love, rich reader, class differences, language differences, future AU (I'm obsessed with it, sorry but the future with lasers is cool), developing relationship, marriage, fluff, teasing, Levi gets flustered by you because he's fucking adorable.

Concept: Erwin saves you from your controlling and rich parents to bring you into the world of the scouts. Due to your excellent piloting skills and kind heart, Erwin instantly puts you in the piloting of ships section led by himself called the extraction team. Due to the way you speak, you get teased for being a rich girl. As you work and connect with others, you connect with one rough around the edges man, Levi.

You pulled your hood down further as the rain pelted down. You were cold, scared and wet. You knew you had to run away from your family, or face a loveless marriage to a man you couldn't stand. You knew that running was your only chance and you were thankful that your dear friend was willing to get to the edges of the earth to help you out of the life you were forced into.

You noticed a car float down, then land on the platform. You clutched your chest tightly hoping it wasn't your parents, but a familiar tall and board man stepped out of the car. You ran over to him and out of the shadows with a large bag hugged to your chest. This was your chance to be free, to be happy and to do something with your life other than marrying a rich man and giving him a son so he can carry on his bloodline and name.

Erwin looked down at you with a gentle smile on his face as he said your name. "You made it."

You nodded. "Indeed. It was terribly dangerous of me to complete the extraction of oneself from such an imposing home. However, success was the only option as the alternative seemed rather dreadful."

Erwin hummed a laugh at your words. He took your bag and put it in his car, then he helped you to climb in. He hopped into his side and drove off. "Are you sure you want to be a pilot in the scouts? I know I said you're the best damn driver and pilot I've ever seen, but you don't have to."

"If my introduction to the piloting of vehicles within your military unit allows a reduction in casualties then I will apply my abilities. To not, seems wasteful."

Erwin let out a long sigh. "Alright, if you say so."

You pulled at your coat as your nerves crept in. "It seems I require training to be at a military standard. For how long will this take?"

Erwin glanced over at you. "I will only give you a small amount of training. I want you to focus on your skills behind the wheel of a car, a shutter of a fighter ship."

"Very well." You shuffled a little and felt guilty. "Though I do believe I need some adjustments and alterations to my combat skills."

Erwin smirked. "I know just the person to train you. My plan was to get you one-on-one training anyway." He gripped the wheel. "I also wanted to talk to you about the way you speak."

You frowned a little. "Is something the matter? If there is, I can reflect upon it and make alterations so it is satisfactory."

Erwin laughed and pulled up at the scout base. "Let's just say, you speak in a sweet and posh way and the scouts." He tilted his head side to side. "Well, they are very common and the man training you have a foul mouth. They might all tease you, so be prepared."

You nodded. "I am grateful to your alert on the matter. I will do my best to make alterations."

Erwin got out and grabbed your bag, then led you to a private room. "This is your room. You're near my room, so if you need anything just come see me." He handed you two keycards. "One for your room and the other is for the vehicles. Get a good night's rest, okay? Your armour and your on-duty uniform are in your closet."

You bowed to him. "You have my thanks." You leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You are truly a dear friend."

Erwin smiled and blushed a little. "You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow for introductions."

You waved to him, then walked through your office to your bedroom. You changed into your on-duty uniform of white military trousers with plenty of pockets coloured dark blue, a top that tucked in that was also white, with dark blue patches to match the wings of freedom on the arm. You stood proud in the mirror, then you grabbed your counter and glared at yourself.

You sighed and shook your body. "Salutations fellow scouts." You huffed at yourself. "No, no, that will not suffice." You hummed, then smiled again. "Great morning tidings dear scouts." You put your head in your hands and groaned. "Such grand embarrassment." You peeked at yourself. "Perhaps one should resort to simplicity." You smiled again. "Greetings." You gasped, then jumped up and down. "Perfection. I must prepare for tomorrow. First impressions are imperative."

You emptied your bag and put together a little hamper for the scouts full of different expensive teas. You moved it to a perfect spot, then you logged into your computer using the guide on your desk. You checked your list of duties and felt proud that you were going to soon be the head of the vehicle department that Erwin ran. You were happy you were in the extraction team, as well as deployment. Your job was to drop off teams to fight, as well as go in and take them out of trouble. Pilots like yourself were important to ensure the safety of the scouts.

When the morning light shone into your room, you'd realised you'd stayed up all night learning and working. Being this way wasn't new to you. When you were with your parents, there was a high expectation of you to perform and make your parents look good. So, you would spend most nights working and not sleeping. The pilot abilities was a hobby that you begged your parents to let you chase, which resulted in a shockingly good skill developing.

You picked up your basket and went to Erwin's office. You walked inside to see a pissed-off looking man, a tall man, a woman with glasses and a few other people as well. "Greetings all. What a wondrous morning it is!"

Erwin lit up at seeing you. "Morning!" He waved you over and introduced you. "She is the best damn pilot I've seen. What have you got there?"

You lifted the basket. "A greeting and offering of friendship. I do hope you all are rather favourable of tea. I ensured there was a wide variety to select from."

"That's very kind of you." He hummed a laugh, then looked to the room. "I'll introduce you."

You bowed and said hello to every member in the room, but as you did you noticed Levi was staring at you. You smiled at him softly. "Is there something you require?"

Levi grabbed the basket from you. "Tch, this is mine, you little brat."

You smiled when you saw his blush. "I am pleased you are delighted by my gift."

Levi hugged the basket as he felt a little flustered. "Very delighted..."

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

Your one-on-one training with Levi had been a lot of fun. You slowly learned how to fight and you got to know the Captain very well. Levi never talked about how you spoke, in fact he really liked it. He would find it very funny when he got you to say rude things, because you delivered it in such a wonderful manner. Levi just had fun with you and your skills when flying fighters and shuttles had saved him and his friends on multiple missions.

Levi stuck to you like glue. He liked you so much, that he was almost always with you. He was protective of you and got rid of anyone floating around you that was interested in you. He fought for you whenever someone teased you about the way you spoke and made sure people behaved themselves. He just liked you so much, it was seeping into love.

You were fixing up your favourite fighter and reparing it. You noticed Connie coming over with Eren and Sasha. You stopped working on the top of the ship and sat there with a smile. "Greetings fellow scouts!"

Connie grinned. "Greetings. You're a posh one, aren't you?"

"Indeed, you are correct in your assessment." You slid down off the ship and landed on your feet. You went to your cleaning station and cleaned your hands and arms. "I do originate from a well off family, but I no longer associate with them. I extracted myself from their care. Their intention for proceation was to create a child who could grant them many benfits. Due to me being a female, they intended to wed me to a well off gentlemen in order to reproduce and increase wealth."

Sasha gasped. "That's horrible!"

You nodded. "Indeed. However, with precise planning and the assistance of the Commander, I was able to flee. I owe much to him. He is a dear friend. It seems, though, that if my parents were to seek me out that there are many who would defend me."

Eren slauted you. "I would."

Connie groaned and shoved Eren. "She's talking about Levi! The posh one and the rough one." Connie laughed. "You are a weird one, you know? I can't get over how you speak. It hurts my brain."

"Tch, oi Connie?" Levi walked over to you with a cup of tea. "It doesn't hurt your brain because you don't have one."

You smiled. "Levi."

He looked at you. "What? It's true."

Connie groaned. "I have a brain. In fact, I'm so smart that I'm the strongest and most capable soldier there is!"

Levi stared at Connie, then sighed and said your name. "Tell Connie to go fuck himself."

You grinned. "Connie? One would strongly suggest that you take your reproductive appendage, then place it inside and out of yourself with vigerous enthusiasm."

Levi snorted a laugh. "I love this woman. Now, piss off you snot nosed little shits."

You stood there with a racing heart. You blushed as Levi watched the scouts run off, then he looked at you. You bit your lip when he said your name. "Was their meaning behind your words?"

Levi frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I love this woman."

Levi stared at you and realised what he'd said. "I ah." He blushed hard and felt nervous. He did not intend for you to hear his feelings for you. "Well." He gulped hard. "You're an annoying brat and so messy." He grabbed a clothe and rubbed your cheek clean of oil from the ship. "Tch, damn brat."

You hummed. "You did not answer me. The question requires a yes or no."

Levi slammed the clothe down and clenched his fist. He looked away from you and sighed. "I do, alright?" He looked you in the eyes. "I fucking love you, got it?"

You leaned closer and kissed him. "I feel the same, in that I too am very much in love with you."

Levi pouted a little as he felt giddy and flustered by you. He spoke in a hushed voice and held your hands. "I want you to be mine and only mine. I won't let any other little shit touch you."

You hugged Levi and felt how stiff he was, then he relaxed and held you back. "I want to be with you as well."

Levi burried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled. "So cute."

You hummed and closed your eyes as you just enjoyed Levi's warmth and his scent. "I intend to work on my vocabulary."

Levi cupped your face and smiled. "I really want to kiss you, you stupidly adorable brat."

You smiled. "Do as you desire."

Levi captured your lips, then ran his hands up your back. "So precious."

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

You stared at your wedding ring and played with it a little. You looked up at Levi and smiled when he walked into your workshop. You waved to Levi. "Heart filled greetings, my dear husband."

Levi leaned on the ship you were working on. "Hey, you bratty wife. You're looking fucking beautiful."

You giggled. "You, my love, are enticing and handsome this fine day."

He lifted you off the ship, then held you in his arms. "I have the best fucking wife." He kissed you and growled. "You ever done anything in one of your ships?"

You hummed a laugh. "You are my only partner physically, therefore you should be well informed of my sexual activities."

Levi smiled a little, then looked at your chest. "How about we try and test how sound proofing in the ship."

You covered Levi's mouth with your hands. "Control your urges." You smiled. "It brings me much delight that you desire me so, but I do not wish to fill this ship with such lustful and enticing memories. I fear they will distract me from my duties."

Levi put you on your feet. "You have a point. When I work at my desk all I can think about is you bent over it moaning my name."

You blushed. "Levi."

He nipped your lip, then kissed you passionately causing your knees to go weak. "I'm simply saying the turth, you cute brat."

You shook your head as you hummed a laugh. "You are a delight to the heart. How I love you so."

"I adore you, Mrs Ackerman." He let out a long sigh. He grabbed and nipped the crook of your neck making you squeal with laughter. "Mine. I'm so glad Erwin helped you ran away."

You hummed a laugh. "Me too."

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[angelthebedsheet]

Can you do a zuko x male reader or gender neutral. It could be about the reader witnessing the agni Kai and watching zuko get banished. The reader tries to go with zuko but zuko doesn’t want the reader to get hurt. Years later they meet at the boiling rock. You can take it from there. I love your writings and I’ll keep supporting you 💕

a/n: oooooh! thank you anonnie!! i appreciate your requests!!!

lets get it!

okay so you and zuko were TURTLEDUCK BUDDIES

attached to the hip basically

azula HATED how close you two were bc hello she’s right here???

i mean you and zuko trained together

fed ducks together

best buds

you knew you liked zuko alot but you didn’t understand?

like you started to get flustered around him

same with zuko

and azula was PLOTTING NOW

she doing a think rn with one of her BRILLIANT ideas 😐

“oh n/n! zuzu! come play a game with us!”

zuko’s flight or fight reflexes are triggered and he’s ready to DIP

but you r unfortunately intrigued

“oh okay ‘zula! cmon zu!”

cue azula’s smug lil grin

she puts an apple on your head and makes you stand in front of the fountain

you’re like ???? is this the game?

azula’s like it is n/n it’ll be fine

it was NOT fine

she damn near burnt you to a crisp if it wasnt for zuko tackling you into the fountain

now azula, ty lee and mai are LAUGHIN

but we all know mai lwk a lil jelly

you and zuko are embarrassed as fuck

you both are soaked and he’s hovering over you

mr zuzu looking real pretty

he just turns red and pulls you up before running away

zuko is like ???? boys are cute especially this one???

you two still remained close after this incident

two lil gays boys who are trying to not crush on e/o

(im sorry the only thing i can think about when i think of zuko is his gay ass lil scream in the prototype pilot episode)

(nigga said wwAHHH)

anyways

azula teased you about zuko speaking out against a general and their dad is angry and you’re like oh shit

suddenly you arent allowed to visit zuko anymore

and you’re like wtf no no let me in

the guards said no

you’re so paranoid too

is he okay?

what fully happened?

soon the agni kai is announced to happen

and you are seated next to iroh and azula

you’re clutching onto your pants as you watch zuko walk into the arena

you really dont want him to get hurt

your eyes widened as you watched zuko’s father walk into the arena and your heart drops

zuko is clearly surprised and frightened

tears are rolling down your cheeks bc you are so so so scared for him

iroh covers your eyes as he looks away when zuko got burned and you could feel your heart break as you listened to his cries of pain

you cried out as iroh pulled you into a hug

you and iroh immediately rushed to the infirmary to get to zuko

you push past those guards and nurses bc you are on a MISSION

aint nobody getting in your way like this bc you will STOMP they asses out

you are not leaving his side

“z-zu are you okay? can you hear me?”

“m-m/n? where are you? i cant see”

zuko is starting to panic due to the fact his left eye is patched close

you hold his hand “i’m right here zu. shh im here”

he’s so overwhelmed too poor baby

“u-uncle? w-where is he?”

“right here zuko.”

you help him sit up and he grabs a mirror immediately

he frowns at his reflection

“you’re still handsome zuko.” you said

iroh pretended to not see that blush that sat on zuko’s cheeks

“i-i’ve been banished, m/n.”

“what?”

“i’m banished from here. the only way i can come back is if i capture the avatar.”

“but he’s been gone for years zuko! let me come with you”

“no! it’ll be too dangerous”

“how? we trained together! grew up together? how is it too dangerous?”

“no m/n! i dont want to lose you!”

“you wont lose me zuko.”

“you dont know that. you arent coming with me.”

you and him went back and forth

after he shaved his hair and was about to board his boat you pulled him away

then you confessed right then and there

i mean you didnt know when you’ll see him again

“i like you zuko. more than a friend”

“what?”

“i like you.”

“are you for real? this isnt a joke right? like azula didn’t put you up to this?”

“no she didnt.”

“oh thank the spirits. i like you too.”

and yall have this lil awkward ass kiss

just a short lil peck?

i mean yall are 12/13 and two boys you think they gonna go all out tonguing niggas? lmao

you two hug before iroh calls him over

“i’ll wait for you zuko”

“i’ll try my best.”

and he’s gone

over the years zuko was gone he was so sad

“if i capture the avatar i can come back to the fire nation and m/n”

but clearly the whole LeMmE cAtCh tHe AvAtAr thing was dropped when he got that glow up

(neya said 🦋🦋🦋🦋 whenever they look at zuko cmon NOW.)

now they’re otw to boiling rock

“my first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

“that’s rough buddy.”

and sokka’s like you ever dated someone before?

zuko’s like..... two people?

“that knife throwing girl?”

“her and m/n. though we never got to date bc at the time i was literally banished. i miss him alot though.”

bi king ✨

“what if he’s at the boiling rock?”

“then i’ll find him.”

sokka’s like yes my man get your MANS

“okay so we look for my dad, suki and your husband”

“he’s not my husband sokka.”

“..... my dad, suki and your husband”

“omfg shut your trap.”

these pair of himbos finally get inside and are on a MISSION

sokka’s like heheheeh suki time

KAJDJAJDJJSKDJF

zuko’s hopeful that you’re here or at least alive

after sokka and suki have their lil reunion zuko wanders off and asks around

“do you have a prisoner by the name of m/n?”

“why do you ask, newbie?”

“uhhh the warden sent me to him.”

“oh. there.” pointing to a door

zuko has to CONTAIN the excitement and nods before speed walking off

he throws open that door so quickly

you on the other hand is ready to rumble “i TOLD YOU I DONT FUCKING HAVE IT”

zuko just closes the door behind him and takes off his helmet

you’re like hol up wait wait zuko????

and he nods with a big ol grin on his face

you just hug him so fucking tight

maybe there were some tears shed

you pick him up and twirl him around

zuko’s like holy SHIT

and you pull back to just look at him

“you’re still as handsome as i remember you, zu.”

“so are you, n/n...”

he’s just so awestruck

the person he has been looking forward to seeing for 3/4 years is right infront of him

yall just kiss

sokka now gotta pull a zuko and bang on that door

“yALL DOING THINGS IN THERE??? HURRY UP”

“shut UP sokka”

zuko puts his helmet back on and grabs your hand

yall finally dip and are otw tf outta there

“oh shit zuko he’s cute”

“back off”

“im happy with suki relax sir”

zuko is clingy and was hugging you the whole time

not that you minded bc you missed him dearly

when yall got back and he introduces you

the group minus toph is like “ZUKO’S GAY????”

toph is like “I FUCKING CALLED IT”

alls well

except for the fact zuko wouldnt let you go anywhere by yourself

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Oooooooh smut prompt tiiime 😈 the options are killing me but maybe 101 & 103 with Poe?? If you want?

A/N: Oh a sexy time with everyone’s favorite resistance pilot? Sign me up! Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking! 

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + ONLY NSFW (Oral (M! & F! Receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough sex, forest sex) 

My Masterlist 

Meet Me on Endor 

The moon of Endor is stunning. It's a beautiful place to be with its towering trees, lush forests, and lovable creatures that roam like overstuffed teddy bears. Once a month, you were able to escape your assignment on one of the resistance's cruisers in deep space and meet up with your lover for a rendezvous away from everyone else. You land the x-wing in the open field and walk towards Poe, leaning against his ship, arms crossed and smiling. You give a small smile back and toss him the blanket and take off into the woods.

The only sound is Poe's breathing, which becomes more erratic as you get to the spot, your spot. The crunch of leaves loudly echoing off the dense forest. When you finally walk deep enough, you turn and take the blanket from his arms. The two of you fluffing it out before moving to the buttons and zippers of your flight suit. There is no time for romance when there is a war going on, so your monthly meetings on the planet Endor are all the time you get. The only moment the two of you can strip and fuck without anyone coming to disturb. Especially a loveable orange and white droid.

Poe kneels down on the blanket and pulls your hips toward him. The stubble that is beginning to grow on his face scratches. He nips at the skin of your waist and hips. Your hands running through his onyx curls, still wet from the fresher he jumped in before leaving the base. His hands trail slowly up and down your legs, and the goosebumps form at the way his rough hands go a burning path. His hands move to glide upside the inside of your thighs, and you shiver as he gets closer and closer to where you want him.

"Lay down," his hands leave you, and you whimper but one look from Poe, and you drop to your knees and move to lay, but his hand stops you. "Wait, stay right there." He stands before your kneeling form, "open your mouth." You open your mouth, and he guides his thick cock between your lips. His lips opening to form a small o as you lick the underside of his cock. His hand comes down to your head and guiding him further inside. You feel the tears behind your eyelids, and you let out a groan as you feel him hit the back of your throat. One of his hands moves down to your throat and squeezes gently, and you feel a gush of heat between your legs.

"Open your eyes, look at me," he lets out a grunt, and you look up at him through the thick veil of your lashes. "You are so beautiful, all the time. But especially when your choking on my cock," his words have the desired effect, and you moan around him, the tears streaming down your cheeks.

He pulls out, and you let out a loud gasp as the air reinflates your lungs. "Lay down, Commander," you command, and he drops to his knees and lays on his back. His hands come behind his head, and he smirks at you from the blanket.

"Take what you want, baby," he teases, and then his eyes widen as you lower your dripping pussy on his face. His hands shot up to pull you down, burrowing his tongue within your folds. Your hands intertwine with his that is digging into your thighs as he eats you out. You bite down on your lip to suppress the screams as he plunders your pussy. Collecting your slick on his tongue and making obnoxious groans that send delicious vibrations up your spine.

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, and you bite down hard enough to draw blood as he releases your hands and keeps your hips down on his face. He licks up every drop that you release until you slap his hands away and slide down his chest, leaving a trail of wetness in your wake. You move down to lick it all up, and his eyes darken as you swirl around his nipple and bite down softly.

You pump his cock a few times before lining yourself up and sinking down on him. His hands move behind his head again, and he grins, "Bounce on my cock, make yourself cum." You do as he says and push up, almost taking him out all the way before dropping down onto him. His eyes close, and he just takes it as you fuck him into the blanket. One of your hands dropping down to your clit and rubbing. The other moves down to his nipple and twists it between your fingers. It doesn't take long with how wound up the two of you are. Your orgasms coming at almost the same time. You tighten around him and gush all over him, your pussy milking him of all his cum.

You drop to his side, and both of you look up into the blue sky above. He takes a few breaths and then turns his head to you. "Ready to go again?" he grins and reaches between your legs.

Four hours later, the two of you are fucking exhausted. The small lunch you ate doing what it could to replenish your energy, but it would be better if you slept. But you can't bring yourself to stop as he presses your hands deeper into the tree bark, his body slamming into you from behind. "We've been out it like rabbits; how are you still horny?" you shout over your shoulder, and he lets out a laugh.

"I've fucking missed you. I get you alone once a month; I'm making up for all the times I had to use my hand!" The sound of a ship in the distance has you both pause and hold your breath—the hiss of a landing ramp loud in the empty. Poe takes a step and moves you further behind the tree to cover you both.

"Are you sure he's here, buddy? What makes you think Poe's in trouble?" Finn's voice booms out, and you tense. The beeps of a familiar droid replying back. "You tracked his ship? Oh wait, yeah, it's over here…and is that... what's their ship doing here too?"

Poe moves again, a hand coming down to rub your clit. You hiss, "stop, they are coming over here!" He shushes you and continues to move. "Please remind me again why we are having sex behind a tree when your best friend and droid are just over there!"

His hand comes over your mouth, and he bites down on your shoulder. "Because I need you, I'm in fucking love with you, and I want to cum with you one more time before we're interrupted, and I don't see you again for a month." He picks up the pace, and the slap of his skin is louder than you want, but in a moment, the both of you are cumming again, no less intense than the last four hours as he holds your body against his chest, both of you panting.

"What did you find BB-8?" You hear some rustling from over where you left the blanket. "Oh...BB-8 I think we should go back to the ship." BB's beeps are almost frantic, and Finn does his best to calm him down. "No, no buddy, I don't think someone kidnapped them and left their clothes…We should really go back to the ship." Finn's footsteps lead away and back towards the ship.

"No, no, buddy, I think this is something you should talk about with your dad when you're older." Finn sounds so uncomfortable the two of you have to cover your mouths to suppress the laughs.

When the ship takes off, Poe pulls out and watches as your combined cum drips out of you. "Hey," you draw his attention, and he looks into your eyes smiling, "I love you too."

He pulls you close for a kiss, "I know." The two of you move slowly to pull on your clothes and head back over to your ships. This was always the most challenging part, saying goodbye. "I should go before my droid sends out a search party." You let out a watery chuckle, but the smile never really meets your eyes. "Hey," he brushes the tears off your cheeks, "Just a little longer, and then you can transfer to the base with me, and we won't have to meet like this once a month."

You nod and let out a shaky breath. His lips are soft and warm, and you feel like jelly in his arms. You pull away first and reach for the bag in your cockpit, him doing to same. You exchange the bags and give him another longing kiss before you climb into your ship and take off. When you get back to the ship and pull the bag out, your eyes swell with more tears. Pulling off your clothes, you pull on his shift and sweats, putting them to your nose and inhaling deeply. Comforted in the smell and warmth of the one you love. "Just a little longer," you whisper before sleep takes you.

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia @jedi-mando @spider-starry @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @josepedropascal @revolution-starter @mariesackler @rebelliouscat @demoncrypt1066 @goalkeepernerd @ghostwiththemostbitch 

[cg29fics]

Pick & Mix Collection

Previous: Little Tracy's .. Scott .. Gordon .. Virgil .. Alan & John

Kayo Kyrano Addition

My brothers, by Kayo.

Hint of Scayo.

Alan: My little ball of energy.

I'm so proud of him, he's growing into a wonderful young man. Although, sometimes when he's in one of his hyper moods it's difficult not see the little boy that used to speed around the house, the one who would come and crawl in my bed for cuddles after a nightmare, or during a bad storm. I used to refer to him as my blonde-haired munchkin. If I called him that now he would probably try to tickle me, although he would have to catch me first.

Gordon: My light in the dark.

Watching Gordon win an Olympic Gold Medal was one of the best things I've ever experienced. Nearly losing him after his hydrofoil accident was one of the worst. We should have realised though that our squid wouldn't give up that easy. He's a fighter, the one who will never give up despite the odds. He's the joker of the family and our bringer of joy and fun. Penelope is one lucky lady to be dating him!

Virgil: My gentle giant.

He's big, broad and his outer exterior presents him as the tough sporty guy who you wouldn't want to cross. However, he's really the complete opposite. One of the kindest guy you could ever wish to meet and will always there to pick you up when you fall. I know his brothers refer to him as their Switzerland. To me, he's the one who calms me at the end of a long day, either through a song he plays on the piano, his warm voice, or via one of his famous bear hugs.

John: My kindred spirit!

We have a weird 'twin' connection, though in terms of blood we are not actually related. Seriously, he's always catching me out on stuff and I'm always catching him. If one of us is down, then the other knows. I broke my wrist once and his wrist swelled up! If I believed in reincarnation, I would have said we were twins in a previous life.

Scott: My everything!

I don't refer to Scott as my brother anymore. That would make what we are weird, but I know what we have isn't wrong. He's able to make my legs turn to jelly with a single look followed by one of his dimpled smiles. What we have is special, it's magic and I really don't know what I would do without him.

3 more fics beneath the cut...

Tin-Tin and Kayo.

Head Cannon Au: Tin-Tin and Kayo are sisters. Hint of Scayo.

Tin-Tin… A nickname her father came up with when she was a toddler (and yes, she likes it) short for Tanusha Kyrano… Extremely protective of her sister and the Tracy boys who she now refers to as brothers – well, except Alan of course… (And Virgil - But, that was just once when they were both in their first-year at college, and maybe a few other times after that if she's being honest - They quickly realised however that they were better off as friends.) Yes, she loves cooking, sewing and knitting, dresses and high heel shoes but if you tell her she can't do something because she's a girl she'll show you exactly what a girl can do! Mechanical engineer who earned top marks in her class. A fantastic pilot with additional skills in first-aid. She is always happy to get her hands dirty on a mission and will not think twice about risking her life in order to save another.

Kayo... Not short for anything! Tin-Tin's twin sister. Youngest by two minutes, and hates the fact that her sister will not let her forget that! Dislikes dresses, heeled shoes, can't sew or knit to save her life, but she can whip up a pizza and a decent bacon and tomato sandwich, but she may burn down the house if she attempted anything else… However, what she does lack in domestic skills she certainly makes up for in others… Highly trained in a variety of Martial Arts which include, capoeira, jujitsu, karate, and kickboxing… Oh, and don't forget the additional skills as a pilot… Plus, rock climbing, long distance running, sky diving, and boxing… (Yes, I wouldn't recommend cornering her in a dark alley… She will make you regret it!) Like her sister, she is very protective of her family and also refers to the boys as brothers… (Except, for Scott - But they are enjoying keeping that as a secret – For now!) Completely fearless she makes an excellent chief of security for International Rescue.

So, there you have it… Tin-Tin and Kayo… Twin sisters, alike and yet different in so many ways!

Never Alone

Au where Kyrano passes when Kayo is a child.

Kayo sat on an embankment, staring out at the grey listless clouds that refused to release the rain from their grasp. She wished they would, the day had been humid and definitely needed the release that a storm would bring. However, just like her own repressed emotions the rain didn’t come, and the heavens that she longed to open and return her papa to her remained closed.

A hitch hit her breath as she desperately repressed a tear, another sob for the man who had always been there for her. Who would be there for her now? Yes, she and her father had lived with the Tracy’s for a number of years and they had been so kind to her during these past few days, but they wouldn’t want her around for much longer. Would they? She was on her own now. No one to care for her if she fell, no one she could hold and cherish in her heart. No one to…

The sound of crunching leaves caught her attention, and her gaze lifted to take in five boys, all of them looking towards her. Quietly two sat on her one side, the other two on the opposite, and the youngest climbed on to her lap, his head instantly cuddling into her chest. She pulled him closer allowing a tear to roll down her cheek, followed by another. Then as if it had waited a rumble of thunder burst forth along with the much-needed downpour matching her now uninhibited sobs.

Warm arms enveloped her, but no words were spoken, they didn’t need to say anything. The unconditional love radiating from all of them expressed everything she needed. She would never be on her own.

BBQ.

Scayo

Kayo jogged up to the lounge from the hanger, after returning from a successful solo mission, desperate to get her debrief over and done with so she could get some food and relax before the next rescue call came in. However, upon reaching the lounge she was surprised to find no one around, 'Where are they?' Kayo frowned.

Suddenly, a waft of cooking meat coming from a nearby barbecue answered her question. Grinning, she quickly made her way outside to the pool, bringing herself to a sudden halt at the sight before her. There was Scott wearing only loose-fitting shorts as he slaved over a hot barbecue, the sweat trickling down his tanned bare chest as he flipped the meat over. Kayo could feel the saliva dripping down her chin while her mouth remained open in awe.

"Hey," Scott smiled at her. "Foods nearly ready, you hungry?"

"Yes, I am!" she replied, grabbing him and pulling him away from the barbecue.

Scott ground them both to a halt. "Wait, Kayo. The food's nearly done!"

"Virg, can you watch the food?" She asked.

Virgil nodded, jumped up from the sun lounger and began tending the barbecue.

"Where are you taking me?" He questioned as she began leading him away again. "I thought you'd be hungry after your mission."

"Oh, I am hungry but certainly not for food!"

"Oh!" Scott smirked, allowing her to lead him to her room.

These and other random shorts can be found in my Pick & Mix collection on A03 & FFNet

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter One

Marcy watched the sun slowly set on Newtopia as she’d done many an evening before. The sharp squawks of the gulls rang through the orange sky. She looked quite the forlorn figure standing by the hotel entrance, the gentle evening breeze that ruffled her cloak underscoring her solitude.

Her eyes remained fixated in the same direction her friend had taken off, maybe in some fleeting fool’s hope she’d change her mind and come sprinting back right into her arms.

Not a chance, Marbles.

Anne was long gone by now. Hopefully, she’d caught up with the Plantars’ fwagon before they reached the city gate. Judging by how quickly she booked it, the odds were in her favor. That girl didn’t make varsity back home for nothing.

Marcy only hoped those sweet, simple frogs knew just how lucky they were to have someone like Anne in their lives.

Sighing, her head lowered, she licked her wounds slowly.

Really? That easy, huh?  

Could Anne have made it any more obvious that she wanted to get out of there faster than she did? After they’d been apart for so long, and for a family of farmer frogs whom she’d known for what? Months?

No, don’t do that, she pulled herself up. It wasn’t right for her to be mad at the Plantars. This wasn’t their fault. Sprig and Polly were a barrel of fun at the slumber party, providing you disregarded their life-threatening encounter with the jelly-fish ghosts. Hop Pop, meanwhile, reminded her so much of her own grandpa it was uncanny. They were sweet, decent folk who’d taken Anne in and kept her safe all this time. It was just...

Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. How else was she supposed to feel but a little rejected?

However, was she really allowed to complain when holding her tongue was so normalised for her by this point? Marcy was a people pleaser, she understood that much about herself. Anytime Anne and Sasha got into an argument, she was there to keep the peace and everyone happy. So if Anna-Banana wanted to spend more time with her bumpkin frog family than her literal best friend since preschool, who was she to say no?

The story with her folks wasn’t all that different either. When they pressured her to keep up her studies, up to and including PSAT prep despite it being years away, she did as she was told like a good girl to make them proud, and they were. She hoped they were.

Goodness knows what they must be thinking right now—

Nope nope nope! Don’t go there, don’t go there.

She’d already lost too much sleep at night ruminating over the unspeakable pain she’d most surely put them through, it was the last thing she needed right now. She tried to do the logical thing and focus on the positives instead. That usually worked.

Anne wouldn’t be away for too long. They’d be together again as soon as Hop Pop’s contacts returned the Box to Wartwood and then it was off to the first of the three temples to get those gems recharged. Once that side quest was done and dusted, it was a simple matter of finding Sasha and making their way home.

Looking down, she caught herself wringing her hands.

Home.

That sure was the plan.

I mean... what else are we supposed to do?

“Always sad to see someone go, isn’t it?”

Marcy quickly wiped her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to greet the towering form of King Andrias.

Almost instantly, her mood perked up a notch. He was the one person whom she trusted, more than anyone else in all of Amphibia. Ever since she first landed outside the city walls, he took her under his wings and ensured her smooth transition into this brave new world.

Andrias was without doubt one of the kindest and wisest people Marcy could have ever hoped to meet. He was a true listener, and there were very few you could say that about, her parents included. How often had he been there to lend both an understanding ear and sage advice over games of flipwart?

Games she won more often than not, she wasn’t humble enough not to brag.

It was also he who sent Marcy on the daring missions that would eventually make her the hero of Newtopian society she was today. All because he recognised the value of her talents beyond passing an exam or helping her friends with their homework. No other 13-year-old had their own solid gold statue adorning a city bridge.

She owed this king a debt she couldn’t possibly repay, but one he was far too altruistic in nature to demand.

Then, why did he look so... solemn?

“Come along, Marcy. We need to talk.”

Maybe it was his serious tone of voice or those specific choice of words, but they made the hair on the back of Marcy’s neck stand on end. In an almost pavlovian manner, she corrected her posture and she held her chin erect.

Shoving whatever remaining conflicted thoughts aside, she silently followed Andrias back to the castle like a pilot fish tailing its great white. She was so puny next to this tremendous salamander, he could crush her with a single blow of his fist if he so chose. Not that a gentle, goofy giant like Andrias would even dream of doing such a thing.

So when he was dead serious, Marcy knew better to zip it, listen, and do as instructed.

Their quiet journey took them all the way back to the castle and into the royal throne room, a place she was all too familiar with by now. To enter this hallowed hall was a privilege bestowed only to a select few. For Marcy, it was where she had her morning debriefs over bugachinos.

Instead of going straight up to the throne for their pow wow as she anticipated, Andrias guided her down a small passageway to their left.

When they made their way up to the statue of what Marcy recognised as one of his ancestors, one of the great rulers of Amphibia, they came to a stop. Andrias then gazed down at her with the most serious look she’d seen him give anyone.

“Marcy, before we go any further,” he spoke sternly, “I need to be absolutely crystal clear about something. Okay?”

“Y-Yes, Andrias?” Marcy asked, shivering a little. She did not like being pulled out of her comfort zone, not like this.

“You’re about to enter the most secret place in all of Newtopia,” he continued, now down on one knee and his hand hovering over her shoulder, as close as they could be to eye level. “What I’m going to show you... I need you to swear you won’t share with another living soul. Not to Anne, not to Lady Olivia, no one. Do you understand? I can’t emphasise this enough, Marcy.”

“Of course,” she answered earnestly, trying to sound more confident. “You know you can always trust me, Andrias.”

A ghost of that warm, fatherly smile returned to his big blue countenance.

“Trust is a hard thing to come by, kid, and you’ve gone above and beyond to earn mine. It’s just that I’m not exaggerating here when I say this is a big one.”

Marcy simply placed one hand over his huge index, the other over her heart.

She smiled back at him sweetly, genuinely, “I promise.”

“Very well.”

Nodding in approval, Adrias rose. He reached out, pushing a luminous coral torch upwards.

It didn’t take an encyclopedic knowledge of ‘Creatures & Caverns’ for Marcy to predict that the statue was going to shift to the left next, revealing the spiralling staircase leading to Frog knows where. She probably should’ve been more surprised, but come on, it wasn’t exactly the first secret passage she’d come across in this castle lately. 

“Follow me,” was all Andrias said, before he pulled off the same coral torch, then proceeded down the stairs without another word. Marcy followed obediently, unable to ignore the unnerving chill that was now travelling up her spine.

Was it... always this cold around here?

Something about all this just felt so unsettling compared to last time. She couldn’t really explain why; she knew she was safe with Andrias and that he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way. It was a gut feeling and that sort of thing bugged a rational person like her to no end.

She tried to take her mind off it by hazarding her best guess as to precisely what he was going to show her. Either she did that or started getting all worked up dwelling on Anne again, which she’d rather not at the moment.

Another secret library, perhaps? Probably not, though she wouldn’t be at all disappointed if it was. Maybe there were forbidden texts about the dark arts hidden away down there. Magic users were incredibly rare in Amphibia these days—Marcy had already searched far and wide—so might this be her chance?

Oh, how the very idea of being able to cast actual magic excited her. Being Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard was a great honor and nothing to sneeze at, but to be a powerful sorceress, one who could communicate with spirits, raise the dead, shuffle the orifices on her enemy’s faces—

Okay, rein those snails in, Mar-Mar.

Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise emanating from below. At first she figured it was just her imagination, but the further they continued their descent, the clearer it became.

It sounded an awful lot like beeping. Yes, that was it. A progressively growing cacophony of bleeps, bloops and chirps, the kind she’d expect to hear from a high-tech supercomputer. Something absolutely alien in a world like Amphibia, she and her friends excluded.

Before Marcy could ask Andrias if he heard it too, she was distracted by the emergence of an orange glow chasing away the darkness below. It was a warm, almost heavenly light that conjured the mental image of a crackling fireplace on Christmas morning, protecting you from the snowstorm outside.

The chill in her spine had by now spread to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Her throat tightened up. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead.

What the... Marcy could not say a word, only think.

There was something down there. Something greater than any library, however inconceivable that sounded. Whether it was good or bad was irrelevant to her at that moment.

It called her.

The duo finally reached the foot of the staircase and entered the sacred sanctum.

Marcy’s jaw dropped.

“Woah.”

There were no shelves of books. No ancient Amphibian artifacts. There weren’t even any walls that she could make out from where she stood. Just an apparently endless sea of darkness encompassing a large round platform from which both the enticing glow and the lowkey din of beeps originated.

Marcy resumed taking Andrias’ lead as they stepped out onto the platform, the clink-clank of their boots confirming her assumption it was made of metal. The whole thing appeared more at home on an alien spaceship than in the dungeons of a castle.

Upon arriving at its centre, Andrias knelt down on both knees and, much to Marcy’s curiosity, removed his crown and set it down on the floor. She took the hint by following suit.

Any lingering fears melted away the more she basked herself in the radiance. It was as if the beams were steadily pouring into her body, clearing up her headspace, reducing any tension in her body. She recalled a favored memory from when she was five-years-old, when she and Anne spent a whole summer afternoon by the beach. How the tides would come in and out without fail, washing away the ruins of their sandcastles, the seaweed, one of Anne’s sandles and the teeny tiny baby seahorse they rescued.

Like a nice blank canvas.

Was this a private place of worship? Not according to her expansive studies of Amphibian anthropology. Or maybe it was a place for Andrias to meditate away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Seemed a skosh excessive if that was the case.

“Truly captivating, I know.”

Andrais’ baritone brought Marcy back down to earth. She straightened up and tried to refocus herself. They were down here for an important reason, at least she believed they were.

“One can spend hours down here,” Andrias boomed ominously. “Adrift in their own thoughts and... dreams.” The light cast his face in a rather unnerving shadow as he stared ahead into the void. “But I’m sure you know I haven’t brought you here to show off my retreat from the world.” He took a long, deep breath, like he was mentally steeling himself for what he said next, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Marcy.”

He produced from his sleeve what appeared at first glance to be two giant pieces of parchment and unfolded them neatly on the metal surface. A closer inspection told Marcy they were in fact pages torn from an exceptionally large book. Judging not only by the size, but the font and format as well, she easily pieced together its origin.

“Are these...?”

“From the book we “found” in the wing?” Andrias chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. Still kinda surprised you didn’t pick up there were pages missing, but that's not important right now. Please, read.”

The platform provided ideal reading light. Marcy’s ability to read at a 12th Grade level meant she cruised through the text and finished within minutes.

She read it once, then twice. A third and fourth time just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Her bottom began to tremble.

No... Nononono, this... this can’t be right. I-It’s impossible! How in the world can it...?!

No amount of curative rays could unfreeze the blood in her veins. The metaphorical pistons in her brain were firing on full cylinders in a vain attempt to digest this earth-shattering information. For a split second, she thought she was going to pass out.

Desperate, she turned to the stone-faced Andrias to plead for some kind of answer, but she found no words with which to speak. All the personal growth and development that made her Newtopia’s champion had been stripped of her and she was reduced to nothing more than a helpless lost toddler.

A comforting set of giant digits placed themselves under her chin, the same way a father would do for his daughter.

“All this time, I’ve been testing you,” Andrias told her, his voice full of pride. “The games of flipwart, the missions, the “secret library”, even the barbari-ant colony I had lured to the city. I was watching you, studying your every action. With each challenge I issued, you excelled my expectations. You’re an exceptionally talented human being, Marcy, truly worthy of the name ‘Wu’.”

Even if these words were meant to serve as comfort or encouragement, they had only the opposite effect for Marcy. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes.

She mustered only a pitiful whimper, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he promised, “you will soon enough. He’s so excited to meet you.”

“... He?”

Lifting his mighty hand in the air, he thrusted it into the nothingness facing them. Marcy instinctively followed its direction.

“Marcy Wu,” Andrias’ thundering voice resonated throughout the sanctuary, “allow me to introduce you... to my master.”

No sooner had he finished, the whole world started to tremble at Marcy’s knees, throwing her off her balance. A rumbling, mechanical ROAR struck her ears so loud she had to cover them to protect the drums from rupture. Yet despite this sensory assault, she somehow forced her eyes to stay wide open. She needed to face whatever was coming.

Marcy gazed into the abyss.

And the abyss gazed back with all thirteen of its eyes.

Terror. Pure mounting terror overwhelmed every cell of her being. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. If her mouth stretched any wider, her jaw risked snapping clean off its hinges.

Everything around her faded into black. Andrias, the platform and its glow, the beeping, all vanished into the ether. All now that existed were herself and those colossal demonic eyes plucked from the deepest recesses of her nightmares, their leer burrowing into her very soul.

Marcy wanted to scream until she coughed up her lungs. Moreso, she just wanted to wake up. This was all a dream, it had to be. A lucid dream that had gone on for far too long. She and her friends weren’t in another dimension inhabited by talking frogs, such a notion was a scientific absurdity. She sure as heck wasn’t a ranger in some anthropomorphic newt army.

Any moment now, her wizard kitty alarm would ring and she’d wake up in her soft, cozy bed. Dad would have left for work by now, planting a goodbye kiss on her sleeping forehead as he did every morning since she was little. Mom would be already making her her favorite congee rice and youtiao for breakfast. Then she would begin the process of packing up her room for the big move to Oregon like a good girl.

Yes, she would even happily do that. Anything to bring an end to this ordeal!

Shhhh

Her train of thought screeched to a sudden halt.

Marcy

It’s gonna be okay

And just like that, as if those were the five magic words required, everything was fine again. No more panic, no more existential terror. Her heart rate lowered to a steady, non-life threatening level.

The tide had risen up and washed Marcy’s mind clean.

Like a nice blank canvas.

What quickly followed was an epiphany of sorts.

There was nothing for her to fear. Once she accepted that fact, the warm sensation from before returned greater than ever, engulfing her in what could only be described as a spiritual hug. She could feel the pair of hands, tender as her own mother’s, caressing her face and flicking away her tears. They even ruffled her raven hair in the same playful manner.

Come to me, daughter of Wu

Let me get a good look at you

Marcy obeyed. Getting down on all fours, she crawled across the nonexistent ground—the laws of physics evidently had no place here—until her face and the eyes’ chief pupil were within inches of each other.

Fresh tears, now ones of ecstasy, trickled down her cheeks and evaporated in the pulsating heat.

“You’re beautiful.”

I know

We’ve gotta lot to talk about, Marcy

And I have a feeling...

You and I are gonna become the best of friends