#thin line between scummy and clean…

[spw-art]

Teaching him

[magioftheseas]

Mending Cotton Thread

Summary: the ultra despair girls meet with an ex-servant once more.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language courtesy of Touko

Notes: This is late for Touko’s birthday and wasn’t even written for her birthday but please accept it anyway. Writing Touko is hard. I tried. Weirdly I haven’t written a lot of Toukomaru, presumably because I suck or something. And Komaeda is here, too. I do write a lot of him.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

Of all the people to see again, she wasn’t expecting it to be Servant-san. It had to be at the weirdest, most unexpected moment.

Except not really. All she was doing was visiting the Future Foundation building to leave a report and namely, to talk to Makoto for a bit. Riots broke out in Towa City again, and he had been so worried about her but she took care of it, her and Touko, it was fine, everything was fine, but she did still want to talk to Makoto and—

“Oof!”

“Ah!”

She hadn’t been paying much attention. She ran into someone, near barreled into them, actually, and that person had been kind enough to steady her in return. They had a cold but secure grip. Not clammy like Touko but much more perfunctory. There was a mechanical whirl by her ear, and a soft exhale.

“Are you...alright?” A hesitant question. One that Komaru immediately needed to respond to.

“Yes, I’m fi—!”

When she turned to face that person, she stopped. In fact, everything stopped.

When she was face to face with Servant-san again, it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all. She froze up and reached for her gun instinctively, only pausing when he backed off and held up his hands.

“Sorry,” he says with a pitiful smile. “I’ll be out of the building soon. Please don’t mind me, Komaru-san.”

Komaru blinked at him. It was Servant-san’s face, but Servant-san never looked at her like that.

Her thoughts start racing in spite of his apparent efforts.

What—should I do? Should I accost him? Stop him? Interrogate him? Demand something like, “what are you doing here?! What are you planning?!”

But he doesn’t look like he’s planning anything bad...

If she were Makoto, she’d stand her ground but smile in return. Would simply ask questions. Would defuse the situation. Act sweet. Act gentle. Makoto was a bit hapless at times, but he always dealt well with people.

If she were Touko, she’d stand her ground and strike first. Throw Servant into the wall. Incapacitate him. Show that she was in charge. That she was in control. Even though Touko had a unique way with words, she knew how to back herself up with actions.

She’s not either of them. Komaru is just—herself.

“Servant-san...?” she questions it because even now, Komaru is not the surest of herself.

“Oh. I never...” Servant laughs, wheezes. It’s such a scratchy ugly sound that Komaru nearly seizes up, but Servant is quick to wave his hands and shake his head frantically. “No, no, I wasn’t laughing at you, Komaru-san! It’s more that I...um. I never introduced myself properly to you, did I?”

“You said not to mind you,” she pointed out, lips pointed into a frown. “You said that back then—and just now. So, have you really changed?”

“Mm, no comment.” He doesn’t look at her but he seemed embarrassed. Human, whereas Servant-san had always come across as alien and incomprehensible. So he had changed in some ways.

If he was at the Future Foundation and not in chains, maybe he was dubbed safe to be around?

Unless—?!

No, no, she told herself once she got a closer look at Servant. Servant, who shuffled back uncomfortably but didn’t try to run. Servant, who was wearing a finely pressed suit with gloved hands. Hair tied back neatly to boot. One could be mistaken and almost think this person handsome in a soft, mushy kind of way. Either way, with a look like this... I don’t think Servant-san has recently broken out of any prisons.

“Servant-san,” she said, and he perked up.

“It’s Komaeda.” He gives a smile. “Komaeda Nagito. Nice to see you again, Komaru-san. I’m terribly sorry for causing such a scare.” Ducking his head, he side-steps as if just being in her path had been a horrible offense on his part. Touko would agree with that assessment, so Komaru is quiet as Ser—as Komaeda Nagito flees.

She never got any actual answers. Just a name.

Servant-san is still a strange person, she decided. At least—he’s more like a person than before.

--

“Um... K-Komaru...?”

She’s so busy daydreaming that she’s not paying much attention to her surroundings.

“Komaru...”

She’s caught up in thoughts of that strange encounter. Wondering if maybe it had been too lukewarm, too inconsequential all things considered. Too—normal. Which Servant-san of the past would’ve gotten annoyed about. Komaeda Nagito hadn’t been bothered at all.

“Komaru!”

Komaru gasped mid-sigh which caused a near hiccup. She also jumped to attention, much to her girlfriend’s annoyance.

“The hell is with you,” Touko was griping. “Did something happen?”

Straight to the point. A hand on her shoulder. A stern grip.

That was Touko. Her partner and pillar.

“You kept making that annoyingly constipated look you get when you’re deep in thought,” Touko elaborated. In a very ‘that was Touko’ sort of way. “Spill the shit, Komaru.”

Touko was very reassuring.

(Komaru means this sincerely.)

“There was someone I met...”

--

Touko ended up so shocked by this apparent encounter that she started foaming at the mouth.

“But, uh, he didn’t seem like a bad person?” Komaru offered pitifully. “Ser—um. Komaeda-san had a completely different feel! Actually...”

The more I thought about it, he had reminded me somewhat of Makoto.

“W-We absolutely can’t trust your judgment!” Touko hissed, still so rattled and anxious. “You’re way too naïve and flippant about this—that fucking shit-spewing toilet tried to get her to kill you, you know!”

“I know, but...” I believed in you, so it was fine. “I did ask Makoto about him. Makoto said that... Komaeda-san was working with the Future Foundation, and that Komaeda-san wasn’t a bad person.”

Touko’s lips pulled into a thin line.

“You didn’t tell him, did you? That you already met that fucker.”

Unsurprisingly, Touko had seen right through her. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile at that, even when Touko’s response was a long-suffering groan.

“Komaru, what the shit. That’s absolutely the kind of thing you should run by your damn brother. By the way, that scummy guy?! He tried to have me offed by a serial killer! So maybe—I don’t know! Be fucking careful, you dullard?! Something like that!” Touko flailed, but when she steadied herself, she took Komaru by the shoulders. “Are you seriously the kind of fucking doormat that keeps quiet when troubled?! Are you kidding me?!”

“It’s not that,” Komaru denied. “It’s more that—I trust Makoto? Just like I trusted you...”

“You shouldn’t! He’s an idealistic moron and I’m—argh!” Touko pinched her nose. “Forget this. Let me settle things.”

I trust Touko-chan, so...!

“Touko-chan!” She seized her precious partner’s hands, squeezing with all she had. “Let’s settle them together!”

“U-Ugh...” Touko does flinch with a face such a heated red that it caused her glasses to fog up and steam to come pouring out the ears. “T-T...T-T-T-To...gether...”

Komaru can’t help but smile brightly.

It’s cliché to think, but we absolutely won’t falter if we’re together!

--

Touko had made demands to Makoto on the first given opportunity, leaving no room for argument.

“Do you think that we don’t fucking know who that guy used to be?! Before you parade him around so s-shamelessly you have to run shit by us! I’ll be the judge if he’s actually good enough to be out in the open or not...!”

“You want to meet with Komaeda-san?” He does glance at Komaru. Swallowing, she nods and stares back. Her brother understands. “Alright. I’ll set up a meeting, then. Did something...?”

“Happen? Between us? What the hell gave you that idea,” Touko scoffed before getting all flustered. “O-Obviously! We met him in Towa! He really caused us a shitload of problems! Did Byakuya-sama not tell you?!”

“Ah, he might’ve mentioned something like that...” Makoto’s smile is apologetic. “I’m sorry, Komaru.”

Komaru waved her hands.

“It’s not that I want S—Komaeda-san to be behind bars or anything. If you say he’s atoning, I believe you, Makoto... But... I do want to see it for myself.”

For a moment, she does think of those other kids. Shingetsu in particular who had been earnest in his desires to help other kids. While she never could get a read on Servant either, she did wonder if he had been the same before he got warped.

If Makoto believes in him, she’ll believe, too. Touko is stiff around the face and shoulders, but she’s no less reassuring when Komaru squeezes her hand.

It’ll be fine, she thinks. She’s sure of it.

Makoto’s smile brightens, and Komaru can’t help but feel hopeful.

--

...that doesn’t mean she expects things to be simple.

She’s not that stupid.

“Ser—Komaeda-san,” she greets. The two of them are sitting across from each other now.

“Shit-spewer,” Touko scowls, crossing her arms and glaring. “You’re looking ruddier than last time we met. Disgusting.”

Komaeda’s cheeks darkened. He looked sheepish. To think someone like this had caused so much trouble—that was an understatement. This guy used to be major bad news.

“It’s nice to see you two doing well,” he states meekly, ducking his head. His shoulders hunch in a bit as if Komaeda wants nothing more than to curl up into a ball and disappear.

“It’s not nice!” Touko squawked. “It’s way fucking unpleasant to see your gross face out and about! And how dare you smell so clean! A-Are you mocking us?!”

“Not my intention, I swear,” he murmurs. “Is it...alright if I...?”

“We’re asking the questions!” Touko snapped and obediently, Komaeda’s mouth snapped shut.

There’s not even a whiff of defiance, and Komaru finds that she’s already relaxed.

Even if he acted up, we could easily take him.

Still, she’d rather not fight so she smiles instead.

“How are you, Komaeda-san?”

“I’m...fine.” Komaeda’s not looking at her. He seems so anxious. It’s starting to feel really weird.

“Why are you so nervous?” Touko asks outright. “W-With the shit you pulled, w...we should be the nervous ones...!”

Komaeda’s head bows. He apologizes. Komaru frowns.

Like this, he’s...so pitiful.

“Straighten up!” Touko exclaimed. “If you keep fucking bowing like that, we’re gonna start to look like bullies!”

Komaeda apologizes. He does straighten. And—

I don’t...think he’s a bad person.

“Let’s start over,” Komaru hears herself suggest. She sticks out her hand. “I’m Naegi Komaru. This is my girlfriend, Touko.”

“Fukawa,” Touko spits out with a sneer, trembling but still following her lead.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Komaru finishes sunnily. “Komaeda-san!”

Slowly, tentatively, Komaeda grips her hand with the flesh one. Even through the gloves, she can tell that it’s a little clammy and quite uncertain. But all the same, the two shake on it, and Komaeda is smiling in a way that’s not just calming, but reassuring.

“Komaru-san,” Komaeda says as he pulls back. “Fukawa-san. It’s nice to meet both of you.”

Touko groaned, rolling her eyes.

“You’re just saying that... This situation isn’t nice at all...”

“I think it’s nice!” Komaru exclaims, clapping. “Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s talk about stuff! Komaeda-san, what kind of manga do you like?”

“Ah.” Komaeda swallowed. “I prefer...novels.”

Touko snorted. “Murakami, I presume?”

“No, no.” Komaeda shook his head. “Yoshimoto-san is more to my tastes. Her works are more...welcoming, aha.”

“They also have a lot of death in them,” Touko remarked, frowning. “I see...so that’s the kind of person you like...”

“Then, you must read Touko-chan’s novels!” Komaru shouted with such force that Komaeda flinched back.

“I-I don’t want to be liked by someone like you!” Touko hissed.

“I do love your novels as well, Fukawa-san,” Komaeda said, much to her horror.

“No! I don’t w-want someone like you to like me!”

“Touko-chan’s working on a novel right now!” Komaru said, getting more excited. “It’s the best one yet! It’s about—!”

Touko screamed, tackling Komaru to the ground to cover her mouth furiously. Screeching unintelligible garble all the while. Komaru flailed and struggled, and then—a bright burst of laughter.

“N-No, no, sorry, sorry,” Komaeda wheezed, covering his own mouth and shaking. With a flushed face and sparkling eyes, such a look of joy was enough to get the girls separating and flustered.

“...there is an I-novel I finished a couple of years back,” Touko found herself grumbling. “Naegi liked it...so you’ll probably like it, too.”

“You really think so?” Komaeda asked, squeaked, almost, and his blush darkened. “I-I mean...”

“You’ll like it so much it’ll make you want to puke,” Touko was seething, now. “So—I expect you to read the whole thing! Beginning to end! Twice, even!”

“A-Ah...”

“A-And tell me your thoughts!” she demanded. “Every single one! No matter how shitty or scummy! Do it!”

“O-Okay, Fukawa-san...!”

Watching them, Komaru’s grin was wide enough to split her face.

It’ll be fine, she thinks as the two banter and bicker. I’m sure of it.

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 20

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

A/N: Hello guys! I literally just finished watching chapter 13 and hooooo boy. Hoo boy. No spoilers here but … boyWould love to hear your thoughts both on the chapter and well, the chapter.

Chapter index

Chapter 20 - Back on Track

When Din woke the next morning, it took a couple of seconds for his brain to reboot and a couple more for sensation to return to his body. It had always been like this when he slept in his armor, but he didn't remember it feeling like he had gone three rounds with a Mudhorn when he was younger.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, and a breeze blew in through the partially opened door that smelled of resin and clean earth. Somewhere, a bird was chirping.

His eyes landed on Sinead kneeling before the cold fireplace where the remaining wood had been arranged in a precarious pyramid. A thin wisp of smoke curled into the air as she tried to light it with his firestarter, her stare so intense that it looked like she was trying to light it with concentration alone. Her hair hung loosely down her back in the same soft waves as the night before, and she had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing toned forearms.

The flame caught for a second before winking out.

With a huff, she looked up at the ceiling before getting to her feet. "Who needs fire anyway," she said in a whisper.

For one staggering moment, Din thought she was talking to him. Did she know he was watching her?

Before he could respond, there came a cooing from the end of the bed, and Din finally noticed the child sitting in a beam of sunlight, watching Sinead just as intently as Din was.

"That's right." She turned and rifled through the pack, where she pulled out some bantha jerky and two ration bars. The kid held his hands out in a grabbing motion, and she gave him the jerky, which he wasted no time ripping through. "You're hungry, huh?" She smiled down at him.

The mattress barely dipped as the child crawled up toward Din's head, trilling what almost sounded like a melody.

"Oh no, you don't," Sinead said as she grabbed the kid and pulled him away. "Your old man needs all the rest he can get."

Old man?

His stomach clenched with guilt, doubt, regret, every emotion that came to him when he had a moment alone. The look Sinead had given him when she heard of his plan to leave the child had shaken him more than he wanted to admit.

Holding the kid with one arm, Sinead leaned over the bed and waved a hand in front of his helmeted face,  an unreadable look in her eyes. Din almost laughed out loud when suddenly she moved closer until she was all he could see, staring into his helmet with narrowed eyes. His mouth went dry, and his muscles flexed as if he was gearing up to run.

With a slight shake of the head she stood, and Din let himself relax. She placed one of the ration bars on the musty bed and left the cabin, leaving the door ajar behind her.

When he was sure she wouldn't come back, Din sat up in the bed and winced as his back cramped. Slipping off his helmet, he allowed himself a moment to feel the fresh air on his face.

The wood Sinead had left in the fireplace had been stacked in such a way that ensured it would never catch fire.

He quickly ate the ration bar and slipped the helmet back on, gearing up to stand. When he finally moved, his tendons twanged with discomfort. He couldn't wait until all this was over and they were back in the Crest.

Grabbing the pack, he went outside. Faint wisps of mist still clung to the shadow, but otherwise, there were no signs of the rain from the day before. The little clearing was awash with sunlight.

Sinead and the child were in sight of the hut, standing beside a scummy pond Din had missed in the darkness and rain the day before. The child moved through the tall grass that lined the pond while Sinead watched him with an amused look on her face. She turned her head when he neared. "Sleep well?"

Din shrugged and kept his eyes on the kid. "Fine." Even if he tried, he couldn’t look directly at her.

"The bed wasn't half bad. You should get one for the ship, you know, instead of a bunk that would be too short for an Ugnaught."

He ignored her. "You're ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said and stretched her arms above her head. "How long to the settlement?"

"About five hours. If it keeps dry."

"I'm really starting to regret this excursion. I should've just stayed in the ship with the kid."

"Told you." Din stopped the child just moments before he stumbled into the pond, gathering him into his arms.

Sinead rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a smile. "You did."

The cabin had only just disappeared when they found a path leading in the direction of the settlement. It was narrow and barely noticeable between tufts of coarse grass and anthills, but it was too direct to be made by animals, and as they walked, Din noticed small signs of sentient life; a burnt-out torch tossed to the side, a cairn where the path divided.

“What do we do,” Sinead said, shifting the kid to her other arm, “if we get to the settlement and there’s no mechanic? Or if there is one who knows shit-all about starships?”

“Hm.” Din looked up at the blue sky visible between the leaves. “Go to the next place, I guess.”

“And how far is that?”

“About five days.”

Sinead sighed theatrically.

“Not a fan of hiking?”

“Let’s just say I get why my parents never took me camping.”

“With any luck we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at her, unsure of what to say. An unreadable emotion flitted across her face before she cleared her throat. “What kind of freak weather phenomenon do you think is gonna happen today? I’m thinking giant waterspout.”

“There isn’t a big enough body of water near here.”

She flashed him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure it’ll find a way.”

… … … … …

Sinead was just about ready to give up and lie down flat on her face when the first house finally came into view. Her body ached after the walk through the wilderness, and the thought of a hot meal – not ration bars or flavorless jerky – was the only thing propelling her forward.

Now they just needed a mechanic who knew their way around a starship, and they were good to go.

Back on the trail of Kyen the Pirate.

There was no real defining boundary between the forest and the village; gradually, houses started popping up between the trees, getting closer and closer together until the path became a dirt road that led to the heart of the settlement. The houses themselves were squat and thatched with dark straw, making them look like overgrown mushrooms. The inhabitants, a mix of different species, stopped in their tracks and stared as Sinead and Mando walked by.

“You’d think they’d never seen an outsider before,” Sinead whispered to Mando.

“Stay on guard.”

She gave him a look. "Relax. I doubt these people know how to hold a blaster, much less shoot one."

Mando grunted a reply, keeping his eyes on a group of men standing around a workbench that was piled high with bits of wood.

As they walked, a flock of villagers gathered to trail behind at a safe distance, murmuring amongst themselves. Mando kept looking back at their impromptu tail, hand inching closer to his blaster every time.

Sinead smiled at a young Zabrak child sitting on the curb in front of a house. "Just remember I'll never forgive you if you get us thrown out before the ship's repaired."

"At least you'll be alive to hold a grudge."

"Look, I’m all for healthy paranoia, but this is weird, not dangerous.”

He made a noise and scanned the gathering crowd, but at least he didn’t draw his blaster.

The center of the settlement turned out to be a small square with a well in the center. It seemed like the entire village was there, pushing each other to get a better view of the strangers. Worry crept up Sinead's spine as it became clear just how outnumbered they were.

“What now?” Mando said tightly.

She took a deep breath and addressed the crowd. "Our ship crashed a day's travel from here. We're looking for a capable mechanic or someone willing to haul it to one. Pay's in New Republic credits."

An ancient Ithorian shuffled through the crowd, leaning heavily on a walking stick, and the onlookers moved out of the way for him. The Ithorian had a translator fixed over both mouths, and when he warbled in Ithorese, there was a slight delay before the translator garbled in a scratchy voice: "Welcome, strangers, to our village. It is not often we see new faces here."

That was obvious.

Sinead stepped forward. "We're honored by such a warm welcome." Strange welcome, anyway. "As I said, our ship is in need of repair. It's about a day's travel north of here."

"Do not tell me you were caught in the storm last night." The Ithorian stopped his slow shuffle and peered at them. Even bent low with age, he was a head taller than Sinead.

"We managed not to be swept away."

"Not everyone can say that. Fand-Dala storms are not to be trifled with." It was hard to gauge on such an alien face, but if she were to guess, he was being friendly.

"Well, yeah. Barely managed," said Sinead. "I don't suppose there's a mechanic 'round here who can fix the ship? It doesn't look like you have much need for starships."

The Ithorian made a noise that sounded like it came from deep in his chest, and it took a moment for Sinead to realize that he was laughing. "We have one of those, yes. She mostly works on hovercarts now, but I am sure she can repair your ship."

Sinead and Mando exchanged a glance; hovercarts and starships were very different when it came to the finer workings, and just because she could fix one didn’t mean she could fix the other.

"Follow me, please." The Ithorian led them through the parted crowd and down a winding street, his steps slow and careful. Sinead walked beside him while Mando took up the rear.

The Ithorian told them his name that sounded like a deep trilling moan spoken with both his mouths which the translator didn't even bother trying to parse. He laughed when he saw Sinead's frozen smile. "But you can call me Dibs."

"Pleased to meet you, Dibs. I'm Jesha, and this is ..." she looked back at Mando. "Uh, the Mandalorian."

"Yes, I can see that. What are you doing all the way out here? This system seldom sees a lot of travelers."

"We were on our way to Neth when the ship started to die. It was lucky we made it to the planet, or else we'd still be floating in space."

"Lucky indeed. Let us hope that Zlii can get you up and away before the next storm hits."

Dibs stopped outside a small house close to the edge of the settlement. Loud music came from the other side. "She must be in her workshop, then." He led them down a dirt path between two houses and into the backyard, where the music was much louder, bouncing between the walls until it was an unintelligible wail. A shack stood against the back of the house, not much more than some branches and a tarp to keep the rain out. One side was open, and Sinead saw a workbench overflowing with mechanical parts, tools, and schematics. Open crates spilled their content across the ground. If Peli Motto's workshop had been chaotic, this was an outright calamity.

A hovercart stood on supports in the middle of the courtyard, and two legs stuck out beneath it, clad in a dark jumpsuit. Dibs walked over and prodded them with his cane. There was no point in trying to talk over the music.

Green hands shot out from under the hovercart, and a small, angry-looking Rodian emerged, oil smeared across her hands and face. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Sinead and Mando.

Knocking the walking stick to the side, she got up and leaned into the hovercart to shut off the music. A deafening silence followed.

"All right," the mechanic said, her constellation eyes cold. "What'd you want?" She stared unblinkingly at Mando.

Dibs didn't seem perturbed in the least, but maybe Ithorians just showed it differently. "They are strangers-"

"You don't say. And here I thought we'd always had a Mandalorian."

Dibs laughed and looked at Sinead. "Do not be discouraged by her words, she means well. I am sure she can help you on your way."

She narrowed her eyes. "Help with what, exactly?"

Sinead stifled a sigh. This was going to be an ordeal. "Our ship crashed in the forest north of here."

"Too bad."

"Zlii ..." Dibs said. "I told them you can help. Let it not be known that we do not extend our assistance when needed. And they will pay." He shot a look at Sinead, who nodded.

Zlii sighed with her whole body. "What makes you think I can help?"

Dibs leaned on his walking stick. "Did you not work in a spaceport? I am sure you will enjoy the challenge."

"Starting to regret telling you that," she mumbled. 

Mando cleared his throat impatiently, and Sinead stepped in before Zlii had a chance to respond. “Will you give it a look? That’s all I’m asking.”

“How many credits d’you got?”

Mango pulled out a pouch. “600 to look at it, 200 more to fix it.”

Zlii took a moment to consider. “Exactly how crashed is it?”

“The energy cycler and cooling unit are fried,” Mando said.

“Okay.” Zlii pushed off the hovercraft. “Seems pretty straightforward.” She went into the shack where there was a loud bang as she shifted through the piles of junk.

“Guess that means she’ll help.” Sinead looked at Mando, who shrugged.

“Zlii has always been a prickly one,” Dibs said, his translator pronouncing every word slow and clear. “She came to us not many cycles ago. She is a capable mechanic, but I am afraid her skills are not being put to their full use.”

The young Rodian in question came out of the makeshift workshop carrying a large pack overflowing with tools and spare parts. “I can hear you, you know.” She glanced at the kid and made an unimpressed harumph. “Well, are we going then? You better find a speeder bike that can take us because I’m not walking a day lugging this.”

“I believe I can help you with that,” said Dibs.

… … … … …

The trip back to the ship only took a couple of hours thanks to an old human and his landspeeder that could move through the forest quickly, levitating above every hole or treacherous root. It would have been a pleasant ride if it hadn't been for Zlii's sullen silence and Mando's short and reluctant answers to even the most mundane questions. In the end, Sinead had sat back and stewed in silence while the shadows grew longer. If Zlii was as good as Dibs had implied, they wouldn't be stuck on the planet for much longer.

The kid sat beside Mando, and the settlement was barely out of sight before he crawled up onto the rim of the landspeeder, ears flapping in the wind. The only thing keeping him from flying out was the death grip Mando had on the back of the kid’s robe. He giggled whenever the landspeeder swerved between the trees.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Sinead saw Zlii watch the kid with something akin to interest; She could see the question forming on the Rodian’s lips before Zlii noticed Sinead watching and her face fell into the usual scowl.

At last, they made it to the ship, and everyone got out. The Razor Crest sat where they'd left it, dark and out of place in the middle of the forest. A bird had started building a nest in the crook of one of the turbines.

"This it?" Zlii jumped down, throwing the big pack over her shoulder. "You sure it's worth it? Could probably get more selling it for scrap."

"Just see what you can do." Mando pushed a button, and the ship came to life, the cargo door opening with a hiss.

Sinead stayed in the landspeeder while Zlii worked, and Mando watched her silently. Her legs were still sore from all the walking, and the kid had found his way into her lap, where he dozed on and off, sometimes awoken by Zlii's snippy questions or Mando's curt answers. Their driver had reclined in the front seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes, effectively shutting out the entire circus.

Zlii went back and forth between her pack where she pulled out more and more complicated tools that Sinead didn't know the names of. When she wasn't busy snarking at Mando, she was muttering to herself and banging on various parts of the ship, listening to the sound with concentration.

The sun had gone down when Zlii stepped back, wiping a hand across her forehead that left a streak of oil. "Done all I can for her. She just needed a bit of convincing, is all,"

"And we won’t fall out of the sky again?" Sinead struggled to her feet.

"Not right away. The energy cycler is back on, but the cooling unit needs replacing as soon as possible. For whatever shit you put her through, she runs pretty well.” That was the first positive thing Sinead had heard her say.

Mando handed over the rest of the credits, and Zlii carefully counted them, glaring at Mando now and then. "It’s all here." She sounded disappointed.

"You think we'd cheat you?" Sinead said.

"Wouldn't be the first to try. Hey, Onaas!"

The driver lurched into a sitting position and lifted his hat off with a finger. "Yeh?"

"We're leaving." The pack landed heavily on the speeder, and Zlii soon followed.

"What if it breaks down again?" Sinead leaned against the speeder. 

"Guess that means you’ll suffocate in space," Zlii spat.

"Is that really any way to talk to your customers?" She didn't know why she was needling her, just that it had been a long day, and Zlii seemed like someone easy to needle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess. Next time feel free to choose any of the other mechanics."

Sinead opened her mouth, but Mando broke in before she had the chance to reply. “Thank you for coming all the way out here.”

“If it means getting you off the planet.” Zlii leaned back in her seat. “Ready to go?”

Onaas grunted and touched his hat in a brief goodbye before the landspeeder came to life and sped off into the darkness, leaving Mando and Sinead to board the ship.

Back on Kyen's trail.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[benhardyisdaddy]

In The Shadows - Part 4

MASTERLIST 

(okay so i feel like this is rlly long so im sorry lol my fics r like either super long or short no in between IM SORRY i hope u like it tho sksksks ily BYEEE oh also this pic gives me hot mysterious bf vibes so im using it)

Word Count: 2,750

You scarf down your warm meal within a minute. You stare at the now bare platter in front of you and smile. This is the fifteenth warm meal you’ve had in the last five days. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, breakfast lunch and dinner. Ben never misses a meal for you. You’re slowly getting healthier. The second day you were here was very challenging for you. You had broken out with a severely high fever. You couldn't control your shaking and could barely keep anything down. You had passed out three times in that day. What caused the fever? You two were still uncertain. You were so dehydrated and weak, it could've been triggered from anything. But you’re better now. Your skin is gradually getting its color back, the bags underneath your eyes are slightly less dark and now you can officially stand up without feeling like you’re going to tumble over. And that was a great feeling.

You continue to stare at your plate while lost deep in thought, when Ben knocks on your door.

"Come in!" you call out.

The door gently opens up and he peeks in. He grins and strolls over to retrieve your empty plates.

"Good?" he asks.

"Delicious." you reply back.

He smiles and walks to the window and pulls open the curtains. You gather your hair into a ponytail and hold it with a rubber band. Your hands feel your scalp and it's, of course, oily. You quickly become self conscious around Ben and look away. You don't want him to notice how scummy you must look. When you have no water to take showers with, it's kind of hard to maintain your hygiene. Ben looks over to you and you look down at your hands and your dirty nails. You try to quickly clean them.

"Hey," he says, trying to get your attention.

"Yeah?" you ask, still looking down.

"Follow me."

You look up fast, shocked. Ben walks to the door and stands there looking at you. You furrow your brows and shake your head not understanding.

"I want to show you something." he says, noticing your confused expression.

"You mean I can actually leave the room?" you ask, dramatically.

Ben fake laughs. You smile and slowly attempt to stand from the bed. Within seconds he's next to you and holding your arm. You gasp at his touch and freeze. He notices how tense you become and quickly lets go.

"I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I was just gonna help."

"It's fine." you say back fast. "I'm fine."

You look up and half smile. Has this man housed you and fed you and kept you alive? Yes. Is the man still a vampire? Yes. Do you trust him?

No.

He takes a step back and walks to the door. You grab a hold of the medal cart that holds your IV and steady yourself. You walk towards the door and wheel it next to yourself. This is the first time you’re leaving the room since you’ve been here. You walk into the hallway and look around. A door at the end of the hall is closed. Another door beside it is closed as well. Ben starts walking to the left of your room as you pass a set of stairs that leads downstairs. You pass them and walk to another closed door. Ben opens it up and it reveals a bathroom. You stare into it confused.

"Ta da!" he sings out.

You look to him and back to the bathroom.

"Wow, um, it's big!" you say, attempting fake excitement. "But I already have a tinier version of this in my room."

He laughs and walks even further into the giant bathroom. You walk in behind him and look around. White. Everything is white. A white bathtub, a white shower, white toilet, the floors and walls are white, the counters and sink are even white. You walk in even further and notice a large cardboard box sitting on the counter. You look at it and then to Ben.

"Okay, well, while I was out, I decided to go into a store and look around. I figured, you've had a hard week, and you're a girl, and you might, maybe, like these?" he says, dragging his sentence out.

You walk to the box and slowly open it. Inside is a variety of different things. Mascara, eye liner, foundation, blush, powder, eye shadow, a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, a razor, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and last but not least, tampons. You pick up the pink box and look over to him. He's blushing and shrugs.

"I had no idea what to get. I just figured you might need-"

You put up a hand to stop him.

"It's fine. Thank you. Honestly. I don't know the last time I've seen or even worn makeup. I use to all of the time before all of...this. So, seriously. Thank you."

He smiles widely and nods. Then his head perks up a little more as he holds up a finger.

"I almost forgot. Here," he says, walking to the shower.

He opens up the door and turns the handle to the right. Water pours down from the shower head and you stand there in amazement. You’re use to toilets working, but never showers. Steam fills the room as the water continues to rush down. Ben looks to you and smiles.

"Oh, here," he says.

He slowly reaches out for your arm and you jerk away, not thinking. He looks at you and lifts his brows. You smile apologetically and allow him to touch you. He peels away the tape of the IV and slowly pulls it out. You hiss at the slight sting, but it's over quickly. He grabs the IV cart and smiles.

"I'll leave you two alone." he says teasingly.

You laugh at him and smile. He exits the room and closes the door behind him. You walk to it and out of habit, lock it. You turn back to the shower and quickly undress. You lay your clothes on the counter and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You stare as you cock your head to the side at your reflection. You’re dirty and bruised. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. You step into the shower and feel the warm water pour over your sore back. Your muscles ache as you lean your head back and allow the water to pour over your face. You grab the body wash and lather it all over your skin. All of the mud and dirt and blood that you have collected on yourself all washes away. The bottom of the shower turns into a brown mess as it all rinses down the drain. You finally wash and condition your hair. The oiliness is officially gone! You grab the razor and shave the tiny forest on your legs and under arms. Relief. You then stand under the water for several more minutes enjoying every last drop, then you finally turn it off.

You slowly open the shower door and step out. You grab a white towel hanging a hook and dry yourself off. You wrap it around your body and walk to the foggy mirror. You wipe some steam away and stare. You’re clean! You can't help but smile. You look to the counter and grab the deodorant. Something you’ve missed so terribly! After that, you brush your teeth. The strong minty flavor over takes your taste buds. You brush and brush and brush until you feel like they're clean. You spit and wipe your mouth. You look back up and smile in the mirror to view your teeth. As you’re examining your now pearly whites, there's a light knock at the door. You pause and listen.

"It's me," calls out Ben. "I have clean clothes for you. I'll just sit them here by the door."

Before he's done talking, you walk to the door and crack it open. He looks you up and down and then to your face. You suddenly remember all you have on is a towel. You fold your arms over your chest and blush.

"Uh, here you go. They were my sisters, if that's okay. They're clean, I promise. Oh, and the, uh, underwear… I got them from the store as well. They're not my sisters." he says as he laughs.

You reach out and take the clothes. You can’t help but laugh back at him.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods his head and awkwardly takes a step back.

"Okay, I'm just gonna..."

You quickly nod your head as well.

"Oh, yeah. Me too..."

You slowly shut the door and lock it again. You look at the folded clothes and sit them on the counter. You put on the undergarments and are happy that they fit. You then slip on a black tank top and grey sweats that are tight around your ankles. A large, long sleeved maroon colored cardigan is in the pile. You slip it on and then the black socks. You examine yourself in the mirror. First clean clothes you’ve had in months. Being here has given you a lot of firsts. You grab the towel and squeeze your damp hair. You bend over and shake your head. You stand back up and the room slightly spins. You grab the counter and steady yourself. It passes.

You then look to the makeup and think to yourself for a moment. Makeup or no makeup? You haven't worn it in months. You don't really need it anymore. I mean, when vampires take over the world, makeup doesn't seem like a big issue anymore. Then again, Ben did get it for you. And it wouldn't hurt to maybe look nice for once. Maybe just some foundation. He did get the perfect shade. You grab the tiny glass bottle and shake it. You open it and pour a little on your fingers. You spread the liquid all over your face and gently massage it. Your once red skin from the hot shower is now flawless. You look down to the mascara and pick it up. You shrug, open the tube and gently swipe it all over your lashes. In an instant, your eyes are brighter. You put the mascara back and grab the liner. You slowly put a thin line of black across your lid. You pull back and make sure it looks okay. You walk to the door and take a deep breath. You slowly open it and peer out.

You take a step forward and a movement catches your eye. You look forward and the room all the way at the end of the hallway is wide open. Inside is Ben. His back is turned to you as he lifts up his shirt over his head and tosses it to the ground. You feel almost guilty for watching, but you don't look away. You watch as the muscles in his back tense up with every move he makes. He grabs a shirt that was lying on the bed and puts his arms through it and then turns around. You realize that he's going to see you, so you freeze. He looks up to you and your eyes lock. Don't look at his abs, don't look at his abs. He slips his shirt over his head and walks towards you. He stares you up and down and shakes his head.

"Wow," he says. "You look-"

"Clean?" you interrupt.

He laughs and nods.

"Definitely clean."

You smile and turn to walk back to your room. You suddenly don't feel as insecure about yourself. You sit on the bed as Ben opens the drawer to get more supplies for the IV, when all of a sudden there's a knock at the door downstairs. You both pause and look at each other fast. Your heart races as you wonder who the hell that could be? Ben closes the drawer and stands up. He looks to the hall and then back to you. He slightly smiles.

"I'll be right back. Stay here." he says almost sternly

You nod quickly as he exits the room and walks down the stairs. You jump up from the bed and tiptoe to the hallway. You stop right by the stairs and listen. You hear a voice talk and then Ben. It's another man. You can only make out the words 'girl', 'healthy' and 'eat'. Eat!? Your heart races even faster. Eat what?! Eat me!?

"That wasn't the deal!" you hear the man shout.

A loud crash vibrates through the house. You jump at the noise and run back to your room. You look around frantically. You need to hide. You run to the closet and open it. Inside it's packed with giant, heavy cardboard boxes. You look through them, but they're all filled with either clothes or books. You turn around to run to the bathroom, but are stopped in your tracks. A brunette man wearing a long black trench coat is standing in the doorway, blocking it. He's smiling at you.

"Hi there." he says.

You say nothing. You continue to watch him as he steps closer. The man looked human, yet didn’t. His skin was unusually pale and his eyes were bright red. The bags under his eyes were almost black as every vein in his body bulged. His fingernails were disgustingly long and sharp and his overall features were distorted and terrifying. You knew exactly why he looked like this. This is what happens to a vamp when they live off of human blood.

"You must be (Y/N). Ben told us all about you."

You take a step back.

"He was right, you are pretty. And skinnier than I thought.” he says disappointed. “He was suppose to fatten you up. You know, the skinny ones always taste bland."

Your body begins trembling. Fatten me up?! Ben’s job was to get you healthy and what? Eat you? What happened to not hurting you? Nothing makes sense right now. He lied. He lied to you! And now you’re about to die, all because you actually thought you could trust him. A vampire! How stupid were you?  

"Oh well,” continues the man. “It doesn't matter. You'll still taste good."

And before you know it, the man lunges at you. You scream and run to your bed and jump on it. You attempt to run for the door, but he's too fast and blocks it. You stop and slowly back up. Tears flood your eyes, you can't stop them.

"Ben!" you scream out.

The man coldly laughs.

"Ben! Please!" he yells in a mocking tone. "It's no use." is all he says.

In a flash, he's in front of you with his hand tightly around your throat. You grasp his wrist and struggle to breathe. You try to fight out of his grip, but it's no use. He's too strong. The room starts to spin as you lose oxygen. You keep trying to scream for Ben, but can't.

"You know, it's a shame. He really liked you."

Just as the man reaches down to bite your neck, you hear a giant whack. The man tumbles forward as you slide to the ground. You take in a deep breath and cough. You hear another whack and look up. Ben is on top of the man, fighting him. A giant slash is on his forehead as thick black ooze pours down. Ben has a large frying pan and is slamming it into the man's head. You feel a sharp sting in your right arm and look down to it. Blood is oozing down from a long cut that you must have gotten when sliding down the wall. You look behind you and spot a sharp nail sticking out from the windowsill. You look back to Ben and you’re heart almost stops. They were both paused and glaring at you, their eyes pitch black. The man's face is snarling as he looks to your arm. A drop of blood drips down and splashes onto the hardwood floor. You look back up and in slow motion, Ben screams at you.

“RUN!”

The man is under him, trying to claw his way to you, leaving scratch marks on the floor. His actions and snarling almost turn animalistic. You finally understand what's happening. You fly up and do exactly as he says.

You run.

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[brightlycoloredteacups]

Her Name Is Flora

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC

Series: TBA

Summary: The keeper of the garden just so happens to BB-8′s best friend, and he’s determined to get her more. 

Warnings: None for this Chapter.

Tags: None

BB-8 had a secret. Poe wasn’t so sure he liked his friend keeping secrets from him. His best friend, flying partner, the one constant in his ever-changing life, was keeping something from him. It sat like a bad taste in his mouth. Still, Poe didn’t ask, it wasn’t his right. If BB wanted to share that information with him, it would have done so a long time ago.

           Every night, at exactly midnight the little droid would roll off to some unknown corner of the base and stay out until the crack of dawn. It would bring back a single dried flower each time. In their shared room, BB-8 had its own little corner, completely with a shelf to put stuff it enjoyed on. This shelf was now entirely covered with the flowers. Some big, some small, some medium sized, all different colors. The robot would lovingly rearrange it each day, giving each blossom it’s time to shine.

           Poe had to wonder if BB had a droid it was particularly fond of that returned it’s feelings. But he figured droids wouldn’t give each other flowers, maybe something else, but not flowers. Then he figured BB had a human admirer. Human-droid romance were unusual, but not unheard of. If it made his friend happy, who was he to judge? Still, he had to ask, he was too curious not to. He made a promise to himself, if BB-8 didn’t want to talk about it’s little secret, he wouldn’t push it.

           “Hey buddy,” Poe says, looking at the droid getting ready to leave. “Where, uh, where do you keep getting those flowers from?” BB’s happy chirps relieved him of the worry he was prying into his friend’s privacy. Flora! BB-8 tells him. Her name is Flora, and she’s my bestest friend in the entire galaxy, aside from you, of course…and Rey, and Finn. “Flora, huh?” BB gives an affirmative chirp. Poe feels like he knows that name. Someone mentioned it a million times somewhere before. He simply can’t put his finger on it. Maybe he’ll think of it much later, when he’s half asleep. “Well, why don’t you invite Flora over for dinner sometime? I’d love to meet her.” BB excitedly agrees, rushing out of the room, going to ask this mystery woman right away.

*

           Flora is the only living thing allowed to tend the plants in the Garden Center. She has an innate skill to bring life, seemingly from thin air. Some of the herbage that had been planted required a delicate touch, and a massive amount of knowhow to grow efficiently and effectively. Soldiers needed food, recreational activities, and medicine, thus, the Garden Center was born. The center was sectioned off into three parts, two of them open to the public. Each was affectionately named by Flora. The Viewing Gardens, the Farmers Corner, and Medical Site.

           The Farmers Corner was a place for people to pick their own food. Fat fruits hung from trees, vegetables grew luscious in the deep rich earth, herbs a plenty were found in cute little pots labeled accordingly. There was a plant for everyone’s taste, alien and human alike. One could often see children darting between vegetables, playing games of tag, or squirting each other with water guns. Parents often watched with a sense of peace and joy.

           The Medical Site was where all the medicinal plants grew. It was closed off from the public. Only she and her droids were allowed there. Every medical breakthrough in the galaxy had some basis in botany. What the medical droids couldn’t give the Resistance, she could. Her tonics cured the worst strains flu in a few hours, her poultices knit skin back together almost as quickly as a Jedi, her powders killed pain without the consequence of addiction. Through the careful compounding and innate understanding of chemistry, she’d helped keep the Resistance running for as long as she could.

           The Viewing Gardens, however, where her pride and joy. It had a dream-like quality to it, thanks to artfully low lighting, heavily scented air, and beautiful bright colors. Lovers came to this section to kiss under artificial stars. They declared ever lasting loyalty to each other. The haunted wraiths war made of people came there to find a moments peace from their demons. Those that had lost someone, came to grieve in the warm embrace of mother nature. It was a place of calm, warming love that she’d worked hard to create.

           Currently, she was in the Medical Site, having finished her routine chores. She’s tending to a thick, slimy mass of blue algae, floating rather bloatedly across the scummy surface of an artificial pond. She’d been trying for months to get the algae to bloom, they were essential in a lotion that soothed the aches of muscles. A great deal of soldiers needed it for their feet, backs, and arms. Only was it today that the algae had come through for her, and with what magnificence! Not one inch of the glowing green water on which the algae grew could be seen. She checks her notes, figuring it must have been the protein mix she’d cooked up that did it.

           She’s scribbling away in her notebook when BB-8 comes rolling up to her, chirping happily. She looks up, smiling at him. “Hello my friend,” She says, watching the ball come to a stop next to her. “They’re doing wonderful today.” She continues, nodding towards her blooming algae. “I’ll collect them later on, for right now, I have research to conduct.”

           She stands, grabbing the cane place beside her. BB beeps in concern. “Just a little stiffness.” She says, soothing its worries. They walk together in silence. Her laboratory is on the other side of the compound. It’s slow going for her, but she likes it underneath the stars. The infinite black of space mottled with stars and moons and suns always gave her comfort. It reminded her that she wasn’t so alone after all.

           As is her custom, she stops at the door, looking up. She closes her eyes and sends a wish out to the stars. It’s the same wish, night after night. A friend, I want a friend. Then, she slips into the cool, white expanse of her lab.

           Her droids come online as she hits the light switch. The room is filled with happy whirring, being, and even screeching. She says hello to each of her companions. “Hello,” She says, smiling, “Hello Starlight, hello Sunray, hello Moonbeam. And a special hello to you, Whiskey.” The aged droid in question grunts but doesn’t say hello back.

           Like the well-oiled machine they are, they all roll into their stations and get to work. Whiskey brews a pot of tea for Flora to drink through the night. Flora settles in to look over the data. Even though she has old droids with top of the line processing, they can only interpret data, tell her the facts. She’s the one that puts it all into practice. Whiskey sets the pot of tea in its usual spot, pouring her a cup. “Flo,” He says. “When are you going to take me out among the stars?”

“As soon as General Organa allows me to borrow an X-wing.” Whiskey growls, mechanical and menacing. “Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness rather than for permission.”

“Whis, the general has done a lot for us over the years, the least we can do is not cause her any trouble. We’d still be in that trash heap if it weren’t for her.” Whiskey gives another annoyed groan but leaves her alone. He totters off to his own corner to paint. BB settles next to her, watching everything that goes on.

           It likes being in the lab. The calming drone of intense work, Flora’s humming, sometimes singing, allows the droid to relax. Not to mention the sheer gentleness with which Flora treats it endears it to her. It will often simply roll around, looking at the work others are doing. It’s so different from the hustle and bustle usually surrounded by its other friends.

           Tonight, however, Flora notices BB’s restlessness. “How was your day BB?” She asks. BB is delighted to tell her all about it. She tries as best to tune it out, feeling guilty as she did so. BB’s stories were all about Poe Dameron, the one man she had the unfortunate pleasure of having the hugest crush on.

           Poe was everything she’d ever read about in stories. Charming, handsome, clever, quick witted, intelligent, and most importantly of all, he was kind. He’d come in the viewing gardens late at night. As the Commander of the Resistance, he had the clearance to do so. He’d wander the plants, brow furrowed in angry thoughts. Sometimes, he’d just sit for hours upon hours, looking a head of him, remembering things he didn’t want to remember. Flora longed to kiss that furrowed brow smooth. She wanted to tell him things would be alright, and that he could always find comfort and warmth in her, he could tell her anything he liked, and she wouldn’t shy away from it.

           More times than she liked he sent her diving for the nearest cover of foliage. She hated sitting there, watching him, feeling creepy all the while, but if she moved, he’d discover her. And that would be a fate worse than death. She’d watch from the shadows as he’d take a new flame and introduce them to his favorite tree. “Shara Bey,” He’d tell them. “That’s her name.” They laughed at him, thinking he was just trying to be funny. Things would get awkward when they’d figured out he was serious. He kissed a few of them before he told them. It always sent jealous pangs through her heart. They wouldn’t last long. Silly little Flora, she’d tell herself, silly, silly little Flora. Poe Dameron doesn’t even know you exist. There was simply no use in getting all riled over him. Besides, he deserves to be happy.

           BB pulls her from her reverie rather forcefully by inviting her to dinner. She chokes and sputters on her tea. Whiskey looks up, concern lacing his mechanical voice, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” She gasps, holding her chest, “Fine, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” She looks about her for a towel to clean the splashes of tea. Once she regains her composure, she looks at BB, trying to think of how best to answer him. “I would love to go to dinner with you,” She admits, “But I can’t.” Well, why ever not? “You know why,” she says, not bothering to point out the obvious flaws that covered every inch of her.

           She could handle the stares of pity, horror, and hatred from strangers, but to have Poe look at her like that? She’d wither and die on the spot. She couldn’t risk it, her dreams were more important to her than reality, in dreams she was allowed a measure of comfort. BB-8 beings to protest. Poe wasn’t like others, he’d like her, because she was BB’s bestest friend, and Poe was BB’s friend too and that automatically made her Poe’s friend, and would she please, please, pretty please come with him to dinner? Poe would love her, it was sure of it.

           Poe would love her. The thought was laughable. Even if it was possible, the rumors that would circulate the relationship. She can hear them now. “Poor Commander Dameron, tied to that useless little thing.” Other hurtful things clouded her mind. She knew first hand what rumors could do to a relationship. Best not put Poe through that, not even being just friends was an option. “No, BB-8, I’m sorry. I won’t go to dinner with you.” A sad beep follows it argues no more. BB settles in for the night, quietly wracking its processors for an excuse to get her to eat dinner with him and Poe. By the time the night is over, and the droids are all in their charging stations, BB hasn’t come up with a single idea.

*

           When BB rolls in at dawn the next morning, Poe is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He has a long day ahead of him, but he wanted to wait until his friend came in with the good news. “Well?” He asked, letting out an incredible yawn. She won’t come, is BB’s response. Poe watches as the droid dejectedly takes out it’s dried flower. With the same loving tenderness as the mornings before, BB-8 arranges the flowers in a new configuration. “Aw, buddy, I’m sorry. Did she say why?” BB freezes in the middle of its arrangement, trying to figure out the best way to answer his question.

           She doesn’t think she’s pretty like you. Poe laughs. “I’m far from pretty BB, but thanks for the compliment.” The bot whirrs annoyedly. You know what I meant! It snaps. It goes to it’s charging station, done with this conversation. “Well, is she?” Poe asks, finally getting up. “Not as pretty as me?” No! BB argues, running into his leg in irritation. She’s amazing and beautiful and perfect. She’s super smart and kind and gentle and I really, really wanted you to meet her. Poe looks at the droid in surprise. The only other person BB ever gushed about was Rey or Finn. This Flora person must be rather important to it. Poe was impressed.

           “Maybe we should bring dinner to her then?” BB’s piercing shriek of acceptance is all Poe needs to know. “Alright, how’s tonight sound?” It’s sounds great. Poe nods. “Look BB, I have to get some work done, but you come up with a plan, and when I get back, we’ll go ahead and cook up the biggest, most delicious dinner the Resistance has ever seen.”   BB-8 agrees happily, then settles in for a few hours of charging. Tonight was going to be spectacular.

[zmediaoutlet]

three libras

Difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed, and passed over when I've looked right through to see you naked but oblivious, and you don't see me.

Dean runs the water in the sink for a while until it finally gets hot, then plugs it and fills it about two inches deep. The bathroom in this place has the same bizarre purple-green-red color scheme as the bedroom, but at least the lights are bright—blindingly bright, almost, but maybe he's just tired. It's been a long, long day.

He scrubs shaving cream onto his face in a foamy-thin layer, swishes his razor through the steaming water. Slow scrape of the blades, clean cheek left behind in their wake. Swish, tap. He works slowly, methodically. In the other room the TV's on, low, and Sam might be sleeping, might not. He's not sure. They got back well after midnight, dodging the cop cars and the fire truck that had been screaming toward the flaming mausoleum, and—Sam saved the day. Dean knows that. If he hadn't done what he did, Samhain would've killed him and Dean too, climbed out of the graveyard and destroyed the town himself, and then what. Still. He hadn't been quite able to say anything, and Sam hadn't explained himself—had just stood there, blood trickling slow down his lip, hands lax after they'd ripped a demon out of a body, with just his mind, when it takes Dean hours and hours with a knife to bare the soul out of the bones—

Dean jerks, muscle shuddering without his say-so. A bright line of blood appears on his neck and he claps a hand over it, the soap stinging. He pulls away after a second and there's red smeared over his hand, over his throat. Razor's sharper than he thought it was. He runs his hand through the water, pinks it. The water's filmy white for the most part, scummy with soap, but the blood shines clear in it. He taps the razor on the side of the sink, looks himself in the eye—but turns his eyes toward the other side of his jaw. He's only half done. He sets the razor to his skin again. Scrape, swish. Tap. Again.

The TV sounds change, the blue light shining through from the other room flickering for a second. Sam must be awake, then. He hadn't protested when Dean went to shower, soon as they got back. He'd washed his face in the sink while Dean stood under the boiling-hot water, and for a minute there Dean thought the curtain would rattle back, that Sam would climb in and they'd try to wash the smell of sulfur off each other—but, no, the shadow on the other side of the curtain receded, and Dean was left alone to try to get the dusty death smell out from under his nails, to scrub the smoke out of his hair. He'd stood there and watched the water swirl down the drain, hot enough that it hurt, and he'd wanted to call Sam back. Wanted Sam's hands on his skin, nails digging in; wanted Sam to throw him down to his knees in the tub and fill him up, shove into him, to hook his big arm around Dean's chest and haul him into his place, hard and unyielding and hurting, anchoring—but Sam doesn't do that, does he. Not his Sam.

He tips his head back, cleans up the line on his throat, along the left side of his jaw. He doesn't meet his own eyes. Scrape, scrape. Tap. The TV channel changes, again—Sam's staying up, with him. On the right side of his throat there's a thin line of blood, now, carving a runnel for itself down to the hollow between his collarbones, pooling there with the leftover shower-damp, the steam and sweat. He scrapes away the last bit of foam and swishes the razor for the last time. Runs his fingers over his face to see if he missed anything. His fingers catch on the cut and it stings bright, singing, another little bloom of red seeping out and down, smearing over his fingertips. Hurts, a little. Almost enough.

He believed Sam, is the thing. Sam said that he hadn't wanted to keep the powers from Dean, but he knew they were wrong. He said that he wasn't going to use them again.

Dean's hands are shaking and he drops them both into the water, rinses the blood off the one and the soap off the other. It's hard to remember, sometimes. What to expect. When he dreams there's a Sam-thing that throws him onto his back, pulls open his guts and gets elbow-deep inside him and smiles about it, that whispers promises into his ear about what he'll do, if only would Dean just say yes—and then the eyes looking into Dean's go from brown-blue-green to a blank, hateful white, and Dean will remember, he'll remember he's supposed to say—he's supposed to say—

"Dean?" he hears, and he opens his eyes with a start. When he looks past himself in the mirror the reflection of Sam's sitting forward on the end of the bed, stripped down to his briefs and a t-shirt. He looks—soft, tired. Nothing more than Dean's little brother. He meets Dean's eyes in the mirror, speaks with his voice wrung-out low. "Come to bed?"

Asking, like Dean would know how to say no. He nods, a little jerky thing, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth, nods back, and then shoves back out of view with a rustle of blankets, the groan of old springs. Dean looks down and finds he's wrapped his hand around the razor, cut himself across the sensitive insides of his fingers in a sharp clean line. He uncurls his hand, stretches it out under the water, and the soap screams into the cut, that deep stinging agony as the insides are forced clean. The blood pushes out, sluggish, threading darker through the pinkish water, and he stares for a minute until he hears the TV turn off—Sam. Sam's out there, waiting.

He pulls the plug on the drain. Rinses the razor, runs hot water over his hand. It'll clot, if he stops messing with it. He balls some toilet paper into it while he runs the thin motel towel over his face, smearing away the last traces of foam, and water, and blood. When he's done, there he is in the mirror—washed clean, a little scraped-pink where he's not pale, his eyes standing out like a shock against his reddened eyelids.

He doesn't know how Sam hasn't seen it, yet. There's a reason Dean doesn't want him reaching for what's inside him. It's so easy not to let it go. So much easier than living with what comes after—to stay down in the dark, to keep going, because the wave that builds, that crashes over you when you stop, it's enough to drown a person.

He blinks away a flicker of black. When he uncurls his hand the toilet paper's red, but he's mostly stopped bleeding and he drops the wad of it into the toilet, flushes it away. He flicks the bathroom light off and walks over to the bed in the pitch-dark, drops his towel and climbs in naked, curling into warm space Sam makes for him. Sam sighs and puts a big hand over the back of his neck. Dean closes his eyes, tucks his head under Sam's chin. He folds his hands together, knuckles pressed against Sam's chest, and squeezes, tight enough that it stings.

(read on AO3)

[skinnedhearts]

blind

Sylvee makes a wreck out of his life. Asya remains oblivious. Anzu is very tired, angry and concerned.

It never happens in Poppy's bar. It's always in a dingy, unknown club Sylvee's friends pick out.

The bar was packed and the relaxed ambiance was one they could all appreciate when they had nowhere else to go…But there was only so much they could do (or put up with) under Poppy's and Tea's watchful eye. 

Anzu, Micah, Iris, Miles, Wamu, Neirin and Sylvee; The group stood in a circle outside The Dark Mantel. 

Anzu's eyes are clouded over with the traces of a hazy high, expression stony and distant, his pretty mouth is covered by a pitch black mask, "I don't care where we end up goin'." 

With one smooth statement, Anzu ejected himself from the conversation. No one seemed to mind. 

Micah pushed green curls of hair behind his ear, eyebrows knitting with mild concern when he spoke, "I'm cool with anything but I have to head home in a few hours so…Can we hurry this up?" 

Wamu chortled, "Man, you and N are on the exact same boat!" 

Besides Wamu, Neirin frowned but accepted Wamu's arm around his shoulders.

The backdoor to the bar opened and out stepped Canto, followed closely by Lemon and Asalea.

Canto raised a brow, a sly look displayed across his face, "We haven't made up our minds yet?"

Miles sighed and offered the new arrivals a quick explanation, "We're trying. Iris doesn't want to go to Spiderwebs because it's filled with dumb jocks…And Nieirn and Wamu think Pink Lipstick is too far of a walk. "

Asalea skipped forward, her puffy pink hair hugged her red cheeks when she pressed her dainty fingers to her round lips, "I can pull a few strings and get us into Acrylic." 

Wamu's eyes widened with excitement, "Really!? B-but the lines are always packed! They're so selective!"

Asalea met Wamu's giddiness with a giggle, "No problem! We can totally bypass all the small details, leave it to me!"

While the group worked out a plan, Iris shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and with the tip of her combat boot she kicked at an empty beer bottle.

The bottle skipped across the pavement, coming to a stop near Sylvee's squeaky-clean, white platforms. For a couple of seconds, Sylvee observed the empty bottle, his thoughts fluctuated between tactics used to score free drinks from scummy guys and how tight and cold his bare legs felt in the cold winter night. In his high-waisted shorts and pale, yellow crop-top, Sylvee's skin was sprinkled in goosebumps. He could only hope his make-up wouldn't be ruined, after all, he worked much too hard on the glittery, tiny hearts and stars circling his eyes and cheeks. To keep his blood flowing, Sylvee rubbed his legs together and tightened his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering. 

When Anzu draped his bomber jacket on Sylvee's shivering shoulders, Sylvee's eyebrows met his hairline, green eyes doubling in size with surprise. 

Anzu's voice was a slight whisper in the air, "Don't want you getting' sick."

Sylvee smiled, "Thank you."

Ten minutes later, the group is piling off into three different cars. Sylvee sat between Miles and Iris while Anzu drove and Micah picked away at the radio in the passenger seat. 

Surrounded by friends there's never a minute of silence. Micah and Miles questioned Asya's whereabouts, a conversation Sylvee tuned out the moment Iris confirmed their shared suspicions, "He's with Kiel. They might join us later…I texted him the address." 

In the rear view mirror, Anzu's sharp eyes briefly focused on Sylvee.

The rest is a blur. 

Parking is eight dollars. They each pitch in two bucks. Joined by the rest of the group, they marched, skipped and walked down the crowded streets and only gathered behind Asalea when she shot the bouncer a charming smile and whispered god knows what into his ear. While Asalea took care of business, Sylvee eyed the long, long lines. A couple of people mean-mugged him the moment eye contact was made, not that Sylvee was offended when his group had skipped to the front of the line. The breeze picked up and a shiver shot down his spine. Suddenly, Sylvee missed Anzu's jacket…He had folded it and left it in the car thinking he'd have no use for it inside the club. 

Sylvee was brought out of his thoughts when Anzu pressed his palm to the small of his back. 

"Come on kid, we ain't leavin' you behind." 

Somehow, Asalea had come through. One after the other, the group stepped out of the harsh winter air and into the warm, neon-lit club. From the outside, the music could be heard and it got even louder once they were fully embraced by the club's walls. The ground nearly shook with the thunder of music, a detail Canto could appreciate. 

In the middle of the club there's a mob of bodies, dancing against one another, hands in the air and heads swaying from side to side. That's where Sylvee longed to be. While his friends occupied themselves with the discussion of empty tables, Sylvee took the opportunity to slip away. He doesn't have to glance back to know Neirin and Anzu noticed his every action…He doesn't have to stick around to know they're both hiding their concern. However, that's not something Sylvee wanted to worry about and so, he kept walking.

Joining the dancing body of people, Sylvee easily slipped in. The dazzling lights, the booming music, the cheer of the crowd…It invited him in. On the tip of his toes, he's made of air. Bouncing from one end to the other, the small boy swayed from side to side until his back is firmly pressed against someone's chest. There's a hand on his naked stomach, there's a thigh nestled between his legs. Sylvee pressed further into the stranger, tipping his head back when lips are pressed to the side of his neck. After a few minutes of senseless grinding, Sylvee spun around, flirty smile widening in size when he met the stranger face to face. Oh, thank god, he's cute. The man was nicely built, his toned arms and stomach made obvious in the skin-tight black shirt he sported. His silver hair is swept back, and his vibrant blue eyes twinkled when he flashed a toothy grin. Sylvee licked his lips and the handsome stranger feverishly swooped in and kissed him. Strong arms looped around Sylvee's thin waist, and thanks to the frantic dancers surrounding the pair, Sylvee was bumped further into the stranger. His whimpers are drowned in a sea of sweat and shouts. 

Sylvee laced their fingers together and dragged his partner out of the dancefloor. Spotting an empty table near the entrance of the club, Sylvee tugged the stranger along and only came to a stop when they both slipped into the booth. 

Absolutely no time was wasted. 

Nimble fingers skillfully undid the belt and front button of the man's blue jeans, Sylvee bowed his head and nearly choked on the length and girth when he's roughly made to take more into his mouth. The stranger gathered strands of Sylvee's blue hair between his fingers and messily guided him up and down his dick. Strings of saliva coated Sylvee's hand, tears burned the corners of his eyes and he spluttered and coughed when the stranger unexpectedly raised his hips. Though his head was forced down, Sylvee came up to take gulp of air, while he gathered himself, he kept his hand wrapped around the man's cock. The stranger didn't seem to mind Sylvee's short break, his lips were set apart, his eyes were glossed over, clearly lost in the ecstasy of it all. Spit and droplets of precum stained Sylvee's red lips, his makeup was smeared and his hair had fallen out of his ponytail… With one hand occupied there wasn't much he could do about it. Not that it mattered, all Sylvee needed was his mouth. Ready to finish what he started, Sylvee leaned down only to be stopped by a familiar face.

"Sylvee?" Asya's shout is distant and faint due to the roar of music.

The blood in his body froze, his heart stopped beating and the air in his throat formed a thick knot.

Sylvee blinked, his occupied hand came to a sudden halt and quickly returned to his side as if burned. From head to toe, his body shook. Seconds away from crying, his bottom lip wobbled. This wasn't how he wanted to be found, this wasn't how he wanted to be seen by Asya…

Asya came closer, only stopped because of the wooden table in his way, "Where is everybody else?"

His face burned, it burned…Like scorching fire, embarrassment licked at his face, Sylvee awkwardly gaped like a fish before his brain formed an appropriate reply, "I don't know. I lost sight of them." 

At his reply, Asya arched an eyebrow, dark eyes shifting from Sylvee's face to the man seated beside his friend. By Asya's calm expression, it was obvious to Sylvee that he hadn't noted anything out of the ordinary. Asya remained oblivious. Asya didn't care enough to notice the shift in Sylvee's goofy personality.

Sylvee clenched his fists and sat upright. The pit of his stomach groaned in pain, his chest ached and his head spun with the familiar sting of a migraine. 

Though the longer Asya lingered, the more he took in. Perhaps, an understanding would've been reached if Kiel hadn't interrupted Asya's thought process. Kiel pressed his hand to Asya's back, and his lips to Asya's ear "I think I found them."

Kiel's attention is briefly drawn away from his boyfriend and focused on a disheveled Sylvee.  Sylvee watched as Kiel's eyes lit up with the burning knowledge Asya failed to achieve. A sheepish grin overtook Kiel's face…What in the world had they walked in on? Ashamed, Kiel wrapped an arm around Asya and pulled his boyfriend away with a muttered excuse, "Let's get something to drink."

Stunned by the short exchange, Sylvee watched as Asya and Kiel were absorbed into the crowd. Besides him, the stranger shifted and cleared his throat, "Friends of yours?"

Sylvee blinked, only now remembering he wasn't alone. At some point, the man had buttoned up his jeans and composed himself long enough to question Sylvee. 

Slowly, the shock and shame he'd previously felt drained from his body, down his legs and through his toes. It was replaced with the yearning need to be anything but human. To crack and unravel into mistakes, guts and tipsy drugs was all Sylvee wanted to obtain. An impish smirk graced his mouth as his fingers toyed with the buttons on the stranger's shirt, "Want to get out of here?"

In a rush of hasty, open-mouthed kisses, the pair slipped out the back door and left the buzzing club in the dust. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

There's countless of bloody red bite marks on Sylvee's milky thighs. His skin is bruised in a shade of rotten-yellow and sprained-purple. 

The bite marks bleed. 

Neirin wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Was he trying to eat you?"

Sylvee snorted and gently pushed Micah's hands away. When Anzu frowned, Micah sighed and again pressed the cloth against Sylvee's bleeding thighs. This time, Sylvee was too drained to shoo Micah off. He closed his eyes, his head lolled onto the toilet seat. His stomach churned as a wave of nausea rolled from his head to his toes. He didn't want to puke again…Neirin had held his hair back the first time. Micah had held his hair back the second time.

"Where is he?" Anzu's gritty tone cut through the short-lived silence. 

"I don't know…He left as soon as we finished." Sylvee tiredly explained.

"And um…Where did…Um…This…" Neirin's nervousness was not only obvious in his voice but visibly displayed when his twitchy fingers messed with the frames of his glasses, "You know…Where did you…?"

Anzu rolled his eyes and Micah chuckled, "Where did you two fuck?" 

Neirin mouthed a silent 'thank-you' and Micah waved it off with his free hand. 

"…Right outside…"

"Outside the club?" Anzu firmly asked.

"In the alleyway."

Anzu pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Neirin averted his gaze. Micah watched as the cloth in his hand turned maroon. 

The bites on Sylvee's thighs continued bleeding.

"You can't go out lookin' like that." Anzu said as he rustled through his bag. All the band members had similar ones, packed with their uniform, extra clothes and basic hygiene products. Anzu also carried bags of gummy worms in his bag. At the moment, those weren't as important as the pair of sweat pants in his grip. Handing them over to Sylvee, the small boy accepted the folded pants with a timid smile. At the sudden shyness, Anzu arched an eyebrow. How such a sweet boy could behave as reckless as a common whore, Anzu would never know. He supposed Sylvee would always keep him guessing.

Once Micah had thrown the blood stained cloth in the trash, Sylvee had stood and slipped on the sweatpants. They were a little too big on him. The fabric gathered awkwardly around his ankles, making it a little hard to walk.

Anzu dropped into a crouch, his fingers collected the extra fabric and neatly folded it into itself. Sylvee's cheeks burned pink, "You don't have to do that Anzu…"

"Don't I?" Though Anzu's face was obscured by a veil of dreadlocks, Sylvee could hear the frustration in his voice.

Both Neirin and Micah shot Sylvee sympathetic looks. 

With the ends of the sweatpants neatly rolled, Sylvee thanked Anzu. The small group filed out of the bathroom and into the busy bar, though they didn't get very far. Before they could exit the building, Asya crossed their path. Anzu regraded his band mate with a nod. Asya returned the greeting with a nod of his own.

Asya didn't get a chance to greet the rest of the group, his attention was instantly drawn to Sylvee's clothing. 

"You came here in shorts." 

Sylvee beamed from ear to ear. Anzu glanced away. Sylvee's ability to lie with a smile on his face could be quite unsettling.

"I spilled a drink on myself! Anzu lent me clothes." 

For a moment, Asya seemed satisfied with Sylvee's answer. It wasn't until his brow knitted with concern that Sylvee inwardly sighed. Had he said something wrong? 

"You're bleeding…"

"W-what?" 

Before Sylvee could react, Asya wrapped a hand around his wrist and dragged him closer. Large red blotches stained the gray fabric. From the inside of his thighs, to the skin above his knees, the sweats were covered in blood. Sylvee's heart accelerated. 

"Sylvee, what happened?" Asya asked as his hands wrapped around Sylvee's waist, fingers dancing on the hem of the sweatpants. Thinking twice, Asya eyes turned towards the bathroom, "We need to-"

Sylvee slapped Asya's hands away, flinching when the smack rang in his ears. 

"P-please don't touch me." 

Clearly shocked by Sylvee's minor attack, Asya withdrew his hands and took a step back. Taking advantage of Asya's momentary daze, Sylvee backed away and headed towards the back door, his panic clogging his logical senses. With his heart in his throat, Sylvee shot out the door.

Asya clenched his teeth and attempted to follow after Sylvee but was abruptly held in place by Anzu.

"Kier…Leave it alone." Anzu's calm voice cut through the tension.

Tension Asya wasn't willing to dismiss, not yet, "Leave it alone!? He's fucking hurt! I can't leave that alone!"

Tightening his grip, Anzu pushed Asya against a wall and growled out his words, "I said leave it. Cool your fuckin' head before you seek him out."

Asya met Anzu's glare with one of his own, "Fine." 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

With his head tucked between his scraped knees, Sylvee sobbed. Neirin wrapped an arm around the crying boy. 

"It's too much." Sylvee wailed and choked on his breath.

"I know…I'm sorry." Neirin softly replied as he rubbed Sylvee's damp back. 

"I hate seeing them together. They're everywhere…" 

This time, Neirin didn't reply, instead, he tucked Sylvee deeper into his arms and allowed his friend to cry his heart out into his chest. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───   

From a distance, Anzu watched as Sylvee fell apart. That's all he can really do. Sylvee is drowning but he refused to be rescued, if Anzu were to offer, he'd lose his head. 

Anzu had watched as strangers pressed Sylvee into walls, he'd watch as they pumped him full of alcohol, he'd watch as they stumbled out of clubs and into the dark streets…Streets he couldn't follow Sylvee on. Now, he watched as Sylvee cried up a storm. 

"Do you hate me?" Kiel asked.

"You know I don't." Anzu answered.

When Kiel had stepped out of the bar and stood besides him, Anzu had noticed but hadn't bothered to acknowledge his brother's presence.

"I feel like you do." Kiel insisted.

"I don't. If I did, you'd be dead." Anzu said. 

Kiel nibbled on the rim of his plastic cup, "Sylvee likes Asya."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A glaring fact.

Anzu didn't confirm or deny it. He didn't have to.

"It’s annoying." Kiel continued, "I shouldn't feel guilty over it, yet I do...Heartbreak, it can't be this bad. He's exaggerating, right?" 

Anzu snorted.

Kiel frowned, "That doesn't tell me anything."

Tipping his head back, Anzu breathed out. His brother didn't quite understand what it was like to have a name lodge deep in your heart like a bullet, he didn't understand what it was like to ache and hurt over an unattainable love. It wasn't a bad thing. But it wasn't a good thing either. 

Anzu stared as Sylvee set his life on fire, he thinks, it’s understandable only because he’s thought of doing the same when Micah is glued to his phone, absorbed in Priya and Priya only. He doesn’t act on his feelings only because Kiel needed his brother. Anzu almost wanted to share this bit with his brother: Everything I do, I do for you. 

Sylvee is alone. No one looks after him. Such a fragile, messy thing...Tossed aside to rot in his mistakes. And so, Anzu took care of him too.

Kiel continued frowning. 

Minutes go by and the unfolding silence is broken by Anzu's soft chuckle. He draped an arm around Kiel, "Come on, let's go get somethin' to eat, I'm starvin'."