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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

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Hello @gluttonousfruit you are in fact my first request. (I did not forget about you in moving my blog.) I am super excited to have anyone ask me to write something! Also I would love to be friends! Feel free to message me through asks or in private DMs! I hope you enjoy the imagine!

Warnings: Fluff with a small amount of angst because Levi doubts himself 😞

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Levi with an Animator S/O

"Okay MC, I know we just finished 'Swimming Only Leads to Hot Mermaids,' but I was thinking since we are already watching otomes, we should watch another series that everyone is recommending online!" Levi says this as he begins to pull out one DVD and place in another while bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited puppy.

"I guess I could watch one more series, but it better be a good one. Sure the mermaids were attractive, but there wasn't much of a plot." MC says with a yawn. A quick look over to the clock, and it reads 11:48 PM in a blinding blue light. Not too late for one of Levi's normal bingefests, but a little too late for MC when they have classes tomorrow.

"No, I promise this one is good. Everyone is talking about the art style. They say it is so original that it's captivating." Levi walks to the small futon briskly and plops himself down next to MC as he continues to ramble about the art. His voice slowly trails off as the opening begins to play.

As the music fills MC's ears, they perk up and a small smile appears on their face. "Levi, could this perhaps be, 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?"

Levi faces MC in shock. The look on their face is quite smug. (In all seriousness, it reminds Levi of Mammon when he wins poker, but he doesn't want to be think about his brother while looking at MC. So he pushes that thought away.) This anime came out only the day before their bingefest. And even then, Levi had this copy pre-ordered for this very occasion and it arrived before any stores were selling physical copies. There is no way a normie like MC could have heard about its release. Does this mean MC isn't such a normie after all?

"You heard of this show already?" The surprise in his voice was impossible to hide.

"Yeah, I have heard of it." MC smiles and chuckles quietly, "I have never actually seen it, but I have heard the opening quite a few times."

"Oh..." Levi sighs. He was so stupid. Of course MC had heard the opening. It is all over his Devilgram and they were on their phone for part of the last show, so they obviously just heard it on there. Levi deflates looking solemn. It was just a pipe dream that MC would ever be interested in his yucky otaku interests.

"Hey! There is no reason to be all sad just because I know the name of the show. I still haven't seen the whole thing. My first time watching will still be with you Levi, isn't that special enough?" The smile on MC's face seemed sincere enough, but the words that came out of their mouth made blood rush up to Levi's cheeks. Their first... did they really mean to say it like that?...

As thoughts begin to flood Leviathan's head the show began. It was true the art style was captivating. So captivating in fact, that he forgot about his embarrassment. But MC's words still lingered in his mind as he watched the show.

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"Well, I am dead tired." MC stands cracking their aching joints as they look at the clock. 2:37 AM. It was that late already? "I think I need to head to bed Levi. I have classes in the morning and I need at least a few hours of sleep."

"Are you sure?" Levi was just starting to enjoy MC's presence. At the beginning of the night, he was on edge trying to make everything perfect. Levi did want to mess up by being a yucky Otaku and give them a reason to leave him all alone. But as the night progressed, (and more snacks were consumed) he felt increasingly more comfortable with sharing his favorite shows with MC. "I have other shows we could watch to pass the time, or we could play this new game I got-"

MC walks over to Levi and gently sets their hands on his shoulders, "Games and anime are great, but what I need right now is sleep." MC watched as Levi's face filled with a blush and his eyes flashed with hurt. "I am not leaving because I am mad... or sad... or anything really. I just need to sleep, Leviathan." Their voice was barely above a whisper as they said his name. How could he disagree with them when they said his name like that; all the while, looking deep into his eyes. He felt like he could explode.

As MC turns away, the demon in question then sighs mutters a quiet "okay" under his breath. "Don't worry, Levi. This isn't the last time I will watch anime with you. I promise we can do another one of these when another new anime comes out." MC begins to pick up their things. A blanket they brought with them to keep warm in Levi's cold room and the rest of their human snacks. "Besides, I really liked that one, and I have heard they are already making season two." As they speak, MC makes their way across the room to the gigantic tank.

"Wait. How do you-"

"Good night Henry. Good night Levi." And with that, MC leaves. Closing the door behind them.

How did MC know about a second season? Even he, the Great Otaku Levi, has not heard about a season two on any forums or on any other website... After thinking about it, Levi suspects it's probably on Devilgram like the opening was. To prove his theory, he pulls out his D.D.D. and opens up Devilgram to the 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi' page. He scrolls through their posts and finds the opening, like he predicted, but what he didn't predict was their most recent post.

"This show would not have been possible without MC. Thank you for making such a great story and great art to go along with it!"

Levi reads the caption once, twice, thrice and is speechless. The photo for this post is none other than his MC standing with a hand drawn piece of the protagonist. He can even see their signature in the corner when he zooms in! He knew that they liked to draw, but he never thought they would make an anime.

Without thinking, Levi gets up and begins to run to MC's room. He needs to know that this isn't some sort of elaborate prank that MC and Satan brewed up to make him like a normie more.

The door to MC's room busts open, "MC!" The room is completely dark except for the light shining in through the doorway.

"Levi...? Is that you? Is something wrong?" MC's voice is soft and laced with sleep. If this were any other time, Levi would have screamed over their cuteness, but today he had a mission. He immediately marches up to the half asleep MC and promptly shoves his phone in their face.

"Did you make 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?" MC sits up and squints as their eyes adjust to the blinding screen and look at the post.

"Um... yeah. That's me isn't it?" Silence takes over the room, before Levi begins to scream.

"WAHHHHH! MC, why didn't you tell me!" Thankfully with the phone only being pointed at MC, they can't see the blush spreading across his face.

"Well, I didn't want you to treat me differently because I make anime." Laying back down as they speak, MC tucks a pillow under their head and looks up to where they guess Leviathan's face is. "Besides, I thought it was really cute how you were fanboying, and I didn't want you to stop because you knew you were in the presence of the creator." A small smile makes it's way on to MC's face as Levi feels his own get hotter.

Now covering his face, Levi quickly makes his way to the door while muttering, "You can't just say things like that..." As he begins to close the door, he pauses and opens it up again while looking back, "Can you tell me more about your show tomorrow, MC?" His voice sounds small compared to his previous scream.

"Of course Levi. We can talk for as long as you like."

#obey me requests #obeyme #obey me #levi #leviathan x mc #leviathan imagine #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi #fluff #obey me imagines #imagine #angst

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dindjarins04 · 3 years

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CHAPTER THREE

I AM NO JEDI MASTERLIST

Still curled up on the small chair in Padme's living area, Anakin paces back and forth. He sighs and stops in the middle of the room while you calmly respond to the onslaught of Qui-Gon's messages.

"It's too quiet,"

"That's a good thing," You reply. "I'd rather not have to deal with blasters," You look and see him looking down at you. "Perhaps if you sat down, you wouldn't be so anxious,"

"Can you at least pay some attention to me rather than your holopad?" He asks with a huff. You roll your eyes and place it down.

"You're such a child,"

"Maybe I just need a distraction,"

"Oh and I'm the perfect fit for your distraction?" You tease as he sits down in the chair opposite you.

"Yes," He says. "So...why do you think we weren't allowed to see each other for 10 years?"

"Well, those 10 years were the most vital part of our training, maybe we were just too busy with training to make friends," You shrug as you stand to pour yourself a glass of water. Anakin stays silent as he thinks of different reasons for the Jedi keeping you separate. "Enough about us...what's your story with Padme?" You cringe at yourself. Smooth, (Y/N), that was real smooth.

"We met on Tatooine, I saved her planet and that's it," You quirk a brow and turn around, leaning against the table you got your water from.

"Really? I thought you two had something more, considering the way you talk to her," You say, sipping your water.

"Heh, jealous?" You choke on the water at the question.

"That's absurd," Anakin chuckles and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say, princess,"

"Quiet, mudscuffer," Then, Obi-Wan strolls in.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" He asks as you move back to your holopad to send your last couple of messages to your master.

"Quiet as a tomb. I don't like just waiting here for something to happen to her," Anakin complains as Obi-Wan checks a palm-sized view scanner he has pulled out of his utility belt. It shows a shot of R2 by the door, but no sign of Padme on the bed.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she liked us watching her," You roll your eyes.

"What is she thinking?"

"Actually, all of this was (Y/N)'s idea," You look to see the men staring at you.

"I programmed R2 to warn us if there's an intruder,"

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about. There are many other ways to kill a Senator,"

"I know, but we also want to catch this assassin. Don't we, master Jedi?" You respond with a smirk.

"You're using her as bait??"

"It was her idea... No harm will come to her,"

"I can sense everything going on in that room. Trust me," Anakin adds on as you finish your last message and put down your holopad.

"It's too risky... and your senses aren't that attuned, young apprentice,"

"And yours are?"

"Possibly," You roll your eyes at the duo.

"You know, I can sense everything too, Qui-Gon has been teaching me well,"

"I do not disagree, I was his padawan as well," Obi-Wan says as he moves to look out of the window.

"The water is empty, I'll get some more, comm me if anything happens," Obi-Wan nods as Anakin walks beside him.

"You look tired," Obi-Wan states as he examines Anakin.

"I don't sleep well, anymore," He responds truthfully.

"Because of your mother?"

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now. I haven't seen her since I was little,"

"Dreams pass in time,"

"I'd rather dream of (Y/N). Just being around her again is...intoxicating," He smiles to himself but Obi-Wan gives him a look of disapproval.

"Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You and (Y/N) have made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken...and remember she is also a Jedi,"

"I understand Master...but there's just something about her. Being around her again...it brings a forgotten but familiar feeling back," Anakin grins, gently touching his chest.

"Anakin, (Y/N) is already on thin ice with the Jedi Council, please don't try and ruin this for her," Anakin looks up at his master.

"I...I won't," You return with a sigh.

"I couldn't get any water!" You exclaim. "Too many procedures to fill up one jug of water," You sigh placing it down. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Anakin and Obi-Wan share a discreet glance.

"No, it's been very quiet," Obi-Wan answers to Anakin's relief. But then, you all stop and look at each other.

"Is it just me?"

"No, I can sense it too," All three of you run and burst into Padme's room. Two creatures stand on their hind legs as Padme lays deadly still. Anakin springs onto the bed and slices the creatures in half with his lightsaber. You see a droid outside and race after it, crashing through the blinds and window. Okay. Bad idea. You did NOT think that through.

You fly through the glass window and fling yourself at the probe droid, grabbing onto the deadly machine before it can flee. The droid sinks under the weight of you but manages to stay afloat and fly away, with you hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city. The droid sends several protective electrical shocks across its surface, causing you to almost lose your grip. As you dart in and out of the speeder traffic, you disconnect a wire on the back of the droid. Its power shuts off. Shit! You and the droid drop like rocks. You realise the error of your ways and quickly puts the wire back. The droid's systems light up again and it takes off.

Sweat begins to build on your forehead. You did not think this through what so ever and you have no idea where Anakin or Obi-Wan is. The last thing you remember is Padme's deadly still body. Is she dead? That sudden thought sends a pang of regret in your gut. Did you allow your best and only friend to die?

The droid bumps against a wall, hoping to knock you loose. It moves behind a speeder afterburner to scorch you. It takes you wildly between buildings and finally skims across a rooftop and you are forced to lift your legs, tenaciously hanging onto the droid.

"Would you stop?!" You growl as the droid heads for a dirty, beat-up speeder hidden in an alcove of a building about twenty stories up. When the pilot of the speeder, a scruffy looking person who is most likely a bounty hunter, sees the droid approach with you hanging on, she pulls a long rifle out of the speeder and starts to fire at you. Explosions burst all around you. "I have a bad feeling about this," You say.

Finally, the droid suffers a direct hit and blows up and you fall fifty stories until a speeder drops down next to you, and you manage to grab onto the back end of the speeder and haul yourself toward the cockpit. You struggle to climb into the seat and you sigh in relief when seeing Anakin driver and Obi-Wan in the passenger seat.

"That was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic," Anakin said.

"What took you so long?" You ask as you finally sit correctly in the seat you tumbled into.

"Oh, you know, princess, I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit... and with the right speed capabilities...and then you know I had to get a really gonzo colour..."

"Qui-Gon will not be happy about your recklessness," Obi-Wan chimes in.

"Well, I know who to follow now," Anakin zooms upward in hot pursuit of the bounty hunter as she fires out the open window at you with her laser pistol.

"And Anakin, if you'd spend as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman," Obi-Wan says, scolding both of you.

"I thought I already did," Anakin replies smugly.

"Only in your mind, my very young apprentice. Careful!! Hey, easy!!" Obi-Wan says as he grips the sides of the speeder as Anakin deftly moves in and out of the oncoming traffic, across lanes, between buildings, and miraculously through a construction site, the bounty hunter still firing at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like flying, Master," You watch with a small smile at the way these two communicate. It reminds you of how you and Lumarina shared a lot of jokes and banter just like these two.

"I don't mind flying... but what you're doing is suicide!" You barely miss a commuter train.

"I agree with Obi-Wan on that account," You say as you duck.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk. I'm very good at this and (Y/N)...just trust me," You roll your eyes as he laughs and Obi-Wan gasps as Anakin makes another narrow turn.

"Just slow down!" The bounty hunter and Anakin race through a line of cross-traffic made up of giant trucks. The speeders bank sideways as they slide around right-angle turns between buildings. The bounty hunter races into a tram tunnel. "Wait! Don't go in there!" Obi-Wan says but Anakin zooms into the tunnel after the hunter. You see a tram coming at you. Anakin brakes, turns around, and race out, barely ahead of the charging commuter transport."You know I don't like it when you do that!" Obi-Wan growls. "We also have another person with us, try not to kill three Jedi!"

"Sorry, Master. Don't worry, this guy's gonna kill himself any minute now!"

"No, you're going to kill us!" You scold, slapping his head. The hunter turns into oncoming traffic, deliberately trying to throw Anakin off. Oncoming speeders swerve, trying to avoid the hunter and three Jedi. The hunter does a quick, tight loop-over and ends up behind all of you. She is now in a much better position to fire at you all with her laser pistol. To avoid being hit by the laser bolts, Anakin slams on the brakes and moves alongside her. She now fires point-blank at Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing? He's gonna blast me!"

"Right, not a good idea," Anakin quickly turns and swerves away. Suddenly, the hunter throws a bunch of explosives in your direction. You stand and use the force to hold them away from your speeder as they explode. Out of a cloud of smoke and ball of flames Anakin tears after the hunter.

"(Y/N), that didn't do much help!" Obi-Wan slaps out the small fire on the dashboard.

"At least we're not dead!" You exclaim, sitting back down. The hunter goes up and down, through cross-traffic. There is a near miss as a speeder almost hits you. The hunter turns down and left between two buildings. Anakin pulls up and to the right

"Where are you going?! He went down there, the other way,"

"This is a shortcut... I think,"

"What do you mean, 'You think?' What kind of shortcut?! He went completely the other way! You've lost him!" You exclaim from behind him.

"Guys, if we keep this chase going, that creep's gonna end up deep-fried personally, I'd very much like to find out who in the hell he is and who he's working for..."

"Oh, so that's why we're going in the wrong direction," Obi-Wan says sarcastically. Anakin turns up a side street, zooming up several small passageways, then stops, hovering about fifty stories up. Obi-Wan folds his arms. "Well, you lost him,"

"I'm deeply sorry, Master,"

"Great job Anakin, he went completely the other way," You groan, unhappy for losing the bounty hunter. Anakin looks around front and back. He spots something. He seems to start counting to himself as he watches something below approach.

"Excuse me for a moment," Anakin then jumps out of the speeder. You and Obi-Wan watch as he jumps on the hunter's speeder about five stories below you. You quickly jump into the driver's seat and follow after them. You deftly gain on the rogue speeder. The two speeders dive through oncoming traffic and then through cross traffic. You then see Anakin drop something and you quickly catch it. You then notice it's his lightsaber. You sigh and hand it to Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to have to admit, this has been the most fun I've had since Naboo," You say as you follow the speeder as it crashes onto the ground.

"Naboo? You mean with Maul?"

"Well, everything leading up to that," You say as you talently spin around oncoming vehicles.

"Spinning is not flying!" Obi-Wan groans. "This is the first time I've ridden with you and your already matching Anakin's recklessness," You chuckle as you land. You grin as you land and wipe the sweat from your head. Obi-Wan looks at you before chuckling. You also laugh as he gets out and helps you out. "I will have to admit, that was something different,"

"Probably something the council will frown upon," You joke before seeing him. "Anakin!"

"She went into that club," Anakin said, pointing to the bright sign.

"Patience," Obi-Wa reminds as he hands Anakin his lightsaber. "Here. Next time try not to lose it,"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin reaches for the lightsaber, but Obi-Wan holds it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession,"

"Yes, Master," He reaches for his lightsaber again, but Obi-Wan pulls it back.

"He must keep it with him at all times,"

"I know, Master,"

"This weapon is your life!"

"I've heard this lesson before..." You and Anakin say at the same time. Obi-Wan finally holds out his lightsaber and Anakin grabs it.

"But unlike (Y/N), you haven't learned anything, Anakin,"

"I try, Master,"

"However, you should thank (Y/N) for catching it for you," Obi-Wan says before stepping away.

"Thank you...you've lost your lightsaber?" He teases as you follow Obi-Wan.

"Yeah, but I found it," You defend.

"How long did it take you?"

"3 lectures from my master and one full rotation,"

"Really? Where was it?" You look down. "(Y/N)," He says in a sing-song voice.

"It was under my bed," Anakin laughs loudly and you also chuckle as all three of you enter the nightclub.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #attack of the clones #I AM NO JEDI SERIES #I AM NO JEDI BOOK ONE #I AM NO JEDI CHAPTER THREE

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Tedious Joys - Chapter 6 -

- Ao3 link -

The jade pendant Lan Qiren had worked so hard on had not stopped burning painfully hot since what he now knew was the day Jiwei had been shattered. It retroactively made perfect sense why his music could do nothing to calm the flames no matter how soothing; the pendant was so hot as to be dangerous even to him, a cultivator in his prime – even if not the most martially inclined – and in all honesty he had not dared to wear it since that day.

Despite this, he hung it on his belt before leaving the Cloud Recesses, ignoring the discomfort.

If Lao Nie did not recognize his sons, which he prized more than the stars in the sky, more than his own life, he would not recognize Lan Qiren no matter how good friends they were. Lan Qiren knew better than to flatter himself in that way. He was confident in Lao Nie’s affection, in his trust and even his love; he had never once doubted that when given a choice, Lao Nie would pick him over Wen Ruohan every time, no matter how often the latter shared Lao Nie’s bed – but Lao Nie was not himself right now, incapable of making rational decisions.

Lao Nie had raised his own hand against those he loved, something he would in the normal course of events never do. Lan Qiren would likely share the same fate as Nie Mingjue, only with even less power to defend himself – he had only music and wise words and inferior swordsmanship on his side, and of those, only his music had even half a chance of stopping a maddened charge.

He would need every advantage he could get, and the jade pendant, he hoped, would provide one.

Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses with his guqin over his back, his sword beneath his feet, and the jade pendant burning into his thigh, Nie Mingjue at his side. He hoped that Lao Nie might be able to draw some comfort from the jade pendant, which had been tuned to Jiwei’s frequency; he hoped that he could calm Lao Nie’s wrecked mind with his playing the way he had once sought to calm Jiwei’s rage.

And if neither of those worked…there was still his sword.

To the best of his ability, he would not allow Nie Mingjue to be harmed.

Lao Nie would have agreed, if he could.

When they arrived at the Unclean Realm, both Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue were exhausted from their trip; even with regular breaks, it was not an easy journey to make by sword, much less twice over, with several days or even a week or more of travel being more customary. Lan Qiren had insisted that they rest for a few shichen in a town just outside of the borders of the Qinghe Nie sect to recover even more of their strength, and tellingly Nie Mingjue had not disagreed.

The Unclean Realm towered over them both as they approached, and to Lan Qiren’s eyes it somehow seemed more intimidating and imposing than that familiar, beloved place usually was – it was as if the tragedy within its walls had tainted it, giving it a more sinister aura than usual.

The guards of the Nie sect were unhappy to see Lan Qiren, as he’d suspected they would be, but they could not override Nie Mingjue, who ordered them to let Lan Qiren enter. A Nie disciple, older even than Lan Qiren but with exhaustion and fear written into every line of him, met them by the entrance, telling them that the Sect Leader was in his study – and that he was asking for them, or at least for Nie Mingjue.

“How is he?” Nie Mingjue asked, and glanced sidelong at Lan Qiren, explaining, “There are times when it is worse, times when it is better and he’s almost himself…”

“Forgive this humble one,” the disciple said, sounding tired. “The Sect Leader’s state is not good. He believes himself to be surrounded by enemies, besieged and betrayed. He believes we have taken you away from him purposefully, Nie-gongzi, and he fears for your well-being.”

Nie Mingjue’s face crumpled. “And when he sees me, he’ll think I’m one of the ones hurting him.”

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren told him in an undertone as they walked towards to the study. “He’s been infected with the saber spirit’s rage, becoming unbalanced – not just unbalanced, but unable to find himself. Just like a saber, he sees everything around him as a target, and seeks their destruction.”

Nie Mingjue’s head dropped in a nod. “Baxia’s just the same. She longs to eradicate evil, but her definition of evil is – wider than it should be.”

“We are all made of good and evil,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Right now, Lao Nie can only see the evil, not the good. That’s why he can’t recognize you. He loves you too much.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again and stopped in front of the study, taking a deep breath. Even through its soundproofed doors, they could hear the faint echoes of Lao Nie’s voice, bellowing out demands and threats, calling for Nie Mingjue, calling for Jiwei – my saber, my saber, where is my saber? – and Lan Qiren flinched briefly before recovering himself.

“Go,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened the door and let them both step in.

Lao Nie was standing by the window, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles bloody from having beaten his fists against the walls in his rage. His back was straight and his shoulders broad, as always, but there was a strange purposelessness to the way his head turned from side to side as if he were trying to hear something just out of range.

He turned to look at them. His hair wasn’t arranged properly, oily as if he hadn’t washed it for a while; his eyes were red and bloodshot, his skin flushed and ruddy, raised veins on his forehead, making him look as if he were on the verge of exploding.

“What do you want?” he spat.

“You called for me, A-die,” Nie Mingjue said, taking a step into the room and then another as Lan Qiren watched. “It’s me – it’s me, it’s Mingjue. A-Jue, I’m A-Jue –”

Lan Qiren never saw Lao Nie move.

One moment he was all the way across the room, the next moment he was standing right in front of Nie Mingjue. There was the resounding echo of a slap: Lao Nie had backhanded Nie Mingjue, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, his reddened eyes blank and unseeing. “If you’re my A-Jue, why haven’t you done what I asked, like a filial son should? Bring me my saber! Bring me my Jiwei!”

“A-die – please – she’s gone, Jiwei is gone –”

Lao Nie raised his hand again, clearly ready to strike again, already pulling his leg back to kick at the young man cowering at his feet, a red mark already staining Nie Mingjue’s cheek where the heavy blow from before had fallen – Lan Qiren hadn’t been in the Unclean Realm for enough time to burn a stick of incense, hadn’t even had a chance to say anything, and things had already gotten to this point.

Wait, the doctors had said to Nie Mingjue when he’d asked them what could be done about his father’s illness. Wait. How terrible would Nie Mingjue’s life have become if he had listened to them?

“Lao Nie,” he said, stepping into the room and already reaching for his guqin. “Don’t hit him.”

Lao Nie turned to him, a heavy scowl on his face, and Lan Qiren braced himself for that same speed, that same casual viciousness that Lao Nie had before used only on his real enemies.

But unexpectedly - Lao Nie did not attack.

He didn’t move at all, in fact; he just stared at Lan Qiren, his frown fading into something like confusion.

“Jiwei?” he asked, a glimmer of recognition in his voice.

Lan Qiren’s hands were on his guqin strings, a spell at the ready, but he paused at Lao Nie’s words.

Very cautiously, he shifted the guqin to the side to free up one hand, which he lowered to the jade pendant that hung at his waist. “Yes,” he said encouragingly. “It’s Jiwei’s pendant. You remember? I made it for you, to drain off some of her anger. It’s yours. I brought it to you.”

Lao Nie took a stumbling step forward, and then another, his lost eyes brightening in happiness. Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and tolerated the pain of the fiercely burning pendant, taking it into his palm and holding it out to Lao Nie as an offering.

But it wasn’t the pendant that Lao Nie reached out for, but Lan Qiren himself.

His broad hands fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulders, and then slid up to cradle his face, his thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones in an unfamiliar gesture that made Lan Qiren shiver despite himself.

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie said, sounding pleased. “Jiwei, where were you? I missed you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed. “Lao Nie…”

“You look so different,” Lao Nie said, undeterred by Lan Qiren’s barely-said protest – undeterred, in fact, by the fact that Lan Qiren was a human being, not a saber spirit.

His hands were warm against Lan Qiren’s face.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said, very slowly, and after a moment Lao Nie responded, no longer surveying him with his eyes but meeting his gaze. “I am Lan Qiren, your friend.”

“My friend,” Lao Nie agreed, and smiled. It was his old familiar smile, confident and carefree. “Jiwei.”

“No, not Jiwei. Jiwei…Jiwei shattered, Lao Nie. Your saber shattered.”

“Yes,” Lao Nie said, very unexpectedly, and Nie Mingjue, who had gotten up and was cautiously creeping closer, looked at him with hope shining in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“You know your saber was shattered?” Lan Qiren said, testing, and Lao Nie nodded. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie tilted his head to the side.

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think – when he patted it? He did something, I’m sure of it.”

Lao Nie considered this statement, his eyes half-lidded in thought; he looked for a moment very much like he had before, putting aside the state of his hair and clothing. “I think you’re right,” he said after a while. “A-Han was very angry at me, at the start, and then at the end he was still angry, but also pleased with himself in that way that he gets. You know what I mean: when he’s done something vile, something everyone would condemn him for, and he knows no one will be able to do anything about it – the way he’s both pleased with the demonstration of his power and disgusted in himself, and he has to bury the latter in the former to make himself feel better.”

You know what he’s like, why do you like him? Lan Qiren thought to himself but did not say, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t so tactful and asked the same thing, virtually verbatim, outright.

“Grown-ups are complicated, A-Jue,” Lao Nie told him, and Nie Mingjue’s knees gave out at once. He tumbled down to the floor once again, landing on his ass with a thud, and stared up at his father with tears already spilling down his cheeks.

“A-die?” he whispered. “A-die, you know me?”

Lao Nie frowned, not understanding his son’s reaction, and pulled away to turn to look at him – but the moment his hands left Lan Qiren’s skin, the look in his eyes changed, the clarity disappearing and the rage returning. His brow furrowed in confusion and offense, and Lan Qiren thought about how it must appear to him: his beloved son was there only a moment ago, and then he turned and there was a stranger there instead, taking his place. It was no wonder that Lao Nie lashed out so fiercely, no wonder that his anger burned hottest against those he loved the most.

Lan Qiren stepped forward and put his own hand on Lao Nie’s shoulder, and when that didn’t seem to help, his face, instinctively following his teacher’s habits and grabbing him by the ear like a disobedient student in need of some shaking.

“Lao Nie, calm yourself,” he ordered, ignoring the lack of calm in his own heart.

Amazingly, miraculously, Lao Nie did. The red even started to fade a little out of his eyes – they were still bloodshot, still covered in a thin red film, but he no longer looked as though he were on the verge of crying blood. The ruddiness in his face faded as well, the blood summoned up by his rage starting to recirculate throughout his body as it should, and hopefully no longer on the verge of giving him an aneurysm.

Progress, Lan Qiren thought.

“What’s going on?” Lao Nie asked, alert and aware, if confused. “Why is my study such a mess? A-Jue, why are you crying? What happened to you – A-Jue, look at you, you look terrible! Who hurt you? Who dared touch you?”

Nie Mingjue was crying too hard to speak now, shaking his head, refusing to speak.

“You tell me, then,” Lao Nie said, turning his face, belligerent again but so much more normally so, to look at Lan Qiren. “Tell me what happened!”

“It’s complicated,” Lan Qiren temporized, although he stepped forward to press his entire palm against Lao Nie’s cheek, eventually sliding it down to rest at the back of his neck instead, the still too-hot pendant trapped between his palm and Lao Nie’s flesh. He didn’t dare break the contact again, not after last time. “It will take time to explain…”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Lao Nie said, exasperated, impatient as always, and the sheer familiarity and nostalgia stuck in Lan Qiren’s throat, choking him. “I asked for an answer, Jiwei, and I expect one.”

The pleasant feeling froze at once, like having swallowed something the wrong way and getting it caught halfway down, stuck in his chest like a weight pressing down.

Not progress.

Or, rather – a very specific type of progress, in which Lao Nie was no longer on imminent verge of death from further qi deviations, in which he was no longer raving mad, rabid and attacking all those around him, but in which he also, apparently, believed that Lan Qiren was…his saber.

This was problematic for any number of reasons.

The first, of course, being that Lan Qiren was not, in fact, Jiwei. He was human, not a saber spirit; he was made of flesh, not metal. He wasn’t even the same gender, insofar as sabers considered themselves to have gender – both Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue affirmatively described their sabers using feminine terms, but quibbled whenever Lan Qiren attempted to describe them as women, claiming that their sabers were sabers, not humans, and therefore difficult to fit into the usual categorization.

At any rate, Lao Nie, at least, did not appear to be noticing any discrepancy.

However, that led them to the second major problem, which was that Lan Qiren and Lao Nie did not have the same relationship between them as Lao Nie had with his saber. The former were friends, however close; the latter were literally intertwined at the level of the soul, human master and spiritual weapon, co-dependent on each other in ways words could not even begin to describe. Even now, only standing next to each other, Lan Qiren could feel Lao Nie’s spiritual energy knocking against his palm, trying to enter his body to begin cultivating with him –

His ears suddenly felt like they were burning red.

What was perfectly appropriate, normal and even expected, between a cultivator and his spiritual weapon was not appropriate between two people, except perhaps dao companions who had agreed to share their lives and bodies with each other. It was entirely reasonable for Lao Nie to initiate such intimate contact – that was how spiritual weapons worked, through the cultivation of a blade or instrument through shared qi – and yet at the same time, because Lan Qiren was most definitely not a weapon, it became an offer for dual cultivation instead.

Right in front of Nie Mingjue.

Lan Qiren very firmly rejected the offer and Lao Nie laughed a little under his breath, an indulgent sound, and casually reached over to wrap his hand around Lan Qiren’s waist, pulling him closer – as if he thought Lan Qiren were merely playing hard-to-get, being prickly and inexplicitly unreasonable. As if a little bit of coaxing would be enough to get him to let down his guard, open up and let him in –

Lan Qiren coughed, abruptly very glad that he had not allowed either of his nephews to join in this trip. Or Nie Huaisang, for that matter, who despite his young age already had an over-active interest in other people’s personal lives.

That, he supposed, led them to the third problem: Lan Qiren was not nearly as easily mobile as a saber, could not be carried at Lao Nie’s belt nor kept with him at all times, and yet ceasing physical contact was clearly a bad idea. Perhaps once he had had some time to calm down…?

Nie Mingjue was looking between them with some concern as well. “A-die,” he said. “That’s Teacher Lan. Do you remember Teacher Lan?”

“Of course,” Lao Nie said, reaching out idly with his free hand as if to swat Nie Mingjue lightly on the head, an affectionate gesture that he forestalled immediately when he remembered that his son was injured. “What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve known Qiren since before I met your mother.”

“Good. That’s…good. I’m glad you remember him. You were sick for a little while, A-die; it made you confused.” Nie Mingjue paused briefly. “Can you tell me who’s that standing next to you?”

Lao Nie frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re not the one confused, A-Jue? Are you telling me you don’t recognize Jiwei?”

Nie Mingjue looked helplessly at Lan Qiren, who looked just as helplessly back.

He had absolutely no idea what to do about this – no notion of what the next step would be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands when Lao Nie looked down at himself and, with an abrupt scowl, appeared to realize the state of himself. “What a mess,” he said, disgusted. “A-Jue, have someone run me a bath. I’ll wash and head to bed for the night, but I want an answer from you as to what happened first thing tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes went very wide and traveled very slowly over to rest on Lan Qiren, who set aside his guqin and used that hand, once free, to pinch the bridge of his nose and try to summon patience, careful not to disturb the hand that still rested on the back of Lao Nie’s neck, the pendant still burning in his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly. It was not fine, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do at the moment except continue to indulge Lao Nie’s delusion – his state was so much improved from what it was just a little while before that he couldn’t bear to even try anything that would return him to it at the moment, and he could tell from Nie Mingjue’s constant glances to his hand that he felt the same. “We’ve been night-hunting together before.”

They’d bathed together before – mostly in rivers and lakes and hot springs, not bathtubs – and they’d slept in the same bed before, when that was the only thing that was available at the local inn.

This was nothing more than that.

It’d be fine.

Nie Mingjue did not look convinced, looked in fact on the verge of protesting, but Lao Nie was already looking at him with a growing scowl – he disliked being disobeyed, even though he tolerated it more from Nie Mingjue than from others – and he had no choice but to run off to do his father’s bidding.

The second he was out of the room, Lao Nie reached over and caught Lan Qiren’s free hand, bringing it up to his face, pressing his lips against Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Jiwei, have I displeased you in some manner?” he asked, very earnestly, as Lan Qiren stared at him. “Tell me what’s the matter, darling.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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arduadastra · 3 years

Text

Lost Faith - Part One

A/N ITS FINALLY HERE!! Thank you for the support and I can't believe I wrote this, if you want a part two let me know!

FINALLY updated to this gorgeous header by @sirtadcooper (who you definitely need to follow)

This is set right after the season two finale and is kind of what I imagine Din would be feeling right after he’s handed Grogu off and what it would be like to find him.

Also, the crest didn’t explode ok, I refuse to believe that.

- 2.1K - (what happened?!)

/// Din is alone. He’s been alone most of his adult life. Once he left the convent he’s captured quarries solo for years. He’s used to the quiet solace hyperspace provides, the occasional hums and beeps from the crest console and the sounds of starlight rushing past is nothing more than white noise at this point. So why does it feel different this time? He leans over and flips a switch. He likes quiet, he knows quiet. Talking has never been his strong suit - in fact, he actively avoids it if he can but there’s a tightness in his chest he’s trying to ignore and he needs a fucking distraction before he punches something. After he had handed... to the Jedi he doesn’t really remember much else. Bo Katan had said something about needing to discuss his future and the dark sabre but he hadn’t paid her much thought to be honest. He had felt numb and it just didn’t seem important at the time. He remembers looking at them all and how they looked back at him. He didn’t even really realise why they seemed to stare so much until he accidentally kicked the helmet at his feet. He hadn’t bothered to put it back on. What’s the point? He had barely managed to justify putting it back on after revealing himself for that imperial scanner. Every soul that saw his face after that had died, other than Mayfeld that is. Technically no living being had seen his face so his creed remained unbroken. But this time? Din caught himself staring and at a lever with a certain missing sphere on top. He looked away. His creed. The one thing he held above all else. The thing that he had engrained into him since he was a foundling and what made him who he is: a Mandalorian. Yet, he has met Mandalorian's and they did not cover their face. They had called him different. ’A child of the watch’ Bo-Katan had said - was he even Mandalorian then? The thought cast his eye to his helmet lying discarded next to him. He thought he’d feel bare without it and he did back with the IG unit but now he just feels angry. The creed he abided by is broken now, but that doesn’t piss him off nearly as much as the realisation that it might not have even fucking mattered in the first place. He huffs. No, that’s not it. It is but it isn’t. The pressure in his chest returns and he gasps. “Dank Farrik.” Din clenches his eyes shut against the pain, it’s not like any other pain he’s felt before and he has been hurt a lot. He feels a burning sensation behind his eyelids and he shakes his head, opening his eyes and setting his next coordinates before he can think too hard about why his vision is slightly blurred. ///

It was nearing the end of your shift and you took in the sparse patrons left around you. Bar work wasn’t really what you wanted to do with your life but it’s all you had. No siblings and dead parents made for one lonely existence so you needed the company your customers provided. Drunken patrons tend to have the best stories too. You’ve heard it all over the years: divorced from the wife, hiding from the boss, hiding from the police - those were the best kind. Usually, you could guess why each one was there and why but you were stumped by someone. You had noticed the lone Mandalorian in your bar a while ago. You wouldn’t take a second glance usually but what strikes you is the fact he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes and he’s just been sat staring blankly at his own helmet the whole time. The bar is quiet and you’re the only one working so who gives a shit if you’re polishing the same glass over and over, he’s interesting. You haven’t seen a Mandalorian before let alone one as stoic as him. You’d heard the stories, of course, battle-hardened warriors capable of bringing grown men to their knees in a matter of seconds… Now that's an image. You love people-watching, or thing watching this far out in the rim, and it isn’t often you see humans. Especially ones like him. He seems sad, but not in the obvious moping, crying, shoulder shaking sad - more like he’s grieving. He’s been sat staring at the helmet on the table for a while. His hands are balled into a fist in front of it and it’s like he’s looking through it to the wall behind. His dark eyes have barely blinked and his hair is tousled on his head. He’s tanned too and has the most striking lips you’ve ever seen on a guy. You cock your head as you look at him - he’s hot. You feel bad thinking that when the guy is clearly miserable but he’s gorgeous. You have a thing for stubble and you can’t help but think how it would feel against your skin. And strangely you hate to see him so sad. You have an idea so you turn around and start making your favourite drink while you check on him over your shoulder. After a while, pleased with what you’ve concocted you walk to his table and drop the drink in his line of sight. You smile at him. “On the house.” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to even acknowledge you’ve spoken to him let alone standing two feet to his left. You clear your throat. “That means it's free." He looks up at that, seemingly broken out of whatever trance he was in yet his eyes still seem so far away. “I’m not thirsty.” You nod your head to the table. “Well if you want to keep sitting here, you need something in front of you.” The man looks back at the drink, bumping it with his right fist then stares back ahead. “Ok.” He’s a chatty one. You look back at your bar and around at the other tables, no one seems to need assistance and you’re sure as hell not about to go back to standing behind an empty bar so you take in the Mandalorian and decide to sit across from him. You sigh, “Well the least you can do is have a sip, I made it after all.” The Mandalorian meets your eyes silently then glances down at the drink by his hands. He seems to take a few seconds studying the contents before bringing it to his lips for a drink. You watch him, watch as he drinks from the glass and how it travels down his throat. You see the tendons stretch and his adam apple move as he does. God, how can this guy make drinking sexy? You chide yourself on the thought. This guy is clearly going through something and he doesn’t need some random woman objectifying him. He’s finished now and is actively avoiding your eye line as he looks around himself. He seems lost like he doesn’t know how to have company with him. You decide at that moment that you aren’t leaving this guy alone. “My name is y/n by the way. What’s yours?” Nothing. He’s still not looking at you. You try again. “How was the drink?” The guy must have some form of manners because he responds at that with a slight nod. “Good.” Not much but you’ll take it. You’ve gathered from this short conversation that

this guy isn’t much for small talk so you decide to cut straight to the point. “Who did you lose?” He seems surprised by that. He looks at you fully then and you’re startled by his eyes. The rest of him seems so closed off, so shuttered but his eyes are a dead give away. They swim with grief and pain and it takes your breath away. He doesn’t respond but he keeps looking at you so you take it as permission to keep going. “I know sadness when I see it. See it every day here,” you gesture around you, “but yours seems deeper than that.” He turns away from you and you notice his jaw tense slightly, subtle but you caught it. You’re on the right track at least. “Was it your wife...or husband?” “No.”

Very quick you notice, so not a partner then. “Your friend?” He’s still looking away. Not that then. You look at his face again, he seems older than you. “Your kid?” That gets a reaction. His jaw ticks and his hand's clench. You see his bicep flex at the action and your mind wanders again and just what he looks like under that armour. “Leave me alone." You continue, “What were they like?” He frowns, and looks back at you, “You’re very insistent.” You scoff, “And you barely talk but I don’t judge.” You take a pause then lean forward into his space, “I just know it's useless when people say ’sorry’ or ’that's terrible.’ You know that already. I always found talking about them is more helpful, means there’s someone else out there to remember them.” The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long time. He studies your face, eyes scanning over yours before dropping to your hands that have instinctively reached out towards him. Your fingers are grazing ever so slightly and you think he likes the contact. He leans back slightly in his chair and casts his eyes over your shoulder. “He’s not dead.” You hum, “Ok…” You think, “ ...so he’s missing?” The Mandalorian seems frustrated and shakes his head "Not missing, I mean I don’t know where he is but I - “ He casts his gaze back to you, almost as if he didn’t realise he had been talking, “Why are you asking me this?” You shrug, “Dunno, you just seemed like you needed someone to talk to.” He keeps looking at you. You lean forward more and so does he. Your fingers bump more insistently and you struggle to not rest your hands over his. The energy between the two of you changes ever so slightly, and you feel your hair stand up on end as he stares you down. He’s very intimidating. You like that. Neither of you moves away and the silence between you stretches on. You refuse to speak first because you sort of want to see what his next move is. You get the impression no one stands up to this guy and you want to be the first. He narrows his eyes, his jaw tenses when he speaks coldly, “I don’t need to talk. Go away.” Undeterred you smile at him, flashing him your teeth when you say “Oh I disagree.” He scoffs at that and gets up, leaving the drink you made him and walks out the door. You stand to follow him, grabbing his helmet as you go - how did he forget that? "Hey, we were talking!” you call after him, pushing yourself through the few stragglers still around on the street. He keeps walking, ignoring your yells so you shout louder, “you didn't even finish my drink!" Still nothing, "and you forgot your bucket!" That makes him turn and he sees the helmet under your arm. You walk towards him as he crosses his arms and sighs. He reaches out his hand for it but you hold it out of reach, “ah ah ah, I said we weren’t finished.” He scoffs “I say we have. Give it back.” “Nope.” You say popping the ‘p’ and you smile at him, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” He stalks forward and attempts to take the helmet but you’re quicker and sidestep him and cross it over into your other hand, leaning it out of reach again. He growls at that, “I’ll just take it from you.” You dance backwards slightly, “Oh I don’t think you will.” He remains where he is and scowls, “Don’t you have work to finish?” You shake your head, “Nah it's quiet and they’ll all leave now I’m gone. Besides, this is much more fun.” He’s getting annoyed now and gestures towards you, “What? Standing there holding my helmet hostage knowing full well I can just come over there and take it?” He walks forward again, anger now very present on his face - you love that you’ve rattled him. You know it must take a lot to get this guy mad but it seems you’ve done it rather easily. You grin at him, “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, you turn and run. ///

If you want to be tagged for part 2 let me know!

Tagged: @darlingotaku @theoriquewitherseld @v-mack @soul-of-daisies @bbwithaknife @luciamajer @altarsw @redredchangesintheskys @thatoneidiot16 @24-blackbirds @dindjarin-mandalorian @engineeredfiction

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din x reader fic #din djarin x reader fic #din djarin #din djarin fic #mando #mando x reader #mando x reader fic #mando fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic

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thelukesalvez · 4 years

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Premature

Request: ‘can i request an imagine where the reader is pregnant and luke’s away on a case when she goes into labor? and garcia has to call luke to get him home?’

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords, @ssa-morgan, @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: idk why i always picture luke with a daughter??? but anyway another DAD luke fic like yes pls, enjoy!

The worst part about being pregnant had to be the lower back aches. Or maybe the way your swollen ankles prevented you from fitting into any of your cute shoes. It could also be the tender breasts, the mood swings, or how food didn’t taste as good, yet somehow you were still always hungry. Come to think of it, being pregnant, in general, was the worst.

Currently, you were seven and a half months along. You had 6 weeks until your daughter would be born. 6 weeks somehow felt both impossibly long and just around the corner. On one hand, you really couldn’t wait to get your body back. You missed wearing pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband, and the freedom of being able to get out of bed without Luke’s help.

On the other hand, you and Luke were going to be first time parents. This brought about a lot of anxiety and uncertainty. There was still so much to get done before the baby arrived, that at times you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

“You worry too much,” Luke had told you one afternoon.

But you disagreed. “Luke, she’s gonna be here in less than two months and her room isn’t even close to being finished. We still have to paint, and put together the crib-”

“We have six weeks, baby. I’ll get it done, I promise.”

His reassuring words did little to calm your mind or your nerves. One thing that did keep the anxious thoughts at bay, was work. Focusing your attention on BAU cases was the perfect distraction… until that was taken away from you too.

“I don’t want you in the field,” Luke had stated that night.

“You’re joking, right?”

Luke’s pressed lips and slightly flared nostril told you that no, he was not joking.

“Luke,” you’d groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow. “I’m fine.”

“You can barely walk, let alone chase after anyone,” he stated, his arms folding across his chest. He always did that when he wanted you to take him seriously. “And I know for a fact that you can’t fit into a bulletproof vest.”

You threw him your best glare. “Okay, first off, that was mean. Second, you can’t expect me to just sit here all day doing nothing. I’ll go insane, you know I will.”

“Baby, you’re seven months pregnant. You need to relax.”

“Relax? Seriously, Luke?” you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. Lately you've been finding it so hard to control your emotions, so you’re not entirely surprised when you feel the burning of tears in your eyes. “I can’t relax! I’m uncomfortable all the time. I’m fat and I’m hot and I’m sweaty. My boobs feel like they’re going to explode any second. I’m nauseous and I’m tired and I’m hungry. And if I stay home all day that’s all I’m going to think about. I’m going to just sit and dwell on the fact that I am miserable.”

Luke’s face softens when he sees that you’re crying. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, but he felt guilty for being the one to cause it this time around.

“C’mere,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

And even though you’re angry with him, you don’t hesitate before scooting up the mattress and sliding into his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder, Luke’s hand finding its way down to your lower back, where he rubs gentle circles into the sore muscles. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

“I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable, baby. I just- I worry about you. All I want is for you and the baby to be okay.”

You sniffle into his chest, his sweet words making your voice soften. “I can’t sit here all day, Luke. I really can’t.”

“I know.” He rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs. “How about we meet in the middle?”

Looking up at him, you skeptically ask, “How?”

“You could work the cases from the BAU,” he suggests.

You scrunch your nose, secretly hoping that his compromise meant just giving in to what you wanted entirely. But, as you think about it for a moment, you had to admit you didn’t completely hate the idea. Things were getting challenging in the field. And as much as you hated him for saying it, Luke was right- the bulletproof vests no longer fit you, and you couldn’t chase down any perps. You were relatively useless, at least physically, at this point.

“I’m sure Garcia would love an extra hand,” he adds.

“Fine,” you mutter quietly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a light peck against the top of your head.

But, as Luke would soon find, just because you agreed to be stationed at the BAU did not mean you weren’t going to complain about it.

The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, into the building the next morning. Emily had called, about fifteen minutes prior, to let you both know that you had a case in Boston.

“What if I just stay at the police precinct?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Why not? I could help Reid with the geological profile- or interview the families. There’s a lot I can do-”

“We already agreed that you’d stay here.”

You scoffed in frustration before trying another tactic.

“You know,” you drawled, using the hand he wasn’t already holding to reach around and grip his arm. “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you state, matter-of-factly. “Just because I’m carrying the baby doesn’t mean I’m the only one that needs to stay safe. It would be equally devastating if something happened to you. You let your hand trail down the length of his arm and over to your belly. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Luke swiped his ID badge to get inside the building before holding the door open for you, you hesitate, waiting for his response. Luke’s lips were parted into a soft grin. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty, but that was really sweet.” He leans forward and pecks your lips lightly.

You roll your eyes and storm into the building.

…

“So I hear we’re going to be lab partners!” Garcia drums her fingers against the round table.

You shrug, “Looks like it.”

“I know you’re bummed to not be in the field, but I’m so excited that you’ll be here.”

Luke’s hand reaches for yours underneath the table. You let your fingers lace together with his before you smile back at Garcia. Maybe being sidelined wouldn’t be all bad. “I’m excited too, Pen,” you tell her.

“Alright guys listen up,” Emily enters the briefing room. “Police need our help in Boston. Two college students have gone missing the past month, and one of the bodies was just found dumped off of I-95. Y/N will be working the case from here, so we’ll be down a body in the field.”

Garcia hits a few buttons on the remote, making a gruesome image project onto the screen in front of the team. She presents a few more details about the case before Emily declares, “Wheels up in 20.”

Luke’s shifting through his go bag at his desk when you approach him from behind. You rest your hand on his back and rub up and down his soft, maroon shirt.

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him. You felt guilty knowing he was going into the field without you.

Luke sighs, turning his body so that he was facing you. His big hands rest on your hips as he holds you out in front of him. “You know I will.”

You nod, and you believed his words, but that didn’t mean you’d be any less worried about him while he was away.

Luke could sense the uneasiness on your face, so he leaned in and kissed your cheek lightly before whispering, “There is nothing that could ever keep me from coming back home to you and our baby, do you hear me?”

Leaning into his touch, you sigh. “Good. Because I meant what I said; I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“We’re going to miss you out there, kid.” Rossi states as he passes your desk.

“Keep me updated,” you respond sadly. He pats you on the shoulder before nodding with a smile.

With a final kiss and promises to call, Luke and the rest of the team load onto the jet to head for Boston.

At first, you stay in the bullpen seated at your desk, running through the casefile. You were the only one in the entire room. By habit, you kept looking up at Luke’s desk. Instead of his warm smile, you’re met by his empty chair. Your eyes linger for a moment before you feel a sharp pain shoot across your stomach, making you wince.

“Woah,” you whisper, your hand falling on your bump. “Was that a kick?” you ask her out loud.

It didn’t take long before the silence became deafening, so after a few minutes, you stand up and waddle down the hallway to Garcia’s leir. You knock at her door before entering.

“Hey,” you say, your hand supporting your sore back. “It’s like, creepy quiet out there, do you mind if I work with you, in here?”

Her face lights up. “Of course!” Immediately, she begins clearing off a space on her desk for you to set up.

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a seat in her spare office chair. You try your best to sit up straight as your insides begin to cramp. Garica turns to see your eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s wrong?” her voice is filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you sigh in relief when the cramp passes. “She’s kicking a lot today.”

Garcia’s face breaks out into a large grin. “Oh! My Goddaughter’s gonna be a spunky one, isn’t she?”

…

As it turned out, there wasn’t much for you to do from the BAU. Garcia worked tirelessly, delving into files and uncovering helpful information for the team. But you weren’t even close to being as tech savvy as her, and besides the casefile you’d already read through four times, you didn’t have many resources to work off of.

Whenever the team would call with questions, you’d listen intently, and try to figure out some way that you could help them. But, by that evening, you were starting to feel pretty useless.

“Why don’t you just head home?” Garcia suggested kindly. “You look tired.”

You were tired. You were tired and hungry and sore from all your baby’s kicking. But you shook your head. “I don’t want to be in the house alone,” you admit to her. “It’s too quiet there without Luke.”

Garcia, of course, understands. “Do you want to take a walk? Just around the building?”

At first, you want to say no. But as you consider her offer, you can’t help but admit that stretching your legs sounded pretty nice, so you agree.

“I think I’m most excited for coffee,” you tell Garcia. The two of you had walked the entire floor of the BAU a couple of times now and were about to head back to her office.

“God, I can’t even imagine going nine months without coffee. I think that would break me,” she admits.

You start to laugh, but you’re quickly interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in your abdomen.

“Woah,” you gasp, grabbing your stomach. You hunch over, desperate to alleviate some of the pain, but it only grows with intensity. It takes your breath away for a moment, and all you can do is focus on the tiled floor beneath you as you attempt to muscle through it.

But then you feel something burst inside of you, followed by a warm liquid rushing down your leg.

With wide, terrified eyes, you look up to Garcia.

“Pen,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice. “I th-think my water just broke...”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Oh my god, okay, okay. You’re okay.”

She hurries to your side and wraps an arm around your waist. You and your shaky legs are grateful for her support. She guides you to a chair stationed in the hallway, where she helps you sit.

The panic really starts to set in once your eyes land on your dampened pants.

“No,” you start to shake your head rapidly. “Pen, no I can’t- it’s too early-”

You’re amazed by how calm Garcia remains. “It’s okay,” she tells you. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and everything’s gonna be fine.”

But you keep shaking your head. “No, she’s early. She’s too early- I need Luke, please- I can’t do this.”

“I’m gonna call Luke right now, everything’s going to be okay.”

Garcia pulls out her phone and dials your husband. She frowns when it goes to voicemail after a few rings.

By now, there’s a steady influx of tears spilling down your cheeks. You ask softly, “Why isn’t he answering?”

“Let me try Emily.”

You sigh a breath of relief when you hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Emily-” Garcia gasps. “Where’s Luke?”

You overhear her, “He’s interrogating the Unsub- why? What’s the matter?”

“Y/N’s in labor, we need him.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says. There’s a brief pause before she tells Garcia, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pen-” you groan, another contraction washing over you. You hunch over in the chair and grab at the air, desperate for something to clamp down on.

She quickly extends her hand, letting you squeeze it tightly.

“Garcia?” you hear Luke’s sweet voice over the line. You want to call out for him, but you can’t form the words.

“Luke!” she exclaims, her concerned eyes never leaving you. “Luke, Y/N’s in labor- her water just broke. You have to come home.”

You gasp and bite down on your lip as the pain suddenly intensifies.

“Breathe,” she instructs you calmly. “Just breathe with me-”

“What?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice. “But- she’s only seven months pregnant- that's too early-”

The contraction passes, leaving you breathless, but you hold your hand out. Garcia picks up on your gesture and hands you the phone.

“Luke-” you’re on the verge of bursting into terrified tears. “I’m so scared.”

“Baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You can hear the worry in his voice as he soothes you. “I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna take the jet, I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do this-”

“No, baby- of course you can, you’re so strong. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Please hurry,” you whimper.

“I will, I love you.”

You pass the phone to Garcia reluctantly. You wished you could stay on the line with him. Something about hearing his voice made you feel calmer.

You’re shaky and weak, but Garcia helps you all the way into the elevator and down into the parking garage. You hesitate before climbing into the front seat of her car.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand gently placed on your elbow.

“I don’t want to get your seat all gross-”

You’re referring to the amniotic sac fluid currently soaking your pants.

“Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief. “If we don’t hurry you’re going to be giving birth in my car, so I think I’ll take my chances with the water.”

You nod quickly and climb into the front seat. While Garcia hurries around to the front, you clutch onto your baby bump tightly, wondering why the hell she was coming so early.

Garcia winds through traffic hurriedly, every so often she glances in your direction, trying to make sure you’re okay. “I guess they weren’t kicks,” you groan, as another contraction washes over you. You grip the door handle until your knuckles turn white and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Keep breathing,” Garcia soothes. She lets you take her hand across the console and doesn’t even wince when you squish it tightly in yours.

“I’m really scared, Penelope,” you whimper quietly, falling back against the seat when the contraction passes.

“I know,” Garcia clicks her tongue empathetically.

“Nothing’s ready. Not her room- we haven’t even set up her crib yet I’m not ready. I was supposed to have another 6 weeks to get ready-”

But Penelope is shaking her head. “You, right now, as you are, are going to be a great mother, okay? You’re ready.”

She sounded so sure, so confident in you- maybe she was right.

…

“Where is he?”

You’re sweating, exposed in a delivery room, and in more pain than you ever have been in your entire life.

Garcia’s stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and talking you through the pain. You’d been at the hospital about two hours now.

Currently, Garcia was dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth. Your contractions were about 6 minutes apart. According to the doctor, you’d have to start pushing soon.

“I can’t do this without him. He should be here..”

“He’ll be here.”

You look up at her, exhausted and with fear in your eyes.

Garcia squeezes your shoulder. “And if he’s not here, then we’ll do this together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

She nods. “I promise.”

…

Luke’s sprinting through the maze of a hospital trying desperately to find the delivery room number that Garcia texted him. He’s already been redirected by a couple of nurses, but every floor looked the same.

The door number came into sight when he turned the corner. He doesn’t hesitate before running the final distance between the two of you.

Luke swings the door open, only able to exhale when his eyes finally land on you.

You’re sitting up in your bed, hair tied up messily and cheeks flushed.

As soon as you see him, he sees your shoulder slump, like you’ve exhaled a breath of relief.

“Luke-”

His name is barely audible, but it’s enough.

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, crossing the room in just two, large strides.

Garcia’s on the opposite side of your bed, clutching your hand tightly. After pressing his lips against your sweaty forehead, he looks at her and mouths, ‘thank you’.

She nods, “Of course, it was nothing.” She says it casually, like she didn’t just spend the last three hours comforting you through labor, doing his job for him, making sure you were safe.

It was everything.

Minutes after Luke arrives, the doctor tells you it’s time to push.

You flash Luke a scared glance, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, his lips feel comforting. “You can do this.”

You sigh, because like you said, being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

...

When her soft cries fill the air, you’re finally able to breathe again. You collapse back against your pillow, exhausted and sweaty.

Luke’s still cupping your hand in his, his much larger fingers wrapping themselves around your skin. He’s looking towards the doctor, who’s holding in his arms, your baby girl.

“Is she okay?” you ask weakly.

Luke nods. “She’s small, but she’s so beautiful.”

Because she’s premature, you’re not able to hold her right away. Instead, she’s bundled up and taken to the NICU.

“No-” you protest pathetically. “I want her with me-”

“I know,” Luke whispers. “But they gotta keep her warm. They’re gonna put her in an isolette. They said we can visit as soon as you’re ready.”

Without hesitating, you attempt to sit up in bed. “I’m ready,” you declare weakly.

Luke’s hand pushes against your shoulder lightly in protest. “No, baby. You need rest-”

You found yourself growing angrier and angrier. You wanted to see your baby- wanted to hold her. But your body betrays you. You’re just so exhausted that you can’t even fight against him. Instead, you fall back against the pillow and huff out a choppy, frustrated sob.

“I know,” he says. He sits on the edge of your bed and reaches his hand out to brush some of the loose strands of hair away from your face. He leans forward and presses his lips to your sweaty forehead. “You did so good.” He whispers against your skin. “So, so good.”

You close your eyes against his touch, letting it wash over you.

“How small is she?” you ask when he finally breaks away.

Luke’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he didn't answer immediately. After a moment he sighs. “She’s small.”

“She’s gonna be okay though, right?” You look to Luke for all the answers. And he wants to give them to you. He wants to give everything to you.

He nods. “She’s gonna be okay. She’s a fighter, like her mom.”

…

Your daughter has to stay in the NICU for two, agonizingly long weeks. After a couple of days, you start to get some energy back. But seeing her in that box, and not being able to hold your baby when you wanted was taking its toll emotionally.

You and Luke stayed at the hospital for the entirety of the two weeks, never wanting to leave her alone.

It was painful and hard and exhausting, but together, it almost seemed bearable.

The team visited in shifts. Garcia arrived first with a giant bundle of pink balloons. Spencer and JJ brought magazines and books to keep you busy. Tara has a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Matt and Kristy brought you clothes to change into. Rossi and Emily brought various dishes for the two of you to eat. By the end of your two weeks, you felt incredibly grateful for your BAU family.

On the day that you and Luke were finally given the okay to take your daughter home, you found your nerves inching their way back into the forefront of your mind. It was an absolute relief that your premature daughter turned out to be healthy and safe and as beautiful as ever. But you thought about the unfinished room at home and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Where are we gonna put her?” you asked, imagining the crib you’d bought and never put together.

“I’ll put it together when we get home,” Luke assures you. “Can’t be that hard.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. Not when you had this miracle of a baby in your arms.

When Luke pulled the car into the driveway of your house, you both stared at your home, hesitating before getting out of the car, as if it was just now hitting you how much everything was about to change.

Luke gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nod, everything was changing for the better. “Ready.”

You keep her cradled to your chest as you make your way through your home. The first order of business for Luke was to put together the crib, so your daughter would at least have a place to sleep.

You’d worry about the rest later.

But when you climb the stairs, you’re startled to see Garcia standing in your hallway, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Pen, hi,” you smile. You’d given her a key to take care of Roxy and water your plants while you were away at the hospital, you assume that was what she was here for.

“Hi,” she smiles wide. “Oh my goodness, is that my little bundle of joy! Let me see!”

You pass Penelope your daughter, watching adoringly as the two interact.

“Is someone else here?” Luke asks, peering down the hall when he hears voices.

Garcia nods, her signature, ear to ear smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, actually we have a surprise for you guys.” She passes your daughter back to you before turning.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Luke asks skeptically.

“Oh, just shut up and follow me,” she says. Her heels click as she walks down the hall towards the bedrooms.

When you turn the corner into your daughter's room, you can’t help but let out a loud gasp. Your jaw practically falls to the floor, surprised to see the entire team piled inside.

Two walls of the room were painted a beautiful shade of pink, while the other two were a soft gray. There were various decoratives hanging on the walls, tying everything together perfectly. There were also numerous shelves filled with an assortment of stuffed animals, toys, and books. And in the corner stood the hardwood crib that Luke and you had bought, completely put together and accented with a beautiful mobile hanging above it.

“Oh my god,” Luke gawks, clearly just as surprised as you.

“You guys-” you start, but you before you can finish your sentence you start to cry. “You guys did all this?”

The smiling faces of the rest of your team answer your question.

“How?” Is all you can manage to say.

“Well, I picked out the colors and the decor,” Garcia says, like it’s obvious. “Emily and Tara both helped paint.”

“And I've put my fair share of cribs together,” Matt chuckles, patting the edge of the darkwood. “It took no time at all.”

“JJ and Spencer got together the books and the stuffed animals,” Garcia motions towards the corner of toys.

“And I supervised,” Rossi smirked, making everyone laugh.

“Guys, this is too much.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief before exhaling and saying sincerely, “thank you.”

You nod in agreement. “This is… amazing. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of. I love it. She’s gonna love it,” you motion towards your now sleeping baby, mouth open and drooling on your chest.

The team knows how exhausted you and Luke are from being at the hospital for the past two weeks, so they don’t stay long. Slowly, they begin filing out of your house, offering both you and the new BAU baby with hugs and kisses goodbye.

Garcia’s the last to leave as she gathers her coat from your entryway chair.

“Pen, I know this was your idea,” you mumble. “You didn’t have to do all this. Thank you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she hugs you gently. When she pulls away, she smirks, “If you thought I was going to let my Goddaughter come home to an unfinished room, you are underestimating how much I am going to spoil her.”

With that, she's out the door, leaving you and Luke and your newborn baby alone in the house for the first time as a family of three. Luke wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side securely. You sigh, all of your anxiety and fears melting away. Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.

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dead-ofthe-knight · 3 years

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Explanation of batman from what I've gathered from one(1) movie and the fandom. Possible spoilers/wrong things here! Feel free to tell me anything I got wrong!

I only watched under the red hood, which is a jason todd centric movie that takes place afrer his 'death'. but lets start from the beggining.

So, Batman, Bruce Wayne (Wain? Wayne??idk) is a superhero vigilante that fights crime during the night, and he has no parents. He's filthy rich for no reason that I'm aware of. He runs a company??? Idk much about that it aint important.

Bruce adopts this kid named Dick, presumably short for Richard, and Idk his last name?? idk. He's the boy wonder the golden child the first robin all that good shit, then he gets too old and becomes like nightwing or smth. He also has like a team at some point and hes also the robin thats in teen titans/teen titans go

Bruce then adopts a second kid. This kid is like poor and hes from the crime place, his name is Jason Dean- oh no sorry, Jason Todd. Anyways Jason is the second robin, blah blah hes a reckless lad, blah blah hes a weird child, blah blah oh no he exploded-

Bruce adopts another kid! Kinda. That wasnt his plan?? but anyways, this kid is named Tim... uhh I forgot his last name. Drake? Tim Drake? ok thst sounds right lets go. Timmie here finds out that Bruce is batman and decides... "Im gonna blackmail him!" so he does, becomes robin, gets his parents killed- oh god Jasons alive wtf.

So Jason came back to life and he's angry. This is where under the red hood takes place but Tim Drake is not in this movie even though he should be the current robin?? Ok anyways, Jason is angry. He dismantles some crime like a boss but kills people while hes doing that and batmans like no stop, so naturally, Jason doeant. Stuff happens, Jason threatens to kill Joker?? Batman shoots a bat-knife at his gun/neck (its different in different sources, in the movie its the gun) and Jasons like "AAAGH" and I forgot what comes next.

Anyways, after that Batman at some point got a lady pregnant! She brings the resulting child to batman like "hey :)". Turns out this kid, Damian(Damien?) is an asassin thing which is... weird. But we dont need to talk about DCs questionable motives rn. Damian is a whiny ass toddler-like puberty filled teenager, and Batmans like "SWEET I can make that into a soldier!" so he does.

Sidenotes:

•Jasons ressurection was described in two different ways, in one he dug himsrlf out of his grave after just,,,, waking up? In the other he gets yeeted into the green goo lake(lazarus pit) and gets revived by that one guy whos name is definitely middle eastern that I cant remember rn.

•Dick is overly sexualised apparently, and people talk about his butt a lot?

•Tim went to dinner with a guy once!

•Tim also had a girlfriend up until now apparently?

•Tim is also a caffeine addict????

•Dick being hot is a really common thing to point out in fanfics and I cant disagree

•I still have no idea who tf the Joker is but he crowbarred Jason to a pulp and then left him to explode in some place in under the red hood and possibly in the other sources where Jason dies as well

•Batman doesnt like guns because his kom and dad were shot

•He also hates murder

•Alfred is very old by now, considering he was old when Bruce wad a kid, and now Bruce is in shis 40s to 50s?? and Alfred has not died yet???? of old age???? He should! But im glad he hasnt

•Theres a mute lady whos not mute anymore apparently

•Theres also this guy who spreads fear gas thing,, uhh scarecrow?? idk

•Theres this guy called Roy Harper? And he wields a bow and arrow? and people think thst him and Jason should kiss

•Dick got married to starfire at some point but in a later installment Jason has sex with her?

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #alfred hitchcock #tim drake #damian wayne

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

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Posadh Eagraithe

This was one of the most popular oneshots of my Pride series so I hope you enjoy it :)

Ao3 Link

Summary- Din's Council want him to get married. Except Din is aromantic and he's not interested. Enter Boba Fett.

Din sighs as he settles himself in the council chambers. The throne is surprisingly comfortable, which he appreciates when the meetings drag on. The meeting today is about an offer they’ve received from the New Republic- namely, whether or not Mandalore as a whole will join them. He knows that they joined the Old Republic when the dar’manda New Mandalorians were in charge, but he doesn’t personally think it would be a good idea for the new Mandalore they are building. He serves his people though, and it will be their decision.

The Clan and House alor’e file into the room and take their designated places. Din had learned the hard way that seating had to be assigned carefully after the alor’e of Clan Onyo and Rau had started a fist fight with each other. Twice. In ten minutes.

Din straightens and waits for everyone to take their seats. The Armourer is at his right and he bows his head slightly. He may be Mand’alor but she is an Armourer. More importantly, she is the leader of his tribe. “Su cuy. I have given you a week to speak with your aliit about the New Republics offer. Today, we will decide what to do based on their answers. Alor be Skirata. What have you decided?” Din says, wasting no time. “Clan Skirata votes to not join them.” Kal Skirata says. Din nods and moves on to the next clan.

It appears his people share Din’s opinions. They’re overwhelmingly in favour of staying out of the New Republic. “Alright, we’re not joining the New Republic. What do you propose we do about them?”Ketsu Onyo asks and Din sighs again. He likes Ketsu but she has a knack for asking questions he doesn’t have an answer for. “I’m not sure yet, but we definitely shouldn’t slam the door in their faces. I’m open to ideas.” He replies anyways. “Like you said, Mand’alor, we should keep our options open. How about an alliance? As narudar, until the Empire is completely rooted out. Or for things like hyperspace lanes or goods we don’t already have access too.” Sabine Wren suggests. Din definitely likes Sabine. She’s whipsmart and always has good ideas that are actually relevant to the conversation. Unlike some people.

“The Republic is worth nothing to us! We have allies already- the Tattooinian lanes are open to us, Sorgan, Nevarro and Stewjon supply us with food and we can take care of the Empire ourselves.” Bo-Katan snaps. There it is. “Yes, we do, However, the New Republic is currently the largest political alliance in the galaxy. We have our own political alliance but it’s easier if they aren’t our enemies. There’s no point in making them turn against us, when they don’t generally affect us.” Din says patiently. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t started his own fistfight with Bo-Katan Kryze. He admires his self-restraint sometimes.

A gleam enters Bo-Katan’s eyes and Din pales beneath his helmet. She’s stopped trying to challenge him physically for the throne but he knows its only because the rest of the Mando’ade have sworn to him. “Well, how will the Republic trust us? Our Council isn’t elected and we technically live under an oligarchy. The Republic practices democracy and as far as they’re concerned, you’re ruling alone without any other Mando’ade having the same social and political power that you do.” She says smugly. Oh no.

The only person with the same status as the Mand’alor is the Rid’alor. Din is aromantic. He has never planned on finding a riddur, maybe just finding someone who would raise ade with him, but without a romantic relationship. If Bo-Katan suggests herself as rid’alor, then dignified king or not, Din will throw himself out the window.

Fenn Rau picks up on the implications too and traditional bastard that he is, decides it’s a great idea. Sabine and Retsu seem sympathetic but they’re outvoted. “Alor’e, I understand that we must appear balanced to the Republic but I am sol’karta. I have no need for a riddur.” Din says, a final objection. That softens a few alor’e but Bo-Katan remains unremoved. “You’ve got a week to pick someone, Djarin. Then the Council will choose. They have to be Mando’ade- we’re trying to show them we’re united.” She says, voice hard. Din ignores the technical disrespect and finally just agrees. If he can pick, maybe he can ask another sol’karta Mandalorian.

Suddenly he gets an idea and grins. He has the perfect person in mind.

Boba yawns behind his helmet as court finishes up. Ruling Tattooine is exhausting. His comm buzzes and he discreetly checks it. It’s Din so he motions Fennec to take the throne for a few minutes and leaves to answer it. “Hey Din. How’s ruling Manda’yaim going?” He asks. Din also seems exhausted. “Meh. How’s Tattooine?” Din replies in turn. “Same old. What’s the comm for?” Din and him chat often but this wasn’t expected. “You’re aromantic, right? Same as me.” Din asks and Boba blinks, taken aback. First of all, he didn’t know Din was aromantic and second of all, why ask?

“Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Boba says, genuinely curious. The smile spreading across Din’s uncovered face is downright wicked. “The Council, more specifically Kryze, want me to marry another Mandalorian to show a united front to the Republic. Pretty sure that Kryze is gunning for Rid’Alor if she can’t get Mand’alor. I’ve got a week to pick someone or else the Council chooses.” Din says, the smile turning slightly maniacal. “And you thought of me?” Boba double checks.

“Yep. You don’t have to agree but I thought it over. They cant disagree on the basis you’re not Mandalorian, because you are and the Republic knows that. You’re also a fellow king/ruler so it strengthens our alliances. Your buir and ba’buir were both Mand’alor at some point so it shows that I have the support of my predecessors allit. You’re also aro so I don’t have to worry about my spouse wanting a romantic relationship. We’re already good friends so it won’t change much and my son loves you. We actually like each other so its not an unhappy arranged marriage.” Din hesitates in his list before he quickly adds his next pro.

“If we want to add sex into it, I think you’re hot and I wouldn’t mind. That part depends on your opinion though. And possibly the best part- Bo-Katan is going to have a heart attack and Han Solo will have to pretend he doesn’t hate you at diplomatic functions because the Republic doesn’t want to make Mandalore mad.” He finishes. Boba’s surprise has turned to genuine mirth. Din has clearly thought this out, and it makes sense. Boba isn’t exactly averse to sleeping with Din either- he can admit that the beroya is very attractive. "I'll set my course for Manda'yaim then. See you soon, cyare.”

Din is completely right. Kryze looks like she's just eaten several lemons at their riddurok and her face lands itself a spot in Boba's cherished memories. Din is also very experienced when it comes to the bedroom and Boba enjoys himself thoroughly. The best part to their marriage, however, is at the Republic's ball to celebrate their new alliance with Mandalore.

Han Solo does a doubletake when he sees Boba and he spits out his drink. Leia Organa comes over to talk to Din and Solo looks like he’s barely restraining himself from shooting Boba in front of half the galaxy’s politicians. Boba makes sure to be a perfect gentleman, the very picture of a Rid’Alor and Solo’s veins nearly explode.

All in all, he thinks he likes this friends-with-benefits things. The benefits just happen to include pissing off Han Solo, pissing off Bo-Katan Kryze and most importantly, his and Din’s respective Court’s will never nag them about spouses again. Manda, Din is a genius. Even if marrying him means Boba occasionally has to coax a toddler off the ceiling.

#aromantic din djarin #aromantic boba fett #bobadin #the mandalorian #anti bo katan kryze #sort of #din definitely doesn't like her

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

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A Date with an Angel // Part One // Kakuzu and Deidara

((Note: This is a new little mini-series I’m working on at the request of an Anon, about all of tbe guy’s going on a date with Konan. I was just going to put everyone’s together in one post but it’d be way too long, so each post will feature at least two of the guys.))

“So what’s this meeting about, Leader? And where is Konan?” It’s Kisame who asks the question, but everyone is curious about the answer. It was rare for Nagato to get them all out of bed so late at night for a meeting; they all assumed something catastrophic must have happened. As if reading their minds, Nagato clears his throat and says, reassuringly, “There is nothing wrong. I’ve called you here to discuss Konan. I’m sure you’ve all been observant enough to notice how Konan has been acting differently as of late?” All of the boys bow their heads in embarrassment; in truth, none of them have noticed anything “off” at all about the pretty blue-haired lady. When Nagato first informed his group of for-hire mercenaries and bodyguards that he was bringing his old friend into the house that they all shared, none of them had been very enthusiastic, to say the least. “A woman means we can’t walk around naked anymore!” “She’ll probably nag us to pick up and keep the house clean!” “That means no more dirty jokes, no nudie mags, no —“ But Nagato wasn’t hearing it. He moved Konan in, giving her his own bedroom (which was the nicest in the house AND the only one with its own connected bathroom) and told her to make herself at home. Which she did ... and making herself at home wasn’t ALL she did. She managed to turn the old house into a home, a home that she cleaned, a home that she cooked meals for everyone in, a place (and a face) that the others looked forward to seeing after coming home from a long (and often brutal) day. She was always there when somebody needed stitching up, or a hot meal, or just somebody to talk to. But now ... “She’s been feeling depressed as of late.” Then Nagato tells them something they didn’t know; the reason he asked her to live with them in the first place was because he didn’t want her to be alone, after the sudden death of her boyfriend (and Nagato’s best friend) Yahiko. It’s been almost a full year since his passing, but seeing as how the pain is still fresh in her mind, the upcoming “anniversary” of his demise has left her feeling very down. “So here’s what I want you all to do, every day this week, I want one of you to take Konan out of this house, to somewhere that she’ll enjoy herself.” “You mean like a date?” Nagato shakes his head, “She might not be receptive to that word. Instead frame it as an outing between two friends. The point being, take her away from here and make her happy. She deserves at least that much from us, for all that she does for us. Agreed?” Everyone agrees, and then Nagato provides a hat and writes everyone’s name on a slip of paper, to determine the order in which they’ll be asking Konan out. First up?

Kakuzu

Nagato drew Kakuzu’s name out first, which the nonagenarian wasn’t quite happy about. Kakuzu is the oldest member of Nagato’s group, and the smartest with money, which is why he’s been made the group treasurer. Any possible expenses for jobs taken have to be run through and approved by Kakuzu, and he’s known to be very frugal and careful with the group’s fund. While he likes Konan and appreciates all she does for the group, he has never been on a “date” in his life .. and certainly didn’t intend to start now. Nevertheless, when he approaches her and asks her to spend the day with him, she seems very surprised, but receptive. As expected, this man does not intend to do anything with Konan that will put him under any kind of financial strain. Free is the way to be, and you can bet that Kakuzu will already have a list of places or events in his head that don’t cost a penny to attend. For their date, he decides to take the lovely lady to a classical music concert in the park. The weather is beautiful and the park isn’t that far from the “base”, so they walk there. Konan chatters away happily the whole time, which Kakuzu more or less tunes out. He’d rather be back at home reading a book. But once they get to the park, and they spread out the blanket that Konan’s brought and sit, things change. The music is really beautiful, but not more so than Konan’s dreamy face, as she listens and sways along to the peaceful melodies. She’s also packed them a lunch, which Kakuzu nibbles at and appreciates (and not for the first time) how good of a cook she is. One song is so gorgeous that Konan can’t keep still, and she gets to her feet and holds out her hand, asking Kakuzu to dance with her. For the first time in years, he blushes. To be asked to dance by such a pretty young woman ... he stands, and the two move carefully around their little area. Seeing them dance awakens the desire in others, and pretty soon everyone is stepping around to the music. He will, maybe for the first time in his life, feel a bit insecure. He and Konan are only friends, but ... he sees the way everyone is looking at them. He can read their thoughts almost as if they’re being spoken aloud: What’s a pretty young girl doing with an old man like that? At some point in the afternoon, Kakuzu spots a souvenir stand and, seeing as the little trinkets aren’t too expensive, goes to pick one out for Konan. As he stands there, he can overhear a younger man walk up to Konan, shamelessly hitting on her, in fact telling her to “ditch grandpa over there and come back to my place for a good time, sweet-cheeks.” Kakuzu watches as the guy puts a hand on Konan’s arm, and he’s about to go and defend her when Konan takes the guys hand, pulls, and flips him clear over her shoulder and damn near across the park ((stunning the onlookers, and, especially, Kakuzu)). Kakuzu quickly turns back around and takes his souvenir (which is a keychain with a tiny glittery pink penguin on it) up to the table to buy. Konan comes up as he’s pulling out his wallet, and, leaning up, gently kisses his cheek, making him blush once again. Walking back home in the twilight, it’s much colder outside than when they first arrived, and Kakuzu takes off his jacket and drapes it over Konan’s shoulders, which provides her with wonderful warmth. She holds on to his arm all the way home, telling him what a nice time she had with him. They get back to base and Konan spends the entire night gushing to everyone else about their time, how fun it was, how great of a dancer Kakuzu is. Kakuzu tries to act gruff and nonchalant about this but inside, he’s beaming. In the days that follow, he’ll stop and smile every time he sees Konan’s keys hanging up, with the little glittery pink penguin dangling off the ring.

Deidara

Deidara is the second name drawn, and he’s happy about this. He’s the youngest of the group at 19, with long blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a flair for all things “artistic”. He has no less than 10 piercings in each ear, and a self-designed tattoo on his chest. He’s often referred to by the others as being smart, but “really immature“, to which he disagrees. The problem with Deidara is that he has a mind that speeds ahead faster than the average person can deal with, and he often acts on impulse or feeling rather than logical thought. Still, he’s a valuable, strategic member of Nagato’s group ... even if he can be annoying at times. When not working, he’s the type who likes to have a fun time, no matter who he’s with; and Konan has been lots of fun to hang out with in the past. Although ... as far as he can recall, the two of them have never exoerienced a one-on-one outing with each other. Luck is on his side; he sees that there’s a carnival in town and he immediately asks Konan to go with him. She tells him that she has no money and he tells her not to worry about it, HE has money, just go with him because he hates doing fun things like that alone. She asks him if he means go with, on a date, and he gets flustered because Nagato had specifically mandated that they don’t let Konan know what all of this is. BUT, the other hand, he’s never been on a “date” in his life so, why not? “Yeah, hm. Me and you, pretty lady. What do you say?” She ends up saying yes, and the two set out for an afternoon of fun. Konan learns that Deidara is a competitive spirit, and he finds joy in playing the games. He manages to make a giant balloon explode in one game, and in turn wins Konan a huge stuffed giraffe that she needs both arms to carry. He buys her an abundance of fare sweets, such as cotton candy and funnel cakes, and then come the rides. Tilt a whirl, the go-carts, and the Fun House has them both shrieking near-hysterical laughter in the Hall Of Mirrors. Towards early evening, the fair grounds evoke a different atmosphere, as everything blooms into colorful lights. The Ferris wheel looks particularly enchanting, with its pink and blue globe-lights, and Deidara asks Konan if she wants to get on. But she’s a bit apprehensive about this, as heights aren’t really her thing. But Deidara’s eagerness and the beauty of the contraption appeal to her, and she finds herself (along with her giraffe) getting into one of the swinging cars with the excited blonde. They move higher and higher up into the sky, as the cars below them are filled with people, and although Konan is putting on. a brave face, a little jolt makes her jump. “Are you scared?” She gives him a shaky laugh. “N-no. Just startled.” “You’re sure? Because I can ask the guy to let us back off.” But again she shakes her head. once the last customers are loaded, the Ferris wheel starts up and Konan immediately moves closer to Deidara, grasping his arm. She’s shaking, but rather than point this out to her, Deidara begins talking to her, calmly, quietly. Going over all the fun things they did that day, and how much he appreciates her coming with him. Eventually Konan’s fears melt away and she’s able to fully open her eyes and take in the glorious night sky. Towards the end of the ride, their car is stopped at the very top as the people below them get off, and Konan takes the opportunity to move even closer and gently kiss Deidara’s cheek. He blushes fiercely, asking, “What was that for?” and she replies “I was feeling down earlier today. You asked me to come here with you and you made my whole day brighter. So thank you.” Her words give *him* a bright, warm feeling in his chest; one that stays with him as they get off the Ferris wheel, as they go home, and when he takes her to her room door. She’s holding her stuffed giraffe in her arms, and she’s chattering about where she’s going to put it, but Deidara is barely listening; all he can focus on is her soft-looking lips. This woman is his friend, and ONLY a friend, but — “Um, Konan?” “Yes” “Don’t laugh but, um, t-tonight was my

first date, with a girl. And I was wondering if — I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I was wondering if maybe — maybe I could —“ But Konan interrupts him with a feather-touch of a kiss to the lips. Deidara’s cheeks flush and he mumbles a “Thank you” before stumbling down the hall to his own room. The smile on his face follows him into his dreams.

#the akatsuki #first date #a date with an angel #konan akatsuki #deidara #kakuzu #konadei #kakukona #naruto

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sevsnapeposts · 3 years

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Snapetober Day 5: Apple orchard.

hello, this one was a bit hard t imagine, but it was oh so fun to write. i love interactions between severus and the other professors. please, feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if yoou'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 5 - Apple orchard.

Hogwarts was a college of the highest prestige, and as such it had a reputation to uphold. One could doubt its safety, the responsibility professors had in handing out certain punishments to students, and even the expertise of said professors themselves (people pointed to Remus Lupin, although honestly, Lockhart was the blackest sheep ever), but there was something that could never be reproached: The quality of the food.

From mashed potatoes to the most elaborate cake to all kinds of drinks, every meal at Hogwarts was a pleasure. Elves cooked everything to perfection, and if it weren't for a certain professor, everyone thoroughly enjoyed the cooking. Much of it was due to the quality of the products, all being the best of the best, natural and fresh. The elves gathered the very first harvest at the end of the summer holidays, leading to the Great Banquet, the best dinner of the year in the opinion of the vast majority.

And speaking of it, it was primordial to get things done. This year they would have Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as guests, and Hogwarts couldn’t disappoint.

Somewhere in the castle, Dumbledore had an idea.

"I seem unable to understand why we had to come".

Severus hated many things: teenagers, the smell of wet dog, physical contact, Potter, Potter's godfather, Potter's father, and lately Lucius for nagging him about going to see the Quidditch World Cup. But if there was one thing Severus hated more than all those things put together, it was the sun. Especially the summer sun. He had nothing against the nice hot, light-filled days of that time of year, as long as he could be tucked underground, in the sweet, cold shade, surrounded by water and silence and not a drop of sunlight.

Unfortunately for him, the poor man was walking along with all the other Heads of House, and Dumbledore of course, under the tireless and exhausting gaze of the major star. They were on their way to an apple orchard, the one that supplied Hogwarts and where the elves would appear in a few hours. It had occurred to Dumbledore that it would be a fun outing for the five of them, and Severus couldn't have disagreed more, but everyone else was largely ignoring him, determined to have some fun.

In any case, Severus felt his face hot, certain that his pale skin was quite flushed, which bothered him even more. He looked at his companions, for a second envying how fresh they all looked: Pomona was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, while Filius was wearing some sort of scout outfit that gave him an almost, almost , funny look; Minerva, on the other side, was wearing a dress that reached below the knee, white with small flowers of different colors that made her look much younger; even Dumbledore had changed his usual outfits that (in the young professor's eyes) looked like pajamas to a pair of shorts from which his slender legs peeked out, the long beard braided to keep it out of the way. The only one who had steadfastly refused to change was Severus, who wore his capes and capes of clothing black as the abyss, and thanks to which he was slowly dying of heat. Not even the cooling spell he had cast on himself could do much more than keep him from perspiring.

But he didn't care. He had a reputation to uphold, for fuck's sake.

“Because it's fun!”, Dumbledore exclaimed. Severus walked between him and Minerva, as usual, while Pomona and Filius walked a bit ahead, marveling like little children at every damn plant in the field. “Also, I know you love our summer vacation expeditions and activities”.

Severus didn't reply, but he shot him a cold, unamused look, as for the last time they'd been out on ‘summer vacation expeditions and activities’ he was almost eaten by a dragon.

"Come on Severus, chill", Minerva chimed in, pulling a hat from her enchanted purse. It was huge and colorful, clearly not one that she would ever wear herself. The woman looked at him with almost sadistic amusement. “Look what I got you! It should help you cool down a bit”.

"No thanks", said the young man, looking listlessly at the hat. He noticed that it also had a cleat that was attached into a bun at the back.

He didn't even want to imagine the teasing if word got out. If they had already been unbearable about Longbottom's grandmother’s outfit...

"Tsk, you're going to get a heatstroke at this rate, and neither of us are going to carry you", the professor reproached him, handing the hat to Dumbledore for examination. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I have that much luck”.

With another annoyed snort, the group decided to ignore the miserable man again, opting instead to go ahead with the other two teachers. Severus noticed that Dumbledore had put on the hat he was wearing himself and barely had the strength to not snort.

A short time later they reached the top of the hill, where the orchard was. The orchard was somewhat visited, so the landowner had hired some workers to properly care for the people coming and going. At the moment, two young witches were waiting for them standing there, with shorts and shirts tied mid-torso, and thin, light-toned capes tangled around their shoulders and falling to the ground.

Severus was tempted to petrify one of them and change clothes.

The girls welcomed them, very animated, and provided a basket to each one, as well as a tablecloth so that they could sit and watch the sunset if they wanted to. Dumbledore thanked them kindly, and Severus finally put on Minerva's hat when he heard one of the witches comment that smoke was coming out of his head. Minerva laughed at him.

"Shut up".

What had started out as a simple and boring day picking apples ended up being a visceral competition to see who put more fruits in their respective basket after Dumbledore bet 5 galleons that he would be the one with the most. Severus had been in the middle of all the mess, watching as Filius sneakily enchanted apples to fly from Minerva's basket into his own while Dumbledore helped him by distracting the Transfiguration teacher; how Pomona ‘accidentally’ tripped over the headmaster's basket, and in the process of helping him pick them up she took a load of them with her; how Minerva would transform twigs into fake apples to add to her collection.

He hadn't participated in their affairs, of course, because he thought it was the stupidest thing in the world, but he didn't hesitate to gossip to others, starting an argument that ended in apples flying through the air and more than one trampled basket.

Now it was dusk, the ravaging sun being only a bright half disk out on the horizon, slowly fading away. The five teachers had already cleaned up their mess by then, and were sitting on the red and white checkered tablecloth, relaxing after their pitched battle. The only basket that was left intact and capable of carrying apples was Severus', so this had been placed in the center of the group so that anyone could reach out and grab one of the fruits. No one was surprised that Severus was the only one who didn't want to eat one, despite Minerva's scolding look.

But still, the man had already overcome his annoyance, although he wasn’t going to show it out of pure pride. He told himself it was because the damn heat was finally subsiding, which meant he was already able to take off the stupid hat; it had nothing to do with how hilarious he thought the professors' quarrel was, having so much fun with it that he often didn't even realize he was smiling, and that by the end of the day he didn't even remember that he was hot.

"What are we going to do? There are so many! I think if I eat one more I might as well explode”, Pomona complained, who by then had already eaten at least 5 apples. No one could blame her, as they were very sweet, firm without being too harsh, and so juicy that one ran the risk of getting both chin and chest dirty.

How Dumbledore didn’t get his beard dirty, nobody knew.

"The elves will take them to the castle when they come to collect the others. For now, we can leave them with those young ladies”, Dumbledore replied, biting his apple as he gazed at the horizon. Severus noticed how he shot him a sideways glance and braced himself for the worst. “By the way, Severus, I think you... caught the eye of one of them. The redhead, Lauren. Maybe you should go talk to her”.

Severus grimaced, trying to ignore the howl whistles the other teachers were making, as well as Minerva's elbow, which had dug into hir ribs as the woman taunted him.

He already had enough with being one person's crush.

"I think it’d be a better idea if you paid me the galleons you owe me", he replied, sitting upright. The other adults exchanged glances before making heated comments.

"And why would we give you something?".

"I wasn't serious about the bet...".

"You weren't even participating!".

"The way I see it", Severus said, raising his voice above the others, sure that he looked much more serious than the rest as he was the only one with enough dignity to still wear wizard clothes and not Muggle rags, "Dumbledore said whoever had the most apples in the basket was the winner, and the only basket I see is mine”.

"That's because you refused to participate!" Minerva growled, arms folded. Her eyes sparkled.

"I refused to cheat. I had fewer apples than you, but since they have to be in the basket and not in the memory… For instance, victory is mine”.

"That doesn't make any sense, Severus!", Pomona cried. The man waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“If all players on a Quidditch team break their brooms over petty arguments during a match, would the opposing team be denied victory when only they are left in the air?”, he argued.

There was a heavy silence whilst the others, again, exchanged glances. And then, between reluctance and curses, his four companions searched their pockets and gave him the agreed galleons. Even Dumbledore looked dumbfounded. Severus didn't comment on it, but everyone noticed that his expression was much more smug than before when he reached out to finally eat an apple.

Minerva wasn’t about to be left with such a bitter loss.

"I bet Lauren would like to see that face on you”.

“Oh bloody hell Minerva, do shut up”.

#snapedom #snapetober #snapetober 2021 #snape community #snape fandom #snape fanfiction #snape fic #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #pomona sprout #filius flitwick

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mckinlily · 3 years

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.match made

Summary: Shiro and his master need to make a dangerous bet to get off of an Outer Rim planet. This would not be the ideal time to scout out new Jedi potentials.

Shiro disagrees.

(thanks @void-tiger for the beta and making sure my Star Wars isn’t complete nonsense!)

“I can do it, Master.”

Kolivan hummed with an almost growl in the back of his throat, no expression crossing his stern face. “It’s risky.”

“It’s podracing,” said Shiro, both confirming and refuting the point. “And it’s not like we have better options.”

Kolivan’s scowl deepened. Shiro was certain he was miserable with his thick fur in the Tatooine heat, but Force forbid the Jedi admit it, let alone take off a few layers.

“Podracing is dangerous.”

“Dangerous is part of being a Jedi.”

“Padawan.”

“Master.”

Kolivan huffed.

“We’re not getting off this planet until we get the part for the hyperdrive,” Shiro pointed out, continually astonished by how the same master who had raised him on the mantra of patience yields focus could be so needlessly stubborn when things didn’t go his way.

“Master, I can do this,” he repeated.

Kolivan exhaled heavily, finally relenting to the fact that the universe wasn’t going to magically whisk them away just because he wished it. His expression didn’t change any, but Shiro had become attuned to his master’s ways and could tell by the slight roll of his shoulders that he was giving in.

“I’ll go place our bets,” he conceded.

Shiro grinned.

***

The thing about podracing was it was entirely unregulated, despite perfunctory rules, and the only real requirement was that it be entertaining. Entertainment fueled the bets after all.

Shiro knew this as he walked around the podracer they’d “borrowed” from a local junk trader as part of the bet (Shiro had never thought that being Jedi included so much sketchy betting with sketchier characters, but needs must). The podracer was in standard barely functional condition, and if Shiro didn’t end up needing to hold some part or other together with the Force by the end of this, he would be very much surprised.

As it was, he was excited.

Jedi probably weren’t supposed to be excited at the prospect of entering a dangerous and by some definitions illegal pod race, but Shiro still struggled to wrestle himself into the part of a proper Jedi at times. Most times, it seemed according to Kolivan and certain members of the Council. But he could at least affect the appearance of a calm, collected Jedi while he looked over his competition. Shiro took note of their craft, the likely strengths and drawbacks, possible weaknesses to take advantage of—and who among them was angry or bitter and willing to play dirty.

A sudden, bright flare in the Force caught his attention, and Shiro looked around, distracted. He hadn’t thought any of his competitors were particularly Force-sensitive, but—

There. For a moment, Shiro thought it was the Toydarian dealer, but then his focus narrowed in on the small boy nearby. The kid was maybe eight or nine—or possibly a very scrawny ten. His dark hair was overlong and fell into his face while he scowled and steadfastly ignored who Shiro strongly suspected was his master. (A child. A child slave, and slavery in general was appalling but there was something particularly despicable about enslaving children.)

No one else seemed remotely sensitive, but the Force had gathered in tangled, turbulent knots around this one child. A child who on the outside appeared to be nothing but sullen and underfed, but in the Force he glowed—

A sharp tug on his training bond told Shiro that Kolivan had noticed his distraction and was not impressed. Kolivan never did appreciate deviations from the mission. An unplanned pit stop in the Outer Rim had only made him grumpier. Shiro sent back a pulse of reassurance and climbed into the cockpit. Focusing, Master. I’ll get us those hyperdrive parts.

***

There was another human in the line up. Keith frowned while he wormed into a more comfortable position in the pod racer. Humans couldn’t compete in podraces: their reflexes were too slow.

Well. Humans who weren’t Keith.

So why did he have the staticky, tingling feeling this one was going to win?

***

The pod race started off with a bang, two pods almost immediately crashing and catching fire, and Shiro was having fun. His podracer was stiff and shaky, but he pushed it to the limit anyway, quickly getting a feel for its hang ups and how to push through them. The challenge of it was thrilling, as was the prickle of wind in his hair, and he quickly pulled to the front of the pack. Most the contestants seemed more concerned with sabotaging their competitors than actually flying, unfortunately.

For them.

Shiro rarely felt as one with the Force as he did when he was flying, and this time was no exception. By the second lap, he had a feel for both the pod and the course and with an extra burst of speed pulled into the lead. With space between him and the sabotaging competitors, he felt free to open the throttle and push the pod to its max, less concerned with beating everyone and more with the delight of going fast.

Except. Shiro had left most his competitors behind. There was one stubborn racer who was pulsing a warning of pride-bitterness-malice into the Force that Shiro kept an eye on. But even closer, nearly on his tail, was the kid from earlier, his presence in the Force more of a wordless fire. And he was keeping up, matching Shiro almost move for move, which was impressive seeing as Shiro was definitely using the Force as a counterbalance to offset his sharp cornering. But the kid refused to fall behind, fueled by either exceptional determination, exceptional stupidity, or possibly both. In other circumstances, Shiro would try slowing down just to see what the kid could do (and make sure the same kid didn’t get himself killed), but he and his master still needed that hyperdrive part and he couldn’t afford to let the rest catch up.

There was a sharp bang! and out of the corner of his eye, Shiro caught sight of sparks flying out of the pod behind him, but he didn’t have time to worry about the kid because the Dug racer was on him and—

“A blaster? Seriously?”

Of all the uncivilized things. Shiro growled under his breath as he dodged the shots. He could block them, but he was pretty sure the bet would be voided if he pulled out his lightsaber and besides he was affronted by the very idea of bringing a blaster to a podrace. This was a sport, not a war zone. Someone could get killed.

Shiro ground the gears, using the slope of a boulder to launch himself up and crash next the Dug, motors nearly tangling and energy arcs spitting angrily. The Dug snarled, likely something uncomplimentary about Shiro’s parentage, and pointed the blaster at Shiro’s face, but Shiro ignored it and instead leaned in more, grabbing hold of the other pod’s main fuel line, and yanked.

The pod and the Dug screamed in equal fury. Shiro threw his sticks forward, pushing the pod into the redline, willing it to get him out of the spiraling hellfire that was quickly consuming the other podracer. Smoke, debris, and heat haze clouded his vision, but Shiro grit his teeth and pushed forward.

The kid was ahead of him now. He’d gotten control of his podracer and used Shiro’s confrontation with the Dug to pull ahead. Which was a smart move, and another day, Shiro would let him have it, but…

“Sorry, kid,” said Shiro, yanking his pod sideways to draw even through a narrow passageway and plucking wires on his consol with one hand. Flying with the other, he bypassed the safeties, pouring unfiltered power into the engines. He pushed the Force down the lines as well, willing the pieces to stay cool while the rotors screamed and the air wavered with white-hot exhaust.

Shiro was flirting with disaster. The last leg of the race was rocky and littered with less successful podracers, and he was brushing supersonic speeds. But there was no one else out here besides him and the kid. Shiro opened up his senses to the world around him and the Force.

Times like this, Shiro almost understood what the masters meant when they said all was one with the Force. Time seemed to slow. He was the desert, the rock and grains of sand, the screaming motors, one small pilot, billions of particles in the air. He existed at the mouth of a canyon. Two miles down, launching over a crevasse. In the middle, calculating multiple trajectories.

The moment is vast. All time is now.

The Force sang in his ears. Shiro streaked over the finish line, the edges of his turbines just starting to turn red and deform and little sparks of electricity flashing dangerously along the leylines. He has his work cut out for him, bringing the pod to a stop without the entire thing turning into a fireball, but on the very edge of his awareness, he noticed the kid also pull across barely a handful of seconds after he did. Damn, but that was impressive. Though Shiro did notice his pod was in even worse shape than Shiro’s was.

Shiro quickly gave the podracer a once over, ensuring it wasn’t in danger of exploding in the near future. As he did, he kept part of his attention on the crowd, making note of Kolivan making his way to collect their bets. Figuring his master had that in hand, Shiro jumped over his cockpit and approached the other podracer.

The kid was covered in dust and soot but overall didn’t seem too worse for wear. He looked up when Shiro approached, and the Force flared up in a defensive wall before settling down into something more cautiously hesitant.

“How did you fly like that?” he demanded, surprising Shiro by speaking first.

“The Force,” said Shiro honestly.

The kid scowled and glared at him like he was being intentionally patronizing—which, yeah, okay, Shiro could see that.

He crouched down so that he was closer to eye level and offered what he hoped was a soothing smile.

“I’m a Jedi,” he explained, voice low because it wasn’t something he wanted the entire arena to know. “We’re trained to use the Force to enhance our reflexes and our connection to the world. Flying is just one part of it.” A pretty frivolous part, really, but Shiro loved it too much to give it up. “I’m more impressed by what you managed, though. That was some pretty impressive flying you pulled off.”

For a moment, the kid almost preened. “I’m the best podracer there is,” he said confidently. “I’m the only human who can do it.” Then, he seemed to remember who he was talking to and his shoulders slumped, “Well, except for…”

“Jedi, remember?” Shiro gently reminded him. “I don’t exactly count as normal.”

The kid peaked up at him through his bangs and almost, almost seemed to smile. But he held back, seemingly uncertain and wary of what that could mean.

Shiro’s heart ached.

“Do you have any family?” he asked, but the kid shook his head.

“No. My dad—” He broke off, shook his head. “He was freeborn. He was. And so was I!” He looked up again, fire in his eyes, daring Shiro to challenge him.

Shiro didn’t blink or break eye contact. “I’m guessing the slavers didn’t care,” he said simply, disgust darkening his voice.

“Yeah,” agreed the kid, too much bitterness and disillusionment in his voice for a kid his age. For anyone, but this was a child, and a brilliant, strong-willed, talented one too, if Shiro’s brief interaction with him was anything to go by.

(It occurred to Shiro that those traits probably were not missed by the boy’s master, and it made his blood burn.)

“Do you know where your master keeps the detonator?”

“What?”

“The detonator for your implant. Does your master keep it on him or somewhere else?”

The kid’s eyes narrowed, sizing Shiro up in a way that should not make Shiro feel as much like a nervous youngling as he did now.

“Yeah, I do,” said the kid. “But it’s in a safe only he can open. It’s keyed to his bio code.”

Shiro smiled in a way that was neither Jedi-worthy nor nice. “I have a lightsaber,” he pointed out, and the kid’s eyes went wide.

And then lit up.

***

“Takashi.”

“Yes, Master?” said Shiro as pleasantly as he could while running full tilt through the crowded market.

“I thought you said you could, and I quote, ‘do this.’”

“In fairness, I did win the podrace,” said Shiro, grabbing Kolivan’s arm and dragging them both behind a stall to avoid blaster fire. “It’s everything else that went sideways.”

“By which you mean breaking into a well known house, destroying every inch of their security, and then stealing valuable hyperdrive parts and a slave.”

“First of all, you can’t steal a person,” snapped Shiro. “And his name is Keith.”

Keith, for his part, was hiding silently in Shiro’s shadow, but the glare he was sending Kolivan spoke volumes.

Kolivan titled his head back and grumbled something in Galra that Shiro had never gotten him to give a translation for, but from context, he figured it meant something like, This padawan will be the death of me.

Which was unfair, really. Drawing the attention of every bounty hunter and mercenary on Tatooine was hardly the most dangerous thing either of them had done by a long shot.

Keith tugged hard on Shiro’s robe and pointed.

“Security droids at nine o’clock,” said Shiro, dumping the hyperdrive parts into Keith’s arms so that he could pull out his lightsaber. Kolivan, whose large frame clearly did not appreciate crouching in the small space, had already leapt into action, his silver-white blade flashing against the backdrop of sand and brown and dust.

“Take these to that ship,” Shiro told Keith, pointing. “We’ll cover you.”

Keith looked ready to be suspicious and stubborn, but then he caught sight of where Shiro was pointing and his eyes went wide. “Is that your ship?”

“Yep,” said Shiro proudly. “Once we get out of here, I can show you how to fly it.”

“Takashi!”

“Yes?” replied Shiro with sing-song pleasantry. “Go on, get out of here,” he added, giving Keith a little push with the Force. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“We will talk,” said Kolivan as Shiro jumped in beside him, expertly deflecting blaster fire back at the perpetrators.

“Yes, Master,” said Shiro, foreseeing a lot of forced meditation in his future but refusing to regret it. He and his master moved like one in battle. Kolivan grabbed a transport with the Force, and Shiro deflected a blast into its cargo, causing an explosion of feathers and shrieking chaos as the livestock escaped.

On an unspoken cue, both he and Kolivan turned tail and bolted for the ship, guarding each other in turn.

“Get us in the air!” ordered Kolivan, as they leaped over the loading ramp into the ship. “And take the youngling with you.”

“On it,” said Shiro, blocking blaster fire and drawing up the ramp. He nudged Keith towards the cockpit, squeezing his shoulder. “Want to see how we get this thing in the air?”

“Focus on the task at hand, padawan!” Kolivan snapped from the engine room.

Shiro rolled his eyes. “I can do both,” he muttered, knowing Kolivan wouldn’t care. They needed to get off planet before the entire population of Tatooine started firing on them.

“Here,” said Shiro, quickly plopping Keith into the copilot seat. “Strap in,” he added, throwing himself into the other seat and beginning to flip switches and override warnings (yeah yeah, broken hyperdrive, they knew that) to get ship live and ready for take off. Engines spluttered, coughed—then purred, and the dashboard lit up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro saw Keith hadn’t strapped in at all, instead staring open-mouthed at the controls and standing on tip-toe to see more out of the view port.

Eh. He’d learn.

Shiro flipped on the intercom. “Ready, Master?” he asked, already setting the launch trajectory.

“Get us out of here, Takashi.”

“You might want to sit down for this,” Shiro added to Keith, intentionally not looking at the kid and pretending he hadn’t noticed the moment of awestruck curiosity. He gripped the sticks and launched them into the air, no less than three ships on his tail, and Keith let out a gasp that a moment later was followed by a flood of sheer delight in the Force.

Shiro grinned, easily maneuvering two of his tails into each other and quickly outstripping the third, before launching into open space.

Over all, he thought things were going very well.

And Kolivan’s grumbled swearing could just deal with it.

#starganes #shiro #keith #vld #the unholy crossover between star wars and voltron #shiro's adoption instinct remains strong and unbeatable #keith continues to be a feral desert child #but this time with the force!#nothing will go wrong i'm sure #mckinlily writes: vld fic

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icypantherwrites · 3 years

Text

IcyPanther's Patreon Exclusive Fic Archive

A collection of all Icy's Patreon exclusive works, which is updated regularly on the Patreon (and just a little showing here of how much is actually over on the Patreon).

There are quite a number of fics , so for your reference the categories are:

Event Fanfictions -- these are fanfictions written for Patreon-events, i.e. Whumptober, COFIC, November of Thanks, etc. along with any Game prizes

Goal Created Chaptered Fanfictions -- these are fanfictions that are written for the Patreon page reaching a monetary goal, i.e. Your Biggest Fan

Fic of the Month -- these are the monthly Patreon exclusive fanfictions supporters get to help choose. They have separate tag and section; see here, but they are also listed below so that their summaries are visible at all times :)

Quick links: The [VAULT] | Fic of the Month Fics | Your Biggest Fan

Last updated: October 15, 2021

Stories are listed from oldest to newest.

November of Thanks -- 2019

Lance + Sleep Deprivation (Hot Tea +)

Pidge + Stitches ($10 Tiers +)

Keith + Bleeding out ( Hot Tea + )

Lance + Denied food as punishment (Hot Tea + )

Keith + Isolation (Hot Tea + )

Allura + dragging self along ground ($10 Tiers +)

Lance + unwilling suspension ($10 Tiers +)

Lance + Locked in a Freezer aka Freeze(r) (Hot Tea + ) -- Also on AO3!

Keith + Burns ( Hot Tea + )

Lance + Confined to bed rest (Hot Tea + )

Zuko (ATLA) + Hypothermia (HCWM +) -- Also on AO3!

Lance + Vivisection (Hot Tea + )

Hunk + Bedside vigil (Hot Tea + )

Keith + Trying not to cry (Hot Tea + )

Roy Mustang (FMA) + Drowning (Hot Tea + ) -- Also on AO3!

Photoset Game (Second Place) -- February 2020

The Right Thing (Hot Tea + ) Summary: Lance didn’t want to do it. He didn’t. But he did because Pidge was in danger and stunners weren’t working and if he didn’t stop the Galran then he would have killed Pidge. So… so Lance killed the Galran. Now he’s alone in his room and he can’t stop shaking and he feels sick and cold and he knows it’s war but killing is wrong and he killed someone and he doesn’t know what to do. But he’s not alone for long. Because Coran knows what happened and he’s there to help Lance through this.

COFIC -- April 2020

All are available to Hot Tea +

Protip: Bombproof Your Castle Summary: A defensive training exercise with the Lions turns into an impromptu game of baseball. And, well… the home run hitter is up to bat and the Castle of Lions did not skootchy-bootchy-back.

Stardust: In You and In Me Summary: Pidge is so tired. She can’t sleep though, not until she finds something. Her family is out there, but no matter how hard she tries, no matter how hard she searches, she can’t find them. The universe is just too big. Coran gently disagrees.

Warning Shot Summary: “—disgusting,” the word was a breathless snarl and it was followed by a dull thud. “A mutt like you doesn’t deserve this—” Another thud. And then there was a scream. Lance’s breath caught. That was Keith.

You Are My Home -- Also on AO3! Summary: The castle, her home, is gone. And although Allura knew it had been a necessary sacrifice to save the universe that does not make its loss easier. But a cup of warm tea and the young man delivering it are a reminder that home does not have to be a place.

The Wrecked and the Worried -- Also on AO3! Summary: They’ve crashed. They’ve crashed and the shuttle is on fire and Keith is trapped and he’s not answering and that means he’s not coming out. That means Hunk has to go in. He has to go into the ship that is on fire, likely going to explode, through the too small space in the warped and cramped cargo hold, crawling and choking on smoke and he’s going to die he’s going to die he’s going to die—

Murphy’s Law Summary: Lance and Shiro are forced to make an emergency landing when their shuttle has engine failure. Miraculously they’re okay. No one is injured, the ship can be repaired and they’re in no danger. It could have been worse. Much, much worse.

100 Milestone Drabbles - May - June 2020

All are available to Chai Tea +

Lance + Captive, Pidge + Slime, Lance + Contentment

Lance + Kitten, Shiro + Exhausted, Keith + Freefall

Matt + Needle, Lance + Outburst, Lance + Stoicism

Pidge + Artificial, Keith + Hiraeth, Lance + Fainting

Lance + Blood, Lance + Curse, Keith + Protect

Lance + Poison, Coran + Bonding, Pidge + Frustration

Hunk + Protect, Lance + Parasite, Lance + Withdrawals

Lance + Paralyzed, Keith + Run, Lance + Rescue

Lance + Recovery, Keith + Stuck, Allura + Family

Lance + Malnourishment, Shiro + Prank, Lance + Tattoo

Lance + Hypothermia, Lance + Safe, Pidge + Tears

Lance + Overheated, Shiro + Baking, Coran + Family

Whumptober -- October 2020

All are available to Hot Tea +

Between a Rock and a Hard Place Summary: Keith knew he was reckless, sometimes dangerously so, but all it would take was one wrong move and he’s get himself killed because he couldn’t wait. But if he waited too long and the rocks shifted anyway… He’d heard the phrase trapped between a rock and a hard place, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be taken quite this literally.

Dusky Purple -- Also on AO3! Summary: With with each cup they forced him to drink, with each passing day, Lance could feel it. He was changing. He was changing into a Galran.

Got It Summary: The scene in front of Keith didn’t change no matter how many times he blinked. Dead Galran commander. Downed sentries. Flashing alarm lights. And his right leg, lying there while he sat here in a growing puddle of blood.

Secret Summary: There’s a dangerous cult afoot and Lance knows they’re not supposed to leave the safety of the King’s castle. But the kingdom's second princess wants to go to the garden and it’s not that far and Lance is confident that he can protect her. But as it turns out, she’s not the one in need of protecting.

Nothing Like a Good Back Scratch Summary: Lance gets hurt on a mission, but the injury really isn’t that bad. The embarrassment as to how and why he got it (cough, trying to impress Shiro) is far worse. But as they find out on the way back to the castle, the actual worst is yet to come.

Membership Drive Event -- September 2021

Last Words (Hot Tea +) Summary: No matter how loud Coran shouts, no matter how much he pleads, Lance cannot hear him over the spirit’s roar of rage and desire to kill Coran. But despite the clear threat, it is not Coran who is in danger of dying. It is Lance, whose human body was never meant to play host to such a violent, dark creature.

Shard (Hot Tea +) Summary: The bomb had detonated not even ten feet from Lance and he’s still in a bit of shock that he’s not only still alive but apparently unhurt with the only casualties being his shield and his comms. But as he stumbles outside to find Hunk sprinting towards him and looking panicked and scared, Lance realizes that maybe he’s not quite so unhurt after all.

Koala Hugs (Hot Tea +) Summary: They’d been told that the guest houses were supposed to keep them safe from the deadly low temperatures of the planet. And while for Pidge that is indeed the case, she learns it’s not so for Lance as she’s awoken by a projection of pure terror from the Blue Lion, who can sense her Paladin dying. And now as Pidge hurries to Lance’s guest house and finds him so so cold and still, she can only hope she’s not too late.

Whumptober -- October 2021

All are available to Chai Tea + during the month of October and will be available to Hot Tea +starting in November.

Keep Your Word Summary: Lance made a choking noise as the Galran’s blade pressed more against his throat and Keith watched with alarm as more scarlet coated Lance’s neck. “I said drop them,” the Galran growled and Keith spat out a curse and did so, his blades clattering to the ground and with them his only advantage in this hostage situation.

Wind-Up Toy Summary: The taste of blood and bile is near equal on Lance’s tongue as he looks down at the spear impaled through his stomach, the decorated metal silver handle sticking jauntily out in a way that sort of reminded him of a wind-up toy and he almost wondered if he were to give it a twist he’d start moving. Except he knows he won’t because he’s not just impaled… he’s pinned to the wall and he’s not going anywhere as the battle continues on without him.

All fanfictions listed here were written for the Patreon reaching various page goals. These fics are available for Chai Tea Tier + during publishing however various chapters have been placed in the [VAULT] both during and after publishing. The [VAULT] is open at all times to $10+ Tiers and opens once a month for Hot Tea Tier.

Your Biggest Fan (70,000 words) Summary: Loverboy Lance has gained quite the following and Lance has absolutely no complaints. He’s loving the the fame, the fans and the chance to really shine in such a talented group as Voltron. This is his stage and he is ready to perform. But fame has a dark side. Lance has a fan that wants more than just an autograph and Lance doesn’t know the lengths this alien is willing to go. What’s more, he doesn’t know what he can do. The Coalition needs a successful show and he’s a part of that. He has to perform, he has to paste on a smile and pretend everything is all right. It’s for the universe. He can do this. After all, it’s just one fan. What’s the worst that could happen? Chapters in the [VAULT]: Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight

Stories are listed from oldest to newest. A few of the earliest written FMs are not listed here as they were also published on AO3.

Upon My Honor (ATLA AU) - August 2019 Summary: “Waterbender,” the one-armed Fire Nation commander spoke and Lance’s gaze slid back to him. “You will not try to escape. You will not fight back. You will do as you are commanded and heal as ordered. You will do this upon your honor or you will suffer the consequences.” He paused, charcoal eyes boring into ocean. “Do I have your word?” Lance swallowed. Say no and they all died. Say yes and… he saved them. “Yes,” he whispered. “You… you have my word.”

The Warmth of a Scar - September 2019 Summary: Lichtenberg scars, Hunk explained softly. That was the term they used on Earth to describe the dark lines seared into Lance’s skin from the lightning strike, the strike that had also taken his right eye. Those scars represented pain and loss and despair. But to Allura… they were beautiful. They felt safe. And she hoped she could help Lance to see the same.

So Cold - October 2019 Summary: Keith can’t seem to get warm. He’s felt cold ever since the mission, a frigid sensation taking up root in his chest and he’s so tired. But he’s fine. He’s just a little worn out, maybe coming down sick, and all the talk of haunted planets is playing with his mind. But when he wakes from a nightmare to find his own blade impaled in his stomach and his hand the one that put it there… maybe everything isn’t so fine after all.

The Chill of Loneliness - November 2019 Summary: Lance couldn’t be more thrilled. A special mission that only he and the Blue Lion could undertake due to the insanely cold temperatures and a way to further their slowly growing bond? Sign him up! But when the mission goes sideways Lance finds himself all alone with no hope of backup, slowly freezing to death and he can’t find his way back to Blue. He had hoped to prove himself on this mission but… but it looks like all he’s going to do is die instead.

The Power of a Hug - December 2019 Summary: A retelling of the fight in “The Depths” where Hunk is stronger, faster, more ruthless and will do anything to keep his queen safe and warm, even if that means hurting his best friend. And where Lance knows if Hunk discovers how badly he hurt him he will never, ever, forgive himself. So there’s only one thing to do: hide his injuries and hope that no one, especially Hunk, ever finds out.

Beneath the Waves - January 2020 Summary: Keith knows he can be reckless. And diving overboard into raging waters when he can’t really swim is most definitely reckless. But someone needed help and Keith couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. But now he’s the one in need of rescue. Keith always knew his recklessness would one day catch up with him. He just… didn’t ever expect that it would be Lance paying the price.

Cold Metal, Warm Touch - February 2020 Summary: They’ve found Lance. That’s a positive. He has all of his limbs. Another positive. Coran said the pod should heal his wounds, that as bad as the drugs in his system are they won’t permanently affect him. All positives. Shiro focuses on them because he doesn’t want to acknowledge the rest; the fact Lance was a human science experiment for almost three weeks, that he’s terrified, that the physical scars are only the surface of the horrors Lance faced. But Lance, as scared and as in pain as he is, has chosen to face them. And so Shiro… Shiro will too.

Eclipse (Rise of the Guardians) - March 2020

Summary: “He’s burning up.” Tooth’s voice wavered. “Guys, he’s burning up.” “That’s impossible,” Bunny answered and Jack felt a furry paw press on his cheek and he couldn’t even be embarrassed at the sudden attention, “Frostbite can’t— blimey! He’s hot!” Jack shook his head very slightly at that. No. He wasn’t hot. He didn’t know how but… but this feeling…Somehow… somehow he was… “I’m…” his voice was a rasp. “I’m c-cold.” Or; the sick!fic in which the Jack and the Guardians all discover that Jack Frost and solar eclipses are most definitely not compatible.

Crimson Puddle - April 2020 Summary: Lance tried to stop it. He did. But the blood just keeps coming; gushing, oozing. It’s everywhere now; his leg, his hands, all over the floor. The crimson puddle keeps growing while he only grows weaker, the world going dark and cold and numb. And he never… he never thought he’d die like this.

Silent Fear Ringing In My Ear - May 2020 Summary: Matt had always wondered if aliens did actually exist and if he might meet one while on the Kerberos mission. Well, they do. And he did. And he wishes he hadn’t. These purple aliens are violent and mean and Matt has no idea what they want from him. It might help some if Matt could actually hear what they were saying, but this strange, metallic and purple world around him is terrifyingly silent while inside his head his thoughts and fears are so loud. But the one thought he can hear loud and clear? This is not going to end well.

Blue #23 - June 2020 Summary: “You will see nothing except for me ever again,” Lance’s apparent new master said softly as he affixed the blindfold, “because your eyes are for me. But your body…” Lance could feel his smirk, “is for everyone. Tonight, we will admire. Tomorrow,” a tongue flicked out against Lance’s shoulder, “we taste.” Or; Lance is bought by an alien who desires beautiful blue-eyed slaves for both his collection and for the entertainment of himself and his guests.

Cannon Fodder - July 2020 Summary: Lance is captured by the Galra and not only is his fate to be massacred in the Arena without even a chance to even defend himself, he has to be outfitted so his death will count for the right Galran commander’s points. And the Galran’s way to identify their cannon fodder? Branding.

Ready to Be a Dragon - August 2020 Summary: Lance is a Shifter. He’s familiar with many forms, has his favorites, but there’s one that stands above the rest: a dragon. And with Pidge’s magic that dream has now come true. But what should have been a perfect day of soaring through the skies with Pidge to celebrate his new form comes to a screeching halt when a band of soldiers spots them and wants the glory of slaying a dragon. And even though Lance isn’t technically a dragon… they aren’t going to take no for an answer.

Bruised - September 2020 Summary: They were just bruises. Sure, they hurt a bit, especially the one on Lance’s chest where the robobeast’s tail had hit dead center, but it was nothing that ice, aspirin, and rest couldn’t fix. Except now that he’s gone to bed the pain is getting worse, his breaths are getting shorter and Lance is starting to fear that the injuries might not just be bruises after all.

Heavy - November 2020 Summary: It was supposed to be a simple training mission, a way for them to learn to work together as a team. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But the Galran base is burning, Lance is trapped inside, Keith is blaming himself, and Allura is battling her way through through searing flames and heavy smoke all while praying that she is not too late.

Rivers Stain the Ocean - December 2020 Summary: When Lance messes with Pidge’s color coding system the only thing to do is retaliate in kind. So she dyes him completely blue. It’s harmless though, will wear off in a few days, and the experience will teach Lance to never touch her stuff again. A win-win if Pidge does say so herself. Except for the part where the planet they visit the following day to form an alliance has this whole thing about a prophecy and being cursed and deceived by a being of blue. And in order to save both their planet and Voltron... They’re going to kill Lance.

Feral Release - January 2021 Summary: An alien sets his sights on fighting and defeating Champion. What he gets is Shiro, who while strong is not the fight he was seeking. Shiro isn’t ruthless enough, isn’t cruel enough, isn’t strong enough. But not to worry. He’s got a drug that will turn Shiro feral and back into a worthy opponent and after selecting the correct dose all that’s left to do is shoot Shiro with it. Lance gets in the way. And that shot was literally not meant for him.

Make Haste (Because Death Waits for No One) - February 2021 Summary: Being shot by an arrow, Lance discovers, is not a fun experience. It becomes even less amusing when he’s sporting such a wound in the thick of a jungle and he and Coran have nearly a half-day walk back to the Red Lion. And it becomes deadly when they discover that the arrow isn’t just painful… it’s poisoned.

For the Love of Family - April 2021 Summary: They said they didn’t want to hurt him. And Lance knew they didn’t, not really. They were doing this out of love, out of hope-fueled despair. But at the end of the day they wanted to use their magic to replace Lance’s mind and change his body to make him become their beloved, deceased younger brother and restore their family while ripping Lance away from his own. And with a desperate plan like that… everyone involved is going to get hurt.

Fog - May 2021 Summary: The locals had said the fog was dangerous. They said only those fire-touched and carrying the sacred flame could traverse it. They said that Keith and Lance could do so to rescue the child lost in its cold haze, slowly being killed with only his worst fears for company. But they hadn’t told them about the conditions. That the fog would only let the number who had traversed inwards with the flame out. And so a total of three went in. Only two returned. And for someone like Lance, whose worst fear is being alone and abandoned… it’s not going to end well.

Wake Me Up - June 2021 Summary: Lance discovers he isn’t the only one wandering the castle in the wee hours of the morning. But unlike his insomnia, it’s a nightmare that seems to have driven Shiro from bed. Except that Shiro is apparently still having said nightmare. And Lance has now become a part of it.

Keep the Peace - July 2021 Summary: Something, Lance decides, about this peace treaty signing doesn’t feel right. Allura agrees and leaves to find answers while Lance stays, hoping to try to get to the bottom of what is going on between the two warring group while not jeopardizing the potential alliance. But it’s not answers that come to pass. It’s war. And these aliens don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire.

When Darkness Stares Back - August 2021 Summary: For Voltron’s newest training, Keith and Pidge have to safely transport Lance, acting as a rescued prisoner, from point A to point B through a series of obstacles. The catch to this simple sounding exercise? Lance has to wear a special helmet that blocks his ability to hear, see and speak and thus touch is the only way they can communicate. Difficult, a little scary Lance will admit, but doable and everything is going to be just fine. Until it isn’t.

Waiting for the Axe to Fall - September 2021 Summary: [Sequel to Beneath the Waves] When the knock sounds on Keith’s door he’s anticipating it’s Allura come to kick him out as she’s made it perfectly clear how she feels about Galrans. But it’s… Lance? And he’s not there regarding Keith’s newfound heritage (of which he’s being far kinder and more understanding about than Keith had expected) but instead to ask him if he’d like to learn to swim and Keith tentatively agrees to a lesson. But with all the Galran stuff hanging over his head he forgot about the scars on his back. And now he’s frozen in the pool, heart roaring in his ears as that hidden abuse is revealed, and waiting for the axe to fall.

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chaoticdean · 4 years

Note

Can I pls pls pls get a sweet fic with Cas contemplating just how exquisitely his husband (i am a sucker for loving married destiel fics) has aged into this *swoons* beautiful beautiful devastatingly handsome man (his beard and the length of his hair *swoons again*) plsss

Sorry it took me an actual eternity, but here ya go! ❤️

[READ ON AO3]

The sun shining light through the curtain slots slowly pulls Dean from a very comfortable sleep, with a side of light grumbling (who the fuck decided it was a good idea to put blinds instead of blackout curtains in that goddamn room?!). The hunter reaches for the other half of the bed, only meeting emptiness and cold sheets, which makes the grumbles turn into groans. He hops on his feet then, making his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, knowing very well he’ll find him here.

“Hi,” he says lightly, his voice still rough with sleep, dropping a soft kiss right there in the hollow of his neck, where it’s warm and inviting and smells just like Cas, “Watcha doing? I woke up and you weren’t in bed with me.”

And I hated it, you know I hate waking up without you all tangled up around me like a goddamn koala, it makes me scared that maybe all of this is a dream and I’m finally waking up to an empty bed in a ghost house.

Both his arms have found their way around the former angel’s waist and are now tucked under his shirt — well, really, Dean’s shirt, but the hunter stopped keeping track of what’s his and what’s his husbands, well over a decade ago already — resting against his bare skin, and Dean tightens against Castiel’s back, even letting his eyes fall shut again as he instantly relaxes against him.

“Hey,” Cas respond with a smile, raising his head and turning just enough to get a look at his sleepy, grumpy husband, “wanted to make breakfast before we head out. There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the counter, if you want.”

“You’re a fucking saint.”

“Well, technically…”

“Babe, I know, shut it,” Dean groans as he smiles, dropping another kiss behind Cas’ ear before he lets go of his warmth and makes his way to said fresh pot of coffee, “Thank you.”

He pours himself a cup — in that stupid one that Jack gifted him last Christmas, the one that says “My son went to Canada and all I got was this stupid coffee mug” and that Dean loves so much — and watches as Castiel finishes making scrambled eggs, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and that old faded black rock band shirt that suited Dean just fine but somehow fits tighter on Castiel’s broad shoulders and muscular body (which is truly infuriating and slightly hot, by the way).

Ten years might have passed since they defeated Chuck, and sure they might have gotten older, hair might have turned grayer, but Cas is looking just as fine as he did 10 years ago (which means he looks like a goddamn model).

Not that Dean has any complaint whatsoever, but he’s self-conscious about himself enough to know he doesn’t look as good as he used to, flat tummy turned into small pudge and love handles be damned.

“How old are you again?” Dean asks over his cup, sipping his coffee as he watches his husband turn around and put the scrambled eggs in one single plate.

“Mhm, 3.92 billion years, give or take one or two millennia,” Cas answers absent-mindedly as he proceeds to wash the pan right away, “but you know that already.”

“Ya, I do,” Dean grins as Castiel dries his hand, looking at Dean curiously.

The former angel grabs the plate and sets it in front of Dean, “eat.”

“C’mere,” Dean motions for Cas to come and sit on his lap, and suddenly his husband his right against him, Ocean blues meet Forrest green, “God, you look beautiful.”

Castiel’s hand finds its way to Dean’s face, cupping his cheek as he smiles wide, and Dean’s find their way under Cas’ shirt again, resting on his back. The silver wedding ring on the former angel’s finger attracts the sun’s light as he lowers his face to kiss his husband.

Dean had thought, back then, that at some point the feeling going with kissing his angel would fade, that it would turn into something normal, some kind of routine, but it never did.

It still tastes like the sun on his face, like he’s riding some stupid rainbow and discovering a whole new galaxy altogether.

“Happy Anniversary, babe,” Cas murmurs against his lips once they part, and Dean kisses him again right here and there, just because he can.

“I love you.”

“I know,” the former angel smiles, “I love you, too.”

It’s not like it’s as taboo as it used to be for Dean. It took him a long time to be able to say it without feeling like he might explode, and he still remembers the first time it passed his lips to land on Castiel’s ecstatic face. But there’s still this thrill going down his spine every time his husband does, this deep feeling of possessiveness, of feeling like he finally belongs. With him.

Castiel glides a finger over Dean’s scruff along his jaw, watching him closely with half a smile on his lips, “you look just like you did back then.”

“Which is?”

“Magnificent.”

His lips are on Dean’s jaw now, making their way to his temple, and Dean delights in the little shiver that goes through his body as Castiel’s lips move on his skin.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

“Beautiful. Superb. Marvelous. Do I get to keep going?” Castiel says, his voice muffled as he goes down Dean’s neck, a silent moan rising from the hunter's throat.

“Mhm, as much as I’d like to believe you, I know you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

Dean rolls his eyes then, because of fucking course Castiel fucking Winchester who “doesn’t get words wrong”, doesn’t lie, except when he wants his husband to feel good.

“All the extra weight on my body and grey hair on my head and face would like to kindly disagree,” he answers with a self-deprecating smile.

“Dean,” Castiel grabs him by the chin, locking-eyes with him, “If you don’t stop bringing yourself down I’m seriously going to get mad.”

“I like it when you get mad,” Dean answers, turning his smile into a mischievous one.

Castiel fits his lips against Dean’s once more and they share a truly filthy kiss, just because they can do that now in the middle of their kitchen, in the house they’ve bought for themselves all those years ago. When they part, Dean still has that dazed look on his face as he watches his husband rise from his lap and feels him press against his back Hal a second later, lips back on his neck.

“You look beautiful to me. I don’t care if your hair turns grey, or if you gain weight, or if you need your 8 hours instead of 4, or if you fall asleep in front of Jeopardy every night. I don’t give a shit, Dean.”

Dean smiles then, Castiel’s lips kissing inside his neck, because goddamit Castiel swearing has a way of going straight to Dean’s dick.

“You’re my husband, and you look beautiful, and I love you,” he drops a soft kiss on his cheek then, both his hand roaming on Dean’s chest, and Dean can’t resist but holding on to those strong arms that still make his night feel safe after so long already, “but if you don’t think you look good, maybe we should head for our bed right now and I’ll show you how beautiful you look to me.”

“That certainly sounds exciting.”

“It does, right?”

“Not sure Sam and Eileen will be on board if we arrive 3 hours late to Charlotte’s christening though,” Dean smiles, already feeling the arousal rise.

“Bold of you to assume it’s going to take me this long to toss you into oblivion, but I also don’t give a shit.”

“Language.”

“Fuck you,” Cas giggles as Dean rises up.

They make it 20 minutes late, and neither Sam nor Eileen has the heart to call them out on it, because both of them are beaming like actual rays of sunshine, and little Charlie can’t get enough of her uncles “Ca’n’Dee”.

Send me a quick prompt and I’ll do my best

(also, if you’ve send me one already and I haven’t done it yet, it’s on my to-do lost, I’m just being terribly and fashionably late as usual)

#look at them being married and soft #married destiel #human!cas #destiel #deancas #deancas fic #deancas ficlet #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #jus writes #a tumblr prompts collection #prompts #domestic dean winchester/castiel #soft #fluff #spn #spn writing

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danganronpa-mm-au · 3 years

Text

A Sleepy Autumn Morning (Naga!Kokichi & Minotaur!Gonta)

As most autumn mornings tend to be, the air was freezing, dew glistened in the first light of the day. Leaves covered almost every part of the school. From rooftops to the gavel paths winding themselves through the schoolyard, everything was covered in browns, reds, oranges, and yellows of all shapes and sizes. Water dripped down from the remaining leaves, still hanging onto the branches, forming small puddles below. The musky smell of rain hung in the air. The next rainstorm would surely hit within the next hour, the dark gray clouds looming overhead told the students as much.

Not many people enjoyed the season. They say it's too moist, or too cold. Kokichi was of the latter opinion, as many nagas -and dragons, too for that matter- tend to be. Considering this, Kokichi had spent the last days curled up in his tail, covered by three, thick blankets and a heating pad he 'borrowed' from a dragon in class 77. He barely moved to prevent a cool breeze from finding a way to him. Besides the cold temperatures making him sleepy, the chattering of one's sharp teeth was not something Kokichi enjoyed.

While curled up, he fell in and out of sleep, his muscles feeling as if they were made of iron; Unmovable, rigid and above all, heavy.

At around noon, a couple of knocks at his door made Kokichi wake up: "Yes?" he called, voice raspy from not having used it in three days. No reply. Who'd knock on his door and then not answer? Hell, who'd knock on his door, to begin with? Probably the space-idiot…

Groaning, the small naga, for the first time in three days, lifted his blankets to climb out of them. As expected, the air hit him like a bucket of water. Icy water. He hissed and retreated back into his castle of warmth and coziness, however, another row of knocks forced him to uncurl his tail and use it to grab the nearest winter coat, a dark-blue one with thick fur stitched around the neck. It fitted him poorly, obvious given the fact that it was sewn to fit a male sphinx. Still, it was his all-time favorite. He liked blue.

Kokichi slipped into the coat and crawled back out of bed, teeth began to chatter as if the cold had flipped a switch. The naga pressed his lips together and forced himself towards the door of his room. Upon opening, a loud voice greeted him: "Kokichi! Gonta was so worried, wanted to break down door!"

"But then I'd have to get a new door *and* doorway. That'd be so boring!" Kokichi retorted, secretly relieved he was able to without shaking too much: "But thanks for your concern, big guy. Who knows, you might as well be the only person to check in on me all autumn."

"Really? Thank you!" Gonta smiled, chest puffed out in pride. Just then, Kokichi's eyes fell to the bowl in the minotaur's hands. The heavenly smell of Tomato Soup reached his tongue as it darted out.

Gonta too noticed the longing looks and his smile grew even bigger: "Gonta bring you soup!"

Water gathered in the naga's mouth: "For me? Wait-" he stopped as he remembered why nobody ever asked Gonta Gokuhara, the Ultimate Entomologist, to cook -or bake- anything: "Did you make that?"

To Kokichi's delight, Gonta shook his head, one hand reaching behind his head the other balancing the bowl of heaven: "No, Gonta asked Teruteru. Gonta too busy looking for bugs this morning. Sorry! Gonta know that's not gentlemanly. Gonta make you soup tomorrow."

"Oh, I can't wait." he grabbed the bowl, his fingers embracing their warmth. Turning around, back into the room, Kokichi wanted to close the door with his tail but instead of touching wood, it made contact with a fur-covered leg. The tall minotaur closed the door behind him as Kokichi sat down on his bed. He removed the cover, fresh steam warmed his face, the scent of tomatoes hit his tongue, causing him to lick his lips. Besides the red soup, there was also a big spoon inside. Immediately, he shoved a spoon of soup inside his mouth, enjoying the heat as it went down his throat. He continued to eat, having all but forgotten about the minotaur. That was, however, until 207 lbs sat down next to him on the mattress. As one would expect, the weight made Kokichi jump, luckily after removing the empty spoon from his mouth. Kokichi looked up at him, eyes narrowed: "Watch out!"

"Sorry!" Gonta quickly said, arms raised: "Gonta so big."

"You don't say…"

To prevent Gonta from messing up again, Kokichi quickly finished his meal and put the bowl and spoon on his bedside table. As he turned back, thinking about how to make the minotaur leave, said minotaur had taken a caterpillar out of his little box and presented it on his finger. "Gah!" Kokichi yelped at the small animal. He almost jumped from his bed -willingly this time.

"Gonta find him this morning." the colorful insect reared it's head upwards to look at the naga, moving the sections of their body as if to connect with him on some level. As if it wanted to say: "Hey, you are like me." or something like that. However, Kokichi disagreed.

"Gonta think you two will be good company." the minotaur reached forward until the caterpillar could crawl on the naga's arm. "Don't!"

"Huh? Kokichi not like caterpillar?" Gonta's red eyes blazed and even with his muscles covered by his suit, Kokichi could still see them tensing.

"Whaaat? Me, not liking a bug? Gonta, please. I love bugs! You know that. It's just…" he sighed: "I'm sorry I guess I never told you."

"Never told Gonta what?" the tall minotaur blinked, anger momentarily forgotten.

"That I… I am allergic to bugs!"

"A… Lergic?" Gonta asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah! If a bug touches me, I'll explode!" Kokichi threw his arms in the air: "Do you want that, Gonta? Do you want me to explode?"

"No! Gonta not want that!" quickly Gonta pulled back his hand and put the insect back in its box: "But why Kokichi never tell Gonta?"

"I was embarrassed. I thought you wouldn't like me anymore." tear built up in Kokichi's plum eyes.

"Huh?! No, Gonta never do that! It's not gentlemanly!"

"T-Then you're not mad?"

Gonta shook his head.

With the soup's heat dying down, Kokichi began to shiver again and the heaviness of the last days returned to his body. The simple motion of whipping away his tears exhausted him. He reached to grab his heating pad but a strong arm threw him back. Back against a firm chest. At first, Kokichi wanted to protest but… Gonta's chest was heavenly warm. Warmer then his blankets had been. He looked up, seeing a bright smile above him: "Forrest family teach Gonta how to keep others warm. Cuddling good for heat." his other arm put itself around the shivering naga, too.

Drowsy, Kokichi nodded, cheek pressed again Gonta's chest, teeth chattering ever so slightly. Gonta reached towards the blankets and put them over his friend's long tail. He had always wondered why so many people thought naga scales were slimy. They were smooth and soft; the complete opposite of slimy. If they weren't, nagas couldn't move around, let alone climb up trees. Mermaids were the ones with slimy scales because otherwise they'd dry out too fast.

Gonta's thoughts came back to the naga in his arms. He could feel Kokichi shivering: "You want Gonta to get more soup?"

"No…" Kokichi closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. He didn't want this heat source to go away. Even if it would just be for a few minutes: "Stay." to emphasize his command he wrapped his tail around Gonta's waist. He knew he wasn't nearly strong enough to actually keep a fully grown minotaur such as Gonta in place but luckily he didn't try to leave. Instead, he pulled Kokichi closer, something Kokichi noted he should revolt against. He yawned and rubbed his face against Gonta's chest. The other's strong heartbeat drummed against his ear. It was steady, calm but powerful. Kokichi had heard that a minotaur's heart was almost twice as big as a naga's. Judging from the sound, that could certainly be true. "Kokichi?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sleeping?"

Somehow, Kokichi shook his head and his tail's grip tightend, desperate as if he wanted to squeeze all the warmth out and absorb it.

"Still too cold?" Gonta asked.

Kokichi nodded. Careful as to not disturb the naga, Gonta put the still hot heating pad over the smaller one's shoulders.

He didn't stay awake long after that. The temperatures mixed with Gonta's heartbeat still drumming against his ear was just too much, too overwhelming.

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