#and the dull pink arms are actually gloves!

[d3df1zh]

heai look at my regretevator oc. Princess is named Princess and only goes by Princess's name :3 no pronouns, no gender, only Princess. i have so much facts and lore for Princess you can ask if u want either in my askbox or the comments if ur interested... pls be interested i adore Princess w my LIIIFEEEE!!! trust ill answer ANYTHING (almost anything, don't be weird. obvi.) there are so many 'princess' in this post but i wouldnt have it any other way

[ashbub]

chance

the amazing digital circus: jax x gn!reader

contents: ambiguous relationship [1.5k]

IN WHICH: you might have an idea on how to escape.

❝ if there was a chance to escape, wouldn't you take it? ❞

"And I mean this in the most lovingly, sugar coma-inducing way I could put it, no f̶̢̢̣̳̜̼͈͚̭͖̈́͊u̷̧̝͉̼̼̽c̷̲̘̙̖͇̳̀̑̈́̈́͗̓̑͘̚k̴͍̘̩̝̟̎̀͋̑̎i̷̫͓͈̒n̵̛̲̩̩͓̮͎̙͍̺̓̃̒̎̄̿͠g̸̲̬̍̃͘ way."

The rabbit softly picked at the side of his yellow teeth with the pinky finger of his glove boredly, a cheeky grin tugging at the ends of his mouth at your frustrated sigh.

"You haven't even heard what I was gonna ask!"

You both were chatting in your designated room, the whole theme soft and vibrant with thin fabrics flowing from the ceiling with twinkling lights that intertwined carefully. Your bed was a colorful arrangement of stitched pillows and thick blankets, plushes of antique dolls contently piled together.

Beside your bedframe was a small white mirror with a slight crack in the middle of the reflective glass- One that you rarely glanced at since your arrival a few months ago. You would hardly recognize yourself even if you did now.

You had been warped into the appearance of a marionette.

"And I know whatever it is- is trouble." Jax smoothly hummed with a small chuckle as he fiddled with one of the crocheted dolls that rested on your bed. Jax had his lean frame sitting lazily on the edge of your quilted blanket before placing his hands behind his head with a wide shit-eating grin settling on his lips. "As pretty as you are, sweet cheeks, it ain't worth it."

Crossing over your wooden arms at his demeanor, you jabbed one of your fingers towards the middle of his soft pink overalls, his long ears slightly bending at the sudden poke. "When have you ever been one to turn down some mischief?" You teased with a laugh mingling in your tone, "What have you done to my Jax, huh?"

Clicking his tongue, the rabbit simply closed his bright yellow eyes, bringing the back of his palm towards his forehead with a dramatic sigh before throwing his head onto the middle of your lap, "Consider me a changed rabbit- I'm as holy as they get now."

You brought the thin strings that attached to your arms to the center of his face, watching as his expression scrunched up with a small giggle stifling, "As if-" You mused out.

Blinking with a quiet laugh, the purple rabbit had a lazy wink spread across his smooth fur, "Alright, humor me. Hey, I might even laugh a little." He finally chuckled, one of his ears quickly flapping comedically straight up, "What were you gonna ask lil ole me?"

Even though you had only known Jax for a few months, the guy had been sweet despite his sarcasm and dripping with ease for the chaotic world that surrounded him. You guys had gotten close and had conversations amongst yourselves, Jax confessing about his previous life outside the circus. Despite having a rough upbringing and becoming homeless after getting kicked out of his foster home, he was excited to start a new life on his upcoming birthday.

If there was anyone to share your feelings about, it was him.

"I want to try to escape." Your smooth fingertips dug into the fabric of the spotted black & white trousers you wore with a quick breath, your dull eyes flickering towards the ceiling to avoid his wandering gaze, "I want to make an actual attempt, and I need your help-"

Snickering, Jax casually rose from your lap, the thick pricks of his eyes glimmering in amusement, "Cute and a comedian!" Tapping the side of his cheek with his pointer finger with a lazy grin, he sighed, "Aren't you just adorable?"

"Jax! I'm being serious!"

Raising both of his gloved hands to his chest defensively, Jax's narrow shoulders hunched up with a mingling laugh, "Woah! Don't get your strings in a twist, sugar! So am I! Look, my brow is even furrowing."

"Won't you even try to listen to my idea?"

"An idea? So it ain't even a plan?"

"Not yet- but-"

"No then."

Rising from the edge of your bed with a sigh, your wooden fingertips hand curled into your palm. With a quick snap of your wrist, the edges of your wool locks of hair slipped by the sides of your perked ears that had become warm at his brashness.

"I knew it!" Your thick fingers quickly pinched the bridge of your nose with a sharp laugh escaping your breath, "You won't even take the chance that something might be out there?"

The rabbit's large eyes flickered across your furrowed expression back and forth, his own smile slightly faltering. He had begun to rise to his feet, his lean frame towering over yours with his thumbs jammed into the pockets of his worn-out overalls.

"You saw what happens when people do, [y/n]."

Finally releasing the bridge of your scrunched nose, your head shook with a snappy laugh dripping from the ends of your painted lips, "I knew I shouldn't have bothered to ask you about this!-" You whispered with a slight hiss, bringing your hands closely to the ruffled fabric of your chest with a soft laugh, "All of our friends are slowly going insane and you can't even pretend to remotely care-"

"Don't." His voice had finally shot out, instead of the smoothness of his easy-going voice that would mingle, his gloved finger pressed against the surface of his chest with his pale-yellow teeth gritted, "Don't you dare say I don't care. Because outta everyone here, I probably care the most."

You had blinked at his sudden tone shift before you brought the palm of your hand to your forehead with a small smack, sarcasm seething from your words that itched from the back of your throat. "Right! You care the most!" Your smooth lips curled up into a strained smile, "I nearly laughed myself there! You sure seemed to care when half of our friends got tossed into the cellar-"

His hand had shot above the space behind you, firmly placing it on the plush wall at the lingering sentence that failed to escape your burning lips. He had cornered you. The lazy drawl that usually occupied his expression stiffened as Jax looked down at you with a faint scoff.

"It might not look like it, Toots, but I actually do give a f̶̢̢̣̳̜̼͈͚̭͖̈́͊u̷̧̝͉̼̼̽c̷̲̘̙̖͇̳̀̑̈́̈́͗̓̑͘̚k̴͍̘̩̝̟̎̀͋̑̎." His ears had curled up before shaking his head with a slight breath, "Just because nobody bothered to ask doesn't mean I don't care."

Jax lowered his expression, his shoulders slightly tensed before clicking his tongue once more- "But we are stuck here, don't you get it? Stuck. It's been years and no one has managed to escape or literally gone mad tryna escape this place. My friends, [y/n]."

Your room had grown quiet, only the faint lingers of the music box that resided in your room quietly humming as the bright red paint had begun to chip off. Your button eyes had flickered to his cold expression, the ends of his pale teeth peeking through.

With his other hand, Jax had brought his gloved fingertips underneath his round chin, tapping it dramatically with a small hiss, "If I act like everything is fine and no biggie, it might give everyone some more time from going abstract, even if I have to lie through my teeth."

Finally, he had removed his large hand from the surface of the wall behind you, before dropping his head to the edge of your shoulder with a 'thud!' "I can't lose any more friends" The rabbit whispered carefully, turning his head slightly to examine your quiet frame with a light smile, "I can't lose you."

Resting your back against the wall with a soft sigh, your hands lingered by the back of his head with a glimmer of tears surrounding the edge of your buttons, "Jax, I'm sorry about what I said." You breathed out, resting the tip of your chin on the top of his head for a moment with a small crack. "I just really want to go home."

Jax's long ears had slightly flattened under your chin, his breathing soft before quickly adjusting the small wrinkles of his overalls and returning to his height, your bright round eyes staring at his with a quick blink.

"Tell me."

"Huh?"

Casually stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overalls once more, the rabbit had lazily shrugged with ease, a small nod shot down to you, "Tell me about this idea you got, alright?" He repeated, his head slightly cocked to the side "And I'll help you-"

"Really?"

He punctuated his sentence with a light jab to your chest.

"Under one condition."

His eyes warmly flickered to you, remaining focused on the soft scrunch of your eyebrows.

"If it don't work out, you gotta give up on tryna leave this place together."

His smile had remained lopsided, with a single hand extended carefully for you to shake on the deal, his eyebrow slightly twitched. Your words remained burning on the tip of your tongue, lingering across your lips.

He would help you.

As long as you agreed, he would actually help you.

With a lopsided smile, your hand had smoothly reached for the warmth of his hand.

"Deal."

a/n: this is a blurb bc i can't help but adore all the characters Michael Kovach voices lolol

[watercolorfreckles]

Winter's Kiss - Part 2

Sorry I'm rusty but I had a nice time working on this!

Part 1

Most people assumed that having ice powers meant Villain was immune to the cold. Surely being surrounded by her element only comforted and empowered her further.

What it really meant was that Villain had never truly been warm in her life. Always haunted by a biting chill that rooted in her bones and flooded her veins.

The summer months were easy enough for her to stay regulated in. Her body naturally fended off the scathing blaze of summer sun, meeting something close enough to equilibrium that she didn't have to shiver.

Winter was different. The scales dipped in one, unanimous direction. There was nothing to balance the overwhelming cold, steely and all-encompassing.

Thus, fighting on an icy rooftop, bitter wind stinging her cheeks, and frost clinging to her lashes, did not put her in a particularly amiable mood.

“Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?” she snapped at her nemesis, fighting off the urge to tremble as ice shot to life in her numbed palms. 

Hero landed neatly in front of her, blushy nose and pink ears the only indicator that the weather affected him at all. His lips bloomed in a too-pleased smile. “Nope. The new suit has intelligent thermal-regulatory technology. In other words, I'm toasty as…uh…toast. Shouldn’t you?”

Villain’s gaze flicked over him. She could see, now, the steam radiating around him from his stupid heated costume.

Her skin ached for a taste of that kind of blanketing warmth.

A coat did her little good when the cold stemmed from the inside out. She hated him for it. Her glare was as sharp as the icicles in her hands.

Hero stepped closer and his smug smile faltered. He looked her over in turn. “Are you….cold?”

If she could glare any harder, her eyes would bleed.

“My entire existence is cold, I have never not been cold,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now let's wrap this up, Sunshine, so that I can go home and set the thermostat to 85° and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can take the edge off this- this corpse-numb, never-ending, godforsaken winter!”

Her bones felt only distantly attached to her body, dull and torpid as a rotting log.

She took a step toward him and her knees buckled beneath her. Hands caught her waist, lowering her to the ground.

Her breath caught up in lungs scraped raw, mind sweeping blank. All she could focus on was the delightfully warm palms against her sides.

“Villain?” Hero’s brow knitted in concern. Pulling one of his gloves off with his teeth, Hero touched a hand to Villain's cheek before wincing and shaking the icy sting from his bare fingers. “Sh*t, Villain, you're beyond freezing.”

Villain was barely listening. She reached for him as if magnetized, clutching at the heat emanating from his chest. Something pathetically close to a whimper slipped free at the barest fraction of relief, dropping her face against the blazing hollow of his neck.

Hero hissed against the no-doubt unbearable cold of her skin against his. She couldn’t bring herself to care, and he didn’t shove her away. 

There was a pause.

“.....Let the record show that you’re the one cuddling me this time.”

Villain scowled. “Shut up.” Her fingers flexed against the smooth fabric of his suit. “This is- is just temporary, and then I’m going to stab you in the face.”

Fingers stroked her hair, brushing the accumulating snowflakes away. There was a click and shuffle as Hero shifted, wrapping her trembling form up in his cape. 

“Stab me tomorrow. We’ll rain check.” Scooping her into his arms, Hero stood up.

“Hey-”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Hero’s stupid sunny smile was back, teasing and prettier than she cared to admit. “We’re nemeses with benefits, I don’t actually want you dead. Most of the time.”

Villain’s cheeks might have warmed if she could feel them. Her teeth chattered. “Sp- Speak for yourself, Sunshine. And don’t say nemeses with benefits. You’re em- embarrassing me.”

Hero’s feet lifted off of the ground and they were moving through the air. Villain glanced down at the world below them before shielding her face from the abusive wind with his cape.

He could drop her to shatter on the pavement. Fragile as ice.

They touched down minutes later, and Villain didn’t bother to pull the cape away from her face to check where they were. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, Hero wouldn’t put her down… She couldn’t imagine peeling herself away from the shallow reprieve of his body warmth.

Hero shifted Villain’s weight into one arm. Metal jangled, followed by the rustling of a doorknob. Pushing it open with his foot, she felt Hero cross the threshold.

Peeking through the threads of Hero’s cape, warm lamplight washed the room in a honey glow as he clicked on the light. He shut the door and locked it. 

Her ears perked up at the familiar crackle of flames dancing nearby. She tugged the cape down just below her eyes, still blanketing her nose and cheeks.

Hero chuckled. “That got your attention.” He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down with her puddled in his lap. His free hand smoothed back her hair, staticky from his cape. “Better?”

The glorious heat rolled over them in waves, and Villain bared her pink fingers toward it, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.”

Lips summer-hot and gentle pressed against her jaw. Warmth sparked low in her belly for an entirely new reason. Her breathing stuttered, turning her face toward his.

Hero took an icy hand in his, blowing warm breath against her knuckles.

The bone-deep ache began to thaw. Her eyes glued to his.

Her beautiful, insufferable,.. kind idiot.

She leaned in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

A haughty and fond smile lit up his face. “Kill me when winter ends.”

Eyes flitting down to his perfect mouth, Villain caught his searing lips with her own. They chased the chill away together.

Neither of them wanted winter to end.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy, @thinkwrite5, @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle, @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate, @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

[fbfh]

Pleaseee I just need a story where the reader is from our modern world and tedros falls inlove with them

anon my darling my dearest my beloved you don't understand how much of my brain space this occupies. bc when you first show up in that fucking field of pink and red flowers you're probably in jean shorts and a crop top. maybe a flannel. you walk confused through the gilded halls, getting as many pictures as you can of the ornate archetecture and glasswork, worrying you won't believe it yourself if you don't have proof. you have no idea how you somehow ended up in a castle that looks straight out of the royaltycore side of pinterest you've stumbled across a few times, and you have no idea where you're even supposed to be going. then the fairies catch up to you. they take one look at you, then start tugging at your hair and clothes, trying to drag you somewhere to get you cleaned up before orientation, so you do the natural thing: start filming them on your phone and haul ass out of there. you get even more lost through the mazes of halls and staircases and breezeways as the fairies keep chasing you. you lose them for a minute, and unbeknownst to you, standing at the hallway is noneother than Tedros. you catch his attention for many reasons, your blinding beauty, the rush of energy you cary with you that seems to sweep him along with it, the lack of restraining your personality for the sake of etiquette. most notably, is that to him you're barely dressed. usually you'd be wearing bloomers and a corset with a dress that's at least tea length over it, but here you are, legs out in front of god and everybody. you don't seem the least bit phased by this either, but before he can snap out of the trance you've put him in, Professor Dovey is sweeping down the halls toward you.

"oh my..." she says, taking in your appearance. she turns to the fairies. "yes, I think you're right. this time does certainly call for an exception."

amid your miriad of protests, she takes your arm, gliding you through the halls with her.

"hush child, I'll explain everything." she respons warmly, bringing you to the doors of the groom room. she sits you down, and with a flick of her now glowing finger, everything in the room springs to life. soft smelling perfume sprays you, your nails are maincured, your skin is moisturized, your hair is done up all pretty. before you know it, racks of dresses are wheeling themselves out, spinning around you as Professor Dovey skims through them, picking one out for you as she explains everything. you don't really get a grasp on the situation until you're sitting on blue and glass pews surrounded by dozens of girls in literal ballgowns. you're wearing a ballgown too, the kind of thing you see used as clickbait on wish or aliexpress, but this is real and it fits you like a glove. you touch the side of your bodice, where you managed to shove your phone when Professor Dovey wasn't looking. you can't bring yourself to focus on anything as all of this sets in, but when a rowdy group of boys burst in and begin sword fighting, you're pulled out of your daze. one of them gets grazed on the arm, and it strikes you that these are actual swords. they're not dulled movie props or plastic kids toys or diy cosplay accessories, these are literal metal blades getting tossed around like it's no big deal. it's probably not a big deal to them, you realize, they clearly know what they're doing. as you lose yourself in thought, beginning to accept the situation you've found yourself in, Tedros fights through the crowd of boys in front of him more determined than ever. you caught his eye, and he'll stop at nothing to stand before you and throw you his rose. he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since that moment he saw you in the halls, full of more life and vigor and passion than any girls he's ever met. he's dying to know you, yearning to know everything about you, absolutley desperate to sweep you off your feet. he has his sights set on you, and with a love this strong, he's sure you must feel the same. he wonders if this could be love at first sight. you're pulled from your thoughts as the girl next to you, blonde and wearing a purple dress, taps your shoulder.

"I believe that was intended for me." she states with a condescending smile, motioning to the rose that somehow appeared in your lap. your eyes flare, her attitude not slipping past you for a second. Tedros is about to protest, tell Beatrix that his rose landed in the right hands, when you scoff, clearly surprised and a little offended at her tone. Beatrix expects you to hand her the rose, and maybe apologize to her for being in the way. instead you look straight at her, and speak so informally she thinks she must have imagined it.

"okay, dickwad." you state, not an ounce of shyness to be found. you scoff, leaning towards Tedros. "I guess someone hasn't had her morning coffee..."

Beatrix's mouth hangs open in shock as a hush falls from the nearby girls who'd heard the exchange. Beatrix knows that Tedros is going to defend her honor, insisting you apologize and insuring you never speak to her in that way again. instead he lets out the loudest, most sincere, organic laugh any of them have ever heard. You chuckle along with him, not sure what was so funny about that exchange, but you can tell there's no malice or insincerity to him.

"You are just full of surprises..." he muses, once he's caught his breath. he takes your hand in his, and you watch with wide eyes as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, before falling in line with the rest of the boys, more sure than ever that you're his true love. he just kissed the back of your hand. he literally just kissed the back of your hand. the only time you've ever actually seen that is in the occasional straight to hulu period drama, and you never expected to experience that in real life. you also didn't expect it to fill you with butterflies. you and Tedros both find yourselves stealing glances for all of orientation while Beatrix stares daggers at you the whole time. you're sure this school will be interesting to say the least.

[peaches2217]

Useless

TW: Dissociation, Implication of Trauma/PTSD

EDIT: AO3 link!

~~~

“Come back to me.”

This was the second time he was hearing it, Mario realized, that exact combination of sounds. He hadn’t understood it the first time. Heard it, but couldn’t process it. That was Peach’s voice, right? So those sounds were probably directed at him. Maybe?

“Come on,” she spoke again, “come back to me, darling.” Her voice conveyed urgency, yet it was soft all the same. Was she in distress? Where was she? He hoped she would say it again. Something in his chest fluttered at the sound of her voice. It tickled, come to think of it. Was that good or bad?

He tried to breathe, and he did a bit too well at it; it came in a deep, audible gasp, strong enough to drown that fluttery feeling. It kind of hurt, actually. He forced the air back out as quickly as he could and that almost made it better, but now his eyes were watering.

Bad, he decided. Definitely bad.

He blinked. Pink. His hands hovered over pink fabric, partially obscured. They looked strange. They were undoubtedly his hands, callused and hairy, but what was that attached to them? Peach whispered a few more sounds, but he couldn’t quite process them, and the attachments on his hands moved. The sensation was familiar enough, ingrained enough, that he recognized them as another set of hands. Peach’s hands, slender and soft.

Where were his gloves? He had been staring at his own hands for what must have been hours. He remembered, or at least he thought he remembered, her hands peeling back the upper layer of his skin. She had taken them off. She wasn’t wearing gloves either. It had always amazed him, how soft her skin was, how cool her hands felt within his. But now they felt oddly warm.

His right thumb stroked the back of her left hand. Some dull thought permeated the back of his skull, some mix of dread and surprise. His thumb barely moved, tracing an aimless line back and forth across her skin, yet his hand tensed and shook from the effort of moving it.

“Good,” Peach said, and her hands tightened around his fingers. “Squeeze back?”

He worried sometimes, worried that he might hurt her, worried he might forget his own strength at the worst times in the worst ways. So he did his best to follow her request as gently as possible. His fingers twitched. His thumbs pressed into her hands. A tingling sensation crawled up his arms and into his shoulders; the discomfort made him tighten his grasp, which made the unpleasant sensation spread.

“Good!” she repeated. The pink fabric shifted and her voice came nearer. “Very good. There you are.”

He pulled air in too quickly again, and all at once he was slammed back into his own body.

The weight of it was crushing, the numbness in his legs, the tingling in his arms, the ringing in his ears. He relaxed his grip on Peach’s hands and hunched over, shutting his eyes tightly. Dizzy. He was dizzy. The world was spinning around them, as though trying with all of its might to fling them apart, and the very thought of losing her made him groan with terror and grip onto her even harder.

She shushed him, a lone source of calm in the chaos that ensnared him. “Can you speak?” she asked. He could feel her now, her nose pressed into the top of his head, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, kiss her deeply and endlessly until his feet felt solid on the ground again. 

But he couldn’t find the energy. He couldn’t lift his head, and he couldn’t pull her any closer, and he wasn’t even on his feet to begin with. He was sitting on his knees in some dark room not far from the meeting hall. She had pulled him in here and urged him into this position; the memory was hazy, but he remembered all the same.

What happened? he wanted to say. He knew what happened. Thinking about it just made the world spin faster. Maybe if he could hear it again from a voice that brought him nothing but comfort, it would stop, it would all go away. Maybe he would realize definitively just how stupid it was, how inconsequential the trigger for this episode, and that would snap him back to normal.

No sound came out when he opened his mouth. His eyes stung, and he grit his teeth against the unshed tears.

She let go of his hands and drew him in closer, and Mario couldn’t help but sigh in both shame and relief. Her sweet perfume washed over his senses and wrapped him in another layer of familiarity. 

“That’s okay,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay. We’re safe. Everything is alright.”

If everything was alright, then the great hero of the Mushroom Kingdom wouldn’t be crumpled in a quivering heap on the floor, unable to speak or even raise his chin. He couldn’t express his frustration properly, in words. All he could do was huff.

Peach shushed him again. Another kiss. “Here, lie down. You’ll feel better if you lie down.”

Mario wanted to protest. They had been in the middle of— they needed to get back to— there were people waiting on them, on her, because she had— because he was too weak to even open his eyes.

He nodded instead.

Letting her hands guide his motions, he collapsed heavily to the floor, curling into himself on instinct. Carpet. Not as plush as the carpets in the private chambers, a bit scratchy against his cheek. Peach’s fingers cupped the side of his head, lightly pressing upward; he somehow found the strength to lift his head and keep it there, just long enough for her to make whatever adjustments she needed.

A sound like a whimper escaped his throat as his cheek met silk. He was so disoriented he felt it in the pit of his stomach. He gulped and made a few more pathetic sounds, because he was almost certain he would vomit otherwise.

Fingers in his hair brought him back. He focused all of his attention on them: the gentle scrape of nails against his scalp, his curls bouncing back into place with each pass, the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He was clammy, he realized for the first time. He was cold. 

His guardian angel’s voice cut through his shivering. She was giving more instructions, and he held to them like a lifeline — “…without us. Just take good notes and I’ll review them later. If you could bring us some water first? Thank you.”

These weren’t instructions for him. There was a world beyond these few square feet around them. She was willfully shunning that world for his sake. He willed himself to open his eyes, get himself together, go on about his day so she could go about hers because he wasn’t supposed to be dragging her down with him. He wasn’t supposed to be like this in the first place.

All he could see was pink. His head was in her lap. That knowledge sent a wave of solace crashing over him, intense enough that his breath caught in his throat and he began trembling uncontrollably once more. Or maybe he hadn't stopped trembling in the first place.

Pathetic. He was supposed to make her feel safe. He was truly pathetic.

“Stay with me,” Peach said, her urgency replaced with quiet tenderness. “Take your time. Rest. But stay with me.”

Gulping again, Mario nodded. This wasn’t right. His burdens shouldn’t be hers to bear. He shouldn’t be a burden, much less her burden. But for now, he was, and she had ordered him to stay. So he closed his eyes and focused on her fingers in his hair, steadying his breath and coming back little by little, back into full awareness of the world outside of him and her and all of his uselessness.

“You’re alright, Mario,” she soothed, and just for now, just until he was strong enough to cram his weaknesses back down so that they'd never bother anyone again, he let himself believe her.

[myqueenmarceline]

I Used to Hear a Simple Song

Summary: This is a bubbline childhood friend AU/what if they met just after the end of the Mushroom war. In this story Marceline and Bonnibel exchange some gifts and get to know each other a little better.

Warnings: a bit of angst/mention of Simon abandoning Marcy, but it's brief

This is a (late) gift for @nebula-gaster, thanks again for being a great friend and beta reader <3

Read the first story in the series (I really recommend this, it will make much more sense): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48563032

Read this story on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55902460

Or read it below the cut:

Bonnibel didn't go the same way often. She only had a couple of places where she could cross over the river, but once she got to the other side, she went off in every direction. She was usually able to take back everything she scavenged in one trip, and since the few humans left in this area moved around a lot, once she visited one campsite it would be months before anyone else would show up again.

Today was different, though. It had been two days, but she had tied her steed in the same place and gone into the same part of the woods. She grabbed her bag, making sure everything was still in place. The small bundle she had placed at the top clinked, and she quickly stopped. If the ride over had ruined her gift, it was too late to fix it.

Now that she knew what she was looking for, it was easier to get to Marceline’s camp. There were a few broken branches at almost the same height as Bonnibel’s arms, and scuff marks in the few patches of bare ground. Marceline might have tried to hide her footprints, but she hadn’t hidden them well enough.

Bonnibel stepped back into the camp, pulling off her gloves and pushing her goggles up to her forehead. She knew better than to call out; she hoped Marceline was here, but she didn’t know who else might be nearby.

There were two new empty packages of chips on the ground near the fire pit. Bonnibel picked one up and turned it inside out, wiggling it back and forth. The shine was pretty, and if she washed it, it would be perfect for decorations…

“Hey Bonnie!” Marceline popped out of the bushes, a few dead leaves falling as she ran over.

“It’s Bonnibel.” Bonnibel put the chip bag down again and turned around, adjusting her jacket.

“Hi Bonnibel.” Marceline sounded out her name, swaying a bit as she came to a stop in front of her. “You’re back! I’ve got something for you.”

“I’ve got something for you too, and it isn’t food this time.”

Marceline tapped her chin. “Dang, who goes first?”

“I want to give you my thing.” Bonnibel said, already opening the top of her bag. She was sure Marceline would give her something nice, so she wanted to impress Marceline first. After all, a girl who lived out here in the middle of nowhere must have access to tons of stuff that Bonnibel had to work hard to find.

She pulled out a shiny pink ball, and handed it over to Marceline. Marceline stumbled, grunting as she lifted it up to her face with both hands. It almost totally covered her face, and Bonnibel was proud. This was her best work yet; it was totally round, and she could see her own face reflected in the dark pink surface.

“Dude, what the heck is this?” Marceline lowered the ball a bit again, turning it over in her hands. “How did you find a rock this smooth?”

“It’s not a rock,” Bonnibel said, feeling even more proud as Marceline looked at her with curiosity. “It’s actually made of a candy polymer I designed myself. It’s kind of like plastic, but it’s heavy like metal. I added some structure inside, so you should be able to drop it from high up and not have any problems.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle and a cloth. “If the surface gets dull or scratched, just put some of this on the cloth and clean it.”

Marceline dropped it on the ground and grabbed Bonnibel. She lifted her up, spinning her around. Bonnibel held on tightly, feeling worried as Marceline spun around.

“Thanks, it’s awesome!” Marceline put Bonnibel down again, then squatted down. She grunted, lifting the ball up with a bit of effort. “I’m going to put this inside, so it’s safe.”

Bonnibel picked up the bottle and cloth again when Marceline went into her little shelter, placing them on one of the rocks next to the door. Marceline could remember them later.

“Okay, are you ready for my thing?” Marceline stepped out again, her hands behind her back. When Bonnibel nodded, she rocked back and forth happily. “Close your eyes.”

Bonnibel did as she was told, closing her eyes and holding out both of her hands.

Something small and light was placed into them. She closed her fingers, feeling a conical shaped piece of plastic with an opening on either end, and a small cylinder just barely poking out near the middle. Was it some kind of toy?

She opened her eyes. The thing was a cheerful red, and she noticed that the cylinder portion had some kind of grating over it. She turned it over, rubbing her finger against the grate. Was it a filter? That would be really useful.

“Do you know what it is?” Marceline asked.

Bonnibel hesitated, then shook her head. Guessing and being wrong would make her look more silly than admitting her ignorance.

“It’s a kazoo! You put this part in your mouth, then hum.” She pointed at the thicker end of the kazoo. “Go on, try it.”

She held the kazoo up and looked inside of it, but there wasn’t any dirt. So she carefully put it to her lips. She breathed in, but there was no sound.

When she hummed on her out breath, the thing buzzed to life. The sound was louder than she’d expected. It almost sounded like a persistent bee. She flinched, and nearly spat the thing out.

Marceline clapped. “Good job! Now try humming with different tones. Like this. Do-mi-sol-mi-dooooooo.”

There was no reason to refuse. Bonnibel took a deeper breath, then tried to hum out each note. She sounded a bit too low on some notes and high on others, but it was still decently close to what Marceline had sung. The kazoo hummed a lot against her lips the entire time. It was very different from what she was used to, but it wasn’t bad. She had a better idea though.

She took the kazoo out of her mouth and wiped her sleeve on her hand. “Wait, let me try something.”

Bonnibel reached into her bag and pulled out a circuit board and a calculator she’d scavenged earlier. She had originally been planning on adding them to the computer she was trying to build, but she would be able to find more parts for it later. She opened the back of the calculator and hooked the battery inside to the circuit board, then wrapped the wire around in a circle a few times. She’d built plenty of electromagnetic cores in her life, and it was easy to rig up a small circuit with one end pressed up against the kazoo. She put on one of her insulated gloves, and held the coil to make sure it stayed in place.

“Watch this.” She pressed a button confidently, and a weak buzzing sound came out of the kazoo.

Marceline watched in awe as she pressed a few more buttons, running up and down a sequence of notes. Her options were limited, but she could still make five distinct notes. If only she had some way to control the volume too, it might be passable.

Suddenly, Marceline thumped down next to her. Her shoulder dug into Bonnibel’s side as she leaned in and poked at the button, making another note crackle from the kazoo.

“That’s so cool! How did you do it?”

“I used some of my spare parts to make an electromagnetic coil. If you make one the right way, then the circuit hums while it works.”

“So you made a little robot to play the kazoo?” Marceline finally gave her some space, though she didn’t move far. She kept her hands in her lap, staring down at the device with interest.

“It isn’t a robot, really. It just sort of exists.” Bonnibel let go of the kazoo, letting it fall on to her lap. She already had a new blueprint sheet in her mind, and she was thinking of all the ways she could turn the kazoo’s hum into a more modulated, smoother sound. “I can build a better one at home. Thanks for the gift.”

“You’re gonna go already?” Marceline grabbed the calculator and held on to it, pulling it close to her chest.

The rest of the circuit followed behind, and Bonnibel quickly disconnected it once it lifted off the ground. She looked up at Marceline and frowned.

“Don’t do that! You have to be careful, or you’ll get us both hurt. The circuit isn’t a toy. Give it back,” Bonnibel said, trying to grab the edge of the calculator.

“No! I’m not just letting you leave.” Marceline curled in on herself, her arms fully folded over the calculator and her knees up next to her shoulders.

Clearly, Bonnibel wasn’t going to be able to use force. She sat back and sighed. She put everything else into her bag, then turned to face Marceline. She was still curled up into a ball with her hair covering her face, but Bonnibel could see one black eye peeking out.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.” Bonnibel held out her hand, ready to make a deal.

Marceline scoffed and ignored her. “Yeah, right. I know what that really means. I gave you a present and everything, but you’re still gonna leave. It isn’t fair.”

Bonnibel rolled her eyes.“I came back the first time, didn’t I? Look, Marceline, I have to take care of my brother. You’re nice, but spending time with a nice girl isn’t going to get us food. If I don’t leave now, it’s going to get dark, and then I’ll be alone in the woods at night. I’ll be here again in about a week. If you stay put, then there’s no way I can miss you.”

“Do you really promise?” Marceline slowly raised her head. She looked sad, and it made Bonnibel uncomfortable.

“Yes, I promise.” Bonnibel reached out again, ready to take the calculator from Marceline.

Marceline hooked one of her pinky fingers into Bonnibel’s and shook it so roughly that her whole arm ached. Bonnibel tried not to wince, and let Marceline keep shaking her hand. By the time she stopped, it felt like Bonnibel had been trying to take a wild animal.

“Perfect! I’ll see you in a week. I’ll even make a guitar, and then we can jam out together. I’ve made a few guitars and ukeleles before, it will be easy,” Marceline said, then finally handed Bonnibel the calculator. “Sorry about your thing. I hope it’s okay.”

Bonnibel looked it over, then carefully pressed the loose wires back into the compartment. She snapped it shut, and put it into her bag. It was getting heavy; she should make a new bag, so she could distribute the weight more evenly.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you later, Marceline.” Bonnibel smiled, then turned around.

“Bye Bonnie!” Marceline called, and when Bonnibel glanced back she saw that Marceline was waving hard. She had both hands in the air, her body almost swaying from side to side.

“Bye Marceline!” Bonnibel waved.

Marceline just kept waving back, a huge smile on her face. Her fangs were visible even from here. It was sweet, and the attention felt much less overwhelming from a distance.

Bonnibel stuck a hand out behind her, using it to feel her way through the trees as she kept on waving back. After nearly tripping twice, she was mostly out of sight of Marceline. She turned around, keeping one hand protectively on her bag as she began to jog through the woods. Once she was home, she couldn’t wait to experiment more with the kazoo.

[snippychicke]

A Few More Balam Shichiro Moments

Part One over here and Here is the link to the owner of the prompt tables

11: Pressing a kiss to their hair. 

Balam found you in the clearing of thorny bushes, covered in scratches, and Nigyul curled around you, protecting you from the elements and the other creatures of the forest. 

He landed harder than intended, and allowed gravity to pull him to his knees. Nigyul shifted, and you looked up, eyes bloodshot, evidence of tears clinging to your face. He breathed your name just as you cried, pulling away from the dragon and into his arms. 

Devil, you were okay. Scratched up and shaken, but alive and not grievously harmed. His wings folded around you as he pulled his mask off in a desperate need to breathe your scent in, reassure himself you really were okay despite being a human stuck in the wilds of the Netherworld for several nights. 

He pressed his lips, or what remained of them, to your hair. You were okay, you were safe. 

12: Humming a melody together. 

Balam wondered if you were aware of the little tune you hummed while working. He assumed it was some tune from back in your world, because he was unfamiliar with the melody. 

But it was catchy to the point he found himself humming himself at times as he focused on coring the pictures of his books, his thoughts often drifting towards you. He didn't really think anything of it until you somehow snuck up on him, humming along as well. He stared at you, slowly realizing he was caught when he saw your smile. 

After that, it just kind of became your song. 

13: Playing with each others fingers. 

"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" You asked as you sat in Balam's lap, trying to read a book while the teacher was torn between petting your hair and writing in his notebook. 

You didn't mind it, obviously. Had you been back in the human realm, you probably would have been disconcerted, but here, with him…it was nice. It was more the fact he always wore gloves, no matter what  that caught your attention and provoked your curiosity. 

"My nails are very sharp," he explained without hesitating. "So these gloves prevent me from accidently hurting others. Or tearing things. Many demons of my kind have to wear them." 

"Oh…" you paused, your curiosity nagging at you even more, now, instead of being sated. But no. You asked enough. It'd be rude to ask for more. 

Apparently, you were bad at hiding your inner turmoil. His hand paused on your hair, and actually pressed gently on your scalp in a way to cause you to look up at him. "Would you like to see for yourself?" He asked, amusement apparent in his tone as well as his face. 

You felt like your face was on fire from embarrassment. "Maybe? If you don't mind?" 

Balam chuckled as he sat his pen down and worked to remove the thick gloves from his hand. 

You noticed scales at first, dull yellow like his lower legs, starting halfway down his forearm. His hands looked human enough, but covered with the same bird-like scales, intricately locked together, his nails black like claws, but not curved like the talons on his feet. "Careful," he cautioned as you reached for his hands. "Like I said, my nails are sharp." 

"Yes sir," you answered, slightly teasing before becoming distracted. The top of his hands were hard yet smooth, but the underside was like soft leather. 

He twitched as you ran your fingers along lightly his palm, making you pause. "Did that tickle?" His face was bright pink as he nodded. You felt both embarrassed, but also a bit pleased by his reaction. "Do you want me to stop?"

"If you want to continue, you can." He muttered, avoiding your gaze. 

"Only if I'm not bothering you…" 

He didn't answer right away, but wrapped his other arm around your waist, as if afraid you were going to move. "Not at all. I'm…just not used to it."

You pressed your hand against his, studying how much larger his hand was compared to yours, before threading your fingers carefully between his, avoiding his nails. 

Balam sighed behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, carefully curling his fingers around yours, but being sure to keep his nails away from your skin. "Your skin is softer than I thought." 

"So, it's kinda like humans? Where your hands are more sensitive to touch and everything?" 

"Essentially." You smiled as you rubbed your thumb along his, and felt another shiver run through him. "That, and I can't remember the last time I touched something without my gloves on." 

"Well, we'll have to do this more often then."

"I…would like that." 

14: Holding each other's gaze

Balam held his breath, his gaze never wavering from you as you reached up and carefully undid the latch of his mask, letting the cool air hit his face. A shiver ran down his spine as your fingers caressed the scarred tissue of where skin melded into exposed gum. It took every ounce of willpower not to dig his fingers into your hips as you straddled his thighs.

Yet, you didn't look away from him. No flash of disgust or horror, not even for a moment. It took even Kalego and Opera months to become desensitized to it enough they no longer batted an eye when they shared a meal. 

But here you were, tracing  where his lips came to a jagged end with a soft sort of curiosity, probably completely unaware how the sensation along with your scent was driving him wild. "Hey Balam?" He didn't dare talk, afraid how close your fingers were to his teeth but hummed slightly. Your eyes looked up to his, your cheeks becoming darker as you held his gaze. "Can I kiss you?"

Whatever he expected, it wasn't that. His thoughts short-circuited as you held his gaze, waiting patiently for an answer as he tried to process the simple sentence. 

Kiss. You wanted to kiss him. You, a beautiful human, who was so tender and kind that it had caught the attention of many a demon, wanted to kiss him. After seeing his face. The face that made many demons blanche and excuse themself. 

A face that he thought would cause him to never feel the affection of another person. Especially a kiss.

"I-If you don't want to…" you started after a long heavy silence, finally looking away as embarrassment crossed your expression, quickly snapping his thoughts back to reality. 

"Please," he quickly blurted as his hand lost its careful grip on your hip and moved to guide your gaze back to his. "Please." He repeated, though now it sounded like a plea. 

You bit your lip briefly before you leaned up to brush the remains of his. His eyes finally closed at the sensation as his breath hitched. Devil, your lips were so soft against his. Your human scent surrounded him, and then, hellsfire, your lips moved against his, your tongue brushing against his teeth, and all thoughts vanished as instincts tried to take control. 

It was so hard to remind himself how weak and delicate you were, how easily he could hurt you, as his mind clouded over as if suddenly in the midst of an evil cycle. Yet he didn't feel consumed by rage and hate.

He was consumed by a need for you. He needed more of your touch, your scent. Your taste. He needed you more than air. He needed to feel your soft skin beneath his. Your scent mixed with his. To discover if you tasted nearly half as good as he imagined. Would you allow him to kiss your cheek? To run his tongue  along the slope of your neck? To mark you with bites claiming you as his? 

He pulled his hands away from you, balling them into fists by his side in hopes of holding on to control, only for you to pull away. 

"Sorry," you muttered, looking away in what he assumed was shame. Shame of giving him hope but unable to follow through, realizing how broken and mangled his face was. "I guess I need to control myself better. I didn't mean to pressure you."

"No, I under…" he trailed off, realizing what you said. Did you…  "Wait, pressure me?" Did you think he didn't like that?

You shifted to move from his lap, but he caught your hips and pulled you back to him, a little more forceful then he meant to as you braced your hands against his chest to keep from crashing into him. You looked up at him, wide-eyed with surprise as he whispered your name. "You didn't pressure me into anything. I was trying to hold myself back. I want- I wanted more." Devil, he wanted so much more. 

That caused you to blush, which only made his desire burn hotter. "Okay." You whispered, surprising him once more. 

"Okay?" He repeated, dumbfounded.

You smile as you cupped his face, leaning up until your lips were a hair's breadth away from his. "Okay."

Ah. Okay. He closed the distance between you, gently  touching your face as he kissed you. And as you returned his gentle, rather clumsy kiss  he swore he died and went to the afterlife. 

15: Absent-mindedly massaging the other.

Balam was always stroking your hair, or rubbing your back. 

And you kinda picked up on the habit after a while. When you came up to him curled over his table, or sitting in his chair with his typical bad posture, your hands would slip beneath the collar of feathers, your fingers working on the perpetually tense muscles of his neck and shoulder. It always took him a few extra moments for his mind to process what you were talking about and a few more to properly think of a response. 

He wanted to melt back into your hands, allow his eyes to drift close as he soaked in your delightfully light touch, the rhythmic way you kneaded his muscles as you talked. Your hands were so soft and small compared to his frame, your voice a relaxing melody even if you were complaining about something. He just wanted to be enveloped in everything that was you in those short blissful moments before he was forced back into interacting with reality. 

He didn't sit on low surfaces more often now, just so you could reach his shoulders. Not at all.

[truly-quirkless]

Twenty Day Challenge 2024 - Day Two

Type: Fluff Piece Timeline: Post-Yakuza Raid Location: One of U. A.'s Gyms

Sometimes, sparring sessions....end in a horrible way.

WARNINGS: A lil suggestive towards the end. Also very short, but fight.

They were silent as light reflected off the metal in their hand. Fin was brandishing a dull version of their personal blade, head slightly downturned as they took in a small breath. It wasn't even their weapon... But if it were their actual knife, they feared what they might do. How they'd FEEL.

Their gloves felt almost constrictive despite how long they'd had them, worried about the wires giving out. They shuffled, silver paint catching the sun.

They were already breathing a bit hard, a thin sheen of sweat on their exposed skin. Their clothes stuck to them in odd places, only making their overheating worse as they prepared to attack.

"..come at me." He was standing as he would any other day...but there was something more menacing in the air- nearly an aura that poured off of him, toxifying the atmosphere. Yagi's eyes flashed as Fin dashed to the left. He didn't move- keeping an eye eternally on them.

They back-stepped at the last second. A hand thrown back. Pitch-black, needle-thin threads snapped towards the opposing side of the gym. Yagi barely had to move to dodge. Fin was already twisting. The wire was retracting, pulling them along at breakneck speed- barely discernable.

Yagi snapped back. He raised a hand, feeling the metal rod Fin was using as a weapon smack against his palm. He was already turning. Another wire had snapped towards another section of the gym- the first detaching and evaporating, black mist flowing back towards Fin.

The wire disconnected as Fin spun. Their leg met with a block from Yagi, shoving them backwards- and into a roll.

He already had another metal 'knife' out. He slammed it into Fin's own weapon, feeling the vibration echo up his arm. The sting of the hit burst in his fingers, but he didn't let go.

"You're getting faster."

"No." Fin vaulted back. Their shoes activated, kicking them slightly up into the air- hovering just barely off of the ground. I don't improve. They pulled their pipe back.

Yagi was on them in a moment- his own weapon smashing downwards. They just barely blocked it with theirs. Fin shoved- Yagi was sent flying backward. He righted himself, landing on his feet as one hand dragged.

"You are." He pulled the pipe close. The two knew too much about each other's fighting style- he could see the last of the 'mist' vanishing back into the small barrels on Fin's gloves. "But..." They were readying their next attack.

"I'm faster." In a blink, he was in front of them again- forcibly knocking them to the floor from the surprise and sudden change of weight. Fin's back smacked into the concrete with a dull oomph--- the air escaping their lungs in a wheeze.

"What do you say, love?" The 'razor edge' of his weapon was pressed to Fin's neck. "....do you surrender?" One of their hands was raised, less than an inch from ripping his own away- but they'd gone still. Their chest rose and fell as they gasped for air.

"When-- Hell freezes- over." The wire shot out of their hand, knocking the pipe from Yagi's grip. Just as fast as their other, Fin had flipped the two over. However...their own pipe was also across the floor. They were less than an inch apart, breath coming in small gasps. Hazel and sky blue refused to look away from one another. "What-- about you,...give up?"

There was a twinkle to the Hero's eye as he smirked. What the Hell was he--

"..Make me." One of Fin's hands had slid to the upper part of Yagi's chest, fingers pressing into the fabric. He could see the tell-tale whispers of pink starting to burn at their cheeks. Those hues flashed with embarrassment- and he took that moment to flip the two back over, slamming Fin once more into the floor. There was another huff of air, leaving Fin gasping for it.

The two were both breathing hard, every pant echoing into the steaming air. A small bit of blood was attempting to escape Yagi’s mouth. His tongue swiped over his lips, watching Fin’s eyes catch on the action. He gulped. They were underneath him,- sweaty and gasping- his mind fell down the possibilities. Memories of the two’s past ‘spars’ flickered behind his eyes.

"Or better yet..." He leaned in close, his smirk growing slightly wider. He could feel their heart, thudding just under his hand. "How about I make you, Hazelnut?" Brown hair slightly wild, their face slowly getting redder, their breath speeding up-- he was leaning in, slowly getting closer-

"For the love of..." A third voice broke the moment. Both heads immediately shot towards the source- a certain raven-haired Hero, looking as dead-tired as always, glaring at the duo. Yagi felt his own face slowly beginning to heat up as he scrambled off of Fin, trying to help them to their feet- how much had Aizawa seen---

"H-hey, Aizawa--- didja-- need somethin'-"

"Nezu wants to speak with All Might." Fin could just about feel their soul shriveling up in their chest. Aizawa's one seeable eye flicked between the two. "...you can finish up whatever this is later." The raw annoyance in his voice just about knocked Fin flat.

"Alright." He wasn't about to argue- but damnit. Aizawa was already turning around to leave, leaving the couple momentarily stunned on the floor.... "....see you later?" His voice was quiet- leaning over to give Fin a small peck on the forehead. Their silent nod made him smile as he got to his feet- brushing himself off before helping Fin up as well. "Until then."

"Yep." Fin gave a wave as Yagi walked out of the gym with Aizawa- before slumping to the floor, their face red.

"....okay...Earth,...y'can go ahead n' kill me now, please..."

[residentdormouse]

When a Good Man Goes to War with Words

(and a few questionable ones…)

Sorry, @mrsmungus , couldn't help the title since wars are really prevalent in my fics. “Red” vs “White”. “Good” vs “Evil”. “Right” vs “Wrong”. Who we are verses the choices we make. Much like the doctor, the majority of them loathe the fighting, but it’s where they find themselves. While an attempt was made to Ninth doctor the whole thing (‘Everybody Lives!’), why it is a rarity made itself clear. Life goes by quick whether you blink or not, and those four knocks come for us all.

But I should stop my nonsense. Take a break before I look in the mirror and have to ask, Don’t you think she looks tired. Cause, yes. Yes she does.

My Words: Scarf, War, Planet, Rose, Sweet

Your Words: Cane, Medicine, Case, Pills, Diagnosis/Detect/Solve (you know what I’m getting at)

(I’d put Lupus, but that would be a stretch. It's never Lupus.)

As always - open tag - if you want to join in. Other fandom keywords welcomed - there’s no rules here really - I don’t know what we’re doing. But we’re having fun doing it, and that’s what matters, right?

Scarf

(Only one use of scarf in everything. I guess it makes the job of picking a section out easy…)

"I think maybe we should get Larry…"

While her interactions with the kid were extremely limited at best, she still felt a kind of understanding in his looks as he stared back at her. And this one was clearly stating, 'That's what we're doing'.

"But, we should turn---"

Another pull to her arm.

"Okay…"

They continued on for another stretch, and Hayden began to feel the cold starting to sink in. She looked over at Joe, who had the foresight to bundle up at least. She had not been adequately prepared for how long they would be out, and missed her fluffy scarf and hat. Luckily for her, Glen gave her a coat before she left; she would have taken off without it. A pair of fingerless gloves was stashed away in her pockets, and was certainly better than nothing.

"Where are we going, Joe? Nobody really lives out this way except Harold…"

Turning the next corner, her question immediately answered itself and she found Larry walking in their direction.

"Sorry for doubting..." She looked down at the boy, before her hands went to the air in a wave, "Hey, Larry!

War

(I’ve made it rule that if I find a word, but skip the segment in place another, only to find the same damn section with another word - Have to use it. Catching not only one war but two, and a bonus rose to fully overachieve.)

There were times that she would stumble, and profusely apologize for things lost in translation while others would have simply been annoyed and moved on at the next chance. It stirred a foreign feeling that was refreshing, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for this type of connection until he had it. What would his life have been like if he had met someone like her before? Met her before?

“I always feel like I’m back in middle school when I do this.”

He caught most of her words as she wheeled in a table where she had created a temporary shrine to gaming. After she realized the handheld games were a hit, she “raided” the nearby store for him. TV, gaming systems, various discs and devices…

“Everytime something like this came out, we knew Mr. Cartwright had a bit too much to drink the night before. It was always some dull black and white documentary though, and it usually meant a nap, not furious button mashing, but some feelings of nostalgia just override the actual outcome of the event, y’know? TV on a cart? That means a mental break. But give me God of War over World War II aircrafts all day everyday, am I right?”

Nick watched amused as she babled on. This was the dynamic they usually fell into. Something would come up that sparked a long and detailed story that she became overly enthusiastic about. She’d ramble at length. Then she’d apologize for rambling, her cheeks flushing to a rose pink. He’d smile to show his amusement in it, and they’d go back to the original task at hand.

“Sorry.” She handed over a controller, and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, her face tinged in the familiar shade of embarrassment.

Sweet

(Unfortunately, no sweetie. There are a few ‘sweethearts’, which is my go-to dealing out condescending shit name, and a few ‘sweet buns’ which is some Lloyd bullshit. And since this seems to be a Lloyd section post… caught one of those wars from earlier.)

“Hi, fellas. And fellettes. We’ve been expecting ya. You know, my boss told me when you’d be walking out of that canyon down to the minute. Isn’t that crazy? Its is a crazy fuckin’ world.”

The colors, the attitude, the ignorance… Whether it be willful or not, the person in front of her, for all intents and purposes, seemed like he was ignorant to the kind of situation they were all in. Life and death. Possibly war. Maybe she was reading him wrong; she very well could be. They were in the thick of it now. The players they would see in the game moving forward were going to have power, and there's most likely a reason for that.

But this guy, he seemed blind to any seriousness in life at the moment.

Hayden took a deep breath and began walking forward “Well, at least we can agree on that… crazy fucking world is an understatement.”

He pushed back from the door and made a showy display of stepping out of the way. "Ladies first."

She looked back at Glen. "See how that sounds?"

"Noted."

Shaking her head, she climbed in, with each member of the group following in after her. It was two on each side, and this asshole chose to sit next to her. "Scoot over sweet buns, time for us to be movin' on."

She felt like Harold with the heavy layer of mask she now wore, shooting him a smile that was still outwardly pleasant while also screaming 'please eat shit'.

"Aren't you a charmer..."

Planet

(Another two-fer. Planet and war. Destiny. Also, immediately picking up where sweet left off.)

"Don't you know it." He gave a flashy smile and a couple quick pounds against the divider. "Name's Lloyd Henreid, and I'll be taking your sorry asses into the last place on this fucking planet you want to be."

Slowly the vehicle started to drive off. Once they were at a steady pace, Lloyd took a drag from his ridiculous cigarette, lowering the window to puff out the smoke.

"Last place we want to be? You think we walked all the way from Boulder to not get to Vegas?" Glen raised his eyebrows in a playful challenge, and Lloyd let out a huff.

"You know what I mean. Mister Flagg don't take kindly to folks sending spies and acting all war like towards him. Sure wouldn't want to be you right now, that's all I'm sayin'."

He took another drag on the cigarette, and Hayden took cue from this to pull out her vape. "So there's no problem with smoking here, then?"

"Shit, no! Land of freedom, baby, that's what we're all about here." Glen let out a short breath of laughter at the statement of their 'freedom', and Hayden followed by taking a hit without further hesitation. Lloyd paused a second before he realized just exactly what she had pulled out. "Woah! Hey, what do you got there?"

"I think it's called Ice Cream Sandwich. Couldn't find any more Banana Cream, but this is a pretty good substitute. Want some?" She offered the pen over and raised her eyebrows at the flabbergasted look on his face.

"Is that fucking weed?"

Rose

'This is important!'

The emphasized signs did nothing aside from further exasperating her, and she ripped her arm away. "We don't have time for this!"

Frustration built to a breaking point inside of him. Of course they didn't have time; nobody ever had time! But he'd be damned if he left here without answers, without doing everything that he could. Before he could release his anger in another burst of signs, Gwen came over to a stop directly in front of him. Hands rose up on either side of his face, and eyes bore a hole into his own, burning through his retina and straight out the back of his skull. Transfixed, he stood there. Stood still as she leaned forward, as she pressed her mouth onto his, as the metallic taste hit his tongue. But the sharp bite to his lower lip was what released him from whatever hold she had.

He pushed her back sharply before signing out angrily again.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?!'

"Why don't you say it, Nicky?"

Apparently, she only released her physical hold while the mental one took effect. His eyes grew wide as the words echoed inside his head. Words she said while her lips never moved.

"Cat got your thoughts?"

[grippingbeskar]

The Element of Surprise | Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: The Explosion

mando x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI ( oral (m receiving)) sexual content, swearing

a/n: thanks for all the luv recently!! hope your all still enjoying the series i have no idea how long it will go, i have a couple things i still want to write out first tho so probably at least 20 chapters maybe more??? LOVE U ALLLLL also whiney din is my fave kk

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You felt like your face is going to be pulled off.

The effects of hyperspace were immediate, stomach churning and your entire body slamming into the backrest, surely leaving a mark. You can hear Grogu’s loud squeals and you can’t tell if he’s enjoying it or terrified, but even with the sickness growing in your stomach, the view is ingrained in your mind.

A dark backdrop is lit up by a thousand shades of blue and purple, colours dancing off the control board and the silver walls, creating a mirror effect off the glass panels in front of you. Glistening stars penetrate the wall of melted colours with blinding effects, their glow somehow even more intense when paired with the adrenaline of flight.

You can’t move your head away from it, the force of your speed holding you secure, and all you can do is watch as the colours go from blues and purples to pinks, back to blue and a hint of green.

A flash of silver in the corner of your eye blinds you momentarily, and you try to turn your head but the force of hyperspace keeps your neck firmly attached to the headrest. All you can see are colours, and you begin to get dizzy, your mind blurring at the flashes of bright light.

“Hit the switch!” You manage to hear him over the loud roar of the engines, and you realise he can’t reach from where he is, seeing his occasional glint of armour as he tries to reach across you. You don’t have to move to see it, although it looks a hell of a lot smaller than before. You try to move your arm but you have never been in hyperspace before, and have no resistance to it, having your arm sucked right back down to the seat, motionless.

“Fuck - I can’t reach, Din.” You start to panic, this is exactly why he should have been sitting here and not you, your heart pounding and-

“Hey! It’s okay. Take a breath. You can do this, I know you can.” The modulator doesn’t hide the kindness behind his words and you close your eyes, eliminating some of the distracting light.

You see the switch behind your closed eyelids, and even though your haven’t moved you swear you can feel it in your hands. You take a few deep breaths and the ship quiets, the roar dulling to a quiet ring. You ball your hand into a fist, the ghost of the sensation of the switch still present, and you follow the tether of curiosity.

Inching your hand forward, you know you don’t have your hand on the control board, but for some reason you know you can do this. Maybe it was Dins encouragement, or maybe just your dumb luck, but when you open your eyes, you have stopped, doing no more than a few clicks a mile, slowly soaring through open space. You used the Force. And it actually worked in your favour.

Immediately you turn to the side, finding a small empty crate and throw up. You stomach is turning and a gloved hand comes behind you and holding your hair back, creating a make shift pony tail with his soft grip. You only puke once, and as soon as you finish you have the strange feeling to move the bucket behind you, only just stopping Grogu from puking on the floor as he follows suit. 

“I dont know if that was amazing or the worst thing Ive ever done.” You say after you’ve caught your breath, sliding the puke crate out the cockpit door, making it a later problem.

“You get used to it.” The modulator answers and your head turns to him as he crouches next to you. “You good?”

Truthfully you felt like utter shit, but the touch of his hand on your wrist was enough to settle your stomach. Nodding, you lean forward and check the screen in front of you, no other ships within radius.

“I think we lost ‘em” Flicking switches above you to adjust the propulsion, you feel like a real pilot now you’ve been in hyperspace, and it feels damn cool.

“Never had a chance. You’re a pro.” A genuine smile spreads across your face, feeling only warmth and pure happiness. “Hows she feel?” You knew he was talking about the ship, and you take a moment to expand your senses, your found calm state allowing you to pick out the indiscrepensies in the ships, and apart from one minor grinding sound in the rear engine, it feels and sounds perfect.

“Just the filter in the engine.” He nods, clearly the right answer.

“We can get that on Corellia. You can install it for me.” You look at him, confused. “If your gonna pilot my ship you have to fix it, too.” The idea of getting anywhere near that engine makes your nose turn up, only because you know how filthy it is. Grogu runs out and down the stairs as he chases a little metal ball, and you hear the ladder shutter upwards as he goes down stairs.

“Gross. No way.”

“Yes way.” He leans back in the chair, satisfied.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“You fly the ship, you have to fix it.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he teases you, and deep down you know he’s just playing, but it sparks an idea.

Flicking the ship into auto pilot you stand, taking a swig of the water bottle that rolled out of a bag during flight and tossing it on your now empty chair. The Force surges through you, your quick thinking and clear mind gave you the ability to flick the switch without having to touch it now feels overflowing - like you have all this energy with no where for it to go. Both of your hands come down on one of Dins armrests, pushing your chest together slightly. You look down on him into that black line across his helmet and tilt your head.

“You really gonna make me get all dirty?” A breathless laugh leaves him, but its cut short when he feels you reach out to him with that same curious energy you used on Jakku, cutting a path from his neck and trailing softly, slowly to his collarbones. You feel every hard edge to him and it makes you want to reach out and grab him, but your playing the long game here, wanting so desperately to take what you didn't get in the early hours of this morning. 

“See, I dont think your gonna make me do that.” You purr to the side of his helmet, and his hand balls in his fist, drifting that flicking heat of your energy further down, investigating the tight confines of his armour.

“No?” Is all he manages, and it comes out a lot softer than he usually talks. You aren’t even sure if he’s breathing.

“No, I dont think so. I think I can get you to change your mind.” His skin is hot and you can feel his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. You trail lower and his breath hitches.

“How?”

“You want me to show you?” You have never been the one to take control between you and Din, mostly because you were too nervous, too unsure of yourself. But he makes you feel good; strong, and with this new empowerment of your flight skills, you are practically on top of the world. He nods in response and you smile down at him, taking one hand off the armrest only to plant it firmly on the other, boxing him in like he has to you so many times before. 

You kneel down in the tiny space between the controls and him, Dins legs spreading to give you more room. He looks slightly uncomfortable in the smaller seat, but when your energy runs down the centre of him, stopping just above his waistline, his helmet falls back and he sighs.

It takes every once of self control not to take him in your mouth at the sight of that, the sound of that sigh, but you want this to be good for him; and last as long as possible. You close your eyes and focus, it doesn't take much for you to find him through the darkness of your mind, long, luxurious sweeps of tangible Force running along his abs, up his spine, and finally slipping below his waist.

He arches out of his seat and your eyes open, he moans your name and you drink in the sight before you, of him fidgeting and sighing, your name on his lips and you haven’t even taken his pants off. With that thought, you whip off the utility belt and prepare for the long struggle with his increasingly confusing pants.

Except you dont find the weird latch-like thing you couldn’t open last time, just a thick belt holding together the slightly frayed pants. He tore them off last time, and now he had to wear a makeshift belt because he couldn’t wait to be inside you long enough to undo them. You actually recognise this belt, but hold that memory in the back of your mind, looking up at him and flutter your lashes.

“At least this is easier to undo.” You smile, and you hear a tiny laugh and see a puff of his chest. You allow another long stroke of your energy to run under across him and he yelps, cutting himself off. 

He lifts himself up slightly so you can slide his pants down, hard armour digging into your chest as you lean forward, your breath warming the hard length at your eye level. You feel his heart skip a beat when you flick your eyes to him, and all these sensations of his skin and heart and breath make you feel enveloped in him. Sinking into it, you pull back the touch of your energy on him and his back relaxes into the chair, only for him to shoot out of it when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

“Fuck!” He growls and you flutter your eyes closed, getting as much pleasure from this as he is. He tastes fucking perfect, the salty sweet mixture hitting your tongue and your thighs press together; longing. You bob your head once, swirling around him and he pants, uttering your name in short, sweet stutters.

“Maker your mouth feels perfect. S’ soft.” He praises from above you and his hand slips into your hair, a thumb brushing against your cheek affectionately as he stares at you working him.

You want him to push your head down, forcing you to take the part of him you cant reach, but you dont want to take your mouth off him for a second to tell him, so you concentrate on your energy, allowing it to wrap around the base of him, as tight as you would with your hand, making up for the distance.

He lets out a string of words you cant make out, the wet sounds of your mouth all over him so loud it blocks it out. His hand tightens in your hair, tugging hard enough that you moan around him, and you realise you need to come up for air.

Slipping off him for only a second, you suck in a breath, spit dripping down your chin and you dont have to see his face to know his eyes burn into you.

“Do I feel like you dreamed I did?” You blink, and press soft, sweet kisses on him, and he twitches under every one.

“Better. So much better. Please I-I” There has never been a sexier sound that hearing Din beg, looking at him fully suited up, blaster still hanging off his hip in the open utility belt as he pleads for you.

“Please what?” You bite your lip and his hand pulls your hair tighter - either from frustration or arousal, probably both. You have what you wanted and your going to enjoy it for as long as he can take it. He whines your name, a sound so high pitched you can hear his desperation through the modulator. 

“Please keep going. What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything.” Your ego skyrockets and you kiss the head of his cock and his hips buck, a strong, consistent energy still wrapped around his base.

“You fix the ship.”

“Okay. Fuck. Okay, done.” He attempts to pull you back toward him, but you pull back lightly and instantly his hand stills.

“And you have to replace my clothes when we land.” You like this new power, and Din is so much less stubborn when he’s desperate and on edge. Its such a turn on to see him like this, and it doesn't go unnoticed how much he must trust you to allow himself to be this vulnerable. 

“O-okay. What else?” What else? Shit, you hadn’t thought this far ahead, and you can hardly think straight with him in front of you like this. You dont want to take advantage of him, he’s obviously not in his head at the moment, but you know he would give you whatever you asked for anyways, so you save it.

“Wildcard. I’ll think of it later.” Saliva drips out of your mouth and Dins hand leaves your hair to wipe it away, stroking himself just once with his now wet gloved hand. He sighs and lets his hand return to your hair.

“Okay, pretty girl. Whatever you want.” He goes to keep talking but you shut him off by taking him so far down your throat you gag on him, the sensation making you both moan in drawn out, desperate ways. His hips buck up and he cant control the shake in his core as you quicken your pace, wanting more of him every time. His voice is strained and he tries to speak but just makes sounds, and you imagine his face all screwed up and beautiful under that helmet, his gaze never leaving yours.

You let your tongue guide itself along the under side of him as you hollow out your mouth and suck, him hitting the back of your throat so hard that tears stream down your face. You are so turned on that when your hand finds your clit you aren't even a little surprised by how wet you are, drawing small tight circles around yourself. It wont take long for you to get there with the way Din sounds, and you can feel his cock twitching, knowing he’s close too.

“Cyar’ika.” He strangles out and you cant keep your eyes open, the hand not on yourself coming off his thigh and wrapping around him, pumping him inside your mouth, your control of the Force dissipating completely, leaving just you, him and the galaxy behind you. “You touching yourself right now?”

You nod around him, your eyes hardly open as every nerve in your body shimmers under your skin. You see his head tilt slightly and he must see your hand working under your pants because he groans so loudly it shakes the chair.

“Can I- Can I come in your mouth?” His voice is dry and your answer is only a light nod and you keep him in your mouth. Its all it takes for him to slam into the back of the chair and finally cum in your mouth.

His orgasm is long, your own washing over you somewhere within its duration. His body jerks under you and he whispers your name over and over, a prayer to whatever gods are listening. Its drawn out and beautiful, you dont stop drinking in him and move your head up and down letting him enjoy every last second.

When he finally stops moving and you feel his cock soften in your mouth you come off him with a ‘pop’, helping him pull his pants back up, doing the buckle of his belt. You go to stand but even exhausted he is faster than you, two arms scooping you and swinging your legs over the side of the chair, your torso leaning against him. You nuzzle your face into the small part of material in between his neck and his helmet and his head flops to the side to give you room, both arms wrapping you in.

“You are...” He says after a while of just holding you in the quiet of the ship and you smile, unable to help the little laugh that comes out. He has a way of making you feel like the sexiest person in the galaxy, even though you have never thought of yourself as even the sexiest person in a room. He looks at you and you press your face to the helmet. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

Your heart jumps and you swear you could cry, not being able to help the urge to press a light kiss to the helmet.

“I could say the same.” Smiling, you shift on his lap, trying to impossibly get closer to him. “Can I ask you a question?” Its the question that has been burning in your gut for a while, and you decide you should ask while your confidence is at an all time high.

“Of course. Anything.” He nods against you.

“Do you have a last name? You dont have to tell me what it is, I just wondered if Mandalorians get those.” He tilts his head at you and before he answers you run over his words. “Its stupid, sorry. Forget I asked.” God you were so insensitive what is wrong wi-

“Yeah. Djarin. Its my birth name.” You try to hide the little gasp when he says it. The name suits him, harsh edges with a soft centre. It warms your entire body when you say it, and his gloved hand runs along your thighs when you repeat it. 

“The full mystery is revealed. Din Djarin.”

“Now you know all my secrets.” He jokes and your laugh fills the room, bouncing off the metal walls and straight back to you. “You can always ask questions, you know. Anything you want to know.” You think he will live to regret that.

“Like right now?”

“Sure.”

“How long did it take you to become a Mandalorian?”

“I completed my training within the first five years, but all you need to truly become part of a clan is to follow the creed. That and to be fully mature, or whatever the equivalent is in your race.” 

“So not all Mandalorians are human?” You dont know why you assumed this, maybe due to the tight suits.

“No. Foundlings are brought from all planets. Besides, once you complete training, no one sees the race anymore.” That makes complete sense, and you nod as he explains.

“So did you see all your friends faces when you were a kid, and then one day you all just never saw each other again?”

“Yes, but its not a bad thing. When you receive your armour, you become Mandalorian. You are the same; equals. You dont compare to the way others look, dont judge another based on the way they are, there is only the creed. We all become the same.” You love it when he talks about this stuff, you can hear the pride in his voice when he does so.

“Have you ever shown anyone your face?” It surprises you when he nods.

“The kid has seen what I look like. But other than that, no. The creed doesn’t state the removal of your helmet is allowed in any degree, but there were... circumstances I couldn’t help.”

“You dont have to explain, its okay.”

“No, I want to. To follow the creed is to never reveal your face to any living thing, but I was dying and he saved me, and I could never hold that against him. Theres only one instance where a Mandalorian reveals his face.” You lean forward, expecting, but he coughs and doesn’t finish.

“Well? What is it?” 

“Its -ah. The Mandalorian version of marriage, sort of.” Your heart stops beating and you swear your tongue swells up in your mouth and you cant speak, so you just nod. “To bring someone else into your clan, you reveal yourself to them, the part that a Mandalorian keeps closest. Then you and that person are forever linked. Its not always romantic, and you don’t do it for just anyone, so it usually is reserved for a partner. Most of the time theres some kind of ceremony. Its different for everyone.”

You are sitting there just nodding dumbly, unsure of what to say. To think there is a version of this reality in which Din might show himself, what he actually looks like. You brain cant fathom it. It also cant fathom the idea of him doing that with anyone but you, your jealousy at even the thought bubbling under your skin and you swallow; hard. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing?” Your voice comes out as a squeak and you can hear him smile.

“Liar.” He doesn’t push you, but you want to push yourself.

“Is that - I mean, is that something you have ever, like, considered doing?” His hand stills on your thigh.

“Before? No.” You have to blink a couple times to register his words. Before. Before what? Before today? Before last year? He was sending you mad. “But I would consider it now.” His hand goes to your hip, careful not to press too hard, the fresh bruises still sore, but you relish in the slight pain because it reminds you he’s really there and he really said that.

“Thats... good.” You aren’t sure how to reply, but it made you feel warm, too warm to hear him say it.

“Is it?”

“Yes. Its good.” Your nerves make you start to giggle and he only tugs you tighter to him.

“Okay. Good. I can work with that.”

A loud crash followed by a sizzle of electricity makes you both jump, Dins arms instantly curling tight around you. When you open your eyes, you fully expect the ship to be caved in on one side, but you continue to float in the galaxy, and then your both on your feet, running out the cockpit to the other member of the clan.

Din jumps straight down the hole in the floor where the ladder hasn't even dropped yet and you follow, terrified for what you might find. When you reach the floor, you trip over the huge chuck of metal something on the floor. You dont recognise the part, and you dont know if thats a good thing or a bad thing. Its not until you look up and see the giant hole in the wall that leads to the armoury on the other side of the hull that you realise its not a chuck of metal, its the wall separating the two sections of the ship peeling off. 

A tiny green baby sits in the middle of the destruction, black with ash, reaching for something inside the electricity unit that was once tucked into the wall, but now its exposed wires and switches are bare. The Mandalorian scoops him up, picking up the tiny metal ball he was chasing.

“Is he okay?” You ask and its only when Din nods that you let go of the breath you were holding. That was a loud explosion, and you instantly thought the worst. Now that you knew he was okay, though, you stared at the destruction left in his wake.

The wall was completely destroyed, and the live wires you saw earlier led to others that were frayed, and some completely melted from the inside out, sparking randomly as the three of you stand there, speechless. What the fuck are you going to do about that? 

You turn around as Din places Grogu in the moveable crib, sending it upstairs.

“What do we do?” A big spark makes you jump a little, and its clear there is internal damage underneath the mass of metal. He just sighs.

“Good thing we’re going to Corellia.” He begins to turn and go back up the ladder, your hand shooting out to stop him and silently questioning. Another spark flies from the frayed live wires.

“So we just - leave it?” You were no mechanic, but the messy pile of broken parts seemed to signal a problem. He just shrugged, and you couldn’t believe how causal he was being. “Are you not the least bit concerned we might, I dont know, blow up in the middle of the galaxy? 

“Ships been in worse shape. Shes unbreakable.” You still stare at him, blinking. He steps forward and takes your face in his hands “Its not going to blow up.” Letting go of a shakey sigh, you look up at him, grateful for his steady hands.

“I thought Grogu was-”

“Hey. He’s fine. Believe me, he’s fried himself worse than that.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel much better.” You say but your smiling under his hands and he laughs a little. 

“Come on. Only a couple hours left till we dock.”

“Wasn’t it like two days away?” He nods.

“Hyperspace cut off a day. You fly fast.” You laugh at him and follow him up the ladder, quickly taking the passenger seat. He looks over at you, and you can practically see the stare under his helmet as he takes his place in the pilot chair. “You up for another go?”

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about, and you really need to get your head out of the gutter. His hand hovers over the switch to shoot the ship into hyperspace. You stand up and quickly bring in the bucket from outside, placing it beneath you.

“Am now.” Strapping yourself in, you hear him start to laugh as he flicks the switch, sending you both hurtling into the dark.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Five days.” The small man in front you wanders out of the Razor Crest, and you look around, getting a feel for the planet you will now probably be stuck on for the next week. From what you could see it looks like another city planet, big buildings stretching into the clouds and hundreds of ships swerving between them, disappearing into the white mist.

“No. You fix it today.” Din was arguing with the man, but no amount of threats was going to move this thing along any faster. You sigh and come back to stand next to him, his giant frame making the mechanic shrink a little.

“Sorry about him. It’s the tentacles. Sometimes the suit gets too tight and he squishes them. makes him grumpy. Five days, and it’ll be good as new?” The mechanics eyes nearly pop out of your head, and if you could see Dins face your pretty sure it would mirror him. The man shuffles away from Din and stands next to you, nodding.

“Five days. Good as new.” He says and you reach over a hand for the credits Din was holding.

“We can’t wait five days. Not here.” He says lowly, looking over at the little crib that was closed over to your right.

“We don’t exactly have a lot of options. We do this now, and if we find something else we can just come back and get it.” You make a face at him, and he knows your right, or rather doesn’t have another option right now and hands over the credits, which you then give to the man.

“Five days. If it’s not ready, I’m not gonna stop him when we get back.” The mechanic nods up and down vigorously and when Din turns away, he leans into your ear.

“Do the Mandalorians all have tentacles?” He whispers and you bite your hand to cover your laugh. Din can hear it, you know he can, because he starts shaking his head when you choke back your outburst.

“Only when they turn 1000. One for every millennia.” Your face is serious and the mechanic nods again, completely eating it up.

“And you say he- he has many?” You flick your gaze over to Din, putting on a dramatic show. You can’t believe how little people know about what’s really under the mask, but hell, if this were you a few months ago you probably would have believed it too. Doesn’t make it any less hilarious to see how Din stiffens when you reply.

“Oh, yes. Several. He’s very old, they live for, like, ever.” Gripping the bag of credits tighter, he takes a step back.

“Four days for you. Four days, I’ll have it ready.” He legs it back into his shop and you beam at Din who has finally turned to face you, a bag of clothes and food on the floor and a bag of weapons slung over his shoulder. You skip over to him and pick up the bag, bumping him with your hip.

“I am not that old.” He says, and you don’t hide your laugh this time, finding it hilarious that that is the part he focused on.

“Hmm. How would I know?” Teasing you look up at him and both of you begin walking in sync down the hill. You don’t know where your going, probably further into the city to figure out your next move, but you don’t question him and follow his movements.

“You know. You would know I am not old.” You actually think he’s a little angry, maybe from your comment and a little from the mechanic, but you can’t stop laughing at him.

“Its okay. Im into older guys.” He groans and you laugh harder. “Why are you upset about that? Personally I would be focused on the fact that guy believed you were thousands of years old with tentacles shoved in your suit.”

“Im not upset.” He’s brooding, and your eyes roll so hard he can probably hear it.

“Seriously. Your not old. I know that.”

“Im older than you.” 

“Okay? I dont care.” You stop walking and spin him to face you. You were just teasing, but this is obviously something that is bothering him. “Seriously-” you look around to make sure you are alone “- Din. I dont care, even if you actually had tentacles. I lov-” Your eyes shoot open, wider than you thought possible and your head drops. 

You aren’t looking at him. You cant look up. Cant move. Cant breathe. 

Holy fuck. There’s no way he missed that, the man who sees everything, knows everything. Knows you better than you know yourself. The more you think about it, the more you want to finish that damn sentence. 

You do love him. You’ve never been in love before, but you don’t have to have been to know what you feel for him is more. Its more intense than speeding through hyperspace, more intense than that first rush of Force through your veins. Everything is fire and light with him, and you love him.

He hasn’t moved either, looking at you with that blank fucking expression. You can’t read his body language because theres nothing to read. He is perfectly still, like he’s blending into the environment hiding from an enemy, except he is in plain sight, right in front of you.

“Din. Can you say something. Please.” Its not a question, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” You gasp out a little laugh.

“You didn’t teach me that one.” He steps to you, one stride and his body is pressing against you, hands on your waist, the bag on your back feeling weightless when he touches you.

“I know. I should have started with it.” Putting your hands on his chest to stop them from shaking, you think you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes butterflies in your stomach go crazy, so many emotions whirling around you that you suddenly feel the familiar pull of the Force. You redirect it outside of you, the stray leaves and feathers on the ground picking up and spinning around the both of you like something out of a movie. Your hair flutters softly in your Force made wind, and his hand comes to tuck a lock of it behind your ear. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“I-”

“I love you.” He says, that familiar confidence he has when he was speaking of planets or the ship sets your blood on fire. “I love you.” He grabs your head harder and pushes your forehead to his helmet, emphasising every letter of the word, as if its too short a syllable for what he wants to say. “I love you.”

“You already know I love you too. I kind of ruined that.” Your voice is shaking and you cant quite believe it, the cool wind giving you goosebumps the only anchor to the real world. 

“Never. Hearing those words from you is all I will ever need to hear.” Your eyes close, wanting to savour every moment of this. Every perfect crack of his modulator, the way his hands grip your hips, still a slight pain from the marks he left on you. You want to kiss him, not because you need to see his face, but all of this armour is in the way and you just want to feel him, his skin, any part of him.

“I love you.” You dont have anything else to say, and you dont think you ever will.

“Maker, I want to kiss you so badly right now.” You ‘hmm’ against his helmet and everything feels so perfect, you on your toes so you can hold his neck, the warmth of him underneath the helmet a torturous reminder of what you can’t do right now. 

“Say it again.”

“I love you.” He says it so softly and it melts your very being.

“Say it how you said before. Kar-tail-” he laughs, and squish's you against him, hands coming under neath you and picking you up, your legs naturally wrapping around the back of him. You smile down on him and enjoy the sound of his laugh, not speaking until he finally looks up at you, removing his helmet from leaning on your chest.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” It sends shivers up your spine when he says it, and you shift against him, trying to get closer.

“I was close.”

“You were.”

He starts walking and you turn in his arms, looking towards the twinkling lights of the city, seeing the floating crib of the baby a couple of paces ahead of you. You have four days in this city, and the bag on your back carries everything you hold dear. You dont care about that though, the only thing you hold dear is currently carrying you, and the other flies ahead, and your head drops down on the armoured shoulder, letting him take you wherever he wants. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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[buckystarlight]

Burnin' For You

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: the man with Steve turned out to be far more important to you than you'd realized.

warnings: post civil war!bucky; mentions of blood, food, death and torture; descriptions of injury; swearing

a/n: honestly i suck at writing fluff. this was inspired by Burnin' for You by Blue Öyester Cult - that song has been stuck in my head since FORVEVER

also this is a birthday gift for the loml aka @xleiaorgana i love you so much bestie <3

Loving Bucky wasn’t a free-fall.

It was like falling asleep in the arms of a lover. Like watching the sun come up. Like the soft brush of fingers against the inside of your wrist, like the purple-pink tint of the ocean just before the rise of the moon.

Falling in love with Bucky was learning every single dark thought that passed through his mind. It was the delicate cold of his vibranium arm on your skin, it was the flushed heat of his flesh fingers rubbing circles on your thigh. It was looking out at the world that stretched below you from the highest point of the universe, drunk on the stars in his eyes and the taste of plums and honey wine on his lips.

Loving Bucky wasn’t a free-fall. It was a slow, steady climb to paradise.

—

The man with Steve looked like he needed a hug. And a doctor. And a warm bath. And maybe a haircut.

Actually, no, you thought to yourself. I like his hair.

You stood leaning against the back wall of the Avengers compound, dressed in the gym clothes you’d worn for your run. Bluetooth headphones tucked into your ears, blaring a Lorde song, your chest heaving as you glanced down at your watch to check your heartbeat. The tiny display read at a steady ninety-six, your heart rate slowing as your breathing evened out.

Overhead, the sky turned a dull purple, tinting everything in pink and gold. In the muted glow of the lights lining the compound, everything around you looked whitewashed and grey—a little too quiet, a little too dull.

From where you stood, you could see the open deck of the landing bay, could make out the tiny flickering lights on the runway. Steve had called you earlier, to tell you that he would be home soon. That he was bringing Bucky back.

Truth be told, you never knew what to make of Bucky Barnes. You had never personally met him, like a lot of people at the compound, And yet, somehow everyone seemed to have a more concrete opinion of him than you did. Somehow, everyone seemed to have decided who he was without actually knowing him.

You had heard the stories, of course—stories of the man Steve once called his best friend, stories of the man he was forced to become for Hydra’s purposes. Steve never really liked talking about Bucky, and you never really asked him to, because you were all too aware of what digging up old memories felt like, and the kind of damage they did.

Nonetheless, even as you saw the all too familiar airplane dip low in the sky overhead, nose angled toward the landing strip, a strange sense of anticipation flooded you. It was not exactly something you could explain, though, not as the jet touched down, not as the doors opened and you saw the familiar brown leather of Steve’s aviator jacket, or the black of Natasha’s.

They stood on either side of the doors, and even from the distance, you didn’t miss the way Natasha’s fingers ghosted over the gun strapped into the holster at her hip.

Hostile, then.

And then out stepped the man they had gone through so much trouble to fetch; the man Steve had pulled countless strings to get pardoned.

Bucky Barnes.

He had his back to you as he stepped out of the jet slowly, like he didn’t trust his own two feet. The wind caught his hair, blowing it away from his face. Dressed in a long-sleeved red shirt and dark jeans, gloves on both his hands even though it wasn’t at all cold outside.

To hide his arm, Steve had told you last week, sliding a picture of the new vibranium limb King T’Challa and the Wakandians had been kind enough to make for him. You had wondered why he would ever feel the need to hide something so beautiful.

Bucky rolled his shoulders, his movements blurred around the edges at the distance, but unmistakable nonetheless, especially as he tuned around. And even though you couldn’t make out where his gaze landed exactly, you had the peculiar feeling he was looking at right you before Steve touched his arm to reclaim his attention.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest as they walked inside. Closing your eyes, you rested your head back against the wall, rubbing a hand over your sternum to try and ease some of that inexplicable tightness in your chest, your watch lighting up with the movement of your arm.

The tiny screen read at a hundred and two.

—

In his dreams, the monsters were real.

Not the kind he used to be so afraid of as a child. Not the ones with wings and fangs and claws. Bucky’s monsters were men in masks with blood caked underneath their fingernails.

And beneath those masks, Bucky knew they all looked like him.

They’d taken him to the medbay as soon as he got off that jet. Routine check-up, Steve reassured him. But Doctor Cho insisted he spend the night there anyway. So she could keep him ‘under observation.’

Bucky knew what that meant. It meant they were trying to ascertain whether or not he was likely to go on a killing spree.

Nevertheless, he stretched out on the bed, tugging the covers over his chin and trying his best to fall asleep. The plush mattresses didn’t particularly help matters, not when he was so used to sleeping on through cold hard floors of the cells they kept him locked in, but eventually, he sank into a fitful slumber.

That first night was hell.

Nightmares plagued his sleep, dark and twisted memories of his past pushed so deep into the cervices of his mind that they bled wicked and cruel into the reprise of his sleep, too loud to be ignored. They were shadows lingering at the edge of his vision all day long, but it was at night when they sneered at him, when they clawed at his ribs, threatening to turn him inside out, when the sound of the machine clicking into place turned his teeth to rubber and his killer’s hands shook.

The worst part? Sometimes, it happened when he was awake.

It used to happen a lot more in Bucharest, back when he was living all alone, when he had nothing and no one that could bring him back if he ever lost control again. The sound of a drill outside, or a car backfiring. The revving of a sports bike. The screech of tires on the asphalt.

The memories came in flashes, in bits and pieces of the man—the thing—they had forced him to become. Images of the blood pooling on the floor, lifeless eyes staring up at him, mouths frozen in please of please, no, I swear I don’t know anything, please—

He woke up with a gasp, chest heaving, heart thundering in his chest. Fists clenching the sheets, he inhaled lungfuls of air, staring up at the darkness that shrouded everything in the room.

Bucky turned his face into the pillow, waiting for the tears to come. But they never did, instead choking him with their salt-seared flames in his throat, hot and brittle and edged with the beginnings of a scream he couldn’t let out, not in this building full of fucking superheroes who were all too used to saving innocent people—not when he wasn���t innocent. Not when he definitely couldn’t be saved.

“James?” he heard an unfamiliar voice call. Soft, so soft, especially after the cruel sound of the machine in his dreams. Despite the foreign voice, he let the sound of his name wash over his senses—the name he had almost forgotten was attached to him because it had been so many years since someone called him James.

“James,” the voice called again, closer this time. He wanted to look, to turn his head around and lay his eyes on you. “Are you okay? Do you—Do you need me to get you something?”

Concern. Genuine concern lined your voice, accompanied by something he couldn’t quite place and wasn’t sure he had a word for.

Concern. Not pity, definitely not fear.

Concern.

He turned to look at you then.

Bucky didn’t know it then, but if you asked him now, he would tell you that that was the first time in a hundred years he understood what peace felt like. It wasn’t something you said, or something you did—it wasn’t even the way you looked, in a threadbare t-shirt and worn out shorts, your hair in tangles, and your lips parted just the slightest.

It was just the fact that you were there. That he hadn’t woken up alone for first time since God knows when. That—That you had stayed, even when none of the others had.

Not when he was sure you knew who he was, knew what he was, and chose to stick around anyway.

“’m fine,” he said, gravel lining his voice.

He heard you exhale. It was clear that you didn't believe him, but you weren't about to push. “Okay. Okay, good.”

A pause.

When he didn’t volunteer any more information, you said, “I’m y/n.”

Y/n.

The name suited you, he thought. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue as he said, “What are you doing here, y/n?”

In the darkness, he could make out the way you lifted one shoulder and dropped it in a shrug. “Well, I couldn’t possibly leave you alone, now, could I? Its your first night here—a new, unfamiliar place. Figured you could use a friend.”

“And your go-to strategy for making friends is watchin’ them sleep?”

You huffed. “No, smart-ass. I actually wanted to come see you when you arrived, but Steve is an ass and wouldn’t let me, and by the time he went to bed, the lights were already out down here and you were asleep, so I figured I’d sleep on the couch here just in case you needed anything.”

In case he needed anything.

If only Bucky knew exactly what it was he needed to fill that hole in his chest.

“Well, I need sleep,” he murmured, turning his body away from you. “And so do you. So go to bed, y/n.”

“Alright. I’ll probably be gone before you wake up in the morning, but if you need anything at all during the night, I’m right here, okay, Bucky?”

He didn’t respond, not until he was sure you were out of earshot. Then, more to himself than to anybody else, he whispered, “Okay, y/n.”

And when he fell back asleep that night, he dreamt of you.

—

He was still in the medbay when they brought you in the next afternoon.

Reclined on the stretcher, you lay back, a lazy grin on your face despite the long, bloody gash running down your leg. The material of your jeans was soaked in blood, rolled up to your knee. Minor scraps and bruises covered nearly every exposed inch of your skin, but none of that seemed to faze you, not as you touched a hand to your brow, flicking your wrist toward him in a two-fingered salute. “Howdy, partner.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Fight broke out downtown. I’d gone down there to get you breakfast, actually. Which—” you paused, patting around the side of the stretcher until your fingers wrapped around a ripped paper bag. “—Is right here.”

He grabbed the bag from your hands. It was soaked in coffee, ripped almost to nothing. And inside sat a single slice of bacon sandwich, the bread soggy from all the coffee that had spilled on it. Bucky frowned, giving you a blank stare. “I’m not eatin’ that.”

You only shrugged as the nurses flooded into the room, enveloping you in a crowd of white lab coats. “Your loss, Barnes.”

But as you disappeared from his line of vision, Bucky glanced back down at the coffee-soaked sandwich in his hands. You’d gotten him breakfast.

A small kindness. He still believed it was far more than he deserved.

—

Bucky soon realized he liked being around you.

It was the way you never failed to make him laugh, maybe. Or the small feats of kindness that seemed to come so effortlessly to you, like making coffee for the whole team every morning, or keeping track of where Thor left his hammer, or what Peter’s latest hyperfixation was. Or maybe it was the Hozier song he heard drifting through the walls that separated your room from his in the middle of the night, or how you unknowingly sang him to sleep when you hummed along to the music.

The team stared to notice it too—the smile on his face when he was around you, or how he fiddled with everything in his reach when you weren’t. How he often rested his head against your shoulder during movie nights with the Avengers, and how the tightness eased from his muscles when you carded your hands through his hair, winding a strand around your finger. How his fingers slipped through yours early in the morning when he walked into the kitchen, cold metal against flesh, and the whispered exchanges of, “Okay, Bucky?” followed by his, “Okay, y/n.”

On the nights he couldn’t fall asleep no matter what he tried, Bucky tiptoed into your room. You’d learnt to listen for that timid, almost hesitant knocking on your door, to call out to him to come on in. He would sit on the edge of your bed, leaning back against your headboard, letting the sound of your voice wash over him as you read out loud to him until he fell asleep.

He always woke up with a pillow under his head and your hand around his metal arm on the mornings that followed.

—

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you walked into Bucky’s room that night, but it sure wasn’t this.

You’d been worried when he had come home from his first mission, looking so shaken up he could barely keep his eyes on you. He’d refused to check into the medbay, instead barging down the stairs and into his room.

No one had seen him since.

You figured you’d give him some time to himself before you went to check in on him. It was his first mission after all, and God knows what memories being out on the field brought back for him.  

But when you found him staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, hands clutching the sink in a white-knuckled grip, you didn’t know what to say. Not as you took in the scissors lying listlessly on the counter, or the strands of hair littering the bathroom floor.

He met your gaze in the mirror. Bucky’s eyes looked more grey than blue at that moment, clouded over with the storms of his past, memories he had tried so hard to let go of. “I’m sorry. I just— I—"

You were in front of him in three long strides, grabbing the scissors off the floor. You didn’t need to say anything, not as you angled his head away from you and began to even out the strands he’d missed at the back. Bucky was shaking—you could feel the tremors rocking his bones against your hands, but you held him steady. If this was one of his hells, you would burn with him.

It didn’t take you long to finish fixing his hair. Bucky sank to the floor, your arms wrapped around him, clutching him to your stomach as he buried his face into your shirt. It was a fluid gesture, all too familiar even though you were sure you had never held him this close to you before.

“There were hostages. They thought—They saw me and they thought I was the Soldier. That I was still him and when I tried to rescue them, they refused to come with me.” Bucky’s voice cracked, and he buried his nose deeper into your shirt. “I couldn’t save them, y/n. Russo’s men—they killed them all.”

“Bucky—”

“I had to do it. Every time I look in the mirror, I see him. Every time I catch my own reflection, it reminds me of the things I did for Hydra. It reminds me of the man I used to me. I can’t be him anymore, y/n. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky,” you said fiercely, sinking to the floor right in front of him. His knees brushed your as you pressed both palms against his cheeks, cupping his face and forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You’re not him. You’re not. What you were, the things they made you do—that was not your fault. You’re not the Soldier. You’re Bucky Barnes, dammit. You’re Bucky. My Bucky.”

“Your Bucky,” he murmured, hands sliding up yours and wrapping around your wrists. He liked the sound of that, especially when he noticed the way your eyes fluttered shut when he rested his forehead against yours. He didn’t kiss you—not really, not in the way people usually do. But his lips brushed yours, soft and far more intimate than any true love’s kiss, and you exhaled, feeling the corner of his mouth tilt upwards. “Okay, Buck?”

“Okay, y/n.”

But he was far more than okay. He was happy, and maybe, just maybe—maybe he deserved to be.

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[sometipsygnostalgic]

going off about Entrapta

Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Okay, wonderful, so here’s some a lot of bullet point thoughts on animation’s second-best pink haired, autistic, queer, science princess war criminal (if i had a penny etc):

CHARACTER DESIGN GUSHING

I love her design. Love love love.  So much thought went into it - she’s one of the best case studies I’ve seen on how to design an animated character, which is hilarious because I roasted the show for its designs earlier on. Hint: It works to make her as animated as possible!  

Seriously, the dark purple, pink accents on gloves and shoes, how she clearly cuts her own hair because the fringe shape is a bit fucked, how the dungaree straps are always hanging down in early seasons then pulled up from Beast Island because they’re constantly on the run and she is barely more focused, how her hair is a dull purple but her eyes are this bright laser-pink colour which works perfectly for how expressive she is (making it more chilling the time they turn grey), the proportions of her boots gloves loose jeans and hair to her tiny body, how her hair is constantly used to animate her expressions in a way the other characters can only dream, and that’s not even touching on the MASK!

The first mask has this anime villain robot design, it’s mechanical and scary, the second one is this also-scary-but-cuter more organic bug mask. First one is black with red eyes, second is purple with blue eyes. First mask is very square, perfectly round eyes, second one is oval shaped with two cracks, one on the eye and one on the mouth. This change is a symbolic representation of what Entrapta looks/maybe wants to be on the outside (emotionless robot scientist) versus what we now know she’s really like (human, cracked, adorable, like everyone else). Also represents the Beast Island ordeal in itself. Imperfections are beautiful! 

Final note on the design change, the mask is less helmet-like. It goes over her face but Entrapta’s ears are always visible now which is half of why she looks so different. Finally listening to people, insofar as it’s possible for her. 

oh also the space suit is adorable and she doesnt wear a mask with it at all because she doesnt need to “mask” anymore hint hint, it’s actually based specifically on her first design, not her second, so the space suit has decals for the black “head band” and hanging dungaree straps. i love how the arms and legs are chunky just like her gloves and rolled up jeans. 

looks adorable in the cloak in the back-to-earth episode

it’s really funny how entrapta is the number 1 clothes designer on etheria and yet wears the exact same shirt for like 2 years, THROUGH beast island, only changing during the winter episode

okay so that was most of what i wanted to say that i havent already posted somewhere else in the past 24 hours, i really wanted to go off about her design

CHARACTER RAMBLINGS

I love how Entrapta covers her face with her mask when she’s upset, she doesn’t know how to talk about negative feelings and tries to hide them, which in turn makes her issues with others worse because they think they’re talking to a wall. Unfortunately that makes her a target for others projecting onto her what they THINK she feels. They decide that she doesn’t care, or feel hurt, because she’s not good at demonstrating she does. Have I talked about how much you can learn of a person’s volatility when they treat you like you have no feelings? 

She also has the wildest fucking mood swings. Usually at the SAME TIME. Entrapta is quick to distract herself with her tech obsession whenever she is feeling down.  

See below for two examples demonstrating both these points, the first being when Adora tells her Catra’s not really her friend (mask) and she can’t open the portal (unmask), the second being when they say they would’ve come sooner but thought she was with Hordak (mask) and Adora mentions the heart of Etheria (unmask): 

She’s totally a workaholic, occasionally an unhealthy one who focuses on work to escape her problems, but she genuinely loves all of her work unlike a certain other mad scientist princess. It helps when you’re the Princess of a kingdom with no citizens because everyone seems to have mysteriously vanished-- wait, what???   

When I was watching She-Ra and Entrapta had several spotlight eps in a row, but I’d never heard of her before, I was totally expecting her to get bussed into a corner at some point like every other character of her archetype. I was deeply surprised when this never happened, even when she eventually got bussed in season 4, catra’s betrayal of her was the catalyst for 60% of the conflict, then Entrapta came back as basically the MVP of season 5, with dialogue/growth in every episode except for the Netossa batman ep where she still appeared to chase after some tech.  

What surprised me most was when she started interacting with Hordak, because you have this character who is pure, wide-eyed comic relief just walk up to the most generically evil villain imaginable, and they hit it off??? how??? how does this work?? why is it so fun to watch?? somehow entrapta being so naive and head-in-the-stars makes hordak trust her, and then she forces him to admit he’s actually an edgy teenager with daddy issues who wants to prove he can be a war criminal, and suddenly i like the show’s central conflict waaaay more. 

This opened the door for Catra and Hordak’s conflict to become way more compelling than it would have been had Entrapta never been utilised in that way. I could gush more about those two, but that’s another post.  

I love the Beast Island stuff because up to that point I basically thought Entrapta was invincible. She had been “killed” with the princesses, saw Catra’s interrogation and threat of torture as a fun game, confidently disrespected the evil big bad who had half-suffocated Catra to death 30 minutes hour prior, became his besty, and only shown any vulnerability in a few moments of Season 3. Then you reunite with her on Beast Island and it turns out she THRIVED, because of COURSE she did, and she’s the only one who seems “immune” to the incredibly deadly self esteem zapper, and as soon as she says “bye visit again” I panicked because I thought “they’re going to leave her here like Steven Universe left Peridot at the barn”. But when Entrapta starts talking about how she’s not fit for friendship and turns around it’s like HOLY SHIT.  

HER EYES. As above, LASER BEAM pink the entire show, non stop enthusiasm, and now she suddenly gives up on living because her friendships went to shit, so she looks dead inside! Basic arc? Yes. Powerful, especially watching as another autistic person who can’t keep friends? Absolutely.  Anyway my point is I love that she’d been gradually affected by the plot of the show, and it’s great to rewatch all those earlier scenes because I can now SEE how she’s affected by them rather than continuing with my earlier assumption that Entrapta didn’t give a shit about anything that happened to her.  

It’s really funny that Adora’s comment about the ship IMMEDIATELY broke her out but I don’t think that would have worked if Bow’s comments hadn’t already started getting through to her. Very sweet moment. 

Can I just say, Bow and Entrapta are an underrated friendship? Even though he’s easily triggered by her recklessness, Bow spends the entire show trying to get her to join their side again, and chasing her shadow as a tech expert. Bow completes this journey by executing her program in the finale, together they hack something more complex than Etheria has ever seen and save the universe from Prime’s mind control.  She is genuinely happy to speak to him, even when they’re enemies. They’re also a comedy duo together because Bow is the straight man to Entrapta’s bold madness. They also have a son. Wrong Hordak is their son legally now.   

Super Pal Trio is a big comfort of mine because unlike the Best Friend Squad’s occasionally nauseating BFF rainbow vibes, they’re all a bunch of misfits who found each other, and are squadmates trying to figure out how friendship works. It’s tragic because it doesn’t work out, even though they care about each other, Entrapta grows distant from the other two while Catra projects so many of her issues with Adora onto her, and eventually betrays her even more violently, leaving Scorpia no choice but to walk away to help Entrapta and herself.  

Unlike their Avatar counterpart in Azula’s fucked up friendgroup, however, these three are all friends again at the end. Obviously Scorpia betrayed the Horde to help Entrapta, and they interacted in season 5′s “Launch”, but what was even more compelling was Catra apologising to her on the space ship. I read Noelle’s fic which expanded on this and showed Entrapta helping Catra to deal with the guilt of being a possibly-irredeemable war criminal who nearly ended the universe and hurt all of their friends. In the other fanfics I’ve read since, their dynamic is probably the most interesting to me - people have lovely ideas for them being reliable friends after their conflict, being able to open up to each other. Very satisfying after how much torment they went through in season 4 over this betrayal. I just wish they got more scenes with Scorpia in season 5.  

CHARACTER RAMBLINGS PART 2: MORE AUTISM-SPECIFIC CHARACTER RAMBLINGS  

Read this article first. 

I love how her autistic characteristics are not sugarcoated - Entrapta’s genuinely awkward, her way of speaking is unstable, her reactions are barely contained. She’s jarring to the other characters but in a way that’s extremely relatable to people across the spectrum, not just those who would only get diagnosed with mild aspergers a few years ago. Which is a step ahead of other “””autistic””” characters who are only retroactively labelled as such because they were white male smartasses who were nasty to everyone and had weirdly high charisma whenever they wanted. Entrapta has an incredibly low charisma stat.  

I’ve already talked about Entrapta’s “masking” above. It’s relevant here. 

So the episode “Launch”, season 5 episode 2,  is such a nostalgia trip to me. It’s the ep in the show that most directly addresses the conflict between Entrapta’s autistic characteristics, and neurotypical characters like the other princesses, a conflict which had been delayed for 4 seasons due to her defection to the weirdly more tolerant Horde.  

It also sets the tone for the rest of the season for what Entrapta’s arc looks like, what her insecurities are, and where her true goals sit. 

The entire episode from Entrapta’s side is like a flashback to my own past, when I was a 12-15 year old army cadet, still kind of feral because I had debatably less parental guidance than even Entrapta, so I was scared of trying anything new, was very unfit, didn’t know how to look after myself (my dad - an instructor - once forced me to wash my face and arms in a public canteen), and I CERTAINLY did not know how to engage with others or communicate when I was upset. The other Princesses, a very tight ship at that point who were getting used to leadership, were like the other junior cadets and the NCO cadets. And even though the cadets were really good people who looked out for me, they didn’t like that I was a bit disruptive, easily upset, childish for my age, unintentionally rude, and needed more support to do things they found easy.

That happens to Entrapta here - she’s trying her best but pisses everyone off, and we both had the habit of apologising for messing up and literally running away whenever this happens. Seriously - I got in a lot of trouble for this. When Mermista chases Entrapta over enemy lines is very moving to me, because some of the Cadets looked out for me the same way. Mermista’s a really good person who takes care of her teammates even if she doesn’t get them. The ACF was full of good leaders, who I really hope are doing well now. 

Shout out to how they ran so far, everyone else was out of breath. 

Other than this weirdly personal experience I like how Entrapta just smiles blankly at some points in the episode, either not processing the information others  are giving her, or not reacting how they expect her to.  I have historically been exactly the fucking same.  

I’m now self aware of this, however, and able to weaponise it. Especially when I don’t trust someone. Do you know how much you can learn about someone by just... being silent, and letting them fill the void? If someone can’t stand your lack of reaction they’ll release any abusive tendencies. That’s ANOTHER thing that happens in this ep - all the princesses get super aggro because they think she doesn’t care about them. (Meanwhile we can relate this back to how Catra treats Adora - Catra thinks Adora doesn’t care about their relationship and is constantly trying to provoke her as a result.)  

I like how it’s not just her being responsible for the breakdown in communication, the others have to accept responsibility too.  

I like how on the space ship Bow keeps initially rejecting Entrapta’s crazy ideas until gradually accepting and being a part of them. 

I like how over the show it’s revealed that while Entrapta’s special interest in technology is fundamentally important in shaping the plot, it’s not actually her biggest strength - That would be her ability to see into people. Or as Noelle put it:  

This becomes, as the article says, basically the key conflict of the final season - Horde Prime’s endgame goal is to dehumanize and violate everyone, his characteristics are perfect manipulation, a lack of recognition for sapience and worth in anyone except for himself. Entrapta meanwhile is complete tolerance of individuality, she has NO ability to manipulate anyone, no sense of malice or superiority, she empathises with people who have been dehumanised and who feel lost, because she’s been there herself and is aware of her own shortcomings. She’s also the reason Hordak turns against Prime - I think if there was a character who is the anti-Prime, it would be Entrapta, and it’s got NOTHING TO DO with how good she is at tech. Of course, I could comment how Entrapta’s passionate indie tech makes quick work of the Galactic Horde’s industrialised cult bullshit, but that’s insignifcant compared to how the theme of the season is how everyone’s flaws, cracks, and experiences individuate them and give them free will.  

The above is why the cut scene is so chilling. Horde Prime screams at Hordak, and Entrapta using Hordak’s body, that they’re unloved, worth nothing. Adora and Catra’s battle against Prime in “Save the Cat” was compelling and personal, in particular how Prime had erased all of Catra’s... everything, and replaced it with himself, but after that episode, their story is more focused on each other. Prime’s main rival becomes Hordak and his friendship with Entrapta as a pair of barely functional adults, both feeling like they could  never “pass” and fit in.

Characterised by how the conflict hasn’t truly ended until they reunite. 

I love when she befriends her new son Wrong Hordak and teaches him social cues, and poor Wrongdak is so bad at winking that even Entrapta cringes a little. It’s so cute when she introduces him to Emily. I love how she’s just able to do this with anyone who’s never had friends before. Even Scorpia left the Horde because her brief, kindling friendship with Entrapta made her realise Catra was treating them both like garbage trash.  

Of course, I don’t think Entrapta’s perfect as autism representation. Nothing is, but when you directly confirm a character as being on the spectrum you have to worry about being respectful in ways vaguer characters don’t.  While she very effectively captures that fear of never fitting in, especially because she’s unable to mask herself like other characters (eg. Catra and Adora) can, people may be put off by her stereotypical or demeaning characteristics.  

Rather, she is a tech savant. She’s written to be really annoying to the other characters, and neurotypical audience members. Her lack of social skills is always played for laughs. She constantly runs into danger. The most offending thing of all is when they make a joke of putting her on a leash. Sure I get that she’s ALSO kind of feral, and it’s a Peridot reference, but jesus fucking christ. Were they not thinking when they did that???    

Most examination is through other characters rather than, say, us looking at the show through Entrapta’s eyes (which is why I love the scenes with Hordak in s3 because those are from her point of view).   

Also she’s the only known autistic character in the show, the only one coded and confirmed to be neurodivergent, which in itself is a bit alienating - though I do approve of fan speculation that Adora is autistic or has ADHD. 

Adora and Entrapta even have many similarities. You just have to look at their interactions with Bow, lol. Especially in Corridors. But another one is they both blame themselves when their relationships to other people fall apart, they think it’s their own fault. Which is very common for people on the spectrum. Adora thinks she isn’t trying hard enough to get Catra to join her, or to help Glimmer be queen.   

Also, largely unrelated, but like I said they have huge fucking parallels vis a vis Catra. I’d say their RELATIONSHIP to Catra is not at all similar (yeah Catra and Adora have this whole years of being raised together thing), but their bullheadedness and role in her downward spiral is weirdly mirrored. To the extent she betrays them identically, and has guilt-fuelled nightmares of them both in season 4.  And they’re the people that it was most important Catra apologise to. (Scorpia being there too obviously - Scorpia is closer to Adora on the relationship side of things to Catra, always believing in her and taking her abuse until Catra goes too far, whereas Entrapta reflects Adora’s rivalry as Shadow Weaver’s favourite by becoming Hordak’s favourite and “protecting” Catra, setting off her inferiority complex.)

OTHER SPECULATIONS/HEADCANONS

Okay so I’m working on my headcanons for Dryl. I LOVE how weirdly mysterious her backstory is. I think it’s pretty evident Entrapta had no family growing up, her castle is boobytrapped so only she can use it, it’s repeatedly made clear she hasn’t spoken to any humans other than her Tiny Food kitchen staff for years, and it’s hard to explain why. If you look at the version of Dryl in the reality where Hordak doesn’t exist, it’s still the same - it’s not some fantasy version where everybody’s there - so it’s hard to say if the Horde have any responsibility for Entrapta’s lack of family. I have been trying to work this in a fanfic, but yeah the portal AU throws me for a loop.   

Maybe they died in a science experiment. If you REALLY want to make things angsty, you can headcanon that she actually has no idea where they went. Maybe they vanished after an experiment, or everyone evacuated to escape the Horde and got captured, while she was left behind because she wandered off and was messing around in the vents. Entrapta does think from the outset that she’s a handful and people will abandon her, maybe she thinks that’s what happened to her as a kid.  

These two robot dads(?) never appeared in the show.  Did they break? She didn’t seem to worried about the robots getting wrecked. 

I think the hair is magic. If it got cut off I wonder if it would grow back or if it would just take another 15 years to grow? She would risk a science experiment to have it grow faster lol. 

I don’t see Entrapdak as a romantic relationship immediately. Maybe potentially? But it’s REALLY not important - what I love about those two is that they are just learning how to be friends, their first real friendship. I do think their fandom misses the point here. 

She’s canonically bisexual/pansexual, or at least panromantic. Or at least has flirted with lots of girls and one gender non assigned robot. Noelle thinks Entrapta is poly. Would date, like, a lot of people. Largely robots. I live for this. I love how flirtatious she can be, very funny. 

Mara 🤝 Entrapta - fucked the space ship. 

Don’t ask me why she is the only princess in the show with no magical superpowers besides “hair good”. She doesn’t get any glowy powerups, her hair might not even be actual magic since it looks like Kid Entrapta didn’t have any hair magic, so it can still be argued as tech. This point is debated among the crew themselves.  Also why is she the princess of nothing. I have so many questions. 

I headcanon the super pal trio hang out regularly and cause chaos post story. I have been reading a fanfiction to this effect and it is the best thing ever. 

And yeah that’s it. That’s, like, everything. Here. Take it. 

[nottheweirdest]

Hello ! If you're still doing the emoji game, can I suggest 🌊⚔️💎 ? Have a nice day !

Thank you so much for submitting this! I am still doing emoji drabbles and have two more after this waiting 😁. I'm sorry it took me so long! 💞

Anyway! Here ya go! 😋

Emoji Drabble #8 🌊⚔️💎

Sonic didn’t expect an actual fight. Why would he? Winning the annual Captain’s Diamond Dual should have been a given for the fastest thing alive.

But apparently this guy hadn’t got the memo.

Sonic aptly ducked what would have been a devastating blow and swept his foot out in an attempt to send his opponent to the ground, but his brown leather boot connected with nothing but air.

As he had with Sonic’s other typically game ending moves, the dark hedgehog anticipated the counter, jumping up with both feet even as his sword arm swung overhead, so perfectly in control of his movements it bordered graceful. Sonic narrowed his eyes, jumping away to gain distance and time to find a vulnerability, some sort of soft spot he could use to his advantage.

A crimson eyeridge rose before a soft baritone voice spoke. “I know what you’re doing, hedgehog. You won’t find what you’re looking for. I have no weaknesses.”

“Everyone’s got a weakness,” Sonic quipped, brushing a finger under his nose and bringing his sword back up. “Maybe yours isn’t so obvious as others, but it’s there.”

“Hmph. Says the so-called captain who favors his right side and gives away his every attack with his eyes.”

Sonic grinned, the soft leather of his glove biting into his sword’s hilt a little more. “Aw, been admiring my eyes have you?” He lurched forward, his rival only barely blocking Sonic’s forward thrust and knocking the dulled cutlass to the side.

Sonic’s crimson-striped opponent growled in answer, but it was too late. Sonic noted the faint blush spreading across tan cheeks and knew he’d found the other’s weak spot.

It was him.

He was the weak spot.

Sonic smirked. He didn’t mind that at all.

“You know, I have been told I have very pretty eyes,” Sonic taunted as he danced around Shadow’s increasingly flustered slashes and jabs. “Like emeralds some say. It’s no wonder you’re so transfixed.”

“I’m not transfixed!”

“Surreeeeee you’re not. I tootally believe you.”

“Shut up, hedgehog, or I’ll make you shut up.”

Sonic winked and made a kissy face before charging forward, sword high over head. The other captain once again anticipated, bringing his sword up with both hands to block and his foot up to kick Sonic back.

What he didn’t expect was for Sonic to use his free hand to pull the ebony hedgehog to him, sending them both to the ground with a loud thud.

Surprised crimson eyes met knowing green, their owner somehow completely frozen by the feel of the lithe blue body beneath him. “What’s your name?” Sonic asked breathlessly, his chest heaving against the white fluff somewhat concealed by his opponent’s button down.

Delicious tan lips parted, and Sonic thought for a moment about scrapping his entire plan and just kissing the other captain senseless, but then he spoke.

“Shadow,” the other answered gruffly between fascinated pants. “Captain Shadow.”

“Well, Captain Shadow. Can I buy you a conciliatory drink?”

“Conciliatory? What–?”

Sonic tipped the sword he held at Shadow’s neck a little more, the sun catching off dull metal as the crowds in the stands cheered. He smirked. “Never been someone’s weakness before.”

“You’re not–”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. “And you’re still on top of me because…?”

Shadow’s face, already pink, burned red as he scrambled up and away. Sonic struggled to maintain his unbothered facade when the truth was… he was far more flustered than he cared to admit.

Sonic held out his hand, heart in his chest for some reason, like the fight had continued and this moment determined the real victory. A long pause passed, long enough that the crowd silenced and Sonic began to sweat, but then, just before he dropped his hand in resignation, the ebony hedgehog stepped forward and gripped his hand firmly.

“Better make it a damn good drink.”

Sonic smiled widely as the crowd erupted in thunderous applause. “You know I’ve been called a tall drink of water before.”

Shadow tipped his head in confusion. “I prefer a tall drink of ale.”

Sonic laughed and released Shadow’s hand. “Haven’t been called that yet. Maybe tonight will be a first.”

[dourpeep]

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

-

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

[lupically]

#FEF5F1 | DILUC RAGNVINDR.

genre | fluff

word count | 1825

warning | none

note | i finally wrote something for my top husbando :’)

it came to you as a surprise that diluc, at all, sleeps.

there has always been this fantasy version of him in your head, a fantasy that lacked the great ideals and bright adventures most fantasy novels you have read consisted of. in contrast, your fantasy of him was insulting and otherworldly at best—someone restricted to the rules, a personality as plain as a dull purple doormat, a total stick in the mud that kills joy at the mere sight of it, an emotionless robot that has no use for human necessity such as the bathing and sleeping.

does diluc even need to consume food? you have literally never seen him eat or drink anything before. has he ever taken off his gloves to pick up a hamburger—oh, archons, you just realized now that you have never seen the skin of his hands before. he always has gloves on! was it to hide something?

"oh, wow," you exclaimed lowly to yourself as you leaned forward to examine the hands of the very annoyed red-haired man before you. your long-term question was finally answered. "fascinating... so you do have hands!"

diluc spared not even a glance toward the limb you were so interestedly staring at. he kept quiet for a moment and peered down at you from his bed, one leg propped up and the other stretched out—a rather awkward position he had no time to get out of after he almost burned you alive for sneaking into his bedroom in the winery.

"what drunk wind blew your incompetent self here?" he asked, ignoring your remarks about his lack of real and human hands. whatever you meant by that? you were always spilling weird things out of your mouth, you might even be worse than venti, he reckoned. 

you glared up at him after hearing his mindless insult. you were only fifty percent sure (which was already a lot in your book!) diluc never actually meant those hurtful words, that they simply fly out of his mouth due to his weird need to make sure everyone around him knew that he leaves no room for unnecessary sentiment. 

being kind blatantly was not his thing, and he has no intention of being applauded for being a decent person. why that was, you couldn't be sure. you had your assumptions, but kaeya turned out far too different than diluc that you weren’t sure if you should put your finger on the assumption. you also didn't dare dive deeper into it because (a) you just weren’t invested enough, and (b) by then, it would be a family business you would hate to indulge yourself with.

"kaeya dared me to take a picture of your sleeping face in exchange for some wine. our good friend, the honorary knight's smaller friend also wanted it as a possible blackmail souvenir," you told him honestly.

diluc immediately murmured something you couldn't quite hear, but he looked more confused than annoyed when he glared down at the mattress of his bed. he grumbled something along the lines of how the roles were definitely reversed. you didn't press further about that.

"if that is what you came here for, your best bet is to leave the way you came," he said after a moment, pointing a cold hand toward his bedroom window. "you're not taking any pictures of me."

you snorted, holding up your kamera and tapping the lenses. “uh, i think i came pretty close to taking a picture of you sleeping, diluc.”

“i had woken up the second you walked through my bedroom door. you could never,” he said.

you hummed under your breath, eyeing him suspiciously. he was probably telling the truth. he barely struggled in surprise when he grabbed your hands in the dark; was it pure luck that he perfectly found where your kamera was on the first try or does diluc secretly has night vision? your guess was as good as the unknown. 

not to mention, he looked normal, just like someone who may be in the know of your intrusion. he appeared grumpy but that was just his normal state. you could barely get him out of a frown even if you pay him, mainly because he wouldn’t need your money, but also because he was stubbornly against smiling, it appeared. 

"you know, i was surprised at first. i didn't know you sleep at all! i always thought you kind of just shut down, or maybe you have stayed awake all your life," you said with a shrug, and when he deadpanned at you, you defensively waved your kamera around. "i'm sorry! i just–you don't strike me as a person who sleeps!"

"so dead, then?" diluc asked calmly, although there was very little calmness in his facial expressions, especially those judgemental eyes of his.

"not dead! just... not really human–" you paused and pressed your lips together, thinking back to what you said to him and realizing that he might have a point. then you turned to him. "you also eat, right?"

“are you leaving or not?” he asked, a hint of flare in his voice that if you looked closely, you may see fire emerging from his body.

being stubborn as ever, and knowing that diluc would never really hurt anybody he knew to be good people, you feigned thoughtfulness for a second. tapping your finger against your chin, you scrunched your nose and shook your head. setting the kamera lumine forcefully had to borrow you between your crossed legs, you flashed him a mischievous grin. 

“no,” you said. “i am getting that picture out of you!”

“like i said,” he said, “you will never.”

“fine! then i guess i will just have to sit here and wait for you to fall asleep on me,” you said, slapping your hand down on his soft mattress. “don’t try to force me out of here! i will make it way worse for you!”

diluc furrowed his brows, wondering if you meant what you said. when his questioning gaze couldn’t get even an ounce of budge from you, he could only sigh in frustration. if you planned to sit on his bed until he doze off, then you would definitely make it worse if he tries to dump you out of his bedroom through whatever means you could.

he may be a skilled swordsman and a vision bearer, but unfortunately, he was not immune to bullshits from the likes of you.

diluc closed his eyes to savor the tiniest bit of sleep he managed to get before he heard your extra loud footsteps creeping around his room. he was supposed to get a good night's sleep, which was something he hasn't had in a while because of all the business schedules and his side vigilante job.

he was supposed to rest tonight, and there came you.

there always comes you.

dilly-dally, unpredictable, the epitomie of 'knights of favonius... always so inefficient,' letting klee out of solitary confinement and causing a ruckus amongst the responsible adults kind of irresponsible, has paid for his wine at least a zero number of time kind of broke, and was just always here to ruin his mood at the tavern every single day. 

most of the time, diluc thought about you in a negative light, much like he did with everyone around him and the entirety of the knights of favonius. but there was a version of you in his head that painted you as somebody different—somebody respectful, somebody worth keeping around...

somebody he likes, perhaps.

after all, joy was never prevalent in his life. it used to be, but that was a past he has long forgotten the details of. even if he wanted to remember them now, he could only remember snippets that wouldn’t guarantee him a good nostalgia. he may just end up feeling worse at the end. the only constant influx of distraction he has now seemed to be either you or venti, and with the godly bard as his other option, he would much rather choose you. 

but it was not because that venti was too hard to confine in. you were just as hard to talk about problems with considering your optimism and fickle attitude. 

what diluc wanted was permanence; a train that never stops, a bottle of wine that continuously refills, dandelions that do not stop flying even after it reaches celestia. and venti was too understanding and abstract to be one. as interesting of a character he may be, venti knew when to leave people alone. or, occasionally, he just cared too little. after all the city of mondstadt didn’t lack a god because he was responsible. 

you, though. diluc could never pinpoint if you were as dense as you appeared to be, or if you did know how to read the room and simply chose to ignore it, but you never leave people alone. you never left him alone; you unknowingly pick a petty one-sided argument with him all the time, you get drunk at the tavern and somehow has never let anybody take you home but him, you barge into his bedroom in the middle of the night because of some stupid dare his brother made you do and you still refuse to leave despite being sleepy.

you give him a way out, whether he likes it or not.

arms crossed in front of his chest, he deadpanned as he watched your head drop lower and lower to the mattress. soon enough, you were snoring away on his bed with the gadget discarded by your feet. he watched you in silence, your cheek smushed against the surface and the intensity you always radiated lessening from your body. you looked normal now; not energetic, not talkative. just sleeping peacefully, the way he always made sure you were after carrying you home. 

diluc’s heart was finally softening under the knowledge that nobody was watching him anymore. the pessimistic monster that often emerges from him was still here, but in the face of you, it has painted itself pink and it has forgotten vengeance and retribution. in the face of you, it has been dragged out from the death it once laid and became forgiven. 

carefully laying your head down on the pillow, diluc draped the blanket over your shoulder to tuck you into his bed. after making sure you were fine and well, he placed the kamera on the desk in the room, somewhere visible you could find once you wake up, and he left for one of the guest rooms in the mansion. 

tonight was the first time in a while when he has forgotten about all the problems he’s had. something that wasn’t about wine, the family business, or the abyss order. it wasn’t the rest he wanted, perhaps it was hardly any rest at all, but he was glad he got to think about something else.

of course, diluc would never tell you that.

[steviespanties]

I have a whore knee thought but I’m afraid to write it myself so I thought I’d send it here, if it catches your fancy. Love your work!

Omega!Steve always had a hard time getting turned on when he was with other alphas. His body just wasn’t into it, but with Billy he’s always ridiculously wet and ready. Everything about his alpha—Billy’s scent, his command, his fervor—keeps Steve loose and pliant.

sdfGHJ I LOVEE it!!!!!!!😍💗💗💗😳 Thank you for sharing this with me, it’s *chefs kiss* amazing!! (1,5k words. omegaverse smut, obviously. vague descriptions of unsatisfying drunk - but consensual- sex. pants being ruined. something something fated pairs. sorry for the lack of editing!!)

So, Steve’s a horny guy, okay? Always has been and has never made a secret of it. His friends know. Most of the school knows. Sure, he’ll pretend for his parents that he’s a good ol’ Christian boy who goes to church every Sunday and totally doesn’t sneak out to parties to get dicked down by eager alphas any other day of the week. It’s just also always been frustrating. 

His selection in Hawkins leaves much to be desired, with smug alphas who think just having a knot makes them God’s gift to humanity and simply whipping their dicks out will get Steve gushing wet immediately. They’re lucky his libido overrules his endless disappointment. No time spent on working him up, alcohol dulling his senses to make the ache he feels less uncomfortable. It’s not bad. It’s not really good, either. 

There’s an itch underneath his skin, a formless desire for more that never takes shape no matter how often he tries. He’s a spring coiled tight and no matter who he lets between his legs, he can’t bring himself to unwind. He lets fucking Brody from the baseball team plow him into the guest bed at a post-game party and even the tiny sparks of pleasure brushing his insides can’t make his back muscles unclench or his hole more wet. There’s just pathetic grunts coming from above him. The sting of a hand slapping against his asscheek and a huffed “make some noise, will ya?”

Yeah, no. He gets up instead. Ignores Brody’s halfhearted protests as he tugs up his pants and throws him an icy glare that makes the guy sputter and shut up. Pathetic.

It takes time, he thinks. Time to get him loose and trusting. Effort, too, to make him want to bow his back and present himself. Steve hates to sound like his mom, but when he jerks off later that night with a hand around his dick and three fingers in his wet hole, imagining a formless someone to sweep in and fill him up, he thinks ‘there’s just no quality alphas in this town’.

And then Billy Hargrove rolls into Hawkins, stinking of cigarette smoke, fucking Aqua Net and perfume and underneath it all? Jesus fucking Christ. A cloud of pheromones so strong and fragrant, it makes Steve drool a little just from catching a whiff of it in the hallways. They haven’t even talked yet and he already feels a hook in him. Right next to that itch. Closer than ever before to scratching it. He wants, more than he has ever wanted before, to get this guy’s scent on his skin. Wants to drip with the guy’s come.  And, to his massive surprise, underneath that raging storm of pure instinctual lust, there’s simply interest. He feels like a dog with his ears perked up and his snout in the wind. He’s on the chase.

If Steve has learned one thing, though, is that if he really, desperately wants something, he has to pursue it carefully. And nothing is more of a siren-song to alphas than an interested, yet reserved omega. So he’s not among the welcoming committee of fawning followers at Billy’s heels. He counts on them to fill the guy in on all the gossip. Walks by close enough in the hallway to get a whiff of Steve walking by. Feels those ocean blue eyes burning holes into the back of his head by the end of the day, just like he anticipated. Of course, it blows in his face within hours.

He’s not even properly buzzed at Tina’s Halloween party, too busy to keep Nancy away from getting shitfaced while they wait for Jonathan to pick her up. He swallows his frustration. This was supposed to be his opportunity to leave a lasting impression and instead he’s stuck babysitting his ex because she can’t hold her liquor.

And then he sees him. He takes one look at Billy Hargrove and even from across the room, clearly stalking towards him through a crowd of dancing people Steve can tell: The guy is trouble. 

In his periphery, he registers Jonathan swooping in and dragging Nancy off. Registers the cheers of people around them. Hears through the pulsing music “Harrington, right?” and his mouth says “Steve, actually.”

Hargrove leans forward. Close. Closer. Right into his space, stinking of beer and smoke and that irresistible hook underneath that pulls Steve’s body over a precipice he knows he’s crossed when he watches Billy’s pupils blow up and his chest move in the most unsubtle scenting he’s ever seen.

A heavy arm wraps around Steve’s shoulder and with a decisive pull, he’s flush against the warm, firm side of- “Billy,” is purred into his ear. Breath on his sensitive skin that makes him shudder and warmth pool in his belly. His arm winds around Billy’s waist and he realizes in that moment that any resemblance of a plan has flown out of the window. He’s putty.

“I’ve already heard so much about you,” Billy grins. There’s a wild edge to his smile. A mischievous spark in his voice and eyes that sinks the hook even deeper. Steve can’t help but smile back.

“Of course you have.” As they talk, Billy steers him through a room filled with eyes glued to their every move. It’s a familiar feeling- being the center of attention, even when people desperately try to play it cool. Letting the curiosity and jealousy pearl off his skin like drops of water, an entire audience to Steve being felt up and led around and held close throughout the evening with no resistance from him.

He’s just hungry. Watches Billy drink beer from a can and lick his lips with a pink tongue. Feels Billy’s hands firmly grip his hips as they dance and his eyes on Steve’s as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. It’s impossible to escape Billy’s scent, growing stronger the more he sweats. Becoming overwhelming when he tucks that strand of hair behind Steve’s ear for him and brushes his scent gland in such a deliberately soft motion it makes that pool of warmth in Steve’s belly transform into molten heat and a shocking pulse of slick. Right in his pants.

Billy’s eyes are wide, expression stunned. This isn’t how it normally goes, Steve wants to tell him through his embarrassment. Breathes more of Billy in and hears “Let’s get out of here” instead of a leer or an insult.

Steve knows he’s easy, okay? He’s been searching for someone in this town to make it worth his while and it’s been a disappointing search so far. So even when Billy pushes him into the backseat of his car, tugs his pants down and peels Steve’s soaked briefs off his legs, he still wonders if this will be a fluke. Right up until Billy’s heavy body covers him and their lips and tongues meet in a slick, delicious glide and his hole pulses slick right onto the car seat.

Before he can even settle into pure mortification, there’s that purr again. “Holy shit,” Billy says. Wondering. Delighted. A gloved hand glides over Steve’s skin. Up the inside of his thigh, to his hole where he’s more sensitive and swollen and wet than he’s ever been before for an alpha. Steve gasps. “Open your legs,” he’s told. And he does. Gets an appreciative “Just like that” in return that makes his arms break out into goosebumps.

Maybe it doesn’t take time at all, he thinks dazedly as he watches Billy pull off his gloves and glide a finger into his pulsing hole with such confidence and ease, it makes Steve moan immediately. Maybe all it takes is an alpha with a California tan and a wicked laugh that makes Steve want to smile along. The kinda guy who drags him around a party and never lets him go, who can’t stop petting Steve’s side and his hair.

And maybe, he thinks deliriously as sweat rolls down his back and the slick glide of Billy’s cock has turned into loud squelching on every powerful thrust that makes Steve gush onto the seats, maybe it does take trust. Because Billy looks at him. He scents Steve like he can’t help it, leans down to steal breathless kisses between moans like he needs every bit of contact just as desperately as Steve does.

‘He has freckles,’ Steve thinks incoherently as his dick twitches in Billy’s grip. Once, twice. Another time, right as Billy’s knot catches, locks them together in perfect pressure and everything falls apart in white-hot pleasure that spills over Steve’s body and out of him in ropes of come over his belly.  Billy bends forward when he comes. Like he can’t get close enough even when they’re locked together, a twitching, moaning weight on top of Steve’s fucked out body.

They bask in the afterglow for a long time. Steve pets Billy’s head, curls turned soft from a night of constant movement and sweat. There’s no need to get off this ride. Not when that itch has finally been scratched and one look at Billy’s blissed out face tells him that the hook he’s felt under his own skin has worked itself under Billy’s as well.