#guess its time to go all in baby! and decks himself out in all black and jagged clothing

[moeblob]

Look, I just think it's VERY funny and on brand that I thought of an entire premise of colorful characters for half the cast and immediately drew the only one void of color.

[harryspet]

painted with bruises | bucky barnes

[Warnings] severe domestic violence, bucky barnes x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, mafia!bucky, officer!steve, oral sex (female recieving), kidnapping, bondage, extreme violence, torture, so much angst, steve is a suuuper bad person in this haha

[A/N] This is a super last minute entry into @tilltheendwilliwrite ‘s 7.7K Follower (Covid Sucks) Celebration! so I hope you enjoy.

TRIGGERING AND ADULT CONTENT AHEAD

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar  @nsfwsebbie  @mandiiblanche

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He twirled his knife through his fingers, passing the time, as he waited for you to finally come to. He’d seen a million pictures of you but, seeing you so close in person, Bucky couldn’t help but think that your pictures didn’t do you justice. You were a mostly a ghost to society and, as someone who’s only family was Steve and someone who lived comfortably in his shadow, you had no one to truly gaze upon your beauty.

You were a hidden gem and Bucky understood a little more why Steve kept you so close to him. No matter how much you trained and proved your strength, you were still a prize. A very useful prize though. Bucky leaned back in the wooden chair, the furniture still wrapped in its protective plastic, knife still in hand as he watched your head start to move. The floor creaked beneath you, sound traveled eerily through the abandoned home. 

Motion traveled through your body as each of your limbs tried to free and stretch themselves. Bucky’s men informed him that you put up a good fight when they picked you up from the grocery store parking deck. Clint even came back with a broken pinky and a wounded ego. 

You sat in a chair only five feet away from him, your hands tightly handcuffed behind you, and your ankles cuffed to the legs of the chair. The home was beginning to smell like mildew and the smell invaded your senses as your eyes blinked open. Surprisingly, it wasn’t your restraints that triggered your initial sense of pain but your ribs.

When you finally gazed upon him, both of your faces were stoic. Two predators stared back at each other. You noted the two men standing a few feet behind him, their clothes dark and their faces hard. You recognized the one who’s pinky you’d roughly bent back when they had grabbed you. 

The room was illuminated by a flickering chandelier and you realized you were sitting in the dining room of some boarded-up house. By the furniture and wallpaper, you would’ve guessed it used to be a pretty, luxurious home. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Rogers.”

It took you a few short seconds but you placed who the man before you was. Brown leather jacket, dark beard, and a black glove covering up his left hand. You knew what was hidden beneath it, his arm being just as notorious as he was. 

“Bucky Barnes,” Your eyes narrowed at him, “You’ve … gotten old.”

Bucky didn’t smile but his slight amusement was evident, “Rikers Island will do that to you.”

His hands folded together and you tried to read the state of emotions. You imagined that he was doing the same to you, “Seems you’re lucky that you’re not there, rotting away right now.”

“Not so lucky for you or Steve though, right?”

“I guess not,” You spoke blankly.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, “You’re not going to ask why you’re here? No pleading? No threats of violence?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t. Perhaps because you had experienced much worse than anything this mobster could ever inflict upon you, “I know this is because of Steve because he’s the one who put you in prison. I know you probably want to hurt me in order to get back at him.”

Bucky leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours, “And this doesn’t scare you?”

There was fear in your heart but you weren’t sure if it was from a fear that you’d be hurt, “I know he’s looking for me. Half of the NYPD is probably looking for me right now. They’ll find you …”

“That may be true but you probably know how much of a selfish bastard he is. If he ran to his colleagues, he’d get taken off the case because he’s too close to it. I think Steve would want to kill me himself … hunt me down himself,” Your heart began to race as you listened to his words. You trusted Steve or at least a fantasy of Steve that you created, but Bucky’s words had a brutal truth to them. “What do you think, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I think you end up dead either way,” You stated, trying to keep your lip from shaking. 

“And what about you?”

“Steve... Steve will find me.”

“Sure,” You watched the knife twist in his hands, “But does he find you before or after I kill you is the question? … I think I’d want to see his face when I take away what he loves the most. But if you die, it’ll probably only make the public give him more sympathy. Our mayor loves charity cases and Steve would get promoted to chief of police in no time.”

You swallowed, “But you won’t let that happen. You’d kill him before you let that happen.”

Bucky sighed, “You got me, Mrs. Rogers. You know, you would’ve made a great detective. It’s a shame that you left the force after only three years,” Your eyes widened at his statement. Though the information was a google click away, you hadn’t thought about your past in so long that it had startled you, “It makes me wonder what made you quick.”

“You’re trying to make small talk with me while I’m handcuffed to a chair?” You scowled but he chuckled. 

“Fine, no small talk. Clint,” Bucky lifted his knife up, the handle facing up. The older man, his light brown hair slicked up and shaved at the sides, moved forward and grabbed the knife from Bucky. He used the hand that wasn’t bandaged up and moved towards you, “How about a little photo shoot so we can keep Mr. Rogers updated.”

Uselessly, you started to pull at your restraint. The man kneeled down by your feet, taking the knife and starting to cut away at the fabric of your black leggings, “What are you doing?” Bucky found it strange that you were now finally panicking. You had managed to act like your life wasn’t in danger this entire time. 

Now your eyes were blinking fast and the discomfort in your face was evident. Bucky didn’t answer you, only stared as he watched the fabric rip away, “I-I left because of Steve!” You rushed out, “I didn’t have to work because Steve was going to take care of us.”

“Clint,” Bucky stopped the man from continuing, your bottom leg already exposed. Clint stood and stepped away from you causing you to let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding, “He was going to take care of you? But you spent so long getting your GED, training and you worked hard to get that job.”

“He was my fiance then and … I thought it would be good for us. If I didn’t have to work then I shouldn't have to. Besides, he didn’t want me to be stressed from work while we were trying for a baby.”

“How long have you been trying?” He seemed genuinely interested but you kept talking hoping it would keep the knife away. 

“Two years…” Your voice trembled as his question triggered bad memories.

“Steve always wanted a family,” Bucky said like your answer triggered his own memory, “He’d probably do anything to get that …”

Part of you felt like you were betraying Steve by revealing so much information. You knew that Bucky and Steve went back all the way to elementary school and that their path had divulged into two very different roads. 

“He will have it,” You said, suddenly growing angry. You felt anger at Bucky as well as yourself, “When he finds me and kills you. And you’ll never experience anything like that.”

Bucky’s facial expression darkened at your words. He raised a hand, gesturing to Clint to continue. Clint went back to tearing away at your clothes and you started to struggle wildly, almost tipping the chair over in the process. 

Bucky straightened his jacket, trying to seem phased by the tears welling in your eyes. Clint tore away at your leggings and Bucky gestured to Sam to start taking pictures. The goal was to get Steve to think that you were being tortured in more ways than one. 

“Don’t. P-Please, don’t!”

All the men seemed to hesitate at the same time. Clint had paused as he watched the front of your shirt slip away to the sides and Sam’s finger hovered over the camera button. The beauty of your face was still there, tears in all, but your body told a completely different story. 

Bucky had never seen someone so purple and blue. The bruises covered your stomach, your thighs, and your arms which had been covered by long sleeves. There was a huge bandage on your stomach, bloody gauze stuck behind it. Bucky stood. 

Even in all his time in the most brutal jail in the world, he hadn’t seen anything like this, especially not done to a woman. Your knees snapped together and you turned your head, trying to hide away. 

“Who did this?” Bucky asked, his voice smaller than it had been during the entire encounter. 

You breathed heavily like you were being suffocated by the attention, “Y-Your men manhandled me!” You forced out, “What do you mean? Did you forget that you kidnapped me?”

Bucky looked to Clint and Sam, “Get out.”

As they left the room, Bucky removed his jacket, exposing the protruding biceps beneath his black shirt. He placed the jacket over as he began to undo your restraints one by one, “I gave them strict orders not to hurt you. And these … these bruises … some look much older than others,” You were a rainbow of color, signifying that each mark had a different date of impact. Bucky looked up at you, from his place kneeling at your feet, and something remarkable had changed in his face, “Don’t tell me …”

As your wrists were free, you brought your hands together, rubbing them together as they began to shake, “I had an accident … “

“Steve did this,” His voice had gone from strong and commanding to what is what now, weak and unsure. You shook your head, shutting your eyes tight, “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“You think you’re different from him?” You spoke, your tone venomous. 

“I know I am,” This time he was sure of his words yet he seemed a bit hurt, “And he’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

“He won’t,” That much you did know, “And you’re a fool just like me.”

+

“Ma’am,” You looked up from the bubbles, your bruised figure beneath the warm water, as you heard a maid call for you, “I left a robe for you on the counter and some clothes for you on the bed. Mr. Barnes wants you to join him for breakfast but he understands if you’d still like your time alone. He’ll send up your food if that’s what you wish.”

You didn’t respond, though she sounded like a kind lady, you had resorted to silence ever since your world came crashing down around you yesterday. 

You refused to see a Doctor which Bucky respected, probably knowing how much he had violated you yesterday and wanting to continue to play the good guy. 

When you heard her footsteps pitter-patter away, you sunk back down into the bubbles. It had been a long while since you “relaxed” in this way. Despite the fact that you were home most of the day, you never felt peace or relaxation living with Steve. 

Even when you organized his clothes perfectly, cooked his favorite dinner, or wore that red lingerie thing he liked, he was never really satisfied. Even when he pretended he was happy and you fell for his charm, his tone always changed.  

And now it felt like the relationship you had worked so hard to maintain was more useless than you originally thought. You had no baby and no happy family to show for it. You were behind enemy lines probably destined to die because of Steve. 

Though it did cross your mind that you were being abnormally pampered for a hostage. Bucky’s penthouse was high up, looking over the darker side of the city. A view of luxury from the wrong side of the tracks. 

You ate your breakfast alone from your room, spending most of the day staring up at the ceiling. When the servant returned that evening, you assumed that she was here to invite you to dinner with Mr. Barnes. She’d probably expect you to say no and to depressingly roll over in bed. 

Instead, she found you dressed and ready for something- anything. You’d pick out something from the fineries in the closet, a tight red dress that hugged your curves, and let more parts of your body show then you were normally comfortable with. 

“Ma’am,” The woman tried to keep eye contact and not let her eyes wander over your rainbow skin, “Mr. Rogers … Mr. Rogers is here.”

You took a deep, uncertain breath before your lips pressed into a thin smile, “Good.”

“You don’t want to eat here?” She asked, sounding concerned.

“Mr. Barnes wants me to eat with him, right?” You were already walking past her, your heels clicking against the marble floors. She was baffled as she followed after her. Bucky’s home was regal and, walking it in for the first time, you thought the man must’ve seen way too many mafia movies from the seventies. 

You approached a landing with a view of the massive living room, a grand staircase leading down to the event that you’d just interrupted. At least ten men were gathered, a black tarp laid out as a hunched over man sat there on his knees, and one man paced by the first. Steve and Bucky. 

They hadn’t noticed you and you took the opportunity to listen in.

“This good guy persona … you’ve really lied to yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself it's true,” Bucky’s tone was incredulous and you could tell the amusement in his voice was only a facade, “You forgot how you even climbed the ranks so fast. Without my connections, without my intel, you’d still be working security at the mall.”

“I turned myself around…” His voice was weaker than usual and, as you moved towards the stairs, you realized the blood soaking through the back of his shirt, “I tried to help you, Buck.”

“You threw me in prison for something that I did for you. I help you lock up one of my enemies, you get the praise and I make more money,” You started to put things together as you listened, thinking back to when you thought Steve was a hero and that this city was lucky to not have to deal with Bucky Barnes anymore, “Except you couldn’t help yourself from wanting more, old friend.”

“Oh, cut the fucking bullshit!” You felt your heart began to race at the sound of his growing anger but you kept moving forward. As you finally started to descend the stairs, your eyes connected with your kidnapper, “Where is she?”

Steve scared you to death but you had decided that you weren’t afraid of your final days anymore.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” You couldn’t exactly read Bucky’s expression but you knew exactly what Steve was thinking when he turned his head towards the bottom of the staircase. It was initially a look of relief, of thankfulness that he could lay eyes on his beautiful, obedient, and stupid wife. Then it turned to that anger you knew so well, that look he gave you and you knew immediately that you probably would be able to get out of bed the next day because of how in pain you’d be. 

Painted with bruises, you crossed the room and took your place beside Bucky. 

“Y/N … I’m taking you home, I promise,” He stated, trying to mask that fury with a smile that had charmed you many times before. 

You gazed at Bucky who seemed a bit unsure of your intentions but was entranced by you nonetheless, “That’s not a home,” You stated, trying your best to keep eye contact. Even now, you found your knees weak despite the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back and he was the one on his knees now, “A-And …” You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, “And it’s over.”

“What’s over, baby?” His voice raised and his eyes narrowed angrily, causing you to take a step back but you felt a calm hand on the small of your back. It was a reminder that this was all a manipulative strategy and he was trying to hold onto his control by scaring you. 

“Us,” You stated as calmly as possible. 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“Steve-”

“Answer me! Did you fuck him?” You were shaking now but not in fear. 

You turned towards Bucky, and before he could even know what you were planning, you were reaching towards his waistband. He didn’t panic, surprisingly, but easily let you grab the gun strapped to his waist. Even knowing you could turn it on him, he let you do it. To Steve’s surprise, this wasn’t a big charade in order to disarm Bucky and set the two of you free. 

You pointed it at your kneeling, former lover, “Y/N, what are you-”

“Who I fuck from now on should be the least of your worries. you jealous, fucking prick,” Twisting the knife, he was now red with anger. In an attempt to get to his feet, you thought he might charge at you but your aim was good, and, gripping the gun tightly, you fired a bullet into his thigh. 

“Fuck!” He cursed, falling back down, and whaling in excruciating pain, “You fucking bitch! You’re nothing without me!”

He’d saved you. He’d kept you from choosing a life of crime, of falling into a broken system, and he’d encourage you to follow dreams. Then he’d hurt you like the monster he actually was in an attempt to break you to his will. 

You raised the gun up, your eyes concentrating on the space on his forehead. You hadn’t noticed how badly you were shaking until you felt that same hand on your back. He placed his other hand on top of the barrel, “You don’t have to make it painless for him,” Were his words and you lowered the gun, letting Bucky carefully take it from you. 

“I want him to suffer,” You seethed, watching Steve clutch his thigh in pain. 

“Take him to the garage,” Bucky ordered his men, “Leave him unrecognizable.”

Steve went kicking and screaming but you found yourself unafraid of him anymore. You thought of him as this powerful entity that could never be taken down. Now you saw him as a petulant child that would probably beg for his mother on his way out. 

You turned to him but you didn’t have words yet. “How do you feel?” He asked, probably unsure of what to say to you. 

“Why do they say revenge is never the answer?” You asked, “I feel … fucking exhilarated.”

Bucky’s lip turned into a smirk, “They say that cathartic feeling won’t last … something tells me this is different.”

You nodded, your lips tugging into a smile, “Yeah, this is different,” You stepped forward, closing the gap between you. With hesitant hands, he grabbed your waist but you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled him down towards you, smashing your lips against his. 

Your lips didn’t stop tasting one another, as your bodies began crumbling down towards the carpet. The heat of the fire fanned your flames and you found yourselves desperately tugging at each other’s clothes. 

You swallowed that feeling that told you this was wrong, you swallowed that guilt you might have felt and you decided to do what you wanted for the first time in a long time. Bucky’s hands roamed over your skin but he never grabbed at you and you could tell he was trying to be gentle. With your back against the carpet, he hovered over you, “You’re beautiful,” He said, his blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. 

You liked the look in his eyes because he didn’t feel sorry for you. He meant those words. 

He kissed the side of your mouth and then down your chin. As his lips touched your scars, it was like he was acknowledging them and also accepting them at the same time. He kissed down your body, over your breast. He moved down, sliding your panties to the side as his head dipped down. He kissed your sensitive bud, teasing you as he looked back into your eyes, “Your aim is quite good, I think you could have a place here, Y/N.”

Your cheeks were warm and not because of the fire, “I won’t belong to anyone else ever again.”

“Of course not,” He smiled a wicked smile, “You’re in control … and your wish would be my command.”

His head finally dipped down again and, as you’d never been touched before, Bucky left you convulsing in pleasure for the rest of the long night. 

The Persephone to his Hades, you knew then that the underworld may have been where you belonged all along.

+

I hope you enjoyed this one! Please lmk what you think :)

[sarcastich]

Crown Made Of Barbwire

Everyone got their wings, sooner or later.

Feathers of every color, size, variation.

They start as two little bumps on your back, itching like a growing tooth, around the same time you hit puberty. A bit earlier for girls, a bit later for boys. They grow over the course of your teenage years, and stop once all their feathers have reached their full size.

Some people could fly with their wings, some couldn’t. Most people’s wings were two meters on each side when they were outstretched.

Peter’s wings had only taken two years to grow fully, and were beautiful, pure-white angel wings.

He’d never seen anyone with wings like his. All the other white wings were more like snow owls, speckled with browns and grays, or had underlying colors that gave the top feathers a tint.

He couldn’t quite fly with them, but they were perfect for gliding. He’d scale the tallest buildings in his area, and get a running jump off of them, plummeting for a moment before he got pulled up and flew around the neighborhood until his wings got tired. Of course, you couldn’t just fly anywhere whenever you wanted to. You needed permits, licenses, there were laws to uphold. Most people preferred staying on the ground, anyway.

But not everyone got to keep their feathered wings.

Peter had always heard stories of the burnt ones.

His aunt used it as a reason for him to be good, or when his friends were yelling about seeing criminals they’d allegedly seen out ‘n about.

“-Eat your greens or your wings will burn right off, Pete”

“-I’m telling you, man! His wings were all black and torn up, I’m not kidding!”

They were the result of corruption, evil, immorality, and sin. Once soft feathers scorched, charred, and turned into soot. They blackened and burned away, turning into a shadow of their past wonder, skeletal and black.

Peter had never imagined that one day he’d be standing at the Four Seasons, shooting photos for The Bugle, trying to get a good shot of the Tony Stark.

Peter was among the crowd of journalists and other photographers, rapidly clicking away, aiming his camera lens at Stark. Reporters were yelling out questions, waving wired microphones and recorders over the barrier between them and the walkway Tony Stark was walking down.

There was something about his wings that set them apart from a normal burnt set. Most CEOs, businessmen or just rich, successful, famous people had burnt wings.

But Tony Stark’s weren’t just burnt.

They had horns cascading from the tips to the forearms. The burning away of the pure white feathers had revealed bat-like structures. Stark had no idea why, or how. That was just how they were. Or so he’d told the public.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Stark focused on him, looking into his camera and flashing a well-practiced smile. Peter fumbled for a moment before he looked through the viewfinder and took several photos.

And again, he’d never imagined that he’d get a personal request for a photoshoot, by the Tony Stark.

He packed his camera bag with shaky hands, taking extra drives and lenses.

His boss had pulled him aside earlier that morning, and told him that Stark had reached out and asked for Mr. Parker to be the one present and in charge of the interview’s photos. Peter, of course, had accepted in a second. He’d be an idiot to decline. Tony Stark’s picture on his portfolio? What kind of artist would he be if he said no?

Peter stepped out of the glass lobby of The Bugle offices half an hour later and looked up from his phone, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a deep red sweater over a white collared shirt, the front tucked into his soft beige dress pants. He hoped his outfit wasn’t too casual for the occasion, but he didn’t really have time to change anyway.

Just as he looked away from the screen, a sleek black car pulled up in front of him. The driver’s window rolled down.

“Peter Parker?” the driver, a roundish man, asked.

“Y-yeah- yes!”

The man jerked his head towards the back seat door.

“Get in, kid.”

Peter did as told, nervously sliding into the car, barely moving when he sat on the leather seat, hugging his bag.

“Wh- Where’re we going-?” His voice came out a lot squeakier than he’d meant for it to.

“Stark Industries Tower, where else?”

Almost an hour later, the car stopped in front of the blue, glass building. The driver got out and opened Peter’s door. He hadn’t moved since he’d gotten in.

Getting out of the car and almost forgetting his bag, he mumbled, most of his attention drawn by the tall tower.

“Thank you- uh, mister- um-”

“Hogan. Happy Hogan.”

“Yes! Thanks!”

With a nod, he closed the car door and got back in, driving off. Peter took a deep breath, held his bag properly again and started towards the building.

After a short chat with one of the three receptionists, he was led to an elevator a bit farther away from the general area of the entry. He and a shorter woman entered the lift. Judging from her formal attire, Peter guessed she was an assistant. Her wings were far smaller than his own, made up of light blue feathers with streaks of royal blue. He kept his own wings contracted to offer her enough room in the small space.

“Friday, take us to the penthouse, and please let Mr. Stark know that Mr. Parker will be arriving shortly.”

Peter looked at her, confused until a soft tone went off and the elevator started its ascent.

She smiled at him before he let out a soft “Oh-” and averted his gaze.

With another soft tone, the lift stopped and she gestured for him to step out.

“Thanks-”, he started to say, but the elevator door was already closing behind him.

The elevator had opened to something like a living room area. Two sleek, white sofas were facing the rounded glass walls, with an ornate sculpture between them that looked like five giant bowls stacked on top of each other. Everything Peter could see was modern and minimal, with a white-gray aesthetic throughout the penthouse.

He looked around nervously, holding on to his bag by the shorter strap.

“Mr. Parker, welcome.”

Peter gasped and turned around with a jump, startled.

“M-Mr. Stark! Y-yes, hi, I’m Peter Parker, I-I’m here for the Bugle interview shoot?” He inwardly cringed at how he sounded, stuttering, his voice a lot higher than it usually was, clutching his bag for dear life.

Stark smirked at him. “I know, kid, calm down.” He gestured towards the sofas. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Peter stuttered out a thank you, and sat down at the far end of one. He kept his wings close to his body, feeling like he was taking up too much space, still hugging his bag to his chest. He looked up shyly, taking Stark in properly. His wings were relaxed as he walked to the sofa facing Peter, sitting down comfortably.

“Are you afraid of me, Mr. Parker?”

“N-No sir. I mean, you’ve obviously done s-some- uh-.. Not so great things- but uhm- You’re an icon, people admire you-”

“Would you like anything to drink?” Stark cut him off, motioning to the minibar that had very literally risen from the ground.

Peter stuttered out, “Oh- N-No, thank you, I can’t drink on the job-”

Stark poured himself two fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass, without ice, and gently pushed down the top of the minibar, and it reclined back into the floor, looking like another dark grey ceramic tile.

He took a sip, eyes trained on Peter.

Peter cleared his throat, relaxing a bit. “So, where d’you think would be best for the uhm- the shots-?”

They talked about light placement, the conversation somehow dragging over to technology and science, Peter engaging a lot more, and forgetting his nervousness eventually.

After about an hour, they got up, Peter set up his camera, and took his photos.

A behind-shot of Tony Stark with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, wings stretched out behind him. A side profile, while buttoning his suit, and various other shots.

Peter was on his knees, getting a photo of one of Tony Stark’s iconic shades on a small table, the city line stretching out behind it.

Stark had excused himself to take a call, and told Peter to take photos of anything that he wanted. Peter didn’t hear him step back into the room, too focused on trying to set his camera’s shutter speed. Stark quietly took long strides to him, stepping in front of the table.

“Oh, Mr. Stark-! I just wanted to take a shot of the glasses, they’re-”

He stammered into silence as Mr. Stark softly ran the back of his finger along his cheek. He held it under Peter’s chin, tilting his head up. Peter was blushing furiously, but couldn't make himself look away.

“Let me see your wings, angel.”

Three months later, Peter’s life had changed drastically.

He was decked out in the latest designer clothes, a skinny white Etro strap top to match his wings, baby blue Dolce & Gabbana shaded glasses perched on this nose, sitting by a marbled kitchen counter, a Valentino white leather clutch bag resting on it, and inspecting his manicured nails.

A man in an obsidian black suit entered the room, buttoning his jacket and running a hand through his hair, smirking.

“Ready, angel?”

Peter looked up, a cheeky smile on his lips. Wings fluttering, he slid off his high stool and made his way to him. He straightened Tony’s tie and pecked his nose.

“Yes, daddy.”

He leaned away, but Tony let out a growl, grabbing Peter by his waist and pulling him flush against his body.

Peter gasped, “You’ll ruin my outfit!”

“Angel, I bought it.”

Peter pouted, “Well yeah, but you gave it to me”

“I’ll buy you a new one, you spoilt brat.”

Peter giggled and cupped Tony’s face, looking into his eyes and leaning into his touch. “Y’know I love you, Tones.”

They kissed softly, Tony not letting go of his vice grip on Peter’s waist.

“Tony, we’re gonna be late... I want you to check the set up one last time-”

“Angel, I had you set things up. I trust you.”

Earlier that day, Peter had gone to the hotel’s restaurant on the top floor, under a different name and reservation. He’d checked the entire place for wires, mics, or anything that could put them in any sort of bad situation. He checked exit points, weak spots, and all the cameras. He’d been thorough.

He had taped a Glock 9 mm handgun underneath their side of the table, checking repeatedly to make sure it was fully loaded and had its safety off.

Peter grumbled a bit, before letting go of Tony, dramatically sighing, rolling his eyes and picking up his handbag from the counter.

“Well, we should get going anyway.”

Tony shot him a wolfish grin before grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.

“You missed something, i mio angelo.”

He tilted his head to the counter, a navy blue felt box sitting on it now. Peter was surprised. He knew it was a jewelry box, but he hadn’t asked for anything, and even though Tony loved showering him with gifts, there was usually some silly occasion he used as an excuse for it.

He curiously looked at the box, wondering what it was. Something beautiful, no doubt.

“Go on then, Angel, it’s yours.”

Peter stepped back up to the counter and set down his bag on the nearest stool. He pulled the box closer to himself before glancing at Tony, who was smirking at him, arms crossed against his chest.

He slowly opened it, keeping his eyes on Tony until the lid was completely vertical.

His eyes flicked down to the box, and he took in a sharp gasp, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Tony, you didn’t!”

Tony’s smirk grew into a full grin again as Peter rushed around the counter to kiss him, cradling the box in his arms, even though he could easily just hold it in one hand.

“Of course I did, mia carissimo.”

Tony took the box from Peter’s hands, setting it down on the counter. He pulled out the choker he’d gotten for his princess, with Round Brilliant cut, D rate diamonds in the center of Cushion cut diamonds arranged like figure eights.

Peter lightly grazed his own neck with his fingertips, already feeling the weight on his neck, even though he hadn’t touched the jewels yet. Tony held up the necklace.

“May I have the honor?”

Peter silently turned his back to Tony, holding his head high. Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s bare neck and gently ran his hand through Peter’s feathers, making him shudder before placing the necklace on his neck and fastening the tiny clasp. It didn’t have a chain at the end, it had a specific size. Peter’s size.

Half an hour later, Tony held the passenger door of his Audi R8 Spyder open and led Peter out, Peter giving him his hand like a princess, to the entry of the hotel. There was no swarming press, just the coming and going of guests of the hotel.

Handing his keys over to a valet, Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Peter’s hand.

“Relax, angel.”

They walked into the lobby hand in hand, people stopping to stare at them every few feet. Even if they didn’t know who Tony Stark was, they’d stop to look at the man with the bat wings and the boy who looked like an angel.

They didn’t stop at the reception, they walked straight to the private elevator that led to the restaurant, Tony’s security detail already armed and ready at the top. Once they got there and had been patted down and checked for weapons by Osborn’s security, Tony walked them over to their table.

It overlooked the city skyline, winking lights dotting the land underneath them. He pulled out a chair for Peter, getting a soft smile in return. Sitting in the chair next to him, he held his hand again. Peter shot him a worried look.

Peter kept his voice low, “I thought you said he’d be here on time?”

“Princess, he’s only five minutes late. His detail’s here, he’ll be here, too.”

Peter toyed with the table’s centerpiece while they waited. After about ten minutes, Tony abruptly got up, rebuttoning his suit.

“C’mon bambino, we’re leaving.”

Before Peter could get up, there was a short yell and a loud muffled thump from the elevator.

The glass wall beside their table shattered, rapid shots taking out most of the security team. Tony yanked Peter down by his suit collar, looking out at the building in front to try and see the snipes. The elevator doors ominously opened, a man in black armour stepping out. His wings were plated with metal.

It all happened in the span of two seconds.

He shot the remaining guards before training his gun on Tony. Before he could get a word out, Peter pulled the gun he’d hidden earlier. In an instant, he cocked it and aimed for the man’s head.

The assassin had been a split second too late in aiming at Peter.

Peter fired.

The shooter fell to the floor, dead.

Peter dropped the gun, falling to his knees, a sudden hiss sounding behind him.

His wings had burst into flames.

He yelled out, pain blooming in his wings and along his back. Tears sprung from his eyes and ran down his face, ash falling around him, smoke rising behind him as Tony rushed to his knees beside him, holding him as he cried into Tony’s shoulder, his agonized screams muffled.

In the matter of minutes, his angelic wings were gone.

[imagines4thefandoms]

Oliver Queen X Wife! Reader

requested: @purpledragon04​

Sorry this took to long i just couldn't think of anything good enough. hope you like it.

Can you do a Oliver queen x reader? where they’re having a gender reveal party

Word count:2456

Warnings: NONE....slight fluff

“What time is it,” William asked shoving a big bite of pancake in his mouth.

“Son, its only 8am,” Oliver laughed at his son’s excitement.

You walked in the kitchen and sat down next to William. Oliver slide over a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee. After taking a sip you looked at your husband.

“What time is it,” you asked excitedly and nervously.

Oliver and William laughed as your husband walked over to you and places a kiss on your temple while placing his had on your ever growing belly. Today was the gender reveal party that Thea and Facility planned. You and William were excited to find out what the gender of the baby was, while Ollie was just excited to be having a baby with the love of his life. After all the bad in his life he was happy to have this good thing/things.

“Its just another party,” Oliver said taking a sip of his coffee.

“Ollie, your not looking forward to finding out the gender of our baby,” you asked tearing up.

“Sweetheart, I don’t care if we are having a boy or girl. I just want to have a happy healthy baby with the love of my life,” Oliver replied rubbing your back.

Oliver was right, it doesn’t matter if you were having a boy or girl. Honestly, your would have rather stayed home with the two men in your life but if you did Thea would drag you kicking and screaming.

After Oliver calmed you down from your crazy hormonal episode, the three of you finished breakfast. The party wasn’t until noon so there were four hours to kill.  William went back to his room to play some video game while you took an shower and Oliver clean the kitchen.

“(Y/n) you ok,” Oliver asked after you had been in the shower for an hour.

He walked into the bathroom and found you sitting on the floor of the shower crying. He climbed in and pulled you into his arms letting his t-shirt and sweatpants get soaked. Oliver and you just sat there for a couple minutes.

(N/n) what’s wrong,” he asked.

“What if i’m a bad mom,” you asked Ollie looking over your shoulder.

“Impossible, i’ve seen the way you care about William. I know that you will be a great mom,” he responded laughing.

You gave him a small smile and laughed when you noticed that he was soaking wet. Oliver helped you up and out the shower while he got out of his soaking pjs and took a shower himself.  After getting dressed in maternity leggings and a (f/c) T-shirt dress you laid in bed and continued reading the book on your nightstand.

When ollie was done, he got dressed is just jeans and a t-shirt and went to his office t work on some mayoral things. The three of you were doing your separate things til William ran into your room excitingly.

“Its 11:30 come on lets go,” William said basically bouncing off the walls.

When you found out your were pregnant you were worried not about what Ollie thought but about what William thought. You were scared he would think that this baby would be more important to him but when you and Oliver told him he was excited to be a big brother.

After you got out of bed you and William ran, well William ran you wattled, to Oliver’s office. Oliver laughed at the sight of his pregnant wife and son jumping with excitement and telling him to hurry up. He finished looking over the budget for the police (idk what mayors do) and closed his computer.

The car ride there consisted of William going back and forth over either wanting to have a baby brother or sister, and you staring into space imagining your life with a baby boy then again with a baby girl. Spoiler alert both were full of sleepless nights and tears from you. Oliver held your hand and shot down williams dream to play some video game with a little brother.

“William, you won’t be able to play Modern Warfare with a newborn,” he laughed.

When we pulled up to Oliver’s childhood home, Thea, Felicity and Dig came outside and greeted us. Thea walked past her brother and gave you a big hug. Oliver faked a hurt look while Thea ignored him and then went to hug her nephew.

“OMG you’re glowing,” Felicity stated pulling you into a hug.

“I think the term you are looking for is gigantic,” you said returning the hug.

“She’s right (y/n) you look amazing,” Oliver said placing a kiss on your temple.

“You have to say that cause you are coming home with me.”

“No it the truth. You are the most beautiful person in the multiverse.”

“Wow you’re cheesy Mr. Queen. Now lets find out if we are having a little girl or another boy. “

The two of you walked into the Queen Mansion. Moira was standing in the parlor by a table with little paper pins of the supergirl symbol and flash symbols. With a sign that read “will baby Queen be Supergirl or flash?”

“Omg this is too cute,” you said picking up each symbol.

Oliver looked over at his sister and Felicity. Dig laughed at Ollie’s reaction an pined a flash symbol to his shirt. William grabbed a flash symbol then went to hug Moira.

“Whose idea was this,” Oliver asked when you put on a supergirl symbol.

“Ours,” Kara and Berry said walking out of the living room.

“Kara, you’re here,” you exclaimed running or more likely waddling towards your best friend.

“I would never miss the baby shower,” she responded hugging you.

After you grabbed a supergirl symbol which matched the one Kara was wearing and she pulled you into the living room which was decked out in supergirl and flash decorations also pink and blue balloons. There was the famous first picture of Kara flying and a picture of the Flash above the fireplace. All of our superhero friends were here including our DEO friends from Earth-19.  It  was nice seeing everyone when it didn’t involve a worlds ending crisis.

Oliver walked over to you to take in the decorations and the fact that he has to look at a dozen pictures of Barry and Kara. You looked over at your husband and saw that he was wearing a supergirl and flash symbol on his shirt. Before you could comment on the buttons Sara walked into the mansion with the legends.

“Sara, how can someone with a time machine always be late,” you joked hugging her.

“Mick,” Sara replied as an excuse and with that one word you completely understood.

After ten minutes of catching up with Alex, Kara, and Brainy, it was time to play some games. Thea grabbed you and Oliver and brought you two to the front of room. The first game was guess the baby food. Kara and Felicity walked around the room with a plater of baby food jars with no labels and tiny plastic spoons.

After playing guess the baby food, baby bingo, baby birthday pool, and having everyone write wishes for baby queen, and scarfing down three sandwiches, two cake pops and some fruit it was time for the big reveal. Thea directed everyone out to the backyard while Dig and Barry brought out a wooden target with the words ‘Supergirl or The Flash’ in red and blue. There were three black balloons pinned to the plywood. Felicity stood infant of the target and explained that the colors in the balloons will match the superhero costumes so red is for the flash and blue is for supergirl. Thea brought Oliver a bow and three arrows.

“Really speedy,” Oliver asked smiling.

“Its cute ollie,” Thea replied patting his back.

You laughed at how the green arrow is gonna fire an arrow to find out if the baby is “supergirl” or the “Flash”. Oliver wouldn’t admit it cause he is a stubborn bastard but he thought the idea was cute. You went up behind Oliver and wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t miss,” you teased him.

“You think your cute,” he retorted as you let him go and stood behind him.

“I know I am.”

Oliver shook his head and let out a small laugh as he grabbed an arrow and pulled the drawstring back. Everyone beside William and I were standing three feet behind Oliver watching to see what color explodes from the balloons. Oliver let the arrow fly and it hit the black ballon on the right and white paint exploded. Oliver reloaded the bow and took aim. William and you were anxiously waiting to see if the next shoot would be red or blue. Oliver released the arrow and shot the balloon on the left. The balloon released white paint again. In that moment you mentally cursed Felicity, Thea, and Kara for setting up the reveal like this. The suspense was killing you.

“Babe come here,” Oliver called to you.

You walked over and Oliver handed you the bow. “Sweetheart, you know I cant shoot a bow like you can,” you explained trying to give the bow back.

“I will help you,” he said pulling you back towards him.

Oliver grabbed the last arrow and placed it on the string. He placed his hand over your on the bow and guided your other hand to the string. The two of you pulled the sting back and Oliver helped you relax your shoulders.

“Take a deep breath and focus on the target.”

“You sure you don’t want to do this yourself.”

“Be quiet and focus.”

Oliver helped you correct your position and placed his hands back over yours. You and Oliver took a deep breath and he whispered “Let go” in your ear. The arrow flew across the yard and landed center of the last balloon. Blue paint exploded from the balloon. A girl. You and Oliver were having a girl. You dropped the bow and turned around and wrapped your arms around your husband. William ran over and hugged the both of you.

“Congratulations,” everyone yelled.

Moira and Thea came over to y’all and pulled you and Oliver into a hug. It didn’t matter what color came out of the balloon because you knew no matter what this baby would be loved and protected. I mean her god mother was freaking supergirl.

“You happy,” you asked your husband.

“Yes, now I don’t have to watch you dress my baby in flash onesies,” he said placing a kiss on your temple.

“I can still do that just to annoy you.”

“I guess it will be cool to have a little sister,” William said. You laughed at his reaction and pulled him into a hug.

After a couple minutes, everyone went back inside to finish the party. The party lasted another hour and Moira left to finish some business for Queen Consolidated and the rest of our non-super friends left. Team supergirl, team flash, the rest of team arrow, the legends, and Kate Kane stayed. Since we didn’t have to keep any secrets now we decided to open some presents.

Kara gave us a cute supergirl onesie with a little cape and a bib that read ‘stronger than supergirl’. “Kara this is too cute,” you hugged your best friend again. “Please this is nothing. Im going to spoil her so much.”

Alex gave us a cute teddy bear. “Thanks Alex,” you said giving it a tight squeeze. “Its just like the one my dad gave me when I was younger.”

Jon gave us some martian baby toy. It looked like a block of bedrock. “Its an old martian toy. It can shift to what every toy she thinks about.” “That is really cool Jon, thanks.”

Brainy gave us a cd with classical music to play during bedtime because it has been proven to increase intelligence. “Thank you Brainy.” “It has my favorites. Playing it every night will increase the baby’s intelligence by 45%.”

Kate got us a lot of diapers and pacifiers. “I didn’t know what to get so,” “No Kate this is great thanks.”

The Legends gave us a bunch of baby toys the stole from time. Some from the past and some from the future. “These are really cool.” “This one was from Queen Victoria’s nursery,” Nate explained. “Having these won’t mess up the time line will they?” Oliver asked. “Probably,” Mick said.  “I don’t know,” Nate said.  “No,”Sara said. “We will find out,” ray commented.

Caitlyn gave us a little baby booties/socks that monitor the baby’s vitals when she is sleeping. “Caitlyn this is awesome. Thank you,” “your welcome.”

Cisco build a little mobile with all the our symbols and it played “twinkle twinkle little star” “This is pretty cool Cisco,” Oliver stated spinning it around. “It also can create a protective force field around the crib at the push of this button,” he said handing you a small black remote. “Ok, that’s great. Hopefully we never need it,” you said looking closely at the mobile.

Iris and Barry gave us of course two flash onesies and a little green arrow one too. “Wow thanks Barry,” Oliver said in a monotone. “Come one ollie, these are really cute,” you pleaded holding up one of the flash ones.

Ralph gave us a cute little dinosaur plushie. “Thank you Ralph. This little guy is really cute.”

Thea and roy got us a little pink blanket. “Speedy is that,” Oliver asked.

“Yea mom helped me find it.” “Ollie what is it,” you asked taking the blanket from him. “This is her old blanket. Thea would never go anywhere without it.” “Thea this is so sweet.”

Dig and Lila got us a bunch of baby thing that they said saved their lives with baby Sara. “Trust us you will need these,” Lila explained. “Thanks you guys.”

Felicity got us a bunch of little books. “These are perfect Felicity,” you thanked her.

After presents, Oliver, dig, Barry, and William loaded the car up with all the stuff and the three of you left to head home. The car ride home was quiet; William was playing his video games and you and Oliver just held hands in silence. It was perfect. The silence only broke one time when William commented, “Just so you know I'm not playing dress up or attending a tea party.” You laughed and looked at your husband. The two of you just knew that William will end up doing anything for his little sister.

[astaroth1357]

Leviathan's Odyssey 6:

Reunion

*Lucifer is in the middle of packing an extra set of water-wings into a cat-themed bag on his bed. Beel is waiting for him at the door in swim trunks, holding a placated baby Satan who’s gnawing on the ear of his beloved Mr. Whiskers*

Beel: Lucifer, are you sure about this?

Lucifer: Yes. I'm sure.

Beel: But he's so small… Isn't there another way to get him tired?

Lucifer: I don't suppose you have any suggestions?

Beel: ….. 

*unable to answer, Beel turns away with a guilty look. Lucifer just sighs, picking up the bag and finally looks back at his brother*

Lucifer: I thought so… *he passes by but sets a hand on his shoulder* If he's strong enough to have a body count, he can learn to doggy paddle. Now let's go.

*in an effort to curb Satan's boundless destructive tendencies, Lucifer finally read a parenting book and decided that giving their little hellspawn some physical activity could make him easier to manage. Lord Diavolo offered them his private beach for a few days to that end, so some swimming appeared to be in order. Satan was still much younger than any of his brothers when he taught them, but nothing about this child was normal. He could probably handle a little water as long as he was supervised...*

*the trip through the portal was uneventful for the brothers, as was setting themselves up on the beach. Belphie had been the only one to complain about being dragged onto another family outing, but he seemed content enough to sleep in a deck chair while Beel set out (and ate) the day's snacks. The sun wasn't helping Lucifer's headaches at all, and since Asmo had wandered off to take pictures in his new speedo, care of baby Satan fell to Mammon*

*to the secondborn's credit, he actually remembered what they came there for and brought his little brother out to the water’s where the waves lapped the shore*

Mammon: Okay, little guy… Lucifer wants ya good and tired so let’s play in the water for a bit.

*he takes Satan off of his hip and lets him sit in the sand right where the water will come up to hit his legs, not nearly deep enough to be of any danger, but enough to get him accustomed to the stuff. Predictably, the baby demon is mesmerized by the cool new substance hitting his skin and Mammon can’t help but grin at his amazed expression*

Mammon: Yeah, this is called the “ocean” little buddy! *he kneels down next to him and scoops some of the water into his palms to let Satan stick his hands in* It’s all made’a this stuff. Can ya say, “Ocean” for your big bro?

Satan: Perwish!

Mammon: Thaaaat’s not even close, but I guessed ya tried... *he sighs and looks out for a moment at the lapping waves then back at Satan* Want to go out a little deeper? See more water?

*Satan coos at him and holds his hands up to be lifted, so he takes that as confirmation and helps him to his little feet. Thankfully for House, he’s not terribly mobile without help, but when someone holds his hands for him he can more or less walk upright. Mammon helps him takes a few steps deeper into the water until the level reaches about to his knees and he seems quite pleased with himself as he watches the water rise and fall slightly over his legs*

Mammon: Ya like water, buddy? Ya must because you haven’t tried drownin’ me yet… *he laughs only a bit at his own joke… partially because he’s only half joking*

*Mammon lets Satan stand in the water for a little bit, glancing around at the rest of the shore around them and trying to think of what kinds of things he could collect and sell from the beach... He gets so preoccupied by his thoughts, that he doesn’t notice the size of the waves beginning to swell until they start going well past Satan’s waist… When his little brother begins to make a fuss, he looks down in surprise at how suddenly the water level had begun to rise*

Mammon: Huh? What the heck??

*he’s quick to scoop Satan back up, but as he’s getting his brother settled back into his arms, he hears a growing commotion coming from the beach behind him*

Lucifer: -mon! Mammon!! Ge-!! *though he recognizes the voice, the roar of the waves drown out most of the words*

Mammon: *frowns* What?? I can’t hear you! 

*when he looks back at his shouting brother, he can see the eldest is up on his feet along with everyone else - even Belphie is awake and they all look… alarmed? What’s going on??*

Lucifer: Get out of the water!! NOW!!!

Mammon: “Get out of the…?” *confused, Mammon turns back to look out over the ocean… but what he sees sends a chill down his spine*

*there’s a dorsal fin in the water. But it’s no ordinary fin… It’s a towering monstrosity, easily the size of a ship’s sail, with dark spines running through indigo webbing… Though it’s a little ways off from where he’s standing, that only makes its sheer size more horrifying and not less…*

*Mammon grips onto Satan like a precious treasure then bolts from the water as fast as he can, scrambling so frantically that he nearly falls into the sand in the process. When he returns to his brothers, Lucifer pries Satan from his hands while the rest pull Mammon back into the group. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he’s been scared half to death…*

*meanwhile, the fin in the water slowly drifts across the horizon. Though its pace may appear lazy, its relative size means its covering miles upon miles easily… To their collective horror, it appears to sink below the surface for the briefest of moments before something else rises out of the water… First two branch-like structures: multi-pronged, sharp, and as dark as night, then a mass of purple between them, seemingly connected together… The purple substance is dripping with water and pools around whatever rising form is taking shape above the surface…*

*where the purple mass parts, they see two glowing eyes fixate on them from afar… their pupils nothing but thin slits against the amber that surrounds them… Each eye could easily fit a whole wing of the Demon Lord’s Castle inside and even from this distance their scale is staggering…*

*the eyes watch the group for what feels like an eternity, blinking languidly, before they close and sink again below the surface, the “creature” seemingly disappearing into the waves*

Mammon: …. Lucifer….?

Lucifer: *swallows a moment, holding Satan tight against his chest* … Yes?

Mammon: What the HELL was that thing?!?

*for once, Lucifer seems to be at a loss for words… Diavolo had assured him that this shore was uninhabited and safe! Whatever that monstrosity they just saw was, he could hardly begin to call it “safe!!”*

*before Lucifer could collect himself enough to answer, they spy something else approaching the shore at a fast pace, so fast in fact that none of the brothers get a chance to change forms before it's already breached the surface and landed on the beach in a kneeling position. The creature some yards before them appears to be shaped like a man covered in black scales… each one shimmering with an indigo hue in the artificial sunlight. Like the beast from the water before, the creature’s head is a mess of purple but when seeing it closer it only appears to be hair... Its hands and feet are taloned with thick black claws and a long, black tail slinks its way out of the water to seemingly test the feel of the air around it…*

*they hear the creature inhale deeply while still crouched against the sand, maybe testing out its lungs, before it slowly rises on its reptilian feet. With more of its body revealed, the brothers can see that it’s not entirely scaled: pale skin covers its bare chest and spreads up to parts of its neck and face where the scales don’t reach… One of its hands grasps a jagged red trident, seemingly ripped and carved from coral, while the other flexes in its now waterless environment… but there’s something familiar about its face…*

Belphie: *squints at the creature, rubbing his eyes furiously* Am I dreaming... or is that…?

Asmo: *staring at the beast himself in aghast horror, though of what can’t be said for certain* I-I can’t believe it...

Mammon: *covers his mouth with the back of his hand, seemingly unsure how to react himself* Is... Is that…?

*Lucifer tries desperately to regain some level of composure, but he’s just as shocked as his brothers… If his suspicions are true, then maybe… just maybe...*

*the feel of Satan’s tiny hand gripping onto his swim-shirt grounds Lucifer for the moment as he tears his eyes away from the mysterious man and down to the child in his arms… and his blood runs cold…*

*Satan is staring at the man with just as much horror as the rest them… his little fists digging into the fabric of his shirt enough to tear. For just a second, he looks up at him with pleading eyes before burying his face into Lucifer’s chest... like he wants to hide... In all his time with this baby demon, he’s never actually seen him so pale… so... terrified*

*when he looks back at the man on the shore, he’s wearing a smile but one of razor sharp teeth gleaming in the light, giving his mouth an almost ghastly glow… and those amber eyes he had hoped to see again stare back at him with no love left…*

Lucifer: It’s good to see you again… Leviathan...

*a true sentiment, but hallow words to utter it... Something tells him that this won’t be a “happy” reunion...*

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

ok ok, so i'm new at requesting lol. i absolutely adore your work ( and for some reason this is the only blog posting karube content? whats up with that, the barista needs more love ) but that brings me to why i'm here. something soft with karube, maybe he finally gets that farm in australia he wanted. slow dancing by moonlight. just an idea i had, totally cool if you don't do it lol.

Yes Karube doesn’t get the love that he deserves 👏😔 Such a cute idea, I hope you like it 💕

Moonlight Dance | Daikichi Karube

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Karube

Summary: You stay at your boyfriend Karube’s farm in Australia for a holiday together, and he asks you an important question.

Warnings: a suggestive theme (but it’s only one sentence)

Word Count: 2.1k

*reader is gender-neutral

Karube gif credit

You sat on the deck chair that was placed near the end of the porch. The dusk light of the sun covered you like a warm blanket, making you feel safe and at home. The distant sound of lorikeets cheeping in the trees together filled your ears, making you smile.

Karube had managed to buy himself a decent farm along the east coast of Australia. He had invited you to come over as soon as it was his because he was so excited to share it with you. And you couldn’t blame him, it was beautiful.

It was a far way from any sort of urban environment, so it was constantly quiet and soothing, leaving only the sound of nature to fill the air.

You were so proud that Karube was finally able to achieve his dream. Even if it was just as simple as this, you couldn’t be more happy.

You closed your eyes and relaxed in the evening sun. You wanted to enjoy the warm light just before it fell asleep behind the horizon, because night time did get quite chilly sometimes.

After a short few minutes, you felt a gentle hand on your arm, making you open your eyes. Your boyfriend Karube was sitting on the ground on a cushion next to you with a lit cigarette poking out of his mouth, giving you a loving smile. He was wearing his usual blue, faded jeans with a plain black t-shirt. “You tired love?” he asked, rubbing your arm soothingly.

You nodded. “A little bit. I might get an early night.” You sat up and reached your hands behind your back to stretch them. You sighed satisfyingly after hearing some bones pop in your back. You had only been at Karube’s farm for a few days, and you already feel more relaxed than anything.

You leant sideways and leant yourself against his broad shoulders, making him snuggle into you. The silence between you was so comfortable, making you feel at ease and at home. Karube always managed to make you feel that way no matter where you both were.

“Hey! Before you get anymore tired, can I show you something?” he suddenly asked, becoming all excited. He turned, making you sit up off him.

You nodded and chuckled at his excitement. He acted like a giant kid at times, which never failed to make you laugh.

He scrambled to his feet and ran inside through the back doors to the house. “Just wait there! I have to grab something,” he said.

You watched and laughed as he almost tripped on the carpet before regaining his balance and running again. You waited patiently while watching as the sun began disappearing over the horizon, making the sky fade to a soft orange.

You hoped things could stay this tranquil and calm forever. With Karube by your side, you didn’t need anything else.

You turned as you heard soft footsteps behind you. Karube returned having discarded his cigarette and was now holding out his hand to you. “Let’s go! We don’t want it to get too late before we get there cause we’ll get cold,” he encouraged.

You took his hand happily. “Where exactly are we going?” you asked curiously as Karube and you stepped off the porch onto the grass.

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you,” he beamed, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “You’ll have to be patient and see for yourself.”

You huffed out an annoyed sigh. He always had such a thrill from surprising you with things, whether it be something huge like a holiday away or a small gift he bought you. He was full of surprises, so you became accustomed to his playful ways.

You both walked along the grass fields for a while, chasing each other and enjoying the time together. Karube picked up every flower he could find and kept adding it to the stash in your arms, insisting that you kept a hold of them so you could put them in a water vase when you got back to the house. You took your jacket off and used it as a makeshift bag, lugging all of the colourful flowers along as he brought them to you.

He kept relating some part of you to each one, like “This one would go well with your hair.” or “This one matches your favourite shirt.” It was so endearing watching him be so invested in such little things about life. It made you feel so lucky to have someone who enjoyed such minor yet beautiful things.

As the sun disappeared from the sky and the moon shone bright over the farm fields, Karube walked along behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders. He was kissing your cheek every few minutes and whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

“Are you getting cold baby?” he asked, concerned. You shook your head. “No. You’re like a human blanket,” you laughed, pulling him closer by his arms so his chest was against your back.

Karube grinned and tucked his face into your neck and left a few light kisses on your skin. “You’re so cute,” he breathed out against you and tickled your waist slightly, making you squirm in his arms.

You both trudged along the long grass for a while, going to wherever Karube was planning. He had pulled out a torch from his back pocket when it got too dark to see where you were stepping.

When you both shortly arrived at a large field that was surrounded by a metal fence, Karube brought you over to the gate and unlatched it from the fence, motioning for you to step inside. The field was completely empty, containing nothing but long blades of grass and the moonlight shimmering off it.

You stared up at the moon, mesmerized by its light and fullness. You had never seen it that bright before.

Karube walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and tucked his chin on your shoulder. “You want to have some fun?” he whispered into your ear.

You leant back to look at him in shock. “Here? We’re in the middle of a field,” you said, taken back by his bold words.

He laughed and placed his hand on your head, messing your hair up. “That’s not what I meant, naughty,” he chuckled. “Watch this.”

You watched in wonder as Karube started running along the grass with a sudden trail of fireflies rising up out of the ground as he jogged. An excited grin painted across your face as you laughed at your boyfriend, loving seeing him happy.

“Come on!” he yelled after a while of you watching him. You lifted your legs and followed, looking behind you as fireflies sprouted from the long grass, chirping and singing while flashing their lights.

It was such a gorgeous scene. You and Karube chasing each other and tackling to the ground as little stars scattered around you, making the moment almost seem magical. It was a once in a lifetime experience.

Once you both had grown tired, you leant against a small tree that was planted in the corner of the field. You were tucked into his chest, breathing in his scent to relax you.

“Thanks so much for inviting me here babe,” you mumbled against him, earning his soft hand stroking your hair gently. “Why wouldn’t I? I love you so much, I want to share my life with you.”

His words made your heartstrings dance in your chest and your face heat up. Even after being with him for several years, he still knew how to make your heart race with simple words.

You pushed your head even closer to his chest so your cheek was squished up against the cotton material of his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat, rapidly pulsing at a mile a minute. It was almost banging against his ribcage. You frowned and leant back to look into his eyes with concern.

“Are you okay baby?” you asked worryingly. You rubbed your hand against his chest, over his heart. “You’re hearts beating very fast.”

You saw Karube look to the ground to avoid your gaze while he answered you. “It’s probably just from running around before, I’m still a bit out of breath.”

You glanced at him for a little longer before shrugging it off.

Both of you observed the grassy field in front of you in a comfortable silence. Your eyes widened as you saw the ground blossom in bright moonlight, seeing as the clouds had separated to let the moon’s shine through. You smiled and turned to Karube excited.

“Come here!” you pressed, grabbing his hand and pulling him out to the small patch of shorter grass where the moon was shining. “I want to dance.”

“Dance?” Karube repeated. “Baby, you know I can’t dance,” he laughed nervously. You shook your head at his claim and grabbed his hands to place on your waist while you wrapped yours around his neck. “I don’t care, I’m not the best dancer either.”

You slowly began swaying your bodies, spinning in slow circles while keeping your foreheads pressed together and looking into each other’s eyes lovingly. You swore every time you looked at Karube, you felt yourself fall for him more and more.

You saw in your peripheral vision some fireflies beginning to make their way out of the grass again and buzz around the two of you as you slow-danced in the moonlight. You chuckled to yourself, it must have looked like the cliché romantic Disney movie scene, but you wouldn’t have asked for anything more or less.

After a few minutes of silent swaying and feeling the cold breeze on your skin, Karube stopped his movements and pulled back from you. You looked at him confused as to why he stopped.

“Well, I guess there isn’t a better time than now,” he started, making you frown.

Karube gazed into your eyes with a big, goofy smile on his face. His breathing was a bit unleveled. He seemed very nervous.

“Uh, Y/N. I just want to say that, over the past few years I’ve known you, you’ve made me the happiest man I could have ever hoped to have been. You’ve made me a better person in myself, and also have taught me really valuable lessons through our relationship,” he stated, fiddling with the material of your clothes. You smiled at him, a smile spreading across your features as he continued. “I want to thank you for always being there for me, through both the good times and the bad times. I honestly don’t know where I would be without you. And that is why I am doing this.”

You watched in wonder as Karube separated himself from you and slowly knelt down onto one knee. Your heart stopped, there’s no way he was doing what you were thinking he was doing.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small violet box before holding it out to you in both hands. “Y/N L/N, will you please make me the happiest person on earth for the rest of my life and marry me?” He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous ring.

His hopeful eyes glistened in the moonlight up at you. You were covering your mouth in shock, tears filling up your eyes. You couldn’t believe it.

You nodded your head yes, and knelt down to Karube to give him the biggest hug you could ever give, head tucked into his neck and arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. You heard him let out a big sigh of happiness and wrap his arms around you, squeezing you just as tight.

You leant back and crashed your lips onto his in a heated kiss. You held each other close underneath the moonlight, being the happiest souls that the moon would see for the time it would be awake.

You squealed as Karube suddenly broke the kiss and lifted you up into his arms with your legs clinging around his waist. He had tears of happiness rolling down his cheeks, making you reach out and wipe them away with your thumb gently before giving him another loving kiss on his lips.

“Thank you so much Y/N,” he whispered against your lips happily. “I couldn’t have asked for anything more in my life than you for the rest of it.” You couldn’t speak, so happy and emotional from the event. Your expression said it all to him.

As you slowly made your way back to the house to spend a happy and romantic night together, you and Karube were glued to each other’s side, laughing and cuddling in the cold night air.

He now had everything he ever dreamed of, and he couldn’t have been more happy about it.

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

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

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

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

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

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

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you laughing at?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

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

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

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

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

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

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

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

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

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

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

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

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

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

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

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

“-KABOOM-!”

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

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<-Previous Next->

★Masterlist★

TAG LIST:

@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​ @kaermorons​ @ironbabey​

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hi I’m back!💗 I was wondering (if it’s not too big of a hassle) if you could do a Plank All Over Me but they do a relationship test. Like the one Meghan Trainor and her husband did for buzzfeed? Love you tons!-✨

Plank All Over Me - Couples Tag Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

AN: you do NOT have to have read the others to understand this. Enjoy :)

Masterlist

Plank All Over Me 1 & Yoga Edition

“Hi, I’m Tom Holland.” Tom smiled widely at the camera.

“And I’m actually excited to be in this video.” You nodded in approval now that you and Tom were doing a normal video that didn’t require either of you to get into painful positions.

“You never say your name when we do these. You always say something else.” Tom looked at you as he realized the pattern with the intros of the videos you did together. “This is my girlfriend Y/n L/n by the way, everyone. Please pardon her manners.” He cracked a smile. 

“Yeah, but I do it on purpose. Its like my thing for these kinds of videos.” You explained yourself to Tom.

“Oh.” He deadpanned, pretending not to care about your explanation. You laughed at his serious expression.

“I can’t believe this video turned into our breakup.” You said to the camera and he laughed beside you.

“Can we both cry so they have something for the thumbnail?” He suggested to the camera crew.

“Or, better idea, hear me out.” You looked between Tom and the camera. “We start the video.”

“That’s a great idea.” Tom pulled your chair closer to his and slung an arm around you. “I’m Tom, this is Y/n, and we’re doing the Buzzfeed Couples Tag.”

“So first we have to check off what we know about each other.” You said as you scanned the list of questions while Tom kissed the side of your head. “Do you want to just do a back and forth?”

“Sure. I’ll go first.” Tom pulled the completed closer to himself. “When’s my birthday?”

“June 1st 1862.” You answered confidently.

“Perfect.” Tom player along. “Your turn.”

“My age?” You read off the screen.

“Trick question, you’re timeless.” Tom smiled and you gushed. “Just kidding guys, shes 53.” He said to the camera.

“I’m just not but okay.” You muttered.

“What’s my zodiac sign?” Tom read.

“Little bitch?” You asked.

“You got it.” Tom nodded. You laughed and kissed his cheek.

“What’s my favorite movie?” You asked.

“That’s easy. It’s a tie between Spiderman: Homecoming, Spiderman: Far From Home and Spies in Disguise, out this Christmas.” Tom winked at the camera after he listed off his own films.

“You were close.” You pointed at him. “It’s actually a tie between Deadpool, Definitely Maybe, and The Proposal.”

“But…” Tom faltered. “But those are all Ryan Reynolds movie.”

“Yea, but that’s just because I wish he was my boyfriend instead of you.” You said with fake seriousness.

“Oh, okay.” Tom nodded as he went along with your joke. “It’s funny though, I haven’t seen any videos of you planking over Ryan Reynolds so…” ,he clicked his tongue.

“Thats because Ryan and I like to keep those videos private, don’t we baby?” You shot a wink at the camera.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough before I actually get mad.” Tom laughed. “And you have never seen Definitely Maybe.”

“Yes I have.” You defended. “That’s the one where they’re British and the little boy from Nanny McPhee plays the drum.”

“That’s Love Actually, and you gave the worst possible description of it, so congratulations.” Tom commemorated you as you laughed.

“We just got so off topic. Who even asked the last question?” You wondered.

“I’ll go.” He looked at the computer for the next question. “What’s my coffee order?”

“Here we go.” You roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Tom doesn’t drink coffee. He drinks sugar with a few spoonfuls of tea in it.”

“Yes, I do.” Tom confirmed. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s gonna be something wrong with that when all your teeth fall out. Do you want to be bald and have no teeth? Is that what you want?” You pretended to heckle him.

“That’s weird, I don’t see that question on the computer.” Tom said as he squinted at the computer, pretending to inspect the quiz.

“That’s because I made it up.” You said.

“That’s because I made it up.” Tom mimicked. Your eyes went wide and he bent over laughing. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean that.”

“The title of this video is gonna be Couples Tag leads to a break up?” You did an over exaggerated shrug. “With pictures!”

“And then “shocking!” in parenthesis.” Tom added on, poking fun at the youtube titles you were so used to seeing.

“Emotional!” You put your hand over your heart.

“Can we keep going?” Tom asked through his laughter.

“Yes, sorry.” You laughed and looked at the computer. Oh now it’s generic questions. Does your significant other have any bad habits?”

“No.” Tom said after thinking for a moment. “I’m perfect.”

“Oh, I know. His bad habit is that when he gets scared, he goes like this,” you pull your arm back and make a fist, “as if he’s about to deck someone.”

“That’s just my flight or fight response, darling. I won’t apologize for it.” Tom quipped.

“But you always choose fight!” You laugh. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen him about to punch a clump of hair?” You said to the camera.

“It looks like a spider! Your hair is all over the damn flat and it looks like a spider.” Tom brought up a common argument you two had.

“Okay, but why are you trying to punch a spider?” You defended.

“That’s an excellent question, my love, that I do not know the answer to.” Tom said with a smile and you double over laughing at the stupid argument. “Can you imagine walking into our home and seeing me about to punch a spider?” He chokes out through his laughter.

“Wait,” you wipe your eyes and try to compose yourself before giggling again, “remember that one time with the wind-“

“Don’t mention the wind chimes!” He cuts you off, which makes you laugh harder. “We swore to never speak of that day.”

“You swore.” You pointed out. “I just kept apologizing to the man.”

“Next question.” Tom said quickly. “When and where did we meet?”

“We met on the set of BBC Radio 1, in the studio when we filmed the Plank All Over Me challenge last year.” You recalled with a fond smile.

“Awww. I remember that.” Tom smiled at the memory and leaned over to kiss you. “Look at us now.”

“I know. You’re bald and I’m cheating on you with Ryan Reynolds.” You said with a dreamy expression.

“What was that?” Tom pretended not to hear you.

“I said where was our first date?” You read the next question.

“Oh, we went to that ice cream shop in Soho and got milkshakes.” Tom remembered the first time you’d gone out together.

“Tom told me he wanted to take me out for a drink but didn’t want me to think he was trying to get me drunk, so he took me out for milkshakes.” You recalled to the camera with a fond smile. “I thought that was so cute when you told me.”

“I’m glad you thought me being a massive nerd was cute.” Tom chuckled and you kissed his cheek repeatedly.

“It worked didn’t it? You got me.” You cooed.

“That’s right. I got you.” He smiled proudly and kissed you again, pulling you close. You rested your head on Toms shoulder for the remainder of the video.

“Where and when was our first kiss?” He asked.

“Our first kiss was in your bedroom after I beat you in a game of Wii tennis.” You said proudly.

“That’s right.” He grinned. “The first of many.”

“Just kidding. We’ve been together ten months and have not kissed since that day.” You deadpanned to the camera.

“We kissed twice in this video alone.” Tom pointed out.

“Sounds false.” You shrugged and felt his shoulders move under your head as he laughed.

“Anyway, Y/n was going crazy over winning and rubbing it in my face and I just grabbed her and kissed her.” Tom reminisced about the moment you had first kissed.

“I still don’t know if he actually wanted to kiss me or he just wanted to shut me up.” You joked.

“I don’t know that either darling.” Tom chuckled.

“Thank God.” You laughed. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“I did, about four weeks in.” Tom nodded as he did the math in his head. “But I knew I loved you long before that.”

“Aw.” You beamed. “I still haven’t said it.” You deadpanned to the camera.

“She’s just kidding.” Tom assured the camera. You shook your head and mouthed “no.” Tom caught your reaction and pretended to tear up.

“I’m kidding.” You giggled and pulled him into a hug. “I love you.”

“Okay.” Tom let out a pretend breath of relief. “I was worried for a minute there.”

“Aw, no.” You bit your tongue between your teeth. “What’s the next question?”

“What’s my shoe size?” He asked.

“Huge. What’s my favorite song lyric?” You continued.

“So we’re gonna ignore that last answer?” Tom looked at the camera in fear. “Okay. You love the lyrics “so why don’t we go somewhere only we know?” and they always make you cry.”

“Do you remember why I love that song?” You asked him. “I told you on our first date.”

“Because it makes you think of Bridge to Terabithia.” He knew the answer immediately.

“Yes.” You smiled warmly at the thought of your favorite childhood movie. “Nothing crushes us.” You quoted.

“I haven’t seen that in so long.” Tom realized. “Can we watch it when we get home?”

“Of course we can. I’m always down to see Josh Hutcherson.” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Ask your next question.”

“Do you think Josh Hutcherson is better than me?” Tom pretended to read the question off the screen.

“Well, he survived the Hunger Games with nothing but baking skills and you died when some dude snapped his fingers, so I think the question answers itself.” You said.

“It wasn’t some dude, it was a titan.” Tom defended. “And Peeta was lying on the floor for half the Games. I actually fought.”

“Look at the material.” You shrugged.

“I can’t stand you. Ask your question.” Tom laughed.

“What did I wear on our first date?” You read. “Who remembers that?” You asked the camera.

“You had on a dark red turtleneck and a little black skirt.” Tom recalled and you looked impressed. “Your hair was half up half down and curled and you had a little black ribbon in it.” He smiled.

“I guess Tom remembers that.” You said with an approving nod.

“How could I forget? You were the prettiest girl in that ice cream shop.” He complimented you.

“I was also the only girl who wasn’t 7.” You pointed out.

“Wait, I think that was our last question.” Tom realized as he tried to scroll down but couldn’t anymore. “I guess that’s it. Thanks for watching our Couples Tag with Buzzfeed.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“Can we go home and watch Bridge to Terabithia now?” You asked as you rubbed his arm.

“Yes, lets go home.” He grinned.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @autumnlyholland @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @ho-ho-holland @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @iamanerdot @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH8

<8> Battle Between Rivals

"Hmm, I don't get it..." In the Riviera HQ corridor, Joker tilted his head.

"Same here. Should we do a magic square or rock-paper-scissors like we did before?" Beside him, Hachi tossed out a random guess.

"The magic square and rock-paper-scissors... Ohh! I know!" Joker suddenly exclaimed.

"Joker-san, did you figure it out?"

"Yep, thanks to your hint. You have to combine the magic square and rock-paper-scissors for this puzzle. We just have to work out which one wins every time when going horizontally, vertically, and diagonally!"

"Really?" Hachi examined the numbers.

Joker took out a notepad from his pocket and copied down the 16 numbers. "First, going vertical. The leftmost column is {5, 0, 0, 0}, which works out to paper, rock, rock, rock. Paper wins. That means all the 0s lose," Joker said and crossed out the three 0s.

"Next is the second column. This is {2, 5, 2, 5}, making it scissors, paper, scissors, paper. Scissors wins here, so the 5s lose," said Joker, crossing out the two 5s. "Do the same for the third and fourth columns and X out the rest like this, see?" Joker crossed out the 2s in the third column and the 5s in the fourth column.

"I get it. So any of the numbers that lose here aren't the one we're looking for, right?"

"Yeah. Now go horizontally. Do the same rock-paper-scissors conversions we did with the columns, and..." He went across the rows crossing out one number after another, and in no time, there were only two numbers left out of the sixteen. The other fourteen were all crossed out. The remaining numbers were the 2 in the top row, rightmost column, and the 2 in the second column.

"Which of these two is stronger?" asked Hachi.

Joker puffed up as he answered. "There's still the diagonals, right? The line going from the top-right to the bottom-left is {2, 0, 2, 0}, rocks and scissors, so the scissors lose!" Joker crossed out the top-right 2 last of all.

"Which means..."

"Right. The 2 in the top row, second from the left, is the 'number that doesn't lose'!"

"I see now. That was incredible, Joker-san!"

"I got it because of your hint, you know. All right, time to push the button!"

"Okay! Right on!" Hachi jumped up and pushed the "2" button. There was a low beep, and then the clang of something unlocking. The door slowly opened, revealing the door of the safe holding the Riviera recipe behind it. It certainly looked like a sturdy door.

"Let's get to opening this thing up!" Joker pulled a giant electric saw out of hammerspace.

"Joker-san, what's that...?"

"Hm? This baby can crack open any door or safe. It's my custom Joker electric saw!"

"Then couldn't you just have used that from the start!?"

"Ha ha, now that wouldn't be any fun. A phantom thief uses his brain wherever possible when breaking in." Joker smiled from ear to ear, just before hitting the electric saw's power switch. After a LOT of noise and rattling, the safe was quite literally busted open.

Joker fished the recipe page out of the safe where it had been kept. But he didn't exactly look pleased. "Sheesh, what a letdown. And here I thought I'd finally get back at him for what happened with the Crimson Crystal."

What he said confused Hachi. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"This is where Noir works."

"Whaaat!? Really!?"

Joker picked up an empty popcorn bag off the ground and started to explain. "Yeah. After Noir quit being a spy, he ended up in charge of security at Riviera HQ. If you wanna protect an international secret, get yourself an international spy."

"That makes sense. So he got a job where he could put his spy skills to use... But then why is Noir not around? It's unsettling how there's nothing here."

"You've got that right. I thought sure he'd have a trap set..."

They looked around at the safe room again. It was stark empty, not even a desk or table in sight. Save for a small security camera in one corner, there didn't seem to be much of a security system at all.

"Well, whatever. Let's blow this joint."

Joker and Hachi were just about to leave, when...

The door that they had just come in through budged.

"It's gotta be Noir...!" Joker reflexively pulled out his cards. But the one who came in wasn't the person he had expected.

"Spade!"

"Spade-san!"

Right in front of their eyes were Spade and Dark Eye, who had opened the last door and entered the safe room. They looked surprised to see Joker and Hachi as well.

"Joker!?"

"Kyo kyo kyo!"

"Spade, what are you here for?""

"I could ask you the same thing? Wait, what about Noir...?" Spade asked, darting his eyes around. Apparently Spade had also learned about Noir's link to this place and had come to steal the treasure.

"He's not here. You were a step too late, besides. The 'Riviera Recipe' is mine!" Joker dangled the recipe page and waved it about.

"...Oh, so that's what you were after. Where's Noir? There's something I have to return to him," Spade said, taking an object out of his pocket.

When he saw what it was, Joker was shocked. "That's my Crimson Crystal!"

Spade held up the bright red gemstone and turned up the corners of his lips. "That's right. Noir left it with me because he wanted me to return it to you. But my pride won't let me do that."

"Pride? What exactly did Noir tell you?"

"Well..." Spade clammed up. Noir had said something that injured his pride, no doubt about it. Joker had some idea of what it was. Noir had stolen his treasure.

Then, realizing something, Spade inhaled sharply. "Now I get it. This is Noir's strategy."

"Strategy?"

"He damaged our psyche and provoked our anger, all so that we would come across each other like this."

"You mean he knew that we'd come here?"

"Yes, exactly. And we each have the treasure that the other wants..." Spade's gaze focused on the recipe in Joker's hand. He probably also wanted the recipe so he could put Noir to shame. And in Spade's hand was the Crimson Crystal which Joker had stolen from Kaneari. The two of them stared each other down.

"Joker, this is a great opportunity. How about whoever wins gets the other's treasure?" Spade shot an incendiary look at Joker. He recalled what Noir had said: "Go ahead and chase behind Joker forever..." I'll prove him wrong...!

Joker whipped out his cards and readied himself as well. "Fine by me. Let's do this, Spade!"

"Here I come, Joker!" Spade swiftly unholstered his Ice Shot and aimed it.

A low bellow droned through the dark sky. An enormous ship floated upon the endless night ocean. It was one of the world's most luxurious passenger crafts, Urban of the Sea. The ship, which was 3000 meters long, housed over 1000 guest rooms as well as all kinds of recreational facilities. With its own pool, restaurant, theater, multiple liquor lounges, an ice-skating rink, and even a rock-climbing wall, it was like an entire city stuffed onto a boat. It hosted over 3000 passengers per voyage and visited tourist destinations all over the world.

Tonight, this enormous ship was filled with silence.

The ship had been rented out to VIPs from the Kingdom of Lachla. These VIPs were staying in the best guest room there was, and it was in this room that the Lachla Crown was being kept under heavy security.

This guest room was near the fore of the ship. Spaced away from it, at the aft of the ship, was a huge structure. Though "huge" is an understatement — it was as tall as a five-story building. This cabin, with its obtuse angles, curved up to a circular floor at the top. It was meant as an observatory deck where one could survey the outside scenery. A man stood atop the observatory deck, his black cape fluttering. It was Noir. He was quietly awaiting Silver Heart. Soon, I can have my long-awaited revenge...

"So you're here..." murmured Noir, sensing a presence. A man had come up behind him. His white double-breasted suit was smartly buttoned, and his silver cape fluttered. His straight, upright bearing hardly suggested his age. This was the legendary phantom thief, Silver Heart!

"It's been a long time, Noir."

"Yes. I wanted to see you, Silver... or rather, you're Silver Heart now, aren't you?"

Strangely enough, Silver Heart didn't feel at all wistful as he observed Noir. He had certainly aged, but Noir's face hadn't lost the keenness from when he had known him as a spy. Silver Heart glared at Noir. "I heard, Noir. So you've become a phantom thief."

"Yes, I retired from being a spy. Because of you. Now I'm the head of security for a beverage manufacturer."

"Because of me?"

"You heard me. You ran away from me and kept being a thorn in my side..."

"You're right. I was probably running away from you... from my responsibilities as a spy. I couldn't put up with the ruthlessness of it anymore. I couldn't become as cold-blooded as you..."

"Heh heh heh, are you so sure that's the case?"

"What...?" Silver Heart continued to stare down Noir.

"We'll fight once more, with you as cold-blooded as you once were. Whoever wins the match can take the Lachla Crown," said Noir. He pulled the cloth off a table set up on the deck. Lying upon it was a crown studded with brilliant jewels. Noir had already stolen the Lachla Crown!

"I've already put the Lachlans to sleep. If you want this, you have to steal it from me."

"So that's what you're after..."

"This brings me back... you and I once infiltrated Lachla in order to destroy this. But it was your fault that the plan went awry. Now that I think about it, we've been at odds ever since..." Noir mused, his eyes focused on the crown.

But Silver Heart lowered his voice and spoke. "I will never again be like I was. There's not an ounce of spy left in me."

"Heh heh heh, humans don't ever really change. You're a cold-blooded spy. And if you aren't, you'll never be able to win against me..."

"That's not true. I'm going to fight against you as a phantom thief." Silver faced back to Noir and strengthened his grip on his rod. "Noir, our long-overdue reunion wasn't so emotional after all..."

"I expected as much. Here I come, Silver!" Not even a moment later, Noir kicked off the ground and lunged at Silver Heart.

The floor split open with a bang, and Joker and Spade plummeted down towards the floor below.

"Joker-san!"

"Kyo kyo, Spade-sama!"

Hachi and Dark Eye peeked down over the edge to see them lying on the ground, still squabbling with each other. The lower floor was a recreational sports center with a pool, exercise machines, a running track, and more. They let each other go, took their distance, and stood off against each other.

"Been a while since I fought you like this, Spade."

"Yes, but that's because you never take me seriously."

"Not true!" Joker took an advance notice card out of his pocket and quickly scribbled something on it. "Spade, I'm gonna take the treasure from you, no two ways about it!"

"Heh heh heh, now that's more like it. Then we'll face off in a minute-long match, like the one you lost to Noir in."

"Ghh..." Joker bit his lip bitterly. So Spade had known about Joker and Noir's match after all. "All right. I'll steal the treasure from you in one minute, no more than that!"

"And if you can't?"

"I can!" Joker pulled cards out of his breast pocket and threw them at Spade. "Emblem Fire!" The cards caught fire one by one and flew straight towards Spade.

"Ice Shot!" Spade used his Ice Shot to closely target and freeze the cards.

"Not bad! Emblem Fire!" Joker tossed more cards out. A flurry of cards scattered to every corner of the room, sticking into the walls and sinking into the pool. While Spade was shooting down the cards that were coming his way, Joker jumped to the side. He flipped around and leapt toward Spade. Once he was in front of him, he fanned out his cards. "Straight Flash!"

"Not good enough! Ice Shot Mirror!" Spade spun his Ice Shot around and made a small mirror of ice in midair. It reflected the light from the Straight Flash, blinding Joker.

"Gwah!"

"Ha ha ha! Your attacks are so repetitive!" Spade froze the pool with his Ice Shot, slid the blades out of his shoes, and skated onto the makeshift rink. "Catch me if you can!"

"Gah! Says the guy who only ever uses Ice Shot!"

Going after Spade, Joker stepped onto the makeshift rink. But he slipped and fell right onto his back with a magnificent thud. "Owwwww...."

"It's been almost a minute. There's no way I'm going to lose to you...!" Spade spun about on the ice and faced back to him. He was saying this not just about Joker, but about Noir as well.

"Say that again...?" Joker glared hard at Spade.

Spade was looking down at Joker with cold eyes. "Now that I'm standing before you like this, I feel a bit of pity. For myself. I hate how bothered I am by your existence."

"..." Joker listened quietly.

"Well, it's just about time. Fifteen seconds left... if you admit your loss here and now, I'll at least acknowledge you have the skills to be my rival." Spade silently pointed his Ice Shot.

But Joker shook his head with a derisive laugh. "No thanks. I'll decide my rivals on my own. And Spade, you're my rival in every respect."

"I'm what...?"

Just then, the ice under Spade's feet cracked loudly. "What!?" Spade involuntarily lost his balance. Joker immediately ran up to him and swiped the Crimson Crystal out of Spade's hand. At the same time, he pushed against the ice and jumped over to the poolside.

"Waaaugh!" The ice surrounding him split, and Spade splashed into the pool. Thoroughly soaked, Spade poked his head out of the water with a gasp and scowled at Joker. "W-What... did you do!?"

"It's simple. I set up my Emblem Fire inside the pool."

"You what...!?" Sure enough, when he looked at the ice, there were ashes from the burned cards. "...But the fire should have gone out when it was underwater!"

"Didn't you know? Gunpowder doesn't need external oxygen to burn, so it can stay aflame even underwater. There's a substance in fireworks that lets them keep burning even when they're immersed."

"You're kidding..."

"As soon as I saw the pool, I knew you'd freeze it over. That's why I shot Emblem Fire into it in advance. Then I just had to wait for the spot you were on to melt."

"You... predicted my attack..."

"Heh heh, you're pretty repetitive too," said Joker, spitting Spade's words right back at him. "Just as warned, I've stolen the Crimson Crystal in under a minute!"

"Ghh...!" Spade bit his lip and balled up his fists.

"Spade, you can challenge me any time," grinned Joker.

Just then, they heard a scream from outside the window. "KYAAAAAAAA!"

Looking out, they saw a blob of pink in the night sky approaching them at high speed. It was Queen, holding onto Balloon Gum.

"Queen!?"

Carried by powerful gusts of wind, Queen was hurtling their way.

She's going to crash into the window glass...! Joker used his Emblem Fire and Spade used his Ice Shot to break the glass, and Queen was forcefully swept into the building.

"T-Thanks."

"Queen, what's up?"

"Trouble. Noir sent out an advance notice. He's going to steal the treasure that Grandpa is after!"

"He's what!?" Joker and Spade exclaimed in unison.

Then there was a series of loud rumbles as reinforced shutters rolled over each wall and the ceiling.

"Oh shoot...!"

The three of them were trapped on this floor.

[dimensionwriter]

Stick to Me

Part 2

Male! Merman/ Octoperson x GN! Reader

Warning: Talk of ocean, jumping into the ocean

Word Count: 2081

Part 1

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❤LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG, PLEASE💙

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Vibrant reds, soft pinks, and alluring yellows wrapped around your neck in an alluring manner. The flower’s fragrance drifted from the plant and clung onto your clothes. Even on this foreign land, the flowers made you feel so safe.

The natives of this land were so kind to you. When you explain how you were simply there to talk about the beauty of their land, they were so excited to welcome you. It’s important for the approvals of the natives to enter their land. If they seem hesitant, you don’t push it. Every place that you go is being led by them and you respect their wishes if they say that a certain area is sacred and don’t bother it. They seem to like you a lot more when they saw how respectful you were to their land.

Pulling out the camera one last time, you pointed it to the group of people standing around the docking station. It was kind of a bittersweet moment having to leave them. You grew to love this land and its people, but you had your own life to go back to. There was someone that was waiting on you.

The floor on your boat was surprisingly warm from the rising sun. Puddles sprinkled around the deck with some things moved around.The chair sitting near the railing, overlooking the ocean, was pushed back towards the corner. You had a feeling what it was.

“Loire,” you called out. The sound of something splashing far away caught your ear. You moved downstairs towards your bathroom, which is the only place you know could make that sound. The door was already open allowing you to see in.

Your circular tub was filled to the brim with blue water. Orange tentacles squirmed around in the water and were spilling out of the sides. The torso of the creature was submerged in the water with the head barely above the water. The baby tentacles on his head were pulled up by your black scrunchie.

“Well, I see someone got comfortable,” you teased walking in. Loire’s arms emerged out of water and grabbed the edge of the tub to pull himself up a little. His black eyes glanced over you and a small smile came onto his face.

“You return wearing land plants. Looks beautiful around you,” he whispered. You walked over and sat on the edge of the tub. Your sandals were quick to be kicked off in order to sink your toes into the cool water. “So warm.”

A tentacle wrapped around your right ankle and stuck on. “Can I ask why you decided to take a bath on my boat instead of staying in the ocean?” Loire had stayed by your side for the last couple of months, but he never went onto your boat without you on it.

“I was watching over your pod when a… the creature you identified as dog, I believed, began to make battle cries at your pod,” his shoulder puffed out and his head rose up, “I need to protect your pod, so I swam on and scared it away.”

By the way he’s presenting himself, he obviously thought he did a heroic act by protecting your boat from a dog. He’s so adorable and doesn’t even realize it.

“Thank you, my hero.” You gave his tentacles closest to you a small little pat. The flesh felt so cold and slightly slimy, but you were used to it. The small blue freckles shined brightly as the limb moved to wrap around your hand.

His limbs tugged you forward causing you to almost fall in the tub. You opened your mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a harder pull. Your body lurched forward and you landed in the cold water.

Slender arms wrapped around your waist in order to snuggle up into you. It was so cold but so comforting at the same time. Your body was confused on how to feel.

“Loire?” You lifted your head up to see his face was majority blue. His midnight eyes glances down at you before looking up again. “You good there, buddy? You’re getting a little affectionate.”

He tightened his grip on you and placed his head on top of your head. Multiple limbs wrapped around your legs. “Affection is a part of our situation. Is it not?”

‘Our situation’? He has stated that in his shoal, it’s customary to make sure your actions are equal to others. Since he believes that you saved his life, he wants to make his actions equal. However, you don’t see how that would require affection.

You couldn’t complain though. It’s been a while since you’ve been in the embrace of another. He’s so soft and seems to mold to fit you.

The coolness of the water and the soft flesh of his tentacles slowly massaging your legs made you drift towards sleep. Maybe it was from being the sun for so many days or how… safe you felt in his arms, who knows?

“Hmm, I guess so.”

You awoke to feel a slight dampness surrounding you. You rolled over and pulled the comforter more around you, but you still felt wet. Why was your bed so wet?

Opening your eyes, the light inside of your bedroom was on. You pulled the comforter off of yourself to see that it was wet. Even your clothes were wet. How did you end up in your bed wet?

You remember dozing off on Lorei’s cool chest, but you don’t remember walking to your bed. Did he slither all the way from the bathroom to your bedroom while carrying you? Wow, he’s a lot stronger than you thought.

The cool air nipped at your skin as you hopped out of the bed. There were small little droplets of water all over the floor. However, there was something else that caught your eye. Blue petals littered lowly around your floor and led out to maybe around the main deck.

You followed the path of the flowers and came to the railing of the deck. The moonlight lit the deck in a soft blue light and reflected beautifully over the water. Calm waves pushed against the boat, but it elicited a happy feeling from you.

Grabbing the cold railing, you peaked over the edge of the boat. In the water were full bioluminescent flowers that were a light purple near the center and slowly turned to a dark blue near the edge. All the glowing flowers stayed in a giant circle, were in the middle floated Loire.

His orange skin was tinged with a blue hue from the moonlight and water making him seeing otherworldly. The tiny tentacles on his head were pushed back and seemed to stay there. On some of the tentacles were tiny golden bands. Gold paint was smeared onto his face in a similar manner to tribal marking. A thick line went from behind his pointed ears to the sides of his neck before swirling along his muscular chest.

“Loire, what’s this?” You asked while keeping your grip on the railing. His black eyes stared at you with a sort of hope in them.

“Do you trust me with your life?” His tone was strong and unwavering. The water rolled down his sculpted arms as he raised them up towards you. “Do you… trust me?”

The way he was stating it was like he was expecting you to… jump. But he can’t be serious right. Maybe this was some sort of East Ocean Kingdom joke. He wasn’t expecting you to drop 8 feet into freezing cold water.

His arms dropped a little and you could see the corners of his lips forming a frown. Oh to hell with it.

“You better not let anything happen,” you playfully grumbled. You kicked your left leg over the railing before throwing over the right one. Sitting on the railing with a tight grip on it, you realized that 8 feet seem a lot longer in the dark.

You tore your eyes from the dark murky water to Loire. His eyes were big and wide with happiness as his arms went back to being outreached for you.The tiny tentacles on his hair started to curl around themselves and twitching slightly.

You took a slow breath in before slowly exhaling. Your grip on the railing loosen and body fell forward. Your heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour while your stomach lurched up into your throat. You couldn’t stop your eyes from squeezing shut in fear.

When you were supposed to hit the water, a pair of strong arms cradled under you. An arm wrapped around your upper body while the second one went under your legs. Your body didn’t even touch the water.

Opening your eyes, a pair of black ones stared deeply into yours. A giant smile broke out onto his face as tiny giggles slipped out of him. He dropped his face into your neck and started snuggling into your neck.

“Loire,” you whispered into his ear. He lifted his head away from you and his entire face was dark blue. “Can I get a reason for why you made me jump off of my ship?”

“It’s a custom of my shoal. We must ensure there exists a bond of trust between two creatures before going through with… with the… with the mating ritual. In order for me to ask for you to consider me to be your mate, under the approving gaze of the moon goddess’ eyes, I need to see if I had your trust. And it seems I do.”

The blush had settled down on his face, only allowing you to see his beautiful orange skin. Tiny blue freckles splatted around his cheeks and down his chest. A few of them were hidden under the golden paint.

“Consider you my mate?” You lifted a hand and ran it along his chest. He was cold to the touch, but so firm. You drifted over and touched the paint. It didn’t feel like any paint from the surface.

“Y-yeah. I am bound to you until our actions are equal, but I want to be closer. I want to be yours… and I want you to be mine.” Your fingers were behind his ears now. You moved it until your fingers were at the base of his head.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You weren’t oblivious. You knew what he meant when he said he wanted to be your mate; he would become the equivalent of your husband. And… you liked that idea. You could imagine spending the rest of this vacation with Loire by your side. And your job allows you to work from home, so you can stay out here with him. You could see your future with Loire by your side.

“I don’t think I could even imagine my life without you at this point,” you muttered hiding your face in his neck. How did you not even notice yourself falling for an octoman?

“Really!” Water splashed on around as Loire began to jump around in the water. You let out a squeal and some laughter at the cool droplets coming onto your skin. His arms around you pulled you closer to him as he spun you around. “I will treat you better than any queen or king you have seen on land or ocean.”

He stopped spinning and snuggled up against you. You leaned forward to press a kiss against the area above his lip. Blue spread against his cheeks as he looked down at you.

Leaning forward, he left barely an inch of space between your lips. Heat spread up your cheeks as you realized what he was planning to do. In his words, “Affection is a part of our situation. Is it not?”

“I’ve been waiting to do this for months,” he growled in your ear. A cold pair of lips were pressed against yours as he pulled you closer to him. The kiss was so soft, but you could feel his love through it.

If a year ago, someone would tell you that you would end up the mate of a half human half octopus, you would have thought they were crazy. But here, under the light of the moon, in the cold water, you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“Now, let’s get back in your pod so I can warm you up,” he purred, pecking your cheek.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Here’s that second part I’ve promised. I apologized if it seems a little weird at the end, I’ve started dissociation a little while writing the end. I still push through because I wanted to get this done today, so I can write this new story I’m really looking forward to. 

Anyway, the question for this story is, ‘Would you have jump if Loire asked you to?’ To be honest, I definitely wouldn’t have.Even if I was a foot off the ground, I would have been too scared to. 

[corvus--rex]

So, to start off with, these are a little rough. Mostly cleaned up for spelling/grammar, but there are things that are more like placeholder notes in exposition form that would be written out if I went back to it.

This one's working title is Quantum Fracture, is "in universe" non-canon compliant, and is set both near the end of s.2 after ep.9, and a few years post s.8. It's also only semi-abandoned. I like it and want to keep going with it, but I've hit a wall and just can't do anything with it right now. It has (sort-of) time travel and "Galra genetics are weird" resulting in Klance kids. It does also switch between times, but those sections have punctuation separators.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lance, Pidge, keep watch on the area. Keith, Hunk, and I will go down to check it out,” Shiro said over the comms.

“Got it.”

“Copy that.”

Green and Blue split off from the V-formation, flying over the asteroid while Black, Red, and Yellow landed on its surface. Lance and Pidge kept a visual track on their friends while keeping their scanners active for anything in the area. Team Voltron had been on their way back to the Castle after liberating another planet from the Galra Empire when Pidge’s more finely-tuned scanners picked up on what looked like an abandoned Galra base embedded in an asteroid. Shiro made the call to check it out and let Allura and Coran know what was going on, keeping Lance and Pidge on watch. The Black Paladin took point, with Keith right behind him. Hunk brought up the rear, man-portable cannon ready for whatever might try to sneak up on them. The facility was powered down, a layer of dust on every surface.

“Looks like it really is abandoned,” Keith said, “I don’t think there’s anyone or anything left here.”

“Agreed, but I want to complete a sweep of the facility. Never know what might have been left behind,” Shiro replied.

They continued on, not making any real effort at stealth, but only made it about another 20 feet before a side door creaked and flew open, Keith finding himself blown out into space, despite Hunk’s effort to prevent it. Keith tried to use his jetpack to redirect himself and head back to the facility, but there was just enough gravity generated by the density of the asteroid field to pull him toward the nearest surface. He bounced off the next asteroid, damaging his jetpack in the process. It sent him away from the asteroid field and into open space.

This isn’t how this was supposed to go, Keith thought as he floated in the void, then realized just how much Lance was rubbing off on him. His back hit a second, smaller asteroid, and he bounced off into the nothingness. Come on, Red. Where are you?

He felt the shift in the vacuum an instant before the sensors in his armor picked it up. The short chirp announced the sensors’ findings, bringing it up on the HUD. The display’s minimal capabilities showed the slight variant, a faint ripple in the fabric of space.

“The fuck is that?” he asked the void of space.

He hadn’t expected an answer, and didn’t get one. What he did get was the familiar mental pressure of the red Lion, immediately followed by the equally familiar golden glow of the robotic cat’s eyes. Red swallowed the paladin’s free-floating body, and he rolled through the slowly pressurizing corridor before the artificial gravity activated. He had only just taken his seat in the cockpit when he heard Pidge shouting across the comms.

“Keith! Are you ok? There was a spatial-temporal fluctuation right next to you.”

“Yeah, I felt it, but I'm ok,” he answered, exhausted from the mission and subsequent launch into space.

Green came up alongside Red, guiding them back to the Castle, Blue right behind them. Once the three Paladins were back aboard the Castle of Lions, Pidge insisted that Keith go to the medical deck, just in case.

“Ok, fine, Pidge. But I'm fine. Really,” Keith protested while simultaneously giving in.

She didn’t trust him to really go, but she was also concerned with the anomaly she found, so didn’t question it when Lance volunteered to make sure Keith went.

“Keith, what were you thinking?” Lance asked when they were alone.

“I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t anything I did and Hunk and Shiro will figure it out. Pidge is more worried about the space-time ripple we encountered. But I'm fine. Really.”

Blue’s Paladin stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. “You scared me, cuervo. I saw you get ejected into empty space without Red or any of us nearby. Pidge said she was going after you, but still…it scared me.”

“I don’t think we should hide anymore. I think it’s time to let the team in on our secret.”

The pair had been dating secretly for a month at that point, intentionally keeping their relationship from the rest of the team. Keith didn’t think they would have been taken seriously to begin with, and Lance agreed. After a late-night talk, they both decided to give it time and let themselves settle into their budding relationship. But it was beginning to make them behave differently, especially on missions. They became focused on where the other was and it was causing mistakes. This last mistake could have been deadly, although Keith was right, he hadn’t done or not done anything that led to the deserted Galra base’s small side door opening and pulling the Red Paladin into the cold vacuum of space.

“Yeah, I think you might be right,” Lance admitted.

Keith took his boyfriend’s hand, linking their fingers together, and headed toward the medical deck. Coran met them there, no doubt having been called by Pidge. Keith was thoroughly checked over by way of the Castle’s scanners, and as far as they could tell, not a molecule was out of place. After finding out that Keith was at least partly Galra, Pidge and Hunk had thrown themselves into a reprograming project to the medical deck’s scanners, integrating human biological standards. They were surprised to find that the scanners were already programmed with Galra standards, and that was when Coran told the entire team about the original Paladins, Zarkon included.

Instead of the lounge or one of their bedrooms, Lance and Keith instead went to one of the Castle’s many observation balconies. Once they were alone, Keith let himself crumble, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and holding on as tightly as he could. Lance gently returned the physical connection, understanding that the events of the morning had affected him more than he would let on in front of anyone else. He waited until he could feel the tension drain and knew that Keith was just sneaking middle of the day snuggling.

“You better now?” Lance asked.

Keith sighed softly against Lance’s neck. “Yeah, I think so. We should probably go see what Pidge found before anyone wonders where we went.”

“I don’t wanna,” he protested, holding on tighter.

Keith laughed and pulled away. “Well, if we stop keeping all this a secret, we won’t have to worry about where and when anymore.”

“Ugh. I guess.” Lance’s tone was overdramatic as usual, but his blue eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea of being open about his relationship.

Stepping backward out the door, Keith led the way toward the Lions’ hangars and Pidge’s lab. Halfway down the second to last corridor, Keith tripped over the smooth floor. He caught himself mid-stumble and stopped completely.

“Keith?” Lance asked, “Mi cuervo, you ok?”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Keith! What the fuck was that?” Lance called over the comm.

“Dunno, but my speeder’s sensors caught it. Heading back now,” Keith answered from inside his modified speeder.

Modified, that was, by Pidge, who had retrofitted all of the Lions’ speeders to be able to fly in space. They were still fairly short-range, not capable of straying far from the Lions. It meant that Keith was still in visual range of Red when the Lion’s sensors spiked with the anomaly’s fluctuation.

Lance was waiting at the door to the cockpit when Keith came in. The tail of the raised French braid that normally ran halfway down his back was draped over his shoulder. Lance had insisted on braiding his husband’s hair that morning. Keith had groaned and asked why, seeing as it was just a simple recon mission. “Because you’re pretty, the twins are at school, we have time, and I felt like it,” was the list of reasons Lance rattled off as he made Keith sit. He didn’t mind it, but they usually saved more complex braids for diplomatic missions, not “drive down the street for space readings” missions.

Keith had had his second puberty while in the Quantum Abyss with Krolia, and it ended up being a good thing she was there. Alone, he would have assumed that the abdominal cramping, chills, fever, nausea, and full-body pain meant that he was dying. Krolia, however, recognized the symptoms of the shift in her son’s body to that of a Carrier and becoming physically capable of conceiving and carrying a baby. She told him that his half-human status may well have rendered him infertile, but they didn’t have the resources to look into it at the time, and the middle of a war wasn’t the time to worry about it. So it surprised both Keith and Lance when he found himself pregnant not long after the war ended, and they welcomed their twins Andra and Ori five and a half months later after a normal Galra-length pregnancy. The twins birth records had their names down as Andromeda Artemis and Orion Fenris Kogane-McClain, names that were called with increasing frequency now that the twins were five.

Keith sat himself in the pilot’s seat, pulling up the sensor readings from both Red and the speeder. They looked the same to both himself and Lance, but Pidge would be able to make better sense of them. But something about the anomaly was bothering Keith. It took a good minute of staring at the readings to realize that it was similar to how spacetime behaved near the core of the Quantum Abyss. And something about thatbothered him even more.

“You ok, cuervo?” Lance asked, leaning against the edge of the display panel.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, “Just something about that anomaly reminds me of the Quantum Abyss. We’ll get it to Pidge and figure it out.”

The trip back to the new Castle was short, Red bypassing the reconfigured IGF-Atlas and heading directly for his hangar on the original Castle of Lions. After the end of the Galra War and the brief, but intense, war with Honerva, the Voltron Coalition needed a permanent – and mobile – base. The Atlas reshaped itself, wrapping around the Castle like the defensive walls of an ancient castle around its keep. Its completed size rivaled that of Galra Central Command, now the seat of the newly-formed Galra Collective.

Team Voltron’s power couple – beating out Shiro’s marriage to Adam – crossed the distance to Green’s hangar, where Pidge still maintained her personal lab. They found her buried in her multi-screen setup, one screen dedicated to the call she was on with her long-distance Olkari girlfriend Malyn, the others covered in technical readouts, diagrams, and blueprints.

“We’re back,” Keith announced when they walked in.

“Oh good. Anything weird happen out there?” Pidge said, taking Keith’s comm.

“The anomaly is behaving like the core of the Quantum Abyss.”

Pidge shoved the device into her computer a little harder than she intended. Except for her ongoing call, she wiped everything off the other screens, replacing what was on them with the readouts from both Red and the speeder. Her amber eyes flicked from screen to screen, already analyzing.

“I’m really sorry, Malyn. I have to call you later.”

“Of course. Is everything all right?” Malyn asked, concern laced in her voice.

“I’m not sure yet. We found a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it’s behaving differently from anything similar I’ve seen. Maybe…there was one…nah, that was different…”

Malyn laughed, she always found her girlfriend’s analytical mind adorable. “I’ll let you get to that. We’ll talk later.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, Malyn. We’ll talk again later, promise,” Pidge apologized again, but Malyn waved her off, still laughing, and cut the call.

“So, you'll let us know when you’ve found something?” Lance prompted.

“What? Yeah. Right. This is weirder than anything I've ever seen like this…”

Lance and Keith shared a look, knowing that Pidge was fully invested in the data and that she wouldn’t leave her computer unless she was physically removed. Deciding on the tactical retreat, they left her to it, heading back to their apartment on the Castle.

The Atlas hadn’t been the only thing to be reconfigured. The Castle of Lions had undergone its own renovations, the old single rooms turned into apartment-like suites. Shiro and Adam maintained Garrison positions onboard the Atlas, but retired to the Castle at the end of every day. Lance and Keith settled into their apartment after their two month long honeymoon. Hunk was splitting his time between the Castle and Balmera, sharing his space with Shay when they were there. Pidge mostly used hers as an excuse for more tech and a separate workspace, but Malyn stayed there with her when she could get time away from rebuilding Olkarion under Ryner’s guidance. Coran had decided to keep his old room the way it was, and Allura felt that her own rooms didn’t need the upgrade. The rest of the rooms stayed the same for the new Altean crew running the ship at a proper capacity.

It wasn’t until they got back that Keith realized Pidge still had his comm. “Well, shit. I’ll be back,” he said, heading for the door.

Lance decided to follow him out into the corridor.

“Why?”

“Because,” Lance answered, “I have nothing better to do and I can watch you walk away all day.”

“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith groaned in mock frustration.

“No, that’s after we get your comm.”

Keith turned, intending to call Lance out on exposing him like that, but stumbled, relieved that Lance was close enough to catch him.

“You alright, cuervo?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just tripped,” he said, but stopped. Something was wrong. He could feel the braid hanging over his shoulder from when he stumbled, felt the strength in Lance’s arms. No, this was wrong. He looked up. There was a small scar he didn’t remember being there, and the blue Altean marks were definitely new. His own body felt foreign. It was shaped differently, taller and broader than it should be. His voice was different, a little deeper, a little huskier than it should be. “Lance?”

“Keith, love, are you really ok?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Lance helped him to stand, leading him back to their apartment. Once inside, he sat Keith on the couch. “What happened? Exactly,” he asked.

“What does – is this about the anomaly? I told you before that I'm fine. We had Coran check me out. There was nothing wrong. Where are we anyway?”

“We didn’t have Coran check you out. There’s an entire medical crew for that anyway. We’re home, on the Castle. What do you remember from this morning?” Lance’s entire tone was cautious. Something was very wrong with his husband, but he wanted to have at least some answers before bringing it up with anyone else.

“We were coming back from a mission and stopped to check out an abandoned Galra base in an asteroid field. One of the side doors opened and I got blown out. There was a ripple in space-time, and I got close to it in nothing but my armor before Red came to get me. But I'm fine. I told both you and Pidge that.”

Lance remembered that mission. Overall, it was unremarkable. The base didn’t have anything useful. But there hadn’t been any temporal fluctuations. Yes, Keith had ended up floating through the void, but nothing happened other than that. The only reason he remembered that mission in particular was because that was when they decided to tell the team that they were together. It had been ten years since that mission.

“Ok. I do remember that. But, that was ten years ago. That was when we decided to tell the team that we’d been dating for a month.”

Keith’s face flickered between shock, bewilderment, and terror. Ten years? There was no way that could be right. But the evidence was right there. His own body and voice were different. He could see and feel how long his hair had gotten. And then there was Lance. He was beautiful as ever, and it certainly seemed that they were still together, but he was different. The scar, the Altean marks – how and when the fuck did that happen, and why? – and there was the fact that he was broader, more muscled, not slender and willowy like he had been. He processed everything in real time, not saying a word in that time. It had apparently been longer than he thought, because Lance was looking up at him from where he’d tilted his head to the side.

“Keith? Mi cuervo? What is going on?”

“You…you still call me that? It really has been ten years?”

“This has to be related to that anomaly,” he muttered. “Yeah, it’s really been ten years. And, yeah, I do still call you that. A lot’s changed in ten years, but not that. Stay here. I need to show you something. It might help.” Lance stood, leaving the room for their bedroom, coming back in less than a minute. He extended his free hand, bringing Keith over to the table where they both sat. Lance placed a ring of smoothly twisted and woven silver metal and carved crystal that shifted between blood red, cobalt, and vibrant violet on the table between them. “Do you remember this?” he asked softly, “Do you remember when I gave you that?”

Keith stared at it like if he could untwist it mentally, he could remember what it was. But he couldn’t, because Lance had never given him anything like it. It was definitely something he could see Lance picking for him, but as far as Keith knew, he never had.

“No, I don’t,” he had to admit.

Lance sighed, a tinge of sadness to it. “Ok. Something happened with the temporal anomaly we found earlier and that Pidge is still analyzing. I know you’re really Keith, but I don’t think you're my Keith. What you said happened this morning happened ten years ago for me. We need to go check in with Pidge and see if she’s figured anything out yet.”

“Ok,” Keith agreed, rising to follow Lance, “I shouldn’t know anything else. Not yet. But at least I know we’re still together.”

“We certainly are,” Lance agreed, taking Keith’s hand, “We’ll figure this out. That anomaly might have fucked with your memories somehow, but we’ll figure it out.”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Yeah, fine.” Keith stood on his own, suddenly realizing that they shouldn’t have been a corridor and a half away from Green’s hangar, they should have been close to their apartment in a completely different part of the castle. Everything seemed ever so slightly bigger, except for himself and Lance. His braid was gone, and he was wearing clothes he hadn’t seen in years. And Lance looked so young. This was the thin, wiry boy he’d fallen in love with more than ten years before. The one without the Altean marks he’d gotten when Allura revived him after saving her from an energy blast. But he heard Lance call him by that familiar pet name. That alone left Keith with more questions.

“We need to see if Pidge’s gotten anywhere with that anomaly,” Lance said.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. When had his voice gotten higher?

Keith stopped when they walked into Pidge’s lab. It wasn’t what he was expecting. This was the lab of a decade earlier. The one with the laptop she’d brought from Earth along with the equipment she had either repurposed or built from scratch. It startled him, and he froze in place.

“Keith, seriously, are you ok?”

“I…I don’t know anymore. Everything is wrong. Where is everyone else?”

“Hunk and Shiro are heading back from the abandoned base now. That door just malfunctioned after going so long without maintenance. And there was absolutely nothing important there,” Pidge answered, still focused on her computer screen. She realized part of what he said and turned around. “Wait, what do you mean ‘everything is wrong’?”

“You’re looking at a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it didn’t happen now. There shouldn’t have been one here. I…I think I might be from your future. Or, at least, sort of. I don’t look any different to you, do I?”

“No. You don’t. Get back to the part where you think you're from the future.”

“I don’t know how much I should tell you. I don’t know if it could upset the timeline. But I know when I am now.” He turned to Lance. “It’s been about a month now, right? And we had that talk?”

Lance nodded, trying to understand just what his boyfriend was saying about the future. “Yeah, and we did talk about it. Just a few minutes ago. But if you're from the future, I don’t know if talking about that now will help. It also doesn’t answer the question of if you’re Future Keith, what happened to Present Keith?”

“I don’t know. Best case, he switched places with me. He’ll be confused and probably a little scared, but I know he’s in good hands there. Fuck it feels weird talking about myself in the third person. Have you found out anything about the anomaly here?” he asked Pidge.

“Well, I think so, but I've never seen anything like this before.”

Keith came up behind her, looking over their temporal disruption. It was identical to the one he’d found in his time. He had no question now that he had switched bodies with his 18-year-old self. But at least there were a few things he didn’t need to worry about hiding. He knew he was at least partly Galra at this point. He wouldn’t meet Krolia for a little while, so he would have to keep that one to himself. But it also meant that he hadn’t been through the Quantum Abyss yet. There was no way he could tell them about that without explaining everything. He would have to be subtle with asking about the war.

“I have, but I can’t tell you anything specific. Like where, why, or how. And even knowing what it is, I don’t have your science brain, Pidgey. I have no idea how it works.”

Both Pidge and Lance were staring at him. Not because of what he said, but how he said it. He’d picked up a lot of linguistic quirks from Lance over the years, and no longer gave it any thought at all.

“You sound like Lance,” Pidge said finally.

“We’ve all spent a lot of time together over ten years,” Keith replied, avoiding the real question.

“Sure. What canyou tell me about this?”

Keith pulled Hunk’s usual seat over, sitting beside her. Lance perched on an empty spot of desk space, suddenly wanting to be closer to his boyfriend, or whatever he was at that point.

“It’s specific to a single point in space, but not this one. But that’s the problem. I can’t tell you anything about where it is or what it is because you haven’t gotten there yet. All I can say is that space and time work very differently there due to massive fluctuations in gravity, which is why this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because there’s something there that affects the gravity in a way that it doesn’t where we found it.”

“Basically. It’s more like what affects gravity there doesn’t exist anywhere else, especially where this anomaly was found. It’s also far smaller here than it should be. Like the difference in scorch marks between Lance’s rifle and Hunk’s autocannon.”

“So, this anomaly is a precise shot, and where it should be is a huge mess,” Lance said.

“Pretty much,” Keith agreed, “But I really can’t tell you about it because there’s something vital to the war there and I don’t know how it would change things if you found out about it now. It wouldn’t be good. There are other players you don’t know about yet.”

Pidge continued typing away at her laptop, the 3D render of the anomaly rotating on the screen. Lance wanted to watch the progress, but he couldn’t focus on it. His attention was solely on Keith. Except for his earlier phrasing, he didn’t think Pidge had picked up on just how different he was. Body language, mannerisms, almost everything had changed in some way except for his physical appearance. And there was one thing Lance had noticed almost immediately after Keith started talking about the anomaly. He was pretty sure Keith wasn’t aware of it, but he had been running his left thumb across the ring finger of the same hand, like there was something missing. Lance thought about bringing it up, but decided not to, heavily suspecting Keith would just say that it was something else he couldn’t talk about.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[unfriendlyamazon]

pacific rim (kaijou) - chase the rabbit

very telling of me that the scenes i have fully written out are 1) kaijou hitting each other with sticks, 2) seto kaiba’s worst memory, and 3) kaijou’s first kiss

characters Joey Wheeler/Seto Kaiba

ratings T

warnings Allusions To Childhood Abuse, Parental Death, And Electrocution, Mass Destruction Of Major City, Alien Blood

All Joey and Seto have to do is waltz through each other’s memories so they can mind meld in order to properly pilot a giant dragon-shaped robot. Nothing to worry about there.

The Ultimate Dragon stood in her dock, a beast of white metal that reflected blue with the bright energy that burned in her chest. Her legs were bent forward, like an animal’s, and a long tail balanced it, ending in a spike that curved on the floor of the Shatterdome. Three separate blue domes made her eyes. Her arched reptilian head sneered down at the personnel on the floor hundreds of feet below it. Joey stood on the Conn-Pod of Ultimate Dragon and peered down with her. He could just make out the faces in the control room. The techs were bent low in their work as the scientists bickered with each other. The stone faced General Kaiba stared up. Joey stuck his tongue out at him, knowing he couldn’t see.

“Are you always a child?” the other Kaiba drawled, and Joey jumped back.

“Someone has to be the fun one around around here,” he snapped back and walked to his position in the pilot’s seat. Two spinal clamps awaited them. The drivesuit was heavy and black, and he sucked in a breath as he got into position. “You nervous?”

“No,” Kaiba said. His blue eyes watched him, the helmet held in his hand. It was both their first time in a Jaeger, but Kaiba had built the damn thing. His solid stance didn’t betray any uncertainty. “You’re taking the right side.”

Joey shrugged. “You wanna fight about it?”

He only shook his head and pulled the helmet on. Joey followed suit. Beyond the domed eyes of the Dragon, the techs initialized testing mode. Heavy blue lights washed out the dark cockpit, and the yellow lights of their helmets lined their faces. The clamp initialized, and Joey sucked in a breath. He glanced at Kaiba, who offered him his usual scowl.

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” Kaiba said.

Joey blinked. “What?”

“Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers,” he repeated,  and Joey bristled at his tone. “Sticking to a memory is dangerous. It pulls us out of sync. Stay in the drift.”

Joey hissed through his teeth. He wanted to say he knew, thank you, he’d done his training, but the truth was, as the sickly yellow relay gel filled his visor, he appreciated the sound of another human voice. Vision blocked, he sucked in a breath as though he was drowning. The suit was contained, only the sound of his breath, and the metallic slide of the clamp locking into place. Anxiety jangled his nerves, and he forced himself to breath in, and out. Relax, he told himself. You’re just letting Kaiba waltz through your memories so the two of you can mind meld in order to properly pilot a giant dragon-shaped robot. Nothing to worry about there.

“Neural handshake initialized,” the computer said, and it was the only warning they had before they were pulled into the drift.

There aren’t words to describe the drift. Pilots tried. Scientists could only explain. None of it prepared Joey for the feeling of his head opening up. Memories poured in like a river, too fast to cling, like flashes from a movie but more. Him at the Wall with Yugi offering him a position in the program, the too clean smell of the hospital bedroom with the drip of the IV, Serenity’s face wet from crying as she got further and further away, electricity against his skin and the sharp smell of skin burning with the laughs of the other boys in his ear, interlaced with things he didn’t recognize. Kaiba with a neural spike in his hand as he stooped across a desk, exhaustion hitting like a truck, the strike of a hand against his face and the white hot anger that flared inside him, the feel of a deck of cards beneath his fingertips as his brother laughed, holding his hand as their world ended.

The drift carried through, and Joey felt bigger than himself. When he opened his eyes, he could see the holo display, the Shatterdome curled around them like a shell, and the life signatures of the humans beneath staring up at them. He was aware, as he lifted his hands, that Kaiba was doing the same, rolling the clawed fingers of the Dragon as they did their own hands. The core of the Dragon set the metronome of their heartbeat. They raised their hands together, and outside the Dragon did the same. Relief burst in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Kaiba’s, but it didn’t matter. They were doing it. They were piloting the Jaeger.

The memory stream continued but it was little more than white noise. Joey’s muscles tightened with the desire to take this baby for a joy ride. He wanted to see everything it could do. The excitement was doubled with his partner. Once initial testing was finished, they’d get their chance at the first Kaiju they saw. They’d let Ultimate Dragon go wild. Joey grinned at the thought and knew it was mimicked across Kaiba’s face. He wanted to get wild.

“Commencing first test,” the computer said, and beneath that was another voice. Small and weak, like a child crying. It took Joey a second to recognize it, but Kaiba’s body froze. It locked his own limbs, and he had to push against it. The computer was still talking, but it faded lower and lower beneath the sobbing Japanese voice. Joey turned his head, and he could see Kaiba standing there, eyes up to the sky, as the crying grew louder and louder. He looked up too and--

He was in Tokyo, with its uneven buildings rising and falling spreading neon light across the cold empty street a siren wailing through the thick air and ash falling like snow against the ground. The air burned and the world was empty everyone was in the shelters below everyone who as going to make it which left him alone with his little brother curled in his arms crying and crying their parents were gone lost amid the rubble and the ruin and it was all he could do to hold his brother tight like his tiny body could protect him like he could do anything at all against the rumble of something heavy that shook the glass from the buildings and cracked the concrete beneath its feet leave concave holes and destruction behind it its gold body reflected off the tall buildings and it turned to look at the children in its path its frill fanned out like a cobra’s head streaked with purple and its mouth lipless with tall sharp teeth that stretched in an ugly smile and gold spikes rose off it like armor as its heavy claws dragged against the ground it was coming for them it was tracking them like an animal like a shark smelling blood in the water and he buried his head and held his brother and heard the terrible howl of the great beast.

The comms in the Dragon were screaming from the control room the panicked calls of the Shatterdome techs trying to reign them back in, but they were little more than a dull ache in the back of Joey’s head. His eyes were ahead as he found himself in the ruined streets of Tokyo on the day Exodia had crossed the breach. In front of him were two children. They huddled close together, too close to really see them, but he already knew who they were.

“H-hey.” His voice was distant, but he started forward and shouted again, “Hey! Kaiba!”

The children didn’t move. In front of them, the Kaiju stood tall and imposing, leaning down to inspect the two mice caught in its path. The city was eerie and quiet, only the great huffing of the beast and the quiet gasps of the children. If they moved, the creature would crush them. If they didn’t, they’d be crushed anyway. Their fear quaked inside Joey as he crouched down beside them.

“You’re in a nightmare,” he said. Baby Kaiba only squeezed his brother tighter. “It’s not real. You lived through this already, you--”

The air shuddered and boomed, and both Joey and Kaiba looked up as a blast struck the Kaiju in the head. Blue blood splattered across the buildings, and the Kaiju staggered, before another missile strike downed it entirely. It fell to its heavy knees, groaning loudly as it landed against the ground. Wind brushed against their faces as the thud shook the empty streets, raining glass and debris to the floor. The two brothers stared up as the Jaeger marched forward. At the sight of the horned head of Necross, Kaiba rose slowly to his feet, and Joey did the same. The Jaeger was safety and retribution, coming to pluck two orphaned children off the street, to bring them up and give them tools to fight the monsters that scared them. It was supposed to save them.

“System shutting down,” the computer voice bled through the memory and tore it like tissue paper. As soon as the spinal link snapped free, Joey staggered forward. He tore his helmet off and stared at Kaiba, who looked like he was waking up from a dream. His chest heaved as he stared down at his own hands. Trickling into Joey’s mind was the shame, the bitter taste of failure, stupid and worthless and wasting his one chance--

“Kaiba,” Joey said, and it felt strange to have his own voice inside his head again. “You’re okay.”

Kaiba’s gaze whipped to him, wide eyed, and tears running down his cheeks. Instinctually, Joey reached a hand to him. Kaiba turned away.

“You did fine,” Joey said again. “It was our first time. Now we know better.”

“I don’t need your sympathy, Wheeler,” Kaiba snapped. A tremor made it through. “I don’t want it.”

Joey held in a breath and let his hands drop to his side. The fading emotions hadn’t gone completely. When he thought of Gozaburo in the control room below, a residual spike of anger drove its way into Joey’s skull. But he swallowed it down.

“You’re such an asshole, Kaiba,” Joey said.

“And you’re even more a delinquent than I could’ve possibly guessed,” he replied.

Equilibrium restored.

[nanoland]

Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

main characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve/Michael 

summary: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Violence, gun violence, trauma, dehumanization, outdoor sex. 

0 

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?” 

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.”

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0 

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?” 

0 

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”  

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.” 

0 

Bombshell curls. The only way to celebrate victory.

“Should I even ask why your hair smells like burning plastic?” asked Britney, a sixty-four year old veteran stylist with spectacles and a bright blue bob. She’d worked in Hollywood since she was seventeen and her skilled hands, according to rumour, had tended to Viola Davis herself.

Mazikeen flipped through a magazine with the hand that wasn’t getting its nails painted red-gold by two assistants down on their knees, as intensely focused as if they were touching up The Last Supper. “Blew up some jet skis. Don’t worry about it.”

Picking up the curling iron, Britney said, “That handsome guy you and Eve came in with… new boyfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not in a million years. He’s my intern.”

Eve had only wanted a trim and, as soon as it was done, had dragged Michael away to shop for books and shoes. She was trying, without much subtlety, to work out what he liked; what he did for fun; if he was even capable of having fun. Waste of time, in Mazikeen’s opinion, especially considering that before the end of the week he’d probably run away to some dark hole where he could get back to wallowing in his bitterness. But maybe not. Eve clearly had hope and Mazikeen trusted her judgement.

As the assistants moved on to her other hand, her phone buzzed.

Glancing up to meet Britney’s gaze in the mirror, Mazikeen said, “Get that for me? My nails are wet and it’s probably Eve. Word’s got out what happens to all other humans who call me on a Saturday.”

The older woman’s blue eyebrows bounced as she picked up the phone. “Might be that tasty boss of yours!”

“Nope,” she muttered, old unhappiness flaring hot in her heart. “He only ever calls when he wants me to do something and right now, there’s nothing he can’t do himself.”

Britney held the phone up in front of her face.

There was a message from Linda.

Charlie’s missing his Auntie Maze – see u for dinner Tuesday? J <3

“Uh – are you crying?” asked Britney.

“No!” she snapped. “Just… shut up. Reply for me. Say yes. And add a knife emoji. I always use knife emojis.”

Just then, a white woman with long brown hair and skinny jeans strode purposefully into the salon.

Britney tutted and held up a hand. “Ma’am? I’m sorry, but Ms Smith has booked the entire…”

She trailed off as the woman’s eyes flashed red.

“Chantinelle,” Mazikeen greeted, spinning the chair round and crossing her legs regally. “It’s okay, Britney. She’s a friend. Well – an ally.”

Gravel-voiced, like she smoked heavily, the other demon drawled, “I’m touched, your great and gracious Majesty.”

Mazikeen snickered. “Bitch, get over here.”

With a smirk, Chantinelle marched over and planted a fierce kiss on her cheek.

“What news from Hell?” Mazikeen asked her sister.

Chantinelle briefed her while Britney and the others finished up her curls and manicure. They spoke in Lilim, Chantinelle parking her denim-clad butt on the vanity next to an arsenal of combs and keeping one eye on the door. She’d already tried twice to convince Mazikeen that a queen needed a bodyguard, to no avail.

When their meeting was concluded, Britney said, “So you’re from Holland, right? Oh! It’s a lovely country. My cousin lives there and she’s always telling me to visit.”

(Britney knew they weren’t from Holland. Britney knew they weren’t from Earth. Britney was one of those people who coped with uncomfortable realities like demons in her workplace by ignoring them.)

“Will you be coming home soon?” Chantinelle asked before she left.

Studying her reflection – avoiding her sister’s gaze – Mazikeen said, “Mmm. Yeah. Soon. Just got a few things to finish up here.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. The family misses you. I mean – it’s been years, y’know?”

“I know. I do.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Britney commented after Chantinelle had gone. “How come you never talk about them?”

Mazikeen handed over a wad of blood-spattered cash. “Eh. After a while, I figured out that nobody likes it when I do.”

She began making her way across the mall to Eve’s favourite shoe shop, then stopped when she approached the arcade and heard her girlfriend’s laugh over the beeps and buzzes of various games.

Unsurprised, she wandered in and found her on the Dance Dance Revolution platform, barefoot and skirt twirling as she beat the shit out of someone’s high score, surrounded by a crowd of cheering, applauding onlookers.

Michael stood off to the side, clutching three bulging shopping bags and looking mortified.

“I couldn’t stop her,” he hissed to Mazikeen. “What the hell? What the actual hell? I thought you were trying to maintain a reputation on this crummy rock! What’re your enemies going to think if this is how your allies behave in public?”

“I figure they’ll think something like, ‘Oh my God, she’s tapping that? I am going to literally die of jealousy’,” Mazikeen said, kicking off her stilettos and handing them to him. “Go fetch us some bottled water, wimp. We’ll be here for a while.”

Eve’s competitor on the adjacent platform yelped as Mazikeen shoved him off and took his place.

“Hi, pretty lady,” said Eve, her eyes sparkling. “You know I’ve been dancing for millions of years, right?”

Mazikeen grinned at her and tossed back her bombshell curls. “Bring it, beautiful.”  

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Michael blush bright red. 

0 

What was he doing here?

“We are fifteen miles over the speed limit!”

Mazikeen cackled and drove faster. In the seat beside her, Eve punched the air and turned up the radio until Michael thought Rihanna’s voice would burst even his divine eardrums. (Contrary to his brother’s accusations, he did, in fact, enjoy some types of music. Just not when it was loud or fast-paced.)

“May I remind you of a crucial fact?” he demanded, having to shout to be heard. “It’s not me who’ll die if this thing flips! Angel, remember? You two are the ones who’ll be splattered all over the road! Hello? Is anybody listening to me?”

“I’m a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine,” Mazikeen sang.

The desert outside the cherry-red convertible they’d stolen in Las Vegas was a sickening blur and he hated it. Not that he’d never travelled this fast – though he was slower than just about all his siblings in the air, he could still outpace a jet. But flying under his own power couldn’t be compared to being trapped in this hideous human death trap under the command of a demon and a madwoman.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, this time to himself, gripping his seatbelt with both hands like it was the neck of an angry serpent. “Whatever happens. Even if we crash. They’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” called Eve, turning to look at him, squinting. “Are you really not having fun? Maze! Slow down! He’s not having fun.”

Mazikeen groaned but brought them back to a less terrifying percentage of light speed, while Eve undid her seatbelt and climbed into the back with Michael.

He sputtered. “Jesus H. Christ – you’re not supposed to do that while the vehicle is moving. Rules exist for a reason, goddammit.”

“I’m sorry we freaked you out,” Eve told him, with… confusing sincerity.

None of his siblings had ever apologised for frightening him, Lucifer least of all (“Aww – don’t be so nervous, brother!” and a golden laugh from the brave, adventurous Morningstar after he’d enticed Michael to fly with him into a hurricane for fun and the noise and sight of it had made his twin cry).

When Michael was young, he’d assumed that was because apologies were for lesser beings, like mortals – except that when he’d discovered his latent talent for underhanded pranks, his siblings had all turned around and demanded apologies from him. The pranks had become progressively mean-spirited after that.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop – for the punchline – he said, carefully, “It’s fine.”

The wind had blown Eve’s hair all over the place. As she brushed it out of her eyes, he was reminded that today she’d chosen to wear one of her thin white summer dresses, this one low-cut enough to make it clear that that was all she was wearing.

Now mischievous, she winked at him. “But you know… if I made a habit of following those rules you like so much, I’d still be married and bored out of my mind. Wanna kiss?”

He nearly jumped out of the car.

“Uh,” he croaked.

His gaze flickered past Eve’s inquisitive face to the back of Mazikeen’s head. How long did he have? How many milliseconds left before she turned around and tore out his throat in a fit of frenzied jealousy?

“Hell, yeah!” Mazikeen cheered, throwing up the horns. “One of you take a picture for me. Or, better yet, move over so I can see you in the rear view mirror.”

Eve’s chin tilted downwards as she examined Michael. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like he’s into it. Er – yikes. Actually, I think he’s gonna throw up. Might wanna pull over, babe.”

“I’m not going to throw up! I just need… just need air. Could you sit back for a moment?” he hissed.

She did so and he got his breathing under control. Crap, his shoulder hurt so much today.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, fidgeting. “I didn’t mean to-…”

“Is this because of him?” Michael snarled, suddenly furious.

“What?”

“Him! Lucifer! He dumped you, yeah? And now you’re – what, trying to get back at him by hitting on me? Or is it just because I look like him so I’m the best substitute you can get, or-…”

She slapped him.

It hurt.

(It really did. What? Since when did getting hit by mortals hurt?)

Mazikeen whistled approvingly.

“No,” said Eve, half-growling. “I’m not like that. I don’t use people like that, Michael.”

He touched the part of his face where her skin had met his. It felt hot. Tingly. He swallowed. “Um – right. Got it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The anger in her eyes subsided. “Good. Now, would you like to kiss me or not? It’s fine if you don’t want to. You’ll still be part of the team. This is just for fun.”

Feeling oafish and off-kilter, he gestured at Mazikeen. “Won’t she mind?”

“Nope!” Mazikeen volunteered without hesitation.

Eve, exasperated, huffed, “I already asked her if she’d mind. Do you really think I’d put the offer on the table if I hadn’t? Whatever they say about me in the Silver City, I’m neither frivolous nor disloyal. I didn’t go behind Adam’s back when I fell in love with your brother; I told him to his face what I was doing.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

“Because he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t care. Adam was a decent man who didn’t love me at all. But Maze does, and I love her, and we’ve decided this is something we’re both okay with.”

“Yeah, most demons are poly,” Mazikeen told him. “As long as everyone’s on board and on the same page, you can hook up with whoever you like.”

“Last chance: kiss or no kiss?” said Eve.

She was close enough now for him to smell her perfume. His chest felt tight. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Okay. How about wagers? I bet you anything I’m the best kisser you’ve ever met. Or requests? Please, please kiss me, Michael. Or-…”

She was so warm. Her breath flowing into his mouth felt like drinking hot chocolate on a Winter’s night, sugary heat poured down his throat and filling up his whole chest.

His bones seemed to melt. He slid down the seat, half-pushed, until he lay almost flat with her on top of him, cradling his face in her hands, her thumbs making slow, comforting circles on his jaw.

“Ghnnff-fu-fuck,” he slurred.

That he was hard, and had been hard ever since he’d noticed how low-cut her dress was, seemed almost irrelevant in the face of far more interesting observations, like the soft grunts she made or the way her breasts felt pressed tight against him, until she slid a thigh between his legs.

He cried out. Arched.

“There you go,” she purred against his neck.

Elegant and effortless, she took off her shoes and her panties, and slid down onto his cock with a soft, fluttering sigh. Grabbed his hand and raised it to cover one of her nipples.

Just before he came, he opened his eyes and gazed up, and the sun had moved behind her, draining all but her edges of definition, and the wind had picked up her hair again and sent it billowing up and out, like dark wings. Like his wings.

“Michael! Ah!”

The car stopped.

“Huh,” said Mazikeen. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

She pointed. Panting, they both followed her finger.

Across the sky, from one horizon to the next, the clouds had arranged themselves into the words

I LOVE YOU DETECTIVE !!!!

-LM

“Oh, crud,” said Eve. 

0 

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?” 

0 

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”  

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda. 

0  

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[myhockeyworld87]

Birthday Boy - Sidney Crosby

Word Count: 1,764

POV: Reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Language

Notes: Just a little something for our Birthday Boy!!!!

In your four years of being with Sidney, just shy of two of those being his wife, this day was always the hardest; his birthday. What did you buy the man that literally could have anything he wanted? It wasn’t like he needed a new watch, as he was pretty consistent in the one that he wore all the time. You’d got him new cuff links at Christmas as he’d lost one of his favorite ones during a road trip; only to have it turn up the day after New Year’s, though he still wore the new set you got him. This year you were pretty confident that you’d gotten him a unique and different gift though, getting him a signed copy of his favorite book. It’d been hard to track down but you were excited when it came in. Hiding it as you came up to Cole Harbour was another story.

He never looked in your suitcases, yet there he was the night before you left searching for one of his sweatshirts, he swore you had. Never mind the fact that you actually did have that article of clothing. Thankfully though, you’d intercepted him and pulled out the garment right before he found it. Now here you were at the summer house, surrounded by your family and friends to celebrate the man you loved turning another year older. Everyone was gathered on the deck, as you brought out the cake to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ He pulled you down to his lap as everyone sang, and you pecked him on the cheek as it ended. “Make a wish, babe.”

“I have everything I ever needed right here.” A cute little blush stained your cheeks even after two years of marriage. He blew the candles out, then you took over the cutting and distribution with Taylor as Trina brought over his gifts. Sid always insisted he didn’t need anything and most of the gifts were just fun little things to make him smile like his mom always buying him his favorite socks, though she insisted that she was going to let you take that over some year. He always saved your gift for last, as you stood beside his chair watching him. “Hmm, too heavy to be more socks.” He said with a little laugh.

“You can guess all you want, but you’re never getting this one right,” you chirped him back and he just tore the wrapping paper off.

His face lit up instantaneously, as he looked at the limited-edition book. When he opened the jacket cover, his mouth fell open. “Baby, how did you…where did you? This is amazing.” He got out of his chair and quickly captured your lips in a searing kiss. “Thank you.” He finally breathed out, and his hand went over the cover with such reverence.

“You’re so welcome, now who needs something more to drink?” The party restarted and lasted longer than you expected. You and Sid, stood at the door waving Nate and his girlfriend goodbye when you finally got the chance to ask him about his gift. “So you really like the book then? I was so worried that you’d found when we were in Pittsburgh.”

“I was completely surprised, though I do kind of miss my other birthday gift.” Every year you always sweetened his gift with a sexy little number that was a private gift to him, but with the party this year, you hadn’t gotten the chance to yet to celebrate like you both wanted.

“Oh, well why don’t you lock up the house and I’ll meet you in the bedroom for that part of your gift.” His tongue snuck out to lick his lips, the action sending a thrill down to your core. You kissed him, quickly before heading upstairs, grabbing the sexy lingerie you’d picked out especially for this day. It was a two-piece black lace little number, unique in design. The sleeves were long, which were unusual for lingerie, but it tied right at your breasts and you liked the idea that he could literally unwrap you as a part of his gift. The thong matched the lace of the bra top and tied on the sides as well. It took no time to put the number on and by the time Sid came in the bedroom, you were already laid out on the bed waiting for him. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

A low whistle escaped his lips as he drank in the sight of you sprawled out for him. “Happy Birthday to me.” He was on the bed over top of you before you could blink. “I like this. You’re like my own lil present, eh?”

A soft giggle left your lips. “That’s exactly why I bought this one.”

“Perfect choice,” and then his lips were on yours, his tongue swirling with yours, as his lower body pressed into you. You moaned as you felt his hard cock rub against you, and you couldn’t help but think that this was definitely a gift that you both could enjoy. Gathering his shirt in your hands you lifted it off his body and over his head, before letting it fall off the bed.

You pushed at his chest, and he pulled back. “Lie back,” you told him and he rolled onto his side of the mattress, while you crawled over the top of him, kissing first his lips then moving down his chest. When you got to his waistband, you gripped it with your teeth and heard him suck in a breath. Your hands made quick work of ridding him of his shorts and boxer briefs, and you kissed and licked him all the way up his calves and thighs. His hands threaded threw your hair as you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. It twitched under your touch and you looked up at your husband from under hooded lashes, to see the grin on his face before taking the head between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the head, then slowly took his length into your mouth.

“Fuck baby,” he hissed out. Your hand curled around what part you couldn’t take in and worked both your mouth and hand up and down his shaft. “Your mouth feels so good,” he praised and you worked a little faster before popping it out of your mouth and working your way down to his balls. Gently, you squeezed them before sucking on them. “Jesus,” he whispered harshly into the empty room. His hands feathered through your locks, urging you back on his shaft. This time you swallowed him right away, pressing your tongue along the underside, while you hummed back in your throat. “Damnit, babe.” The next thing you knew he was pulling you off of him and you were on your back, Sid looming over you. “You’re gonna make me explode if you kept that up and I haven’t even unwrapped my gift yet.”

“Oh well by all means,” you offered as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“God I love you.” He breathed out, then kissed you hard on the mouth. He trailed kisses down your collarbone, working his way to the bow that was nestled between your breasts. He grabbed one tie between his teeth and pulled. Luckily, you had it tied that one pull, and your breasts would be on display for him. “So beautiful.” He pushed one sleeve off, then the other, before taking your breast in his mouth; swirling his tongue around your nipple. You arched into his mouth, and his strong arms came down to hold your hips still. “Easy babe, this is my present and I want to take my time opening it.” He moved to the other breast giving it the same attention. You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips and you squirmed underneath him, wanting more.

Sensing your need, his fingers stole down to rub clit which was still covered with lace. His fingers danced along your cloth-covered folds and you could feel yourself growing damper in anticipation of what was to come. Finally, he untied the sides of your panties, and he grabbed the front pulling them off you. “Mmm, I love how wet you get.” Two of his finger, curled inside you, stroking in and out of you pussy.

“Please Sid…I need you.” You whined.

“I need you too (Y/N).” He pulled out his fingers and you whimpered at the loss. It wasn’t long before he lined himself up and pushed into your entrance easily, both of you moaning at the feeling. He was buried deep inside you before he captured your lips and started to move. After four years together, it still amazed you how badly you wanted each other. One leg wrapped around his waist as your hips rose up to meet each thrust. Sweat dripped off both of you as you moved at a feverish pace. Soon a familiar tingle started to make its way from somewhere deep within your body. “That’s it babe, cum for me.” Your legs trembled as your climax tore through your body and you moan out Sid’s name. He thrusts a few times then followed you, spilling inside you, before collapsing on top of you. You held him tightly to you, loving the feel of his body on top of yours.

He only ever stayed a few moments like that, but you treasured them when he did, running your hands up and down his spine. Eventually, he rolled to his side, cock still buried inside you. “Did you have a good birthday my love?”

“The best.” He breathed out, dropping a kiss to your nose and lips.

“So what did my birthday boy wish for?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Really Sid, we’re going to carry the superstitions to birthdays now?” You teased, feeling his cock soften inside you. You started to pull away, but he held you tight to him.

“Well, I suppose I should let you in on.” You gave him a questioning look. “I wished for a baby.” You blinked rapidly at his words. The two of you had talked about it the last month or so, and decided to try but with no luck.

“Well, today’s always been your lucky number.” You realized then why he kept his cock buried in you.

“Let’s hope so.” As luck would have it, Sid’s wish came true as you found out five weeks later you were pregnant, the doctor basically saying that his birthday was the day you conceived.

[beskarberry]

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

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You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

 Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

 You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

 Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

 “We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

 He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

 You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.” 

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

 “Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center. 

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes. 

 The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos. 

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes. 

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?”  He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice. 

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.” 

That got his attention fast. 

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you. 

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose. 

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar. 

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table. 

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man. 

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself. 

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures. 

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile. 

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.” 

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths. 

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!” 

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would. 

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...” 

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp- 

“OUCH!” 

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super. 

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

 “Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!” 

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage. 

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk. 

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again. 

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed. 

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. 

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn. 

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.”  You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare. 

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?” 

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?”  His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***