#now i’ve got to make a list of things i need and find somewhere to set up a quarantine tank. hrmmm

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Still You Want Me

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pregnancy, a little angst if you squint, pre-established relationship.

Summary/Warnings: Dean's fought the worst evil in the world, but only one thing has really managed to scare him. His pregnant wife.

Author's Note: Request from an anon!! I got emotional with it, and I'm very sorry about that but I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

“We got three hours left.” Dean returned to the parked Impala, sorting through the bags in his hands. “But we can make it back in two if I-“

Sam shook his head, taking his bag of bird feed—trail mix, but the pointless kind without any M&Ms—from Dean with a frown. “Two’s a bit stretch, don’t you think? I mean even for you, Dean, and it’s not like we’re in a rush-“

“You’re not in a rush, Sammy.” Dean muttered, dumping the rest of the snacks in the backseat. “I got a pregnant wife who’s left me three voicemails about how she’s either gonna castrate me or give me head, and-“

“Gross, dude.” Sam walked around the car, making a scrunched bitch-face of disgusting. “All you needed to say was that’s she’s got mood swings-“

“Don’t call them mood swings.” Dean dropped behind Baby’s wheel, saying Her name with a sigh. “She hates that. And you can’t charm your way out of like I can.”

“I think I could.” Sam shrugged. “She likes me more.”

“She’s my freakin’ wife-“

“She loves you.” Sam grabbed his phone as they pulled out of the lot. “She likes me. I’ve never been threatened with castration-“

“Yet.” Dean muttered. “Cas thought he was safe until he got a shade of yellow that was too red for the nursery. I mean, yellow is yellow, Sammy, but she threatened to cut off his wings-“

Sam frowned. “I don’t think she could do that-“

“Trust me, man.” Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’d find a way.”

Sam just nodded, because they both knew Dean was right. He was pretty goddamn sure that, if She wanted—or if Dean pissed Her off enough—She’d figure out how to send him somewhere worse than the Empty, bring him back, then start sobbing and apologizing on Her knees all within a ten-minute span. Then She’d probably give him a blowjob, he’d saying the exact wrong dirty talk, and she’d bite off Little Dean. Shit, he’d only been gone four days for the hunt, but half that time had been spent on the phone, reassuring Her he was being safe, the hunt wasn’t a part of any world-ending scheme from a new big bad, and he’d be home soon. The time that Dean wasn’t on the phone, Sam was, promising he wouldn’t let anything happen, that Dean was sleeping well and looking at the baby names list She’d sent, and that he’d called Eileen so she wouldn’t worry either.

Annoyingly, Sam had been keeping his promises to Her. Dean read the baby names list because Sam wouldn’t let him leave the table until he did, Eileen had gotten two calls, and Dean was being safer than he’d ever been in his freaking life. At this point, he was pretty sure the pregnancy was just one long scam to make him take care of himself. He was drinking and hunting less after Her breakdown that she’d lose him, driving a little slower—just a little, he wasn’t a blind old lady—after the ice incident got him the silent treatment for three days, and he’d even tried some of Sam’s rabbit food. He’d spat it out, but he’d tried it. For Her, for the baby, and because he was terrified for his life.

Dean loved Her more than every pie in the freaking universe, but She was freaking terrifying right now. She might be the only thing he’d ever really been afraid of. Planes he could avoid. Ghosts and monster he could kill. Hell, even Lucifer had been better. At least the son of a bitch hadn’t begged to give Dean a hand job, then started sobbing because Dean tried to move it to sex and they didn’t feel pretty enough for sex. And if Lucifer had done that, Dean wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t give a shit about Lucifer. 

But he gave a shit about Her. Every time She cried it felt like someone was stabbing him, but he had less and less of a damn clue for how to help her the more pregnant She got. She’d said she felt ugly, he’d told Her she was beautiful, and that her tits looked better than ever, and She’d started accusing him of not loving her tits before. He’d missed one phone call and She’d sent Cas to teleport him home. He’d gotten the wrong candy bar and She’d had a breakdown about him not loving her enough to get the right one.

That last one was why the gas station had taken so long. Dean had triple checked every single snack he’d bought, and added a few extras just in case she changed Her mind. He’d even had Cas text him a second list after She’d told him all her requests over the phone, out of fear that he’d missed even a single one. Even now, on the road, he was running through everything one last time, because he’d gotten five different Gatorade colors, but maybe She’d want a sixth, or two of the same color, or only one color and he’d get yelled at because She didn’t even like orange-

“Hey!” Sam pulled Dean out of his thoughts with a shout. “Phone!”

“Wha-“

Sam said Her name, holding Dean’s phone in front of his face. “She’s calling you-“

“I got that.” Dean snatched the phone, shooting Sam a glare. “And that’s not safe, Sammy. Gonna get us fuckin’ killed-“

“Yeah, sure, Dean.” Sam just shrugged—even though Dean was right, that was dangerous—and nodded to the phone. “I’d pick up if I were you-“

“Shut up.” Dean muttered, ignoring Sam’s laugh as he answered the call. “Hey, baby, we’re-“

“Dean!” Her voice was a half-shriek through the phone, and Dean winced. “Holy shit, you’re alive, that’s good-“

“Course I’m alive, I promised I would be-“

“But it’s not up to you!” She was pacing. Her voice had grown frantic and high, so She was pacing. “Monsters don’t ask before they kill you, and they’d defiantly want to kill you, and Sam told me he’d take that bullet but I don’t want him to die either, and you’re both amazing hunters but if you die now, you can’t come back, and I’d miss you, I miss you now, why aren’t you home, you dick, I fucking hate you-“

Dean swallowed, saying Her name slowly as Sam snickered at his side. Asshole. “Take a breath-“

“Don’t tell me how to breathe, Winchester, I’ve been breathing my whole fucking life-“

“I know, sweetheart, I have too-“

“You’ve never had to breathe while pregnant-“

“And I’m not planning to, ever, but- just listen-“

“We should get you pregnant, it’s only fair-“

Sam started to cackle, Her voice loud enough he could obviously hear every word. It wasn’t really helpful. 

“That’s not gonna happen,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a death glare that just made him laugh more. “Sweetheart, we’ll be there soon. I promise.“

“Okay, but don’t go too fast, if you’re far, because you promised me you’d drive carefully, and you need to be safer. I don’t want to lose you.” She started to sniffle. Shit. “I can’t lose you, De, I need you, the baby needs you, and Sam and Cas are cool but they’re not you and I want you and the baby wants you. It wants you more, it hates when your gone, it just keeps kicking me and if you die I’ll be a terrible mother with a baby who hates me-“

Dean snapped Her name, pressing the Impala’s pedal to the floor. He needed to be home soon. “Listen to me. I’m not gonna do anything stupid like die, and you’re never gonna lose me. Plus, our baby won’t hate you. It’s half me. It can’t.”

There was a slightly static hum from the other side, and Dean sighed.

“I know you miss me, baby, and we can get you whatever you’re craving, but-“

“I do miss you, De.” Her voice was soft and pleading through the phone. 

But it wasn’t Her crying voice. That was her-

“I miss your cock, too. I miss touching you, and why is your bed so stupid and big-“

Dean chuckled, shaking off the whiplash. “Because I’m stupid and big-“

He could hear Her pout through the phone. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid, and our baby’s gonna be a genius-“

“Because they’ll get their brains from you, pretty girl.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean leaned slightly forward, checking a highway sign. “Hour and a half, okay? Then I’ll be home.”

“Fine.” She mumbled. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, baby. And I’m always safe.” Dean waited for Her sigh, letting her hang up first. He’d learned to do that the hard way. “Not a word, Sammy, or I’ll shoot you.”

Sam raised his hands, palms up. “I didn’t even open my- got it.”

Dean turned his scowl back to the road, and he could be safe and get home in an hour. Both could be possible, and She’d never have to know that he’d been going 15 over the speed limit. And if She started to catch on, Dean could distract Her with his hands and dick and mouth, because—as hot as she was when she was pissed—Sam said stress wasn’t good for the baby.

They made it forty-five minutes of mostly safe driving—Dean’s hands gripping the wheel and listening to the music at a deafening volume, Sam texting Eileen and pretending he wasn’t bothered by the deafening music—before another incident.

Cas appeared in the back seat, said Her name instead of hello, Dean—already a bad sign—and looked almost genuinely scared. Dean had never seen his face do that before—red and sheepish like a child being scolded by a dinosaur—and it was a little off-putting.

He was used to Cas doing this enough to not swerve off the road, but he was still pissed. “Fucking hell, Cas, a warning would be nice-“

Cas frowned, then leaned forward, turning down the music. “Did you not hear what I said.”

“No, the music was on, I know you said-“

Cas said Her name again with Dean. “It was her message. I would, ah, prefer not to repeat it.”

Sam blinked, turning in his seat. “Why, is she-“

“She is well.” Cas’ eyes stayed on Dean in the rearview mirror. “She is feeling some very… confusing emotions. Towards Dean.”

Sam frowned. “Confusing? How-“

“She told me to relay to Dean that she hates him, and she hates hunting, and if he’s not home in forty-five minutes she’ll leave him, but she can’t leave him because she loves him more than life and she cannot live without him. Specifically his smile, voice, hands, stupid flirting that did this in the first place, and,” Cas swallowed, his voice dropping slightly as his face grew red. “Big cock.”

Dean smirked slightly—she was a menace, but damn it if he didn’t love his girl—as Sam paled next to him.

“By this,” Cas mumbled. “I assume she was referring to the baby. Which is in good health. I checked this morning.”

“Good. Thanks, Cas, but,” Dean sighed. “This could’ve been a phone call-“

“I was instructed to deliver it in person. To make sure you were safe, and driving carefully.” Cas leaned forward with a frown. “The speed limit on this highway is meant to be-“

“I know what the speed limit is.” Dean grumbled, refusing to ease his foot off the gas. “I’m tryin’ to get home, Cas.”

“I believe she would prefer you get home slower, rather than sacrificing your safety.” Cas let out a long sigh. “Although, I will admit I’d prefer you return quickly. I am not equipped to handle a pregnant woman alone, despite reading all of the books on the subject I could find. And, uh,” Cas said Her name with a red face. “Is frightening in this state.” 

Dean sighed. “Thirty minutes, dude, can you hold down the fort-“

“He could take you now?” Sam cut in with a small frown. “Cas could zap you back to the bunker, and I could drive Baby home.”

“Sammy-“

Cas nodded. “I agree with Sam’s plan. If you could pull over, Dean-“

“I’m not gonna pull over!” Dean snapped. “I can get back just fine myself!”

“But I could-“

“You won’t always be there, Cas.” Dean grunted through his teeth. “I gotta be able to take care of my family by myself. Shit, I’m doing all the safety bullcrap for it, and I’m hunting less.” He said Her name, his grip on the wheel painful. “She’s gotta know I can take care of her, and the baby. I said I’d drive home, so-“

Sam cut Dean off a sigh. “Dude, she’s gonna care way more that you’re home with her.”

“Sam is correct.” Cas said, and Dean could feel his gaze through the mirror. “I attempted to make her breakfast this morning, and she started crying. When asked, she told me that you make it better.” Cas frowned. “It was cereal.”

“C’mon, man. Let Cas take you home.”

Dean glanced over to find Sam giving him puppy eyes—the bitch—and groaned. “Fine. But if I see one scratch on Baby-“

“You’ll kill me, yeah, I know.” Sam unbuckled as Dean pulled over, not sounding nearly threatened enough. “Let’s move.”

It took a minute for Dean to get all the snacks, but the moment the last bag was in his arms Cas grabbed him by the shoulder, the world because a spinning rush, and he was home.”

“Dean!” 

He was barely on steady legs when She slammed into him, sending him stumbling slightly back as his arms wrapped around her, careful not to push too far into the baby bump.

“Hey, Sweetheart. I heard you missed me-“

“Of course I missed you, you asshole!” She pushed off of him, shoving his chest slightly. “Do you have any idea how many pies are just rotting in the fridge for you! You said the hunt would be fast, Dean, but I was stuck alone for four fucking days-“

Dean frowned. “Wasn’t Cas-“

“Cas doesn’t count!” She screamed, and over her shoulder, Cas didn’t look that offended. He’d probably gotten this outburst—and the following, tearful apology—at least twice already. “Cas isn’t you! He didn’t knock me up and then leave me-“

Dean thought about pointing out that he had not left Her, but thought better of it and let her keep shouting. She usually calmed herself down. 

Usually.

“And Cas is an angel, and he’s been okay, and I feel so bad because I was such a bitch to him, but he deserved it! He wasn’t you! And I missed you and I hate you, Dean, I fucking hate you, why weren’t you home-“

Dean caught Her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to Her knuckles. “I’m home now, baby-“

“I know.” She whispered, crumbling in half a second into Dean, clinging to him like a koala. “And I missed you so much, De. I can’t do the laundry with this stupid bump, I can’t do anything, I’m useless and I’m a bitch and I think made Cas cry-“

“I’d pay to see you make Cas cry,” Dean muttered Her name, running a slow hand through her hair. “And you’re not useless. You’re growing a person, that freaking awesome and insane-“

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes glossy and wide on Dean’s. “But what if I mess it up? What if I fuck the baby up and you leave me-“

“I’m never gonna leave you.”

“But I’ve been mean-“

“You’re always mean, baby.” Dean grinned at her, letting his affection show in his voice. “And it’s always pretty freakin’ hot. And you aren’t gonna fuck up the baby, and I’m not gonna leave you, but,” he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “If you wanna make Sammy cry a little more, I think he’ll deserve it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I’m not making Sam cry-“

“He said you had mood swings.”

She gasped, hitting Dean’s chest.  “You’re a snitch-“

“Gotta spread the love somehow.” Dean shrugged, squeezing his hands on Her as he dropped his voice down. “But I can think of a few other ways, just you and me, to spread some better love.”

She flushed—already putty in Dean’s arms—and almost dragged him back to their room. 

And this made it worth it. All the screaming and flying objects and threats, all the living in cautious fear in his own damn home, was more than worth it for this. Not just the awesome sex—sex was always awesome, sex with Her was better than almost anything, and sex with pregnant Her was what Dean imagined crack was like—but the way that, in the end, She smiled at him no matter what. She smiled and giggled and moaned, proving to Dean in a million ways both between the sheets and after that she didn’t really hate him, and he got to rest his head on her stomach and feel a small kick near his brow. Her fingers combed through his hair peacefully, all her noises made of content, and everything was more than worth it.

Worth pushing through the worst of the screaming and moods—just like She’d pushed through all of his world-saving bullshit—to see Her peaceful face as she slept by his side. Worth letting Sam drive the Impala just once, so Dean could get home faster.

Worth the family he was finally getting to have, and being here with them. 

End Note: Sam Winchester once again being a true trooper in my stories.

Title from Next to Me by Imagine Dragons

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@Youdontknowwe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

[mscherub]

Emotional Support Shrimp

A/N: cutely drops in this fic I’ve had in my drafts for months…I’m still working on the Idia request. AND FOR THE OTHER PPL WHO REQUESTED STUFF I SEE U, I’m just unmotivated…Writers block is kicking my ass 😞

Tags: A little dark, supposed to be funny, fluff, Floyd being a menace…

Warnings:

Floyd leech causes harm (when doesn’t he?)

Violence

mentions of injuries (random student, referee)

suggestive towards the end

Swearing

Honestly, when is money not always a huge feat for you? The day you finally get your allowance from Crowley, it’s gone within a minute from being spent on only a portion of needed items. Last week you ended up running out of tuna for Grim, and for the love of the seven you don’t wanna go through that again. Everyone knew of your situation, wasn’t very hard to see, but you weren’t the type to latch on to others and use them like a pay pig, but many offered which is a little concerning, anyways, to each their own, you suppose. You had your own values to follow, but you did appreciate what they were willing to do.

Azul knew quite fondly of your situation, using you as a “backup” employee for when one of the servers or dishwasher at the lounge decided to call off, and you usually accepted because, hey, money! He didn’t exactly trust you in the kitchen, mainly based off of the liabilities he could face since you didn’t even have birth records or anything that he could “ok” for you to work within that vicinity, but everything else was a great option.

The laborious shifts were no stranger to you after having taken up a position there so many times, you could say you were used to it by this point, and an even bigger achievement, used to the ways of the tweels, specifically Floyd. Yes they were unpredictable, yes they were scary when they wanted to be, yes they gave off mafia vibes, but they somehow “accepted” you, accepted, of course, being a very vague term to describe it. Maybe tolerate is a bit better. They didn’t seem to wish to cause harm or other masses of stress like they would just for funsies with other guys around campus, but if push comes to shove, you bet they’d have no doubt and chuck you under the bus in mere seconds, hence why you try and stay on their good side.

Technically they all owe you one in a way, especially Azul with his little overblot, but that’s something in the past for you at least.

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

Incident One: Ice Bath

“Prefect, go reason with him!” Azul barks out the command. You sigh and turn around from his office and go to find Floyd. A cycle that repeats itself. Free Therapist for Floyd is a good title…no, wait no. Doesn’t make sense. Plaything would be more appropriate. The thought makes you shudder and shake your head.

The click of the dress shoes on the ground, the clamor of people in the lounge, drowns out as your thoughts officially take over.

This time Floyd messed around more than he should have with people on Azul’s black list, and he may or may not have gotten carried away. So now you’re back on the hunt to find him after getting an earful from the boss himself, and hearing him and the troublemaker bicker in his office. Fun times here at Mostro Lounge. Why’d you choose to work here. Should have asked Mr. Sam if he needed any help…

The door to the pool is stuck wide open and once you peer your head inside you see Floyd swimming in circles angrily, the water rippling swiftly around his body.

“Floyd.” You call out. It’s almost akin to a gentle coo. Where did that gentleness come from? Whatever…

“Wanna swim, Shrimpy? I’ll promise not to drown you.” He stops and smirks. Ok. Stay away from the water. “Or if you came here to chat…we can see if I’ve got the patience for that right now.” He sighs.

“Azul—“

“I don’t wanna hear it. Quit your yapping and go swim around somewhere else.” His eyes narrow and his fins tense.

“Look. If you just got back to work then—“ you’re cut off again.

“Work is the last thing I wanna do right now.” He glares at you, but then eerily a smirk forms once he beckons you over. “You can cheer me up if you swim with me.”

“I have to get back to working too— and ok, never mind…”

He hoists himself up onto the tiled floor, half of his tail still swaying in the water. And then he pouts at you. It shouldn’t do anything to sway your determination to get him on track again, but it crumbles down those walls and you find yourself walking towards him.

“Yay! You do like me a little at least then, Shrimpy.” He giggles, and before you know it he grabs your wrist and slips back into the water, pulling you in with him.

It’s cold. OH IT’S SUPER COLD!

Thrashing your arms in the water you bob back up to the surface, your uniform hat drifting away to the other side of this might-as-well-be ice bath. This was a lot colder than you remember when you went down to the sea the one time…

“Hah! Cold? Humans are just so weak…” Floyd’s voice rumbles from behind you and his slick, slimy arms wrap around your soaked clothes that act as a second skin, yet barely do anything to keep the bite of the cold away.

“But you’re my Shrimpy so I’ll keep ya safe.”

His warmth is shared with yours now, but it’s not enough, unfortunately.

“Floyd…lemme outta here. It so fucking cold holy shit.”

He giggles at your misfortune and spins around a few times with you in his arms slowly.

His chin rests on your shoulder and a silence falls over you two. It’s not uncomfortable. But it’s short lived.

“Hold your breath!”

“Floyd, wait— No!!”

Bubbles spew out of your nose and you force your eyes open only to see mismatched ones gleaming with amusement.

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

“I can’t believe you two…the time spent, rather wasted, will be taken out of both of your checks. This is just unbelievable…” Azul groans. His hand runs down his face before he sets his elbows down on the desk and rubs his temples.

“Out of my office.”

The silence is loud as you two walk out, a towel wrapped around you and a sloppily dressed Floyd who was just earlier grumbling about having to drink that transformation potion.

“Do something like that again and…ugh…”

“Eh? I thought it was fun, Shrimpy! We’ll swim again soon for sure.”

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

Incident Two: Plucked Petals

“Drag him back to work…” Again?

You heed Azul’s orders and you turn out of his office yet again, pushing open the door and heading on your way to search for the one and only…

He left midway through his shift. It had only been like 3 hours…and he already got “bored.” You’re just fed up with his excuses, and then you end up getting yelled at as well if you take too long. You need to get back on the clock, too, “be lucky I’m even paying you to go get him,” Azul says, “be lucky I even pay you in the first place,” Azul says. Ok…anyways.

Traces of Floyd are no where to be seen. He couldn’t have gone far in the span of, what? Five minutes? He had long legs, sure, but he—

“OFF WITH YOU’RE HEAD!”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You knew who that was. Great. Now you had to calm down two people! Lovely…

You jog around the corner of the mirror chamber to the path way only to see Floyd with rose petals scattered about around him and a very angry riddle with his arms crossed in an exponential amount of annoyance and anger, as well as an unamused look.

“Oh-“

Riddles head whips in your direction and you prepare yourself for the onslaught of complaints…

“He broke a rule!” Riddle says, “He ruined my flowers,” Riddle says, “He came onto Heartslabyul grounds without invite and unannounced,” Riddle says. You had enough.

“Yea. He uh…mhmmm. I’ll take him back, just…uncollar him…” your finger points over to Floyd. He’s actively tugging at it and trying to crane his neck downwards so he can gnaw it off…is he ok?

“This is not the first time this has happened. I’ve let him get away with his actions one too many times. I shall send this matter to Headmaster Crowley now if you’d excuse me, Prefect. I have more pressing matters to tend to than dwaddle on a sorry soul who doesn’t know basic decency…”

“Riddle…I get where you’re coming from but Azul will soon have my head if I don’t bring him back and myself…so uh.” You sway on your feet.

He thinks for a moment. You weren’t untrustworthy, so maybe he could let this slide— just kidding, he’s Riddle. With a stern look and a dismissive tone, he makes up his mind and drags Floyd away to the main building.

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

“And now Floyd has earned a suspension?” Jade hums as he wipes off a table.

“From entering any other dorm besides his own, prohibited to participate in any club activities or work at the lounge, and now Azul’s making me work his shift and mine for at least a week…until his suspension is up.”

“My, my…I’d say it was deserved. As much as Floyd is held dear to me, he causes the outcomes with his actions. He finds them to be quite amusing, however, greatly so once you get involved.”

“Yea— wait…when I get involved? Is he doing this stuff on purpose?” Your hands perch themselves on your hips.

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Ugh…”

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

Incident Three: Balling

“What the fuck…” That’s all that leaves your lips once you step into the gym. People are chatting loudly and quickly and the only message that you got from Ace was:

Help. Floyd did sum shit. Tell him to get a hold and hopefully plan his words right so he doesn’t get a law suit

Safe to say you are fairly concerned. You push through the crowd of kids and find the familiar redhead accompanied by Jamil. Ace doesn’t let you speak one word once his eyes land on you.

“Ok, before you get all mad here, Prefect, you were the first one I decided to call cause uh…you know. You’re closer to the twins than anyone else really…” Ace attempts to reason with you but you’re entirely focused on something else. Someone else.

“Why is that guy passed out?”

The referee is surrounded by a few Sports med mages, all assessing the passes out form in the middle of the court. There’s a small pool of blood under his nose, which his nose is now plugged up with bits of gauze.

“Ok, yea. So…Floyd was given a penalty and he kinda hurled the ball at the ref…now he’s…” he motions vaguely to the motionless form. “Kinda knocked out. Probably has a broken nose. The look on the ref’s face was kinda priceless, though—“

Jamil smacks Ace and sighs.

“What?!”

“Floyd stormed off…” Jamil nods. That much is expected.

“Ok then…I shall…go find him.”

The suns setting. There’s a nice orange hue casted across the land. The setting would be really amazing to gawk at if it wasn’t for the task at hand. To find the culprit and ease him down from his hot headedness…you’re fine.

“Floyd—“

A hand grips your shoulder and turns you around. Face pressed against sweaty skin in under a second and you know who it is.

“Gross! Floyd!” His arms squeeze and, yep, don’t even try and breathe.

“That damn ref, you know? So sensitive! All I did was just trip someone…a couple times. RSA was kicking our asses again…just a tiny bit of foul play never hurt anyone…at least not too bad. Sports back in the sea were more fun!” His hold is steadfast.

“I once broke some poor guppies arm in a sport back home. Scuttle Ship. Fun game. And then I ripped his fins.”

“O-oh…ok…uh. On accident?” You struggle to keep your face from being muffled against his skin.

“Nah. Whole point of the game…whoever comes out less hurt is the winner.”

Oh…oh.

“Fun game…why are you here, anyways? Did ya come to watch the game? Hope you were gonna cheer for me.” His embrace, eases up.

“Uh, yea…and also I was worried…to see that you kinda left after what went down in the gymnasium…”

“Eh. He was a dumb ref like I said…”

You pause and clear your throat. “Your team needs you again…even id you’ll probably be benched.”

“Well then there’s no point in me going back. Plus. You’re better to hang around. I didn’t wanna play that game today, anyways…whaddya say we go scare some students walking around this late, huh?”

“Floyd…”

“Cmon.”

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

Last shift of the week! Yay! You just gotta tough it out. Easier said than done. You’ll get your paycheck and then off to Heartslabyul to get Grim and then probably get force-fed some pastries by Trey which you’ll happily accept, and then back to Ramshackle.

“Jade, where’s Floyd? I need these orders for table 12, like now…” you huff as you shift the tray out from under your arm and place it down on the counter, looking back in the kitchen through the doubles doors that swing at their hinges. Articulating back and forth in a fluid motion.

“He got called into Azul’s office.” He hums as he idly writes down things on his notepad

“Again?” That’s just great news for you. “If I have to call him down again I might just quit for real this time.”

Jade doesn’t even turn his head at your words. There ones you’ve said before yet you’re still here.

“Always, he’s been slacking off, as usual.” He smiles. “I can go ask the cooks where the meals are if you’d like.”

“I’d…appreciate it. I need the tips from customers tonight so I need all the tables I can get. Thanks a bunch.” You sigh, leaning against the counter and pulling out your phone. You read a few of the messages sent to various group chats you were in, the first year group chat oddly talking about how Professor Crewel is, quote, “a kinky mf.” Yea, you’re just gonna put your phone away again…were they wrong though?

Jade comes back out carrying another circular tray, you straighten up and you take it off of him. “Thank you, Jade. You’re a financial savior for me.” You chuckle as you move your hand around on the bottom till it rests balanced on your palm.

“It was nothing, really.” He gives a small bow and goes back to his duties.

You head off again back into the seating areas, weaving through the crowds of people who were, for some reason, standing instead of sitting and ending up in your way. You make it over to your section and then over to the table, bending your knees a bit as you place the tray down on a smaller foldable table off to the side. A random plate is selected and you put on your happy face and act for the people sitting around in the booth.

“Here you are, the seafood bake, uh, then you, you got the lobster dish here…then you ordered the salmon, and then you ordered the snow crab! That’s it I believe? Does anybody need anything before I head off?” You clasp your hands together and look frantically around the table as you wait and watch for any of them to speak. You’re met with small shakes of their heads and soft sighs of no’s, taking the hint and giving one last bright smile before you nod and walk off.

Off in the distance, a muffled slam of a door is heard and you see Floyd walking out of Azul’s office, a grimace etched onto his face as he heads back into the kitchen and passes by Jade, who, just glares at him before he goes to finish his own tasks.

You knew what would happen next, Azul would find you, then make you “calm him down.” It was never something you liked mainly because it was putting your life at risk, which was ironic because Azul explicitly stated he didn’t want you partaking in any harmful activities, but whatever. It’s sadly another small side job that’s forced upon you just so Floyd can get back to work himself. All for money…

The other waiters grab dishes and scurry off, moving far away. The chatter and yelling within the kitchen dies down significantly, going quiet as pots and pans slam against the stove top, the only culprit of that being Floyd. You take one breath in before you go inside and pick out the teal-ish colored hair from the other bundles of students and walk over to him as calmly as you could. It’s better to do the things you know that you’ll be asked to do before they happen, so…you got this. And you’re only doing it because you know you’ll be asked to and totally not because you like Floyd maybe a little. That’s not it. Definitely not it. He’s scary why would you like him? Exactly. Anyways! No sweat! It’s just Floyd…that’s it! Just Floyd and no worries…everything will go swell and you’ll all be happy again! Maybe he’ll break a few ribs when he squeezes you but that’s nothing…you’ll just be magicked up later by the nurse mage and you’ll be just fine. Just fine. You’re sweating. Shit—

“Hey, Floyd. What happened.” You sigh with a slight pout on your face. He doesn’t even look at you, his face contorting even more into a look that said “leave me the fuck alone.” It was worth a shot…he usually found that to be a dumb look on you but I guess not today. Oh no. He’s royally pissed right now. Hopefully Azul didn’t sneak a waiver somewhere in that working contract you signed…

You straighten up and glance at the other chefs in the kitchen, all of them giving you questioning gazes. One in the back clasps his hands together and bows his head and— wait, is this guy really praying right now? Geez…

“Floyd…” you try again.

He works away harder at the random meal he’s cooking. The contents already looked charred…

“Don’t wanna talk, Shrimpy,” He huffs, “Go.” He says gruffly.

“I’m not gonna go—“

“I’m busy! Since Azul wants me working my fins off then you know what, I’ll do just that!” He spits out. It sounds threatening, filled with warnings, but before you could try one last time to get him to ease up, one of the students bumps into him, sending the dishes they were carrying flying into the air. The guy stumbles back, food splattering on the floor and plates shattering, Floyd acting like a brick wall and staying still as he slowly turns to look down at him. No words are exchanged. None at all. He simply dumps the hot oil and food that he had into the pan onto him.

Screaming, yelling, a lot goes on within the span of a few seconds. Azul comes in, Jade follows behind, other waiters peer into the kitchen to see what’s going on.

You take the initiative and you grab Floyd’s arm while he’s distracted and take the pan from out of his grasp and set it back down on the stove. You turn the burner off and you look back at him, then to the, now injured, guy upon the floor.

“Floyd. This is coming out of your check, and you’re banned from the kitchen.” Azul comes over quickly with an aura of anger. Floyd rolls his eyes and pushes past him to walk out.

“Prefect, go after him, will you? I don’t need him hurting another person who doesn’t deserve it.” Azul waves his hand at the situation. It was common so no one really took much time to dwell on it since Floyd partook in these types of activities just to pass the time. A common occurrence if you will.

Azul gives you one last stern glance to tell you again silently to go do what he had asked of you. You reluctantly nod and you go out to search for him. It’s absurd, really, having to do all of this. It’d be better if they left him alone to blow off some steam, but no, you have to go calm him down, you have to be the one to watch him like a helicopter parent.

You go to the tweels shared room and knock on the door. It was a just a guess he’d be in his room, but you silently hoped he wasn’t so you’d have some time to avoid either a life or death situation. You liked your life at least a little now…

Silence. You’re met with silence. Ok, try again, just once more to make sure he’s not in there. You knock again, a little louder this time and announcing yourself to being there. And silence again. Maybe fate is helping you out today…

“Floyd? Are you in there?.” You’re about to knock one last time when the door is quickly ripped open, an angry Floyd peering down at you. Brows furrowed, eyes squinted and dark, glazed over with frustration and anger, a scowl etched into his lips. Yep…and here you were, standing in front of him, practically helpless and without anywhere to run because you know he’d find that a fun game and catch up to you in a second.

You straighten up under his gaze and clear the lump in your throat that you didn’t even know formed.

“Hey…”

Floyd doesn’t make any noises, instead opting for what he likes to do when he’s this mad, and wraps his arms around you and squeezes tight. He brings you into the room and closes the door with his foot, going over to his bed and taking you down with him as he nuzzles his cheek against yours.

You try and squirm out of his arms but he’s insanely strong and the efforts you make are useless. You’re already waiting for your back to make a popping noise…

“Floyd— heyyyy…let me go.” You murmur out as you struggle to breathe with all this extra weight on top of you.

“Shhh, Shrimpy. Quiet.” He mutters. He moves his face to the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against the side, which in turn causes you to tense up. What the fuck is he doing. You try to shrink away, but that was a mistake because he squeezes you against him even more.

He brushes his lips over your pulse point and smirks, but it quickly fades away as he opts to keep his face pressed up against your neck, not doing anything. He likes to feel your heart racing…

“Always trying to make me feel better, Shrimpy…” he sighs. “And you do…meh, sometimes…you don’t have to listen to Azul…but ya do. Starting to wonder if you just like being around me…” he nuzzles into you again, teeth grazing your skin.

“For one, I kinda have to listen to Azul…” you whisper. “I can’t be like you with him. Plus…I don’t mind you all that much since—“ he squeezes again. For sevens sake. “Ease up! I don’t mind you, yea…you’re fine to be around. That’s it.”

“Liar…” he chuckles. “You’re so silly…” he pulls his face up and looks at you, his mismatched eyes calculating, inspecting that gaze in your eyes towards him.

“You’re stupid, too…for liking someone like me. But it’s so cute, Shrimpy.” His lips quirk up into a smirk and he bears his razor sharp teeth to you. “I could easily hurt you, Shrimpy….”

“That sounds vaguely like a threat but…you don’t really hurt me— not ever actually. Scare me? Yes…but not hurt.” you murmur. His smile softens a bit and he nods, moving his forehead to rest against yours. If you weren’t already flushed, you were now.

“No…but I could, that’s the point.” He giggles before moving away again. He was teasing. “Do you know why I don’t?” He hums as he sits up, letting his arms unravel from around you. He looks out the window connected to the sea. You sit up as well, taking in a well deserved breath of air.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as the fish pass by without a care. Your uniform is all wrinkled now, great—

“Cause I’d be kinda pissed off without you around, y’know. And not just how I usually am…I’d be mad all the time.”

You stop. He stops and looks at you. You make very awkward eye contact with him, but both of your gazes soften. That’s sweet of him in his own way. Quite frankly you didn’t think he was capable of that since it’s not usually like him. Why is your heart beating a bit quicker now? This time it’s not so much out of stress or the fear of being eaten alive, Floyd looks fairly sated so…what’s this feeling for…

“What do you think of me, hmmm?”

You don’t know how to respond to that. Does he actually care what people think? No, not really. You see that all the time with how he even talks to teachers. But if you had to say, the few people he listens to, slightly, are Jade, Azul, and…you. That doesn’t mean anything! This is an odd question coming from him. “I think you’re…ok. Being around you is fun sometimes…uh…I don’t really know.” That’s great. You probably ticked him off more…

“Just ‘ok’? Ouch, Shrimpy…” he pouts as he looks at you. He inches his face closer to yours again, personal space being far out of the question at the moment. He looks down to your lips before smirking again and then locking on to your eyes.

“You just saying that cause you’re hiding something?”

That’s not…you weren’t, no. Definitely not. You didn’t really want to say how well he made you smile or laugh on days where you were down, or that he cared that much to make you happy again. Or whenever he’d always seem to find you to be his go to person to bug now for, well, everything he did.…you didn’t wanna say you liked getting him out of trouble, didn’t want to tell him you do enjoy being around him, he’d get all smug about it…and that’s it! Totally nothing else behind it. Nope.

“Be honest, Shrimpy. You like me? Cause I like you…for some reason.” He sighs. He moves closer again.

Kinda straight forward, no?

“What…huh?! WAIT WHAT?” you manage to stammer out. Floyd nods along to your words with an unimpressed look.

“I like you.”

“I heard you the first time!”

“Do you like me?”

“Ok…well…no! Wait…maybe? Yes? How do I even answer that right away?!” You’re freaking out and he’s enjoying it.

His smirk widens again and he laughs at you…this guy.

“See? Silly Shrimpy…” his arms lace back around you and his face is right in front of yours again.

Without taking anything else into consideration, Floyd pushes his lips against yours.

You don’t move, you don’t try and push him away, and out of all the times Floyd has ever given you a chance to stop him in any of his acts, you could tell this moment was one of them. His eyes are still locked onto yours, lidded and a smirk forming, gaging your reaction. His arms barely touch your body, giving you a chance to get the fuck out if you’d want to. But you don’t move away. You push your lips against his more and you flutter your eyes closed. Floyd takes the hint and he holds you again, though this time, it’s gentle.

After a moment you both pull away, a goofy grin across his face. “Hmmmm…” he giggles, “I feel a lot better now, Shrimpy. See? I’m bored now…cmon, let’s go somewhere and ditch that stupid work Azul’s got us doing…”

So! Wasn’t the best, yes, I know, but it’s something…

Also I feel like some parts from my courting fic for Floyd wiggled its way in here—

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[yaut-jaknowit]

Thinking about 'Galactic order brides' lol

Starts off as messages, pictures then meeting and marriage? Me full of giggles thinking about some bad ass yautja male who's highly respected but wants a soft little human to warm his bed and have his pups. (A dream 🩷)

Strangers

Pairings: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8674

Summary: With T’a’yta, reader was recommended by a friend to contact him. It started off small. Messages. Then it turned to pictures and facetime, then finally meeting. When you meet him, he’s thick and hulking beast. For such a big creature, he was soft.

Author Note: Okay, I may have a bit more indulgent on my end. I hope that’s okay! I really loved this idea even though I’ve never read those books before.

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

Ao3

In an office job, nothing much happens. You are used to the ins and outs that happen every single day. It’s always the same old, same old thing. You crave for something different, a different scene in your life. Then, the opportunity came.

Ze’se heard about your cry for help, this need for something or… someone in your life. Anything for a change.

“Oh, tots, he’s a doll. Super sweet. A lovable hunk, I promise you that, love,” Ze’se raves about and sends the contact information to you. She has her wrist flopped over in front of you with a knowing look on her alien features. The Yautja was a dark yellow, like spicy mustard. “He’ll see you and wanna take you home in an instant. A lot of the folks that I know wanna. But I know he will take care of you.”

A bright smile eased your features. “Thanks, Ze. I owe you one.” You greatly appreciated her help. Without her, a lot of things in your life wouldn’t be where they are right now.

The towering female Yautja barked a laugh then pulled you flush into her torso with a single hand. “Nah, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a thing. You deserve happiness and a hunk like himself will give you plenty. You know the whole shebang with how males woo us females. I have to fight them off of you when you come visit me.” Heat rushed to your cheeks. She lets you go. Your head is craned further back to find her dark green eyes.

You couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes and a huff. It seemed that way when you would visit her on her mothership. A lot of the males did look at you, nearly oogling you from a safe distance away. Ze’se didn’t let you walk the ship alone. There is controversy about oomans still within some clans. Unfortunately, hers included. That didn’t stop you from making great friends with her.

Some of those males look at you some sort of meat. You were thankful Ze’se always meets you at the docking entrance. If you want to go somewhere, she’s attached to your hip.

“Is he part of your clan?” you asked, needing to know if he was like many of her clanmates. Meaning, to be mindful of how to act around him. You trusted her and knew she wouldn’t put you in harms way. That didn’t stop you from being cautious and mindful at the same time. It wouldn’t hurt. Yautjas and oomans will forever have their differences.

She shook her massive, dome head. “Nope. I know him from a hunt a few years back. Kept in contact with him since then. If I was looking for a permanent mate, he would be first on my list. A recently turned elder. Plenty of scars.” She wiggled her brows at you. “Big muscles. Sweet talker. Great in bed.” At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Your eyes jumped open. “That male knows how to please, let me tell you that.”

A groan left your throat as you pushed away from her. The dark mustard yellow Yautja laughed and snorted. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. Mostly. But like I was saying. Great male. He’s got lots of good offspring. High on the pole. His name is well out there, even on Yautja Prime. If you want to be cared for and pampered, I can see him taking that roll. I should know.” You dragged a hand down your heated face. God, this woman was going to be the death of you.

This is what you loved about your relationship with Ze’se, the easy going with her. “Okay, okay! I understand. He knows how to fuck. I get it!” Another groan. She giggled again and pushed against your shoulder.

“You’ll know soon enough. He’ll… oh, what’s that saying? Wine and dine you to the fullest before he’ll-“ You reached up and clamped your hands over her moving mandibles. Anything to get her to stop talking about sex! Right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Ze! I sweat to everything unholy. Please, I get it. He’s good. I got it. I think everyone on this street knows how good he is!” you scold her and while pleading with her to stop talking about that. Some heads turned your way but they all kept going their own path. Thankfully.

Both of her upper mandible quirked up. “Eheh, good. I’m glad. You have the info. I’ll get out of your hair and let you have some special time with him.” She rubbed her temple against yours. You smiled at the gesture and watched her spin on her heel. Ze’se struts away from you, hips swaying with each step. It gathered a lot of attention from the surrounding people. A move you knew was purposeful.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around as well. The day was getting late. After a long day of work, all you wanted was to go home and rest. The resting would have to wait. You would shoot this new Yautja a text before falling asleep. In the morning, you get to see what his response is. You really hoped Ze’se was right about this guy. There has been something missing from your life. Maybe it was someone special, that’s all you need.

Once the front door was closed and locked, shoes came off. Your keys were hung up on the rack. The warm atmosphere of your apartment greeted you like any other day. You strolled in and head towards your bedroom for a change of clothes.

Your work clothes had been replaced with a comfortable pair of shorts and a oversized shirt. Then, you collapsed onto the bed, arms spread wide. Today had been eventful. Not only from Ze’se, but from the amount of work they put onto you. Ze’se, bless her heart, has tried countless times to get you to come onto the mothership with her. Become a hunter like herself. But, you liked your room, your job, the comfort of humanness. There’s none of that on their ships or even their home planet.

It's always kill or be killed. You weren’t about that life.

But… with the way that Ze’se explicitly talked about T’a’yta, he was different. To pamper you? God, you could only wish for that. For a man to kneel before you was a wish come true. You really hoped he was somewhat like that. Not like the other ravenous males you’ve seen up close and personal. Far too many time to count.

You took out your phone and stared at the few notifications on the screen. Nothing of importance. Ze’se had sent his contact number. You saved it as a contact then went to the section to message.

And that’s where you faltered. You didn’t know how to start the message. Oh my god, you didn’t know how to text a random guy! Were you this hopeless?! You thumped your head against the bed with a groan. It had to be simple. Introduce yourself, ask about the weather, tell him stuff.

Yeah… you were hopeless.

An entire hour passes by. Text box was empty. You’ve tried to type out quirky greetings, polite ones, even just a simple introduction and who gave you his number. Each time, you’s quickly gone back. The main reason you think you’re struggling was you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his personality. If he likes funny jokes or something serious. All you got was his name and how well he was in bed.

A sigh of defeat left you. How could you advocate for yourself? How can you even put yourself out there for him? Male Yautjas like a confident female? All the females know their worth is high. They strut their stuff. And here you were, mauling over how to send a greeting to him.

In frustration, you thumped the edge of your phone against your forehead. You took in a few deep breaths before typing out a simple introduction and that Ze’se gave you his number. Then, you told him you were interested in getting to know him. You sent it. No regrets. You swallowed hard. Okay, maybe a little regret.

Before you could get overwhelmed, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up. You jolted out of your thoughts to look at the screen. T’a’yta had messaged back. Holy shit, that was quick.

“It’s good to finally hear from you. Ze’se has not stopped talking about you. I, too, would be interested to getting to know you,” T’a’yta messaged. You flipped onto your stomach and squealed, legs kicking the bed. This was finally your chance. With the phone, you could have tons of confidence compared to in personal.

From there, the two of you texted far into the night. Despite the knowledge of having work in the morning, you continued to text. This was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. A hunk of a Yautja to bend over backwards for your needs. Okay, that sounds bad. All you want is to be cared for. Is that a bad thing?

Right off the bat, the two of you were chatting. You started off by talking about your hobbies. What you liked to do in your free time. You hoped it interested him. The hobbies maybe boring but they made up you. What made it all the better was him digging further into those said hobbies. He wanted to know more about. He wanted to find out what made you tick from the inside out. You were giddy like a school kid with their crush. But after so long without a lick of luck in this vast universe, you could say you were desperate. Could you be blamed though?

When it came to his turn about hobbies, he didn’t jump straight in the stereotypical hunting for Yautjas. You felt a little bad about thinking he would only talk about that.

One of his favorites was watching nature. That seem similar to hunting. But, he appreciates nature at his core. He maybe a hunter but he is more than a trophy hunter. Another thing he enjoys doing is visiting museums, mainly human museums. He wants to know more about humans – or oomans. T’a’yta likes history. He likes learning. Even in his older age, he acts like a sponge. There is no one who knows everything. There is always something to be learned. Even to the ancients in his cultural.

You glanced at the time and gasped. There was only four hours before you had to report back to work. That meant less than three hours for sleep. Worst of all, you didn’t to stop. The talking, er messaging, had gone so well. You felt bad when you texted him you had to go to bed. Or else you might lose your job in the morning.

That’s when you got to see a glimpse of what Ze’se was referring to this entire time.

“If you lose your job, you can always come and stay with me.” My god. The butterflies in your stomach went wild. Ze’se maybe crazy but, you glad she wasn’t lying about his innuendos.

Of course, you had to fire back with something of the same line. “Is that an offer?” If he was already willing to take care of you right from the get-go, you were falling in love. He’s such a sweet talker.

 “I would love to take care of such an adorable thing such as yourself.” He was so cheeky! Your cheeks were heated with the fire that raced through your veins. Your thumbs shook, unable to type out a message quick enough. “Have I flustered the sweet, little human?” A shaky breath passed your dry, cracked lips. You were in it now.

It’s like he could see through the screen and read your expressions. You lowered your head and pressed it against the screen for a moment.

When your phone buzzed again, you lifted up your head, eyes snapping open at the message. “Paya, I wish I could see the look on your face. Since you can’t answer me. You clearly are a fluster mess. I would love to know what my words could do to you in person.” You may have never heard his voice before but you knew that last part was meant as a growl.

Still, you didn’t know the proper response was. The time above the messages screaming at you to go to bed. You ran a hand through your hair before finally finding words. “Maybe one day we can. I’d be more than happy to see the effect too. Good night!” The phone was tossed off to the side. You screamed into the mattress and kicked the bed.

That was a cringy way to end the conversation, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. The texting should’ve kept you safe, a nice façade since he can’t see you. Clearly, that had failed. He still got to you.

Now, you were more desperate to talk to him. There wasn’t time left in the night though. With one more glance at your phone, you got settled down in bed to get whatever sleep you could make up.

For a few weeks after that, every moment you had free, the two of you texted each other. Fleeting seconds while at work to pull out your phone and shoot a message back to him. Anything to keep him on the hook. You were really liking him so far. All green flags.

On one night, you became a little risky. For the occasion, you decided to dress up. You put on all the gimmicks to look as presentable as possible. The best clothing was pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on. A little dolling up had you picture perfect.

In front of a mirror, you put on a small pose with a smile to brighten your features. The picture was snapped. You were swift to send it to him before you could decide to back out. From there, you sat down on the couch, still dressed up, and played on your phone.

It was less than a minute when you got a response back. “By Paya’s name, you looked wonderful, little one.” You squealed and loudly cheered to yourself for getting another win. Both of your fists pumped into the air. It was working. You were actually getting a guy to be interested with you. And, he was staying interested in you.

“I think it’s your turn.” And boy, aren’t you glad you asked for a picture of him in return.

You must have caught him in the middle of hunt. The fact he was letting himself be distracted by you while hunting was another thing you’ll think about later. He took it from an angle looking down at himself. Condensation built up on his dusty brown scales. He looked to be panting, mandibles flared wider to allow the extra air into his lungs. Like any other Yautja, he was built strong. But, like Ze’se had mentioned, he was bulky, a hunk of muscles. He could easily lift you up.

Your bottom lip was caught between your dull teeth. The taste of blood flared on your tastebuds but you didn’t care. Your eyes roamed over the picture far too many times to be respectful. This made you no better than a dog on the street. But, you couldn’t help it. There was something about him both physically and mentally that you were heavily attracted to. This only solidified it more.

Plenty of scars lined his scales. Stories of past hunts that always lead to his triumph of not meeting their god of death. You bite your lip harder.

“Seems like I caught you in the middle of something.” You couldn’t believe the courage to make an innuendo to this man!

Conversations and pictures like this continued on as well. Three weeks passed of friendly talk and some talk of hidden messages. Neither of you coming out to say it straight to the other’s face. A little dance the two of you enjoyed happily.

It was him who offered it. He wanted to finally meet you in person. For someone who was rarely around other Yautjas besides Ze’se, you were nervous. There wasn’t a way to hide behind your phone this time. You couldn’t dance around this. It was bound to happen. You knew it.

So, you swallowed down your nerves and said yes. The meeting place became a little shop a few blocks away from your apartment. Close to comfort. Anything to give you the confidence you needed to face him. It wasn’t a game to you. Far from it. But, you could play a good façade over the phone. When it came to meeting someone personally, it was… that’s where your courage goes right out the window.

When the day came, your nerves were jittering your entire body. It was hard to stand still in front of the mirror to see if your outfit looked perfect. It had to be perfect. You needed to be perfect. This is where everything could go wrong. You card a hand through your hair then glanced down at your phone.

About five minutes were left before you had to go out that door and meet him face to face. There was no backing out of this now. You made a deal, a promise to go there. With a deep breath to fill your lungs, you marched out the front door early. It was best to be early than late. Who knows if there’s traffic. Plus, you can pick out the seat you want in the small restaurant. That way, you can look professional.

The streets of the city you lived in weren’t the best. Every corner you took wide and carefully watched your back. Once you made it to the safety of the restaurant, you find the place empty of patrons. There are a few employees meandering around though. Your brows furrowed at the sight. This place was busy everything time you tried to come here. T’a’yta said he would make the reservation for the two of you. But this was strange.

Someone noticed your entrance and came up to you with a smile. He said your name in a questioning tone. You dipped your head, unsure of the whole situation. “Follow me,” said the host. He didn’t take a menu with him and began to walk away. You were timid to shadow him before scampering after him like a scared puppy.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy by any means but it was still nice. On the inside, every chair and seat all besides one had been shoved to the side. The lights had been lowered to a romantic setting. Flowers and balloons were decorated the space. You stopped in your tracks and took in the area. It was more than anything that anyone has done for you. Did… oh my god. T’a’yta did this for you! Your jaw dropped. You looked like an fearful, cornered animal. What kind of Yautja was he?

Ze’se said his name was up there on the totem pole but… you weren’t expecting this! He had to have bought out the entire space. That had to cost at least a thousand dollars. Did he seriously have that kind of money to fork over? All for you too.

The call of your name snapped you from your scrambled thoughts. You shook your head and looked over at the source.

In the middle of the room was a lone table and two chairs. One chair was already occupied by the familiar sight of T’a’yta. Despite being feet away from you, he was still a massive form that easily consumed the chair. A smirk graced his handsome features. He gracefully stood from his seat and walked around it.

By god’s grace. When he got close to you, he towered over you as the average height of a Yautja. You reached his midriff and had to tilt your head back to find those bright eyes. They glowed lightly in the dark, nearly a beacon to find the alien.

Your heart thundered loudly in your chest. It was on the verge of leaping out and landing straight into his hands. The sound was so loud to yourself, he had to hear it himself. You swallowed hard and pulled on a brave smile. T’a’yta offered a single hand to you, palm facing up. You gingerly placed your own into his and watched the way it was consumed. He’s massive.

T’a’yta eyes you for a second longer before gently leading you towards the table. With no other option, you let him guide you. The dusty brown Yautja pulls out the chair for you. You glance at him for barely a heartbeat before taking a seat. He easily pushes you in then returns to his own seat. Your tongue darts out to lick at your dried lips.

The Yautja is dressed in somewhat normal clothing. He’s not in full blown hunter gear, something you had thought about him being in. A sight you’ve seen a few times already from the pictures of him he’s sent. His clothing seemed to be meant for celebrations or gatherings. Causal clothing. The type Ze’se would be seen wearing as well.

And he looked good in it.

Both of your hands were placed in your lap, head slightly tilted down. Being in his presences was a one-eighty from causally talking to him over the phone and messages. There was no hiding from that piercing gaze he roamed over your form.

A chuff came from the male. He laxed back in the too small of chair that squeaked under the shift of weight. “There is no reason to be tense, my dear.” If it wasn’t for your locked muscles, your jaw would’ve dropped at the deep rumble of his voice. You already knew Yautjas voices, no matter the sex, were a low timbre. His though, was thick as honey and drew you in instantly.

He didn’t miss the way your breath hitched when he spoke, the way your eyes twitched slightly more open. One of his upper mandible quirked up. You noticed the move and swallowed down the lump in your throat. A deep breath was pulled into your lungs.

“S-so, I not-tice the place is-is empty,” you attempted to start off the conversation for the night. T’a’yta stayed in his relaxed position, head tilted off to the side. He watched you lazily with an adored look in those vibrant eyes of his.

His head dipped down. “Yeah. Did that myself. I didn’t want us to be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to see you all alone.” Words that shouldn’t been a red flag by anyone else but the way he says in that voice of his. It made it sound like he was wanting to protect you from prying eyes. He wanted you safe.

That meant you were right. He had bought out the place for the night. How could this man have that kind of cash lying around? Who did Ze’se set you up with? A millionaire? Did she seriously think you could pull someone like that? A small and frail human in the presence of a Yautja. Humans were ninety-nine percent of the time seen as such to these massive hunters of the universe. That included yourself.

Maybe you really had gone way over your head.

Your hands played with each other, hidden underneath the table. It helped you from the rest of your body from fidgeting and letting him know how much of a mess you were. The way his eyes narrowed slightly already told you he knew.

“That m-must have been a-a lot.” If he wasn’t in front of you, you would’ve smacked yourself silly for such a stupid comment. This is why you preferred texting. It allowed you to think of the words before they came spilling from your lips.

He chuckled. A deep, timbre sound falling from his alien mouth. His hips shifted. Your heartrate picked up again. The sight was enticing. He brushes off the comment with a flick of his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad we get to finally meet in person. I’ve been waiting to catch your scent.” After being around Ze’se for some time, you’ve learned that scent to a Yautja was important. You didn’t take it in a weird way. Instead, you simply nodded your head. With the change of subject as well, you were thankful. There wasn’t a chance you could fully steer this ship without his aid.

“Y-yeah, me too-too. Not the scent part!” You were quick to cover that. “Humans don’t do that. But, I don’t find it weird. I know it’s a thing for Yautjas. I’m fine with it!” Oh my god, the word vomit that came spilling from your loose lips. Worst of all, you hadn’t even had any alcohol in your system. Here you were, acting like a complete fool. You wished for the floor to open and swallow you hole.

Heat blazed to life on your cheeks. You groaned and covered your face with your hand, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say to cover up your failure.

The chair groans under his shift of weight. The table dips slightly in his direction. You felt the heat of his palm cupping your jaw. Another hand wrapped thick digits around your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled your hand loose, but you found every other surface in the place more interesting. There was without a doubt you had ruined this first meeting with him.

A soft purr-like sound came from his massive bulk. You weren’t expecting it. Your eyes flickering up in surprise for a moment. The second they met his though, they were back down to the ground or the table or your lap. The purr increased in volume. It vibrated the air and sent tingles racing up your arms. It was a powerful weapon against you.

All of your tense muscles began to loosen as if he commanded it. Both of your arms rested on the table. He gently held up your head and gave a soft tug towards him. Your gaze found his again. But, you didn’t look away.

“There’s that sweet, little ooman I’ve been wanting to see,” he cooed to you and kept your attention on him. T’a’yta was a master at calming you down from the height of your embarrassment. “Keep those lovely eyes of yours on me. I want to see every expression you make, little one.” You melted against his touch and let yourself be nearly controlled by him. All you could do was dumbly nod.

“Good, such a good ooman. Now, I want you to pick out anything on the menu. Anything you want. I don’t care the price or whatever.” Your tongue darted out lick at your lips before nodding again. T’a’yta hummed and paused for a second before letting go of your chin. You leaned back to a normal sitting position, eyes still on him. The dust colored Yautja smirked then gestured at the menu.

That shook you back to your normal mindset. Your face felt like it was on fire. The way you had just melted at the velvet of his words and soft touches. You took the opportunity to glance at the menu. His gaze had done the same. Relief flooded your system afterwards.

There were only a handful of times you’ve been here over the years. One, it was hard to get in due to how busy. Two, your limited time with your job. Three, a lot of the items on here weren’t something an office worker could easily afford. You came here when all three of those things lined up. That’s once a in blue moon. But now, he was offering you anything on the menu. Including the most expensive steak you’ve ever seen before. Not that you go out very often.

Who was he? A question that kept popping up throughout his whole interaction with him.

As you grazed the menu, your eyes kept flickering up to look at him. The darker lighting gave him an aura that was nearly scary. Yet, there was something deep inside of you that knew this man would never, in a million or trillion years, harm you in any sort of the way.

Money may no be an issue but you didn’t want to seem like a gold digger. The reason you chose this place was because had lined up perfectly. You could pay for your regular meal. Yet, it seemed like he was more than willing to cover every cost.

There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Surely, you weren’t going to make him pay for your food. You liked it when things were equal to the best of everyone’s abilities.

To play it safe, you decided on a simple salad. Plus, eating healthy was a good thing too.

The menu was set down onto the table again. In time for a waiter to come to the table with a pen and paper. “Hello! Welcome to our establishment. And many thanks to you sir T’a’yta for this. We appreciate your company!” He’s cheery with a bright smile on his face while talking to the dust colored Yautja across from you. “Is there anything I could start the two of off with?” The waiter glances between the two of you.

T’a’yta gestures for you to start off. Suddenly, you feel on the hot seat all over again. You bite at your tongue, eyes flickering down to find the drinks. Pepsi products. You tell him what kind of soda you are wanting then peered at T’a’yta. The Yautja had a brow arched.

“You are more than welcome to appetizers. Like I said, you can get anything you want. My treat.” Seriously, you should take his word and go out. There was that same nagging idea in the back of your head that prevented you. You shake your head and busied yourself with looking at the menu for the moment.

His eyes were still on you for a few beating seconds as he ordered his own drink. “Bring every appetizer you have as well.” Your head jerked up, eyes snapping wide. He did not!

The waiter’s own eyes showed off the whites of them. There had to be about ten appetizers. T’a’yta just ordered all of them!

“It will take some time for the cooks to prepare that big of an order. If that’s alright with you?” he asked the gentlemen across from you. A lax look was plastered to T’a’yta’s features. Like the time or the price was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were glued to your fidgeting, surprised form. His inner jaw muscle tightened to hold back his need for action.

“Yes, I understand.” T’a’yta doesn’t care. He’s polite to the worker though. Jesus Christ. You were starting to regret this whole meeting at a semi-fancy restaurant. What if he expects you to pay the bill after he rents the place out? It would take a small loan to pay all of this off. No, you wouldn’t take a bite. All you were having was your salad. Cheap and healthy. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a gold digger or a slob for junk food. Not that you pig yourself out on them, but you still have them as snacks.

With one more look at T’a’yta, the waiter takes his leave with the notes of drinks and thoughts of every appetizer on his mind.

Once he retreated to the back part of the building, you leaned forward. “I’m honestly fine! I-I don’t need to eat that much,” you argued with the hunk of muscles. He laughed from his throat and rested an elbow on the table before leaning forward. T’a’yta placed his chin in his palm.

“If you won’t let me spoil you the way I want, I will do it myself. I’m a Yautja of my word. Eat, get, ask for anything you want. I will get it for you.” Is this normal for a Yautja? You knew the males like to woo the females with trophies and prowess. Since you were human, it was different. Clearly, he had done his research and changed tactics to get the same results.

You let out a shuttering breath and sat up straight. Once more, your gaze dropped to the table. The tips of your ears burned. Your lips were pressed into a tight line for the time it took you to maul over your thoughts. “Fine. Only a little. I’ll only have a little,” you relented to his forwardness. When he wanted something, he got it by the looks of it. Man, was he stubborn in ways you weren’t expecting.

That same smirk returned to his smug features. “Good. I’m glad to see you’ve come to reason, little one.” T’a’yta picks up his head and lets both of his arms rest on the table, one resting on top of the other. “Now, how was your day? I hoped this morning’s weather wasn’t dab on your mood.”

It shocked you a little. You didn’t expect him to know this morning’s weather. From what you know, he lives on his own ship and traverses the universe, loner style. Maybe he had come to check out the city before coming here for dinner.

At the same time, you were thankful for a change of subject. Something to ease you back into a comfortable atmosphere.

“It was good.“ You nodded your head. “I only had to run a couple of errands this morning.” From there, the two of you talked about whatever you could get your minds on. Day-to-day stuff from this last week, even to his latest hunts and the skull he brought back. He showed you the latest scar that said creature had given him. It was small but had nicked an artery. T’a’yta could’ve died.

Thirty minutes passed before three waiters showed up at your table. One had pushed together two other tables to yours and gave amble room for every plate. A few small extra plates were given to you. Then, they were off back towards the kitchen.

Eleven appetizers. There was more than enough for a family of twenty to enjoy. Yet, there was only the two of you.

T’a’yta didn’t move and kept his eyes on you. “Go on and enjoy, little one. Do not be shy.” He returned to his lax position and decided to take in the space finally in your presence. You were thankful not to have his overbearing, all seeing gaze on you.

Everything before you looked so good. You hungered for it all. Yet, again. That same thought. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek while carefully plucking pickings from a few plates. Not even half of the small plate had been filled. That’s when his gaze returned to you. T’a’yta gave you a deadpanned look and positioned himself to sit up.

Deadly, sharp, black claws plucked some sort meat off of an appetizer and offered it to you. He held it directly in front of your mouth. You nearly shrunk away before opening your mouth and taking the meat between your teeth. Once it was gone, he swiped a thumb along your bottom and wiped the cooked chicken juices along the soft skin. It forced you to lick away the excess. “Good, good. How did that taste?” His tone was teasing, nearly taunting you.

You swallowed the piece down after chewing. “Um, it’s-it’s good. I like it,” you answered truthfully and looked at him with timid eyes. The giant hummed then picked up a different appetizer that you hadn’t placed on your plate. Once more, he brushed the piece against your lips and coaxed you into eating it as well.

This continued to happen until every single plate had been tried from. He was satisfied then. T’a’yta used a napkin to wipe his fingers cleaned and made his own plate up. You were slightly dazed and watched him without much of a thought in your head. He grinned.

“How was everything?” His deep voice brought you out of your thoughts. You blinked away the haze and truly looked at him this time.

“Amazing. Their food is always phenomenal!” you explained with a happy alit tone to your voice. A hum tumbled from his chest. T’a’yta takes his own bite.

“I do have to agree. This is very good.” A few more pieces are thrown into his mouth. You were used to the way Yautjas eat with their lack of lips. “Is this place your favorite restaurant to go to?” he questions once the last bite was swallowed.

Your head nodded. “Yeah, when I can visit that is.” Some more of the food on your plate was consumed. Today was pure luck to get the day off from work. Your work rarely likes to give time off. Despite that fact, it was decent pay. All the necessary things were paid for. Which meant you had nothing to complain about.

The Yautja paused and looked at you. “And what’s stopping you?” A sip from what looked to be an expensive drink tilted his head back slightly. Yet, his eyes didn’t find something else. “This place is great.”

That’s a statement you could get behind of. “Well, it is.” Your hands became animated with every word you said. “But, I’m a hard worker. What time I do have, I don’t like to spend it waiting in long lines for a seat here. I didn’t even think you would be able to get a reservation here when you had asked for a place to meet up at.” Those were truthful words. Since the universe had been kind enough to let you find a man such as himself, you had tested your luck. It came evident there was more than meets the eye with T’a’yta.

His mandibles tighten over his inner jaw. “Are you happy you were able to visit the place?”

“Yes, I am. I’m beyond thankful for this opportunity. I didn’t say it before but thank you.” You smiled softly at him and reached across the table to grab his hand. His warmth was a stark difference compared to your own body. He would make to be a perfect heater in the dead of a Montana winter. He squeezed your fingers back in the same gesture.

“There is no thanks needed. I’m glad to have met you and have this opportunity to do this,” he spoke in a low tone,

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter came back. “Are we ready for the main courses?” he questioned and got out his pen and paper again. This time, he didn’t seem as ready to write things done.

“We are.” T’a’yta looked at you again to start off the process. Oh, shit. Right. You let go of his hand to tilt the menu up towards your face.

You cleared your throat and gaze up at the waiter. “I’ll just have the house salad.” Despite his constant reassurance to get whatever you wanted, you still went with the cheapest thing. You couldn’t stop from peeking at T’a’yta. Another deadpanned look was plastered to his alien features. He blinked at you slowly then pointed down to the menu.

“Don’t make me order the entire menu, little one.” You made a small, high pitch squeak at the hidden warning. Clearly, he wasn’t joking around. You huffed and placed the sheet back down on the table.

“Sorry, scratch that. I would like the salmon please.” T’a’yta grunted his approval at the change.

“Hm, for myself…” he trailed off and let his gaze roamed the page. “I’ll go for the steak, the special soup, and some pasta. I’ll let you choose what type. Oh, and bring some Moscato, please.” The waiter scratched everything down on his paper then grabbed the menus from you. Then, he was gone, scampering to the back of the house.

A quiet scoff left your lips. “There was no need for that,” you pouted and crossed your arms. T’a’yta laughed in amusement at the sight before him. His hand reached out to pinch your chin between his thump and pointer finger.

The alien held you there for a breath’s moment. “Yes, there is. I will show you there is no need to shy away from letting me spoil you. I crave to show you that I can take care of you. Such a sweet, little ooman in my grasp.” That’s when you tucked your head to the side, embarrassment flooding your system. He hummed again but let you be.

All of the appetizers were pulled away to make room for the incoming plates of dinner. The same waiter from before dropped off the ordered plates. Your salmon looked delicious sitting in front of you. Steam was wafting off the slab of meat.

“Aren’t you glad you got that instead of a meek salad?” T’a’yta teased you with a smug glint in those bright eyes of his. You bristled at his words and pressed your lips into a tight line. He may be right but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of your agreement. He can’t blame you for being nervous. Who wouldn’t be in your shoes?

Only a shrug was your answer. You dug into the salmon and attempted to savor the wonderful flavor that burst to live over your taste buds. This had to be the best salmon in your entire life. A hum left you while you smiled happily. Yeah, he was right. He knew it as well. Smug little dick. You kept your gaze down casted to the plate in front of you the entire time.

From the edge of your vision, you watched him eat his own three plates of food he ordered. At least he wasn’t shoving any of those down your throat the same way he was with the appetizers. Not that he was in the wrong. You did want an appetizer but felt like you shouldn’t. T’a’yta showed you he didn’t care. Not one bit.

This time around, there wasn’t any trouble. He consumed his three platefuls while you ate your own without his assistance like the first time.

The entire plate was finished off. You sat back a little and sipped at the wine he had shoved your way. Another pointed look in your direction. Again, he’s not afraid to show his cards and what he can do. It wasn’t abusive or wrong or a bad way of forceful. Actually, it was sweet. He wanted you well fed and dined in a romantic, caring manner.

Wined and dined.

Exact words Ze’se had used earlier. How right she was.

T’a’yta had consumed his portion as well and relaxed back into the creaking seat. You were still surprised it was holding up to his massive size. The muscles that lined his body thick from years of training and hunting. His own hand dwarfing a wine cup filled halfway with the red liquid. The same wine you sipped as well. You weren’t a wine drinker by any means but it was delicious nevertheless.

When the waiter came over to clear the plates, T’a’yta handed his card then whispered something to him. The poor man’s widened and flickered down to the Yautja. He rapidly nodded his head and thanked T’a’yta. Then, his sped nearly doubled. Everything was pulled away and left the table with just your glasses.

A short purr poured from T’a’yta’s throat. A mechanism you learned quickly helped calm your racing heart all over again. He smirked when you leaned back into the seat. The Yautja himself rested his elbows on the table. “How was that, little ooman? Did it meet your expectations?” The purring stopped but it already had done its job.

In a slightly dazed mindset, you nodded your head. “Uhuh. Lots. This place is the best,” you reiterated your likeness of the place and took another sip of your wine. You’ve never been pampered like this in your life. This man, this male had treated you better than any man, woman, or person ever. “I’m glad you agreed to this place.”

“I could care less about the meeting place. Money isn’t a problem. What matters is if you had a good time and you’re full.” He leaned in over the table to enter your space. “I won’t tolerate you trying to skimp out of on eating. In my presences, eat what you want until you’re full, alright? I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Shit, he really was pulling out the whole wooing thing that male Yautjas do. But he had changed to woo a human instead.

“But-“ you raised your finger to argue with him. The Yautja narrowed his eyes on you, mandibles pulling tight over his mouth. Immediately, you pressed your lips tightly together and looked down at the dark wood of the table.

He grunted then rose to his feet. Right as you were about to follow suit, he walks around and pulls out your seat. A hand is offered to you. You take it and let him guide you to your feet as well. This was another reminder of how large he was compared to you. He easily towered over your human form. You couldn’t help the bite on your lower lip, eyes roaming up and down his figure for only a moment.

“Shall we?” T’a’yta motions towards the door in a grand gesture. You giggled and nodded your head. The argument leaving your system.

The two of you go to the front of the building. The waiter from before was there and finishing up the transaction just in time. He looks a little nervous before handing back the card and receipt. Your curiosity got the better of you. You attempted to peer at the numbers on the receipt but T’a’yta was quicker and smarter than you. The paper and card are tucked away in one of his pockets. You two bid the waiter a goodbye and head out into the slightly chilly air.

T’a’yta gingerly curls his arm around your shoulder and tugged you close to the warmth of his body. You sighed in content at the feeling. He rumbled his amusement, thumb rubbing against your shoulder.

One thing you noticed on the way back. For a city that’s dangerous at night, not one person gave you a second glance. Many didn’t even look either of you in the eye. The dust colored Yautja kept at your pace the entire time. He was glued to your side.

It only happened once but someone had walked a little close to the two of you, nearly shoulder to should with you. A threatening growl erupted from the elder’s throat. Thundering and powerful. A warning to get away from what he possesses. You could moan as the sound traveled down south and sat in the pit of your belly. You had to hear that more.

Your key fits into the door of your apartment. T’a’yta is at your back, guarding you from the dangers that may appear at a moment’s notice. You don’t mind. Actually, you welcome the comfort and protection. It hasn’t been something you felt in a long time. You craved the need as much as water for a dehydrated person at the sight of an oasis.

The door opened with a welcoming squeak and let him see what conditions you lived it. It wasn’t bad. It was an apartment that was well lived in though. A slight mess but that’s what made it home.

“Well, this is it.” You had spun around to tilt your head back to look the male in those bright eyes of his. They were gorgeous to the point you could get lost in them. You timidly played with your hands between the two of you. “I-I appreciate everything today. It was an amazing date. And-and if you… want, we could go on another?” It was you who had taken the responsibility to offer up a second date. “I’ll pay for it next time.” Of course you had to. It was your turn.

A growl left his towering frame. Not a threat like before but an easy warning. T’a’yta stepped into your space which forced you to take one back. This happened two more times before he crowded you against the closet door at the entrance of the apartment. A whimper fell from your softly parted lips.

One hand rested above your head while the other gripped your chin. The touch forced your head back. This close and personal with T’a’yta allowed you to see all the tiny details of his face. A face of an elder who’s fought his battles and won his wars. A life well lived. The Yautja who began to purr, tongue flickering out to taste the air.

“I had a wonderful time myself, little one. But, if you think I’d ever let you pay for a single thing while on a date, you had me wrong from the beginning.” The course pad of his thumb dragged across your lip. Your tongue darted out and lapped once at the sharp talon on the tip. His grip tightened nearly painfully. “Paya, it’s taken every single ounce of will to hold back. You are perfect. The little ooman who I’ve been needing to have.”

“Someone to warm my bed and bare my pups in my olden age. I’m letting you know now of my wants. If you don’t wish to continue, tell me now. I will disengage. But… if you give me every right, all the power. I will make it my duty that you will never have to lift a finger again. And the only time you’ll break a sweat is when I breed you and you give birth. Any other time, you will be pampered like royalty,” he promised to you directly.

Your breath got caught. His words. They were so dark, so beautifully crafted. He wasn’t afraid to state his wants. There was no dancing around the bush. T’a’yta was a Yautja would knew what he wanted in his life.

That want was you. The perfect human to bed with, make his royal partner and treat them as such. He growled and inched closer. “Answer me, little one.”

The lump in your throat was swallowed down. “Yes, I want that too.”

Relief sagged his shoulders. He nearly dropped his weight against you. Instead, he buried his mouth into the crook of your neck and took in the source of your scent. “I’m beyond glad you agree. It would be hard to rid my mind of every little thing I love about you. I will cherish you the way you deserve.” T’a’yta pulled away to find your gaze once more. “But I will do this the ooman way. I have the patience of a seasoned hunt. I can take my time and win you over in the manner you’re most comfortable in.”

If there was anyway to love this male anymore, you would find the way. He was beyond respectful of you and letting you have all the control in the world. This was just your first face-to-face meeting with him. This was how he was acting in the first place? Call it too soon, but you were already in love with him. There wasn’t a single red flag you could find throughout the whole getting to know him process.

For the first time, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your hands. The texture of his scales wasn’t rough or scratchy, yet there was a clear difference between the two of you. A difference that didn’t matter to you.

You may not be the same species, but love will always find a way.

[daughterwifed]

NYMPHETAMINE !

ft. trevor philips x fem!reader

tags. established relationship, minor drug use, like one reference to violence, mostly fluff actually wow, super short..

note. this title was actually meant to go to a soldier boy fic that I had on my wip list last year and I’m still mad I can’t bag this username on tumblr HOWEVER it makes more sense for trevor bc um he does meth.. so now I have an excuse to use it.. this is sooo clunky… have not written in a hot minute and have been directing my attention mainly 2 lovey dovey so yah… honestly don’t have a clue on how to write trevor’s character so this was mostly just practice but yah.. it gets disjointed like halfway thru howeverrrr umm .. hopefully… hopefully it makes sense!! please ignore typos! and as always feedback/rbs are appreciated :3

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to get out of here for a little bit?” You unzip a compartment in your suitcase to find a safe place for your bargain bin flip-flops.

“No,” Trevor says with a childish shake of his head, “you’ve got sun, sand, and sea right here.”

“It's not sand, baby, it’s dirt and dust, we’re in the middle of the fucking desert.” You look over to where he’s draped over the patchwork couch like an oversized house cat, one of his hands is gripping a pipe and the other is tucked away in his boxers.

“Sandy Shores,” he tells you matter of factly, “you hear that, sugar? We’re in Sandy Shores, it is literally fucking sand.”

“Yeah, but I can’t get away with wearing this—“ You wave around a high-cut bikini thong, “—In Sandy shores because it’s full of freaks.”

“Hey, watch your mouth, those freaks are my—“ A flash of red peaks his interest. “I can fly us,” Trevor says, leaving no room for argument, he’s sitting up straighter and his wide eyes are trained on that stupidly skimpy thong, “right now, let’s go, get up, let’s go!”

“Trevor…” You warn in a voice a school teacher would use - it's the only way he listens, “I’m not letting you take us that far.”

“You don’t trust me?” He scowls at you, looking more bulldog than human. “You think I can’t do it?”

“No, baby, I just have a lot of luggage.” It’s a convincing lie, but he’s still pouting at you—Well, it’s more of the thing upset dogs do, baring his teeth like he’s about to snap his jaws and bite your head clean off.

“You’ve got no clothes in there!” He points at your suitcase, and he’s not wrong, you can’t really call barely-there string bikinis and short shorts clothing, but come on, you’re not getting in that rickety little plane to fly all the way to Cancun. “Michael’s heavier than that and he—“

“Trevor.” You level him with your gaze, shaking your head in disapproval like he is nothing more than a petulant toddler.

He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine.

“Trevor.”

He storms out and comes back an hour later with another questionable stain on his dirtied white shirt, this stain differs a little from the other ones because it is bright fucking red and his knuckles are bruised, but he looks infinitely calmer.

Temper tantrums are good for him, gets everything out of his system.

You don’t say much, watching him quietly from your perch as Trevor packs a duffel bag, rifling through his wardrobe as if there’s enough clothes to rifle through.

“I packed,” Trevor says, holding up the bag for you to inspect.

“Is that… Is that enough for you, baby?” You ask, using two long nails to grasp the dirty pair of boxers he’s balled up and tossed inside.

“How long are we going?”

“A week.”

Trevor scoffs. “Don’t need that then,” he mumbles, taking the underwear from your hand and throwing them on the ground where they land beside a sticky-paged Hustler magazine.

“But there’s no other—“

“I’ve got some on.”

“Trevor.” You sigh, and for some reason it doesn’t even disgust you at this point. “No, baby, just move out of the way—Oh, and you owe me an apology for walking out like that!”

He moves aside, backing himself into the wall of the tiny bedroom like a good boy. “I’m sorry, okay?” Trevor grumbles, watching as you dig out a polo shirt, sniffing it and recoiling immediately.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing, baby.” You click your tongue, methodically folding the small amount of clean clothes you do find and creating a small pile.

Trevor suddenly smacks his knees with the palms of his hand, letting out an exaggerated moan of pain. “Ohhh, fuck! You’re so mean to me, babe!” He tips his head back, eyes squeezed shut like he’s in complete and utter anguish, clutching at his chest like you’ve put a bullet through his heart. “I said sorry, baby! What do you want from me?” He sinks to his knees, positioning himself at your feet like a kicked puppy.

You blink at him once, twice, and thrice, startled for maybe a second before you giggle and sit down on the edge of the bed. “T—“

“No! Don’t ‘T’ me!” Trevor takes your foot in his hand, still kneeling before you while he kisses just below where your ankle juts out. “I know what you’re trying to do to me! You wanna get out, and you’re gonna find some rich fuck when we step foot on that fat cat resort and leave me—“

“Trevor!” You try to hold back the laughter as he peppers kisses on the sole of your foot. “I would never, you know that!”

“You don’t have to lie…” Trevor whines, pressing his face into your foot, you wiggle your painted toes as his breath tickles your skin. “I can feel it! I can see it in your eyes—You’re pullin’ away from me, you’re gonna find some dick in a suit, and, and I’m the one that cares—“

“Oh my god, T!” You’re laughing at his absurd display of love, affection and pure stupidity, he simply won’t let you get a word in.

“You don’t need a private jet, I can fly ‘em, sugar, I can do it better—“ Trevor wails as you try to shake him off your leg. “—No! Don’t push me away, baby, I love you! Let me make it up to you, sugartits, my baby, my angel, my cute, perfect little pocket pussy—“

“Trevor, that’s not even—“

He gets up to launch himself on top of you, you squeal and hold your arms out, bracing for impact, but it never comes. You smell the alcohol on his breath as he hovers over you, and you stroke the little hair he has left as he nestles between your breasts. “Go on, sugar, punish me—Do it, hurt me, smack me, punch me, kick me, chain me up! Make me bark like a fuckin’ dog, I can do that for you—I can bark real good.”

“Trevor, baby, I really don’t want that!” You giggle, pulling down the front of your tank so he can feel your plush tits, smush his face into them.

Skin to skin contact is good for babies.

“You could take me outside, baby, make me crawl around, make me shit in a diaper—“

“Ew! Oh my god! Are you done?” You smack him lightly, and then find yourself giggling again. He’s fucking ridiculous, utterly insane, and he’s all yours because nobody else in the entire world would be willing to put up with this.

(It’s all worth it in the end, he loves like no other.)

Trevor’s voice is muffled into your chest. “No…”

“You’re insane, Trevor,” you mumble, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head

“Are you still mad at me?” He peeks up at you hesitantly, you feel his pout against your nipple.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“…Will you fuck me now?”

“Only if you pack first.”

(When you make it to the airport a few days later, Trevor has to be told four times by four separate security guards to remove his boots. He gets into an argument over the bottle of tequila he snuck into your hand luggage, calls it a medical necessity, lets them toss it out only after you remind him that Cancun is in Mexico and tequila isn't exactly a rarity there—Then he calls a TSA agent a fascist and claims that getting patted down after the metal detector beeps not once, but twice, is a violation of human rights, he announces to the entire security line that you’re smuggling goods while looking right down your shirt.

He grumbles the entire time, and when you ask him, smiling fondly and leaning over to place a kiss on his scruffy cheek, “Then why'd you even come, T?”

Trevor blinks like an idiot because he hasn’t shut his mouth long enough to even consider that.

“Huh.” He rubs the spot where you kissed him. “I guess it’s ’cause I’d follow you anywhere, sugar.”)

[draculasintern]

Vander Headcanons PT2

I need this Old man. NEOW. GIVE ME HIM. Sfw and NSFW

Vander who knows your moods by the weight of your footsteps. He can tell if you had a rough day before you even speak, calls you over with just a gesture, sits you between his legs, arms around you like armor. Doesn’t make you talk unless you want to. Just hums low in his chest and lets you exist there. Vander who lets you trace his scars. Lets you ask about each one. How old, where it came from, who left it. But only you. No one else gets to see him this soft. And when you kiss them, even the oldest ones, he has to bite back a noise in his throat.

Vander who doesn’t always take control. When you ask to ride, when you ask to lead, he lets you. Hands gripping your hips, letting you use him however you want, voice ragged as he tells you how beautiful you look above him. “Take what you need, love. S’what I’m here for.”

Vander who gets possessive when someone flirts with you. Not in a toxic way, but his hand will slide to your hip, his nose at your neck, whispering things only you can hear. And if you tease him about it later, he’ll make you prove who you belong to. “Oh, so you liked them looking at you? Say that again while I’ve got you like this—go on.”

Vander who teaches you to bartend just so he can watch you do it. Calls you “my little showstopper,” even if you’re awkward. Loves watching your hands pour, shake, wipe down the counter. And when you’re too slow? He steps behind you, guiding your arms with his own, mouth at your ear. “Easy now… steady hands. You’ve got it.”

Vander who will ruin you with praise. Won’t shut up when he’s touching you, won’t let you go quiet either. Makes you say what you want, what feels good, what he does to you. “Use your words, darlin’. Want to hear how much you need it.”

Vander who keeps a picture of you in his locket. Not because he’s sappy (okay, maybe a little), but because on the worst days—the ones that smell like gunpowder and grief—he needs the reminder. That someone is waiting for him. That someone believes he’s more than his past.

Vander who keeps your favorite drink behind the bar, no matter what it is. Whether it's something fancy or basic, hot or cold, he makes sure it’s there. Already poured before you even sit down. He wipes the rim with his towel and gives it to you himself, every time.

Vander who groans when you touch his hair. Big hands resting on your thighs as you run your fingers through it, maybe braiding a few pieces if it’s long enough. He doesn’t say much, but his eyes are half-lidded and he leans into your touch like it’s the only peace he knows.

Vander who is a deep sleeper, but only with you in his arms. Anyone else? He’s light, alert, always one ear open. But with you tucked against his chest, breathing even, he lets go for the first time in years. You can feel it, the way his grip loosens and his jaw unclenches.

Vander who lets you ride his thigh until you're shaking. And he doesn’t stop touching you. One hand around your waist to keep you grounded, the other sliding over your chest or jaw or hips. Whispering how good you look falling apart like that. “That’s it, ride it just like that, lovie. Take what you need.”

Vander who carries you to bed when you fall asleep somewhere else. Slips his arms under you gently, presses a kiss to your temple, and makes sure the blanket is tucked all the way up. Grumbles softly if you stir, “Shh, it’s just me. Go on, sleep, sweetheart.”

Vander who smiles when you mouth off. You throw something sharp at him, sarcastic, playful..and his lips twitch. He doesn’t always respond right away. But hours later, he’ll press you up against a wall and murmur in your ear, “That sharp tongue of yours… I’ll find a better use for it.”

I need him so bad. He's on my 'Old men I need' list.

[hl-obsessed]

fic rec: january-february | links to the original manip

💎✨ The Green Room by @jasthelarrie

(M, 112k) “For the last time, go away! This is fucking harassment, you know that? I’m well within my rights to call the cops.” Louis wished he could have hidden the tremor in his voice. He knew that it was thick with emotion. He was frustrated, angry, and beyond devastated.

“Uh…”

That was definitely not his ex's voice. Louis froze. Who had he just sworn at?

AKA

Louis has just been through a bad break-up and accidentally verbally assaults unsuspecting flower delivery man Harry.

scent holding me ransom by @the-larry-way

(E, 1,8k) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

✨ all the sins you didn't have by @twopoppies

(E, 99k) It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron.

Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake. Harry strikes him and his gigantic ego off the list immediately… At least until they realize they have a common set of enemies and a common goal: revenge.

Though their ruse starts smoothly enough, the decadent freedom of Belle Époque Paris gives way to the rigid social rules of aristocratic Victorian London. Can a relationship that started as a calculated deception withstand the harsh realities of societal expectations and family duty to become a love more honest and profound than either has ever known?

✨ Things I Want, Things I Need by @canonlarry

(E, 14k) Most people don't find out whether they're an alpha, beta, or omega until somewhere around their eighteenth year, which means Louis finds out he's an omega long before his best friend and sometimes lover Harry will get a clue. Zayn is the loyal alpha friend who takes care of Louis during his heats. Liam is Zayn's beta mate, Niall tries to keep the peace, and Harry just wants to know what he is already.

✨ To find home (is wherever you are) by CrOminona

(E, 46k) Harry will wake up tomorrow and life will go on as always. They will go out with their friends, they will catch up and have fun. And then one day too soon Louis will pack his bag again, will find a flight to wherever he hasn’t seen yet and he will leave the city.

Harry will stay behind, waiting for the texts he barely receives sometimes, some of them sent at weird hours because of time zones. Days will become weeks, life will carry on in London with little to tell and a lot to do. And one day Harry will stop counting the hours that has passed since he last saw him and just expect Louis to appear whenever he pleases. Could be three weeks. Two months. One and a half. They never know, but Louis always comes back.

Go With It by embro

(NR, 4,4k) Prompt: "You thought I was someone else and started making out with me in a club and you're really hot so I just kinda went with it and now we're heading back to your place and I don't know how to break it to you"

don't let it break your (arm) by @the-larry-way

(G, 816) Louis seems to have forgotten his husband thanks to the wonders of anesthesia. Doesn't mean he's forgotten his attraction though.

Tattoos and Temptations by

(E, 67k) “Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

don't call me baby by @vintageumbroshirt

(G, 2k) A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

The Only One (when it's said and done) by @londonfoginacup

(T, 6,1k) Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.

Sweet Baby by @jishlerfics

(E, 5,3k) “Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

💎✨ And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 22k) “Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch. “Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

.💐💐💐

(okay so i didn't read much and these are some amazing fics that i mostly barely remember reading 🙄 seems like i have to do reread of them all 🙈🙈🙈)

.💐💐💐

all my fic recs

[estrellami-1]

Lavender Letters

Part 7

Eddie grins.

He drops it in his locker.

Friday at 7 sharp, he’s locking his van and knocking on the Harringtons’ front door.

It swings open to reveal Steve, blush high on his cheeks. “You made it,” he says, almost breathily.

Eddie grins. “I said I would, didn’t I?” He steps closer. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” Robin Buckley agrees. “Let’s come inside before the whole neighborhood has to watch you play tonsil hockey.”

Eddie chuckles. “R,” he says, and holds out his fist.

Robin blinks at it for a second before she remembers. “The biggest, gayest fist bump!” She exclaims, bumping his fist with hers. “Okay, now come on, into the living room, I finally got the set list down and I’m not waiting on you bozos to start the party.” She drags them to the living room, where Eddie sees Nancy, Jonathan, Vickie, and…

“Miss Cunningham,” Eddie grins, bowing to kiss her hand. “Looking lovely as always.”

“Eddie!” Chrissy grins, pulling him up and into a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Eddie chuckles. “Where else would I be? Prom?” He grins wide, and Chrissy laughs.

“Who invited you?”

“Ah, only the man of the hour.”

“Oh, this is years in the making,” she laughs, pushing him back over to Steve. “Don’t let me steal you away from him!”

Eddie lets himself stumble over, almost falling before Steve catches him. “Hi, sweetheart,” he grins. “I think I just fell for you.”

Steve grins wide. His eyes are barely slits. “According to your letter, you fell for me a while ago.”

“Maybe so,” he acquiesces. “But now I know you. Really know you.” He finds his feet, offers Steve a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“You dance?” Steve grins, accepting Eddie’s offer.

“I… shuffle,” Eddie admits, grinning when Steve laughs. “But I can follow if you lead.”

Steve grins. “That’s not what your hanky says.”

Eddie is delighted. “You looked it up!”

“A while ago, actually, yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, flagging in Hawkins.”

Eddie shrugs. “If I have to, I can play it off as being a metal thing. James Hetfield wears one, too.”

“James Hetfield?”

“Metallica frontman. The point is that I have an alibi if I need it.”

“Have you ever needed it?”

Eddie laughs. “In Hawkins? Hell no.”

“How about in Indy? How do you know what you like?”

Eddie hums. “Some reading, and some… hands-on. Not as much as you’d think.” He grins wryly at Steve. “Most guys take one look at me and assume I’ve got the wrong side.”

Steve frowns. “That’s stupid. They think you’d go to all the trouble of getting a hanky just to forget which pocket you should put it in?”

Eddie shrugs a shoulder. “It happens. I do have some experience, though.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

Steve grins at him. “I’m glad one of us does, yeah.”

“And you? How do you know what you like?”

Steve blushes. “A lot of nights with a zine and my right hand.”

Eddie laughs. “We’ve all gotta start somewhere. What did you discover?”

Steve’s blush is permanent now. “Kitchen?”

Eddie leads him there. “How about a drink first?” He suggests. “I’d get you a water but I don’t know where anything is.”

Steve giggles, grabs two bottles. “There’s beer in the fridge that you’re welcome to, or Nancy brought punch, but I’d be careful.”

Eddie dips a glass in for a little taste and nearly gags. “Christ, what is that, paint thinner?”

Steve snorts. “Just about. You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

“No kidding.” He wipes his mouth, rinses out the glass, and accepts the bottle Steve offers. “Yikes,” he murmurs, causing Steve to snort.

He leans on the island. “So?”

“So,” Steve agrees. “Um. I’d like it if you would take more control. Not- not be mean. I don’t like being called names or put down in any way. But, um. I do like some pain. You-you can, um, slap me around a little? And-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “you seem nervous.”

“I’ve never actually, uh, said any of it out loud before.”

Eddie crowds into his space, absolutely delights in the way his eyes go half-lidded and his blush takes over his face. “Then how about we try something else?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

✵ Part 2/3 of what is now a sweet, soft Tim moments miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He has a dream about you and realizes that he's in a bad spot.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, Tim and r making things hard on themselves

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: Many thanks to the kind words of @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @writings-of-a-demigod and @newobsessionweekly on the first part! Thanks for the inspiration and love! Here's more soft Tim realizing how he feels.🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Well, what do you think?”

Tim watches you spin in the new outfit before you place your hands on your hips and look at him. He’s been waiting outside the dressing room for too long, but he can’t find it in himself to ask you to leave. 

“It’s beautiful. So were the last five,” Tim tells you. 

“That’s not helpful,” you lament. “I have to pick the best one!”

“It’s a charity dinner, not your wedding. Just pick what you like, what you feel good in, and let’s go. We do have a shift to finish.”

“We have fifteen more minutes of our lunch break,” you point out. “Let me try on one more.”

Tim stands and counters, “Only if I get to pick it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m in room 2.”

Tim nods and turns like he’s on a life-dependent mission. He navigates through the racks of clothing as if a suspect is hiding in them. When he finds something he thinks you’ll like and knows you’ll look great wearing, he picks it up and returns to the dressing room. 

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he says as he passes the hanger over the door. 

“And you always make things so easy,” you argue playfully. “Oh, this is nice.”

Tim returns to the plush chair in the waiting area and leans back. His belt digs into his side, but he doesn’t bother to move. He’d prefer to leave than to find a new position. When you emerge in Tim's suggested outfit, you smile at him, and Tim stands quickly. 

“That’s the one,” he murmurs. 

“I think so too. You have better taste than I anticipated, Bradford.”

You return to the dressing room to change into your uniform again, and Tim feels like he has been kicked in the chest. Everything about this has been domestic, slow, just you and Tim, but then you called him Bradford. And, when he stands beside you in the checkout lane, both dressed in patrol blues, Tim is cruelly reminded that you are his rookie, partners at most, and this was just a convenient trip for you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming with me, for putting up with me, being so nice. Everything.”

“Of course,” Tim answers. 

“I, uh, I was wondering if you had an outfit for the dinner?”

“I’ve got a suit somewhere in my closet.”

You nod and look down at the outfit draped over your arm. 

“I think you need one more thing,” Tim adds. 

“What? I’ve got the outfit, shoes, a-“

“A date,” Tim interrupts. “Do you… would you want to go with me? As more than two cops from the same station?”

You look at him wordlessly and shift on your feet. Tim immediately begins to regret asking and tries to find a way to make a joke or a reason to call you boot and put everything back in perspective. 

“I’m sorry,” he decides on. 

“No, I want to say yes, I just assumed you were kidding.”

“Why?” Tim questions, reaching toward you. 

“You were nice to me the day that I got my hand sliced open, but you told me then that-“

Tim wakes when his arm jerks. He expects to feel you beside him, but as he sits in his bed, in his house, in his lonely existence, he realizes it was all a dream. He was nice to you that day, but he wonders if there’s something he could do now to show you it wasn't a one-off kindness. You’re his rookie, but Tim needs more. 

“Oh,” he murmurs as everything sinks in. He dreamt about you because you affect him and his emotions more than you’ll ever know. That date, the touch he misses without ever feeling, everything about the dream was the unconscious pursuit of Tim’s true desires. 

“This is bad, Kojo,” Tim mumbles. “Very bad.”

The following morning, Tim can’t make eye contact with you. He hasn’t been nervous around a woman since he and Isabel were dating. As he sidesteps you to avoid touching you, he wonders if there is any chance you want it, too. There’s too much risk, he decides; your safety and his judgement are more important than his feelings or some high school-level crush on the one girl he can’t get. 

“So,” you begin as you get in the shop. “Sergeant Grey said days with lots of events are hectic. Does that make this the bad?” you ask. 

“When are you going to stop asking me that?” Tim asks. “You’ll know when the bad is.”

“Well I thought a dozen stitches was bad, but if that was the good, I’d like a heads up from you before the bad really happens.”

“That part wasn’t the good,” Tim huffs. “The bad is… it’s the rest of it. Everything until you pass your exam and start seeing the ugly that scars the good.”

You purse your lips and nod to yourself. “You’re in a good mood today. Chipper, almost.”

“It’s not supposed to make you happy, but it’s police work.”

“I think it’s the bad for another reason,” you admit. “Because I can’t talk about anything. Questions, ideas, opinions, even just how I feel, nothing I say or do gets taken seriously now, but the second I mess up, no one will forget it. My bad days can ruin me.”

“It gets better,” Tim assures. He notices your eyes on him when you say ‘how I feel’ but doesn’t push. “But keeping a low profile as a rookie has its pros and cons.”

You nod and look out the passenger window. This is the bad, and you are already in the worst of it; you and Tim are hiding your feelings from each other and trying to keep them from affecting yourselves. The lies that you and Tim think in a vain effort to stay professional and protect your hearts only make it harder to see that the person sitting beside you sees past your uniform. Your only concern is that the ugly will scar you before you escape from the bad and invite Tim into the good beside you. No matter where you are, in the good, the bad, or the ugly of police work, Tim will be beside you. But maybe you need his hand in yours and a promise that there’s more. Because this is bad, but it could get a whole lot worse. 

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Ohohoho, I see more stp related character ask games. In which case, thoughts on Hunted? Could always use more Hunted content out here

(Ooooo Hunted!!! The silliest of fellas)

(And as I’m writing this my appreciation for him just skyrockets ten fold. He makes me. Let’s just say. Feral.)

(Ask is here!!! vvvvvv Sorry that it looks like this, I’m on IPad🗿)

(Also the reply is getting too long (again), sooo gonna put a cut somewhere here…)

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

Probably how reliable he is in general. I feel like he’s probably the voice that is the most loyal to Quiet alongside Hero. He just really doesn’t seem like the type of character to have any hidden agenda underneath his actions. He’s just, when he thinks of something, he’d just do it instinctively. I love how he just focuses on the now and what’s happening around him, and doesn’t rely on what he sees only. He’s a really simple guy and all he really wants is safety. And I really like that about him. (The contrast between him and Oppy is glaring here)

And also despite the fact that instinct is a big part that makes him “him”, he’s not completely feral and still holds that humanity inside of him. I think he’s pretty darn neat.

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

It’s how little he had appeared 😭😭😭

He needs more chapter 3 appearances aside from his own

Both him and Skeptic need more chapters actually.

(And honestly I don’t have much “””bad””” stuff to say about him. He’s just overall a very likeable character to me)

FAVORITE LINE

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?” (You’ll see this line again)

“The Look. We’ve all used it.”

“Looking at her makes me sad.”

BROtp

Gotta say Hunted and Witch. Hunted pairs well with many other voices and vessels, but the thought of two semi-feral characters interacting with each other is kind of adorable to me. Just. Similar brain wave signals. Vrrrrrrrr. Y’know.

Witch would just sniff Hunted and be like “hmmm he doesn’t smell like a liar to me” and she would just be chilling with him with half an eye closed and half of it open. Just in case. And Hunted just sees her as someone who’s gotten hurt. And had to fight back like a scared animal. So I think he would empathise with her. Idk.

Stubborn and Hunted is a good one too. I could imagine Stubborn and Hunted just sparring with each other whenever they could. The battle always ends in a stalemate though, since Hunted just dodges Stubborn’s attacks most of the time. And by the time Hunted is tired dodging Stubborn is tired as well. But knowing Stubborn he would try to throw a punch at him anyway. And then failing cause they have bodies now. Stubborn takes it as a challenge and is thrilled to see what other stuff Hunted could do. Unstoppable force vs Immovable object.

And the mental thought of Stubborn throwing Hunted like a Pokeball and be like “Hunted I choose you” is just so funny to me. And. Just. Hunted riding on Stubborn’s shoulder. So cute.

OTP

He honestly pairs well with a lot of them tbh, so I don’t think I can choose an exact one.

NOtp

I have none hehe

RANDOM HEADCANON

He would sometimes bite the other voices to show affection. If he is feeling really bite-y that day he would just find something to chew on just so he won’t accidentally hurt the others.

Also, the current smaller form you see of him is not his full form. That’s just him holding back his more feral side, and hence why he looks so tiny. He’s way taller and stronger than he looks.

(Sneak peak of his feral form!!!)

A more antsy head canon I’ve got for him is that a part of him always have this urge to consume the other voices since they are technically parts of the same guy. He feels really guilty about feeling this way. When that feeling is too strong he would lock himself away from the flock until it passes.

UNPOPULAR OPINION

(This is becoming less of an unpopular opinion and more of a ramble as I’m writing this, but I’m just gonna keep this here because I think this is pretty interesting)

I feel like he would take an integral role in helping the other voices in fighting against their nature, since he is so used to doing that himself. Many of the fics I’ve read where the voices are starting to become more complex and more than their nature often doesn’t mention Hunted at all. He would definitely take a role in helping the voices manage their own urges in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone, knowing how he empathises with Den despite everything she has done to them.

He shines the most when he is paired with Oppy regarding this. Oppy embraces his own nature, and often times to his own detriment. Hunted wouldn’t trust him, but he would still protect and look after him anyway since he is still a part of the flock. If Oppy ever shows an ounce of genuine interest in fighting against his urge to betray people for his own benefit, Hunted would be one of the first ones to help and encourage him.

“Does a cat lie to a cornered mouse just to play with its freedom, or is it acting out its own nature?”

Nature vs Nurture baby!!!!

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

Butcher Vanity, specifically him in Den where he goes completely feral

And also Kaibutsu/怪物. It can be a shared song between Hunted and Oppy, but mostly Hunted.

FAVOURITE PICTURE OF THEM

(I love it when I just draw him like a fu@king creature)

(He’s so derpy-looking here)

[velvetures]

COD AU: Intro

AN: I love this. I have so many thoughts in my head. So many it’s killing me inside. Please enable me. God I hope at least one of you likes this enough to talk to me about it. To hc, to literally just share my words with. And yes…. There is a very heavy Ghost/romance element… but I’m totally not against picturing the other options ahaha.

So I’ve been thinking….

An AU where everyone needs to lay low for a while. Maybe they’re all compromised and someone with enough power and money shows interest to take out the 141 forever. And Laswell, being the problem solver that she is, suggests a safe house of someone close to her. Someone who can be trusted. Not just to provide somewhere physically safe, but also keep a close eye on the team while they’re -somewhat- forcibly being cut off from the world.

So the team are flighted into the middle of god-knows-where in the mountains. A tiny little town -if you can call it that- and they meet their contact.

Not only a girl… but civilian.

She refers to Laswell as Aunt Kate and the Captain and Uncle John. Sweet as can be, and so damn helpful that it’s almost infuriating. Especially to Ghost. She hasn’t seen a single thing about them other than what Laswell has offered, and really appears like she couldn’t care less about opening her house up to them. A house just big enough to fit all four men.

Ghost isn’t sure about the whole thing. It feels wrong being holed up in the deep holler of an Appalachian mountain with a girl not twenty-five. Like some kind of fucked-up movie he wasn’t aware of being cast for. It’s all too strange walking inside her house and seeing photos on the walls, a massive rack of cast iron skillets and pots hanging above her kitchen island, and the way she looks at Price so fondly.

Uncle John…

Something about it rubs him wrong. There’s got to be history there… at least enough for her to feel the right to call Price that. But he’s never heard of her before. And this kind of arrangement isn’t one to taken lightly. There are people hunting the 141… A threat so well documented that they couldn’t even just turn a blind eye and wait for the smoke to clear.

The sweet thing doesn’t notice Ghost’s apprehension.

But she does recognize Price’s excitement in seeing her, as well as his slight disappointment that she’d offered to do this. She’s too good to get involved in matters of war, and he’s honestly surprised that Kate let you. But then again, there could only be so much disappointment he could find in seeing his goddaughter. And funnily enough, there’s a sense of relief he has in seeing how well she’s done for herself since he saw her last.

Intelligent, scarily so. But not in an overt way. He can see it in the way she collects rainwater for watering the little garden out back, and the pistol safe tucked under her bed with a thumbprint scanner. He notices the small town she’d bought her home in, and the relatively tight community. Maybe a little old-fashioned… but it’s good in case something goes wrong. And right now, it’s paying off.

Unbelievably welcoming too… but Kate and John always knew there’d come a day when she’d get a chance to ‘mother’ someone. And now she’d have four men to do exactly that for. Even from day one, she’s already made trips to the store, rearranged her whole home, and bought god-knows-what in anticipation for their arrival.

What’s each of your favorite food, I’ll make lists so I never run out of dinner ideas.

Any preferences on how I should come and go around my the house? I don’t want to startle anyone.

Did you need anything you didn’t bring? If I can’t get it in town or online I’ll text Aunt Kate and have her get it…

She’s nearly frantic to get them settled, and everyone reacts in a muted tone of shock save for Price. He’s well-aware thanks to Kate about how excited she is… something about wanting to prove herself. And Jesus if it doesn’t make Price feel a bittersweet burn in his chest as he introduces her to the others. Seeing her wide eyes examining all of them without the slightest hesitation. Memorizing names and faces, and shaking massive, gloved, hands without missing a beat.

She’s got Soap wrapped around her finger on instant. Maybe it’s a big-brother feeling. One like Price holds for her. Since she’s younger than him -unlike his own sisters- there’s something of a chance to be one for a while. Soap almost instantly takes to her Appalachian lilt and bright smile. They’re both too sweet for their own good at times… and Price can tell right away there won’t be a knife sharp enough to cut the two of them apart after this.

Gaz is quietly polite is a way only he can be. Meticulously trying to stay out of her way as she flutters about. Wanting to help her out, but also downright flustered when she demands she be the one to carry their bags to their rooms. It’s a clear sign he’s not used to it… A woman being this damn sweet and intent on ‘helping’ a man. But he takes it in stride. Learning how to help without stepping on her decidedly ‘southern comfort’ style of catering to them. And god if Price doesn’t have to chew the tip of his cigar when she gets on his ass about something. The poor sod looks like a kicked puppy… and he’s certain she’ll end up training him with due time.

Christ above. If Ghost isn’t the most difficult bastard to deal with initially.

He’s much more sour than typical. Lurking in corners, and unable to settle down anywhere for more than an hour. He looks caged in by the comfortable couch and throw blankets. Swallowed by her pleasantly creaky porch swing and sun-couch on the wraparound. Not even her well-used garage housing an old Fold flatbed makes a good refuge for Ghost. She’s all encompassing in a way he can’t come to terms with easily.

Price sees her trying the hardest with him.

The way her voice lowers when addressing him. How she makes a conscious effort to tiptoe around the house after 10pm because that’s when he shuts himself inside his bedroom… She doesn’t exactly know he never sleeps. Dinners are often served close to the time he finally realizes he’s got to come back inside the house… and without fail, she can be found sitting near him.

Not friendly by any means.

But more like a girl who’s found an old bait-dog at the pound and can’t leave well-enough alone. Sitting with her back it to and tossing treats over her shoulder. Hoping silently that the old, scarred, dog will come around. Damn near predatory in a sweet kind of way. Price can tell she means well. She can see the same thing everyone else on the team can… and she’s just going about it her way.

She’s good like that. Maybe a little too good.

But John can’t deny he enjoys seeing it. All of it really. The way she dotes on them individually. Consistently. Hell, she even does their laundry and bought separate baskets to keep things neat and tidy. The fridges -yes… multiple- all are set with their preferences in drinks, and she’s scarily observant when things need replaced. Toothpaste… shoelaces… socks… there’s no missing anything. Brands and sizes don’t seem to be a problem either, to some shock and mortification.

Uncle John, what’s Soap mean when he says he misses Irn-Bru?

His quick and unconcerned explanation goes without another notice… until he sees Johnny taking a long drink from a bottle of it while sitting on a rocking chair on the back porch watching some hummingbirds fight over richly dyed sugar water.

John’s often preoccupied with worrying about the plans of those head-hunting them and what Kate’s doing behind the scenes in the meantime. But it’s clear there’s nothing concerning his goddaughter but whether or not they’re all fed, warm, and comfortable in her house…

Whether Ghost likes it or not.

Comments are so heavily appreciated on this… I want to make this more of what I talk about & I can’t keep it all on a notebook under my bed.

[angelasscribbles]

The King's Mistress

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Rating: NSFW 🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Slight Lemons, infidelity

Word Count: 822

My other stuff: Master List.

Story is under the cut.......

The Duchess of Valtoria was perched on the edge of an expansive mahogany desk with her head thrown back and her elegant evening gown hiked up around her waist, moans of ecstasy spilling out of her as the king stood with his pants tangled around his ankles thrusting into her. Her perfectly manicured nails sank into his ass, spurring him on.

He had been waiting for a moment alone with her all damn day. Sitting next to her for two hours in the budget meeting had been bad enough, but then she had shown up at the annual Ambassador’s Ball in a dress that ought to be criminal. Holding her in his arms on the dance floor while maintaining proper decorum had been excruciating. Getting her somewhere private had jumped to number one on his priority list.

Her screams filled his ears as his eyes locked on her face, watching the rapturous euphoria of her release dance across her features. She cried out his name as he spilled himself inside her.

“Riley…” his lips brushed the side of her neck as a hand tangled in her hair and pulled her closer.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He was bewitched by the way she loved with such wild abandon. She cared nothing for the intrigues of the court or the judgments of others. She was a wild thing, free in a way he longed to be.

He had been surrounded his entire life by crown chasers and sycophants, but Riley was different.

Maybe the raging inferno she ignited within him was love, or perhaps she represented the path he had almost chosen before duty and sacrifice had landed him right back where he started.

Either way, she had chosen him when she’d had no idea who he was. And that meant something to him.

He stepped away from her reluctantly and pulled his pants up. “I should get back before my wife sends a search party to find me.”

Riley made a face as she scooted to the edge of the desk. A slight sound of displeasure issued from the back of her throat.

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Despite his assertation that he was needed back in the ballroom forthwith, he took his time carefully and tenderly helping her adjust her dress back into place. His fingers kept making detours to trail down a bare arm or trace across the back of her neck.

When her clothes were righted, his hands ran once again through her now tousled hair. “Sorry, I made a mess of that updo.”

“It’s ok,” she laughed as she plucked the few remaining clips free and shook her head, sending waves of riotous curls cascading down her back. “But I am going to need a little help fixing it.”

“Hm.” A bright smile lit up his face as humor danced through his ocean blue eyes. “I command armies, negotiate with dictators, and the Cordonian stock market can rise or fall based on my mood, but alas, I am utterly helpless in the face of a hair emergency.”

“I know!” She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder, “But I left my phone in my clutch, which is back in the ballroom…”

His grin widened. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He produced his phone and brandished it in front of her. “Hana?”

“Hana,” she agreed with a nod.

His fingers flew across the phone pad as he sent a text to Bastien Lykel, the head of his king’s guard, to find and escort Lady Hana Lee to his office.

“She’s on her way. I hate to leave you, but I really do need to get back. The ambassador from Rival—”

“It’s fine, go.” She waved him away as she headed for the attached bathroom to check on her makeup. Being seen re-entering the ballroom together would just cause more whispers anyway.

Not that the entire country didn’t already know. They hadn’t been that discreet. Their relationship was an open secret at court. She was the maîtresse-en-titre as the French would say. The king’s official royal mistress, complete with all the money, titles, land, and security that provided.

She knew that what she gave him in return was more than sex. It was companionship, romantic intimacy, advice, conversation, and a shoulder to lean on when he needed it.

He had married for political reasons, family obligations, and tradition. There was no love between the king and queen.

Still, this wasn’t where she saw her life going when she met him on that cruise ship and mistook him for a broke college student.

His voice stopped her before she made it through the door. “Hey, Riley?”

She turned back toward him. “Yeah?”

That grin that always sent butterflies shocking through her broke out across his face. “I love you.”

She returned his smile as he retreated into the hallway. “I love you too, Leo.”

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?

Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World

Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.

Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.

Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.

Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.

Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?

Here are some other posts that might help:

Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[heyclickadee]

Okay, a few thoughts on the trailer now that I’ve collected my thoughts a bit:

1. Between the shots of the crashed ship and Omega in the cockpit, it’s looking like a self-rescue on Omega’s part. At this point I’m thinking she gets herself and Crosshair out, and then, based on the shots of Cross with the batch, gets separated from him at some point. He rejoins the batch, and she is…somewhere else. Though I don’t know if that means she goes back to Tantiss.

2. It’s entirely possible that she gets got by one of the bounty Hunters in the trailer, and that’s what separates her from Crosshair.

3. I do think that it is Crosshair in the armor, but other possibilities include: one, Tech, who may not have his own armor anymore and needed to wear something protective on short notice, and; two, Hunter’s having a real bad time and is actually hallucinating Crosshair being with them. I don’t think that’s the case though—I think it really is Crosshair.

4. It’s also possible that those shots with Crosshair are from a little later on in the season.

5. Poor Omega’s going to be in Tantiss for months.

6. I swear Hunter looks like he’s lost weight. Like. I know a lot of the fandom is deep in the Crosshair and Tech are twins sauce (and honestly, I am too, I adore that head-canon and basically think if it as canon), but darn it if Hunter isn’t getting so drawn he’s starting to look a little like Crosshair.

7. I find it weirdly amusing that the half the trailer in which the bad batch actually features is mostly taken up by Hunter and Wrecker doing Adventure Man things. I get the sense they were scrounging to find shots of the batchers that weren’t massively spoilery (and they still put those shots of Crosshair in. Which, admittedly, is one of the things that makes me slightly suspicious of that being Crosshair at all, because that could be a misdirect, but only slightly).

8. I’m going to laugh if it turns out that Cid hired all of the bounty hunters we see to find Omega. Like, if that’s what she uses the money she got from Hemlock for, and she’s basically trying to get Omega out of the situation she got Omega into and goes a little overboard on the means.

9. Ventress! I’ll be honest, Ventress has never been at the top of my favorite character list, though I’ve warmed up to her quite a bit (I used to like the idea of her more than the execution), but I always love Nika Futterman’s performance, and I’m intrigued to see Ventress here at the very least. Because. How. She was very dead. Very, very dead. Not “fell into The Mists” dead—she had a funeral after being dead for months. My only thoughts are that were either seeing her in a flashback sequence that takes place before Dark Disciple, or it turns out that nightsisters can use their force magic to do some weird shit after getting hit by lightning. Either way, I don’t think she’s fighting Wrecker and Hunter here—that’s just some misleading editing.

10. Man, I hope Hemlock dies a lot.

11. Anyway, speaking of the dead and those back from it, Tech is so alive and I’m trying to not be the Smuggest of Gremlins until we for sure see him, but jeez are they making that difficult. (I checked the trailer release blurb on the Star Wars dot com page—it doesn’t mention Tech being dead. It just says the team is “scattered” after the events of season two. Like. Guys, you’re not even trying anymore.)

12. And more on Tech, I do think it’s possible—possible, mind you—that Tech is the guy we see in the clone X armor in front of what looks like the Archium. There are some small differences between that armor and both the armor we see on Clone X in season two, and the Clone X we see speaking later in the trailer—namely, the shoulder straps, what looks like a glass visor covering the two eyeholes, and *sigh* the pouches. And it’s the straps and the pouches that are giving him a bit more of a Tech-ish silhouette—especially the pouches, and especially from behind. If it is Tech, though, I don’t think it’s a brainwashed Tech at all (and honestly, it’s the pouches that make me lean towards not brainwashed if it is Tech in there, because a shin pouch is just a very Tech-and-not-blank-slate thing to wear).

I actually think it’s more likely that it’s Tech in disguise and having taken the armor from the Clone X we see later in the trailer (with some adjustments of his own), and that that’s what’s being referred to by the titles “Infiltration” and “Extraction;” Tech infiltrating imperial forces, and then the others having to get him (and probably the people of Pabu) out. And, if that’s the case, I’m banking on these shots being from the midseason. (I know I said I wasn’t going to speculate on the episode titles. That was aspirational.)

Basically, I could be persuaded that it’s Tech in there or that it’s not. I’m less likely to be persuaded that it’s a brainwashed Tech in there—I still don’t think that’s happening.

12. Whether that is Tech in that armor or not, I do think that the clone X we see speaking in the trailer isn’t the same guy in the armor in the Archium shot.

13. I am SO HAPPY to see Phee back THANK GOODNESS. I was a little worried they’d drop her like a rock, but nope! She’s here! She’s got her cool jacket! We see her ship!

14. There is a criminally small amount of Echo in the trailer, but I’m not giving up on seeing more of him. It’s possible that he’s either a walking spoiler, or that he features a little more heavily in the back half of the season.

15. “The Cavalry Has Arrived” is the most optimistic episode title in the whole damn show and, yes, I will die on this hill.

16. Crosshair. Oh, Crosshair. Someone please save him immediately.

17. There’s a lot of early doom panic around, well, everyone and everyone (especially Hunter) dying that I’m honestly going to ignore going forward. For reasons.

[lorata]

Hi, hope you’re doing well! Unfortunately I’ve had a bit of a shocker today and missed out on a leadership role that I worked really hard for :( any advice from your victors?

aw no I'm sorry!

i'm ah, hm. trying to poll the peanut gallery is interesting given their various approaches range from "make strategic threats and carry out as necessary" (adessa), "cheat and try again" (devon, misha), "use an extreme level of violence that makes people fear for their own safety" (enobaria, claudius, callista), "use normal violence" (many others), "accept the inevitable" (nero) or "internalize failure" (emory, alec)

the mentor answer if this happened to a kiddo, i think, is that just like with muscles, no training is wasted: whatever you did to prepare for this one will help you in whatever the next one is. and right now all you need is to find your job for right now, sunrise to sunset to sunrise. even if that job is eating and sleeping and swinging a sword around to give all those feelings somewhere to go.

OK now they're actually taking this seriously let's try again

emory says: cook something, even if it's just a sandwich. focus on each step. eat it when you're done. bonus, make extra and give it to someone else. try remember that no one else defines your worth

misha says: light a fire, climb a tree, go someplace HIGH, get the body moving, anything to keep that stuck feeling away

devon says: paint! don't worry if it's good, don't even try to make it look like anything! use water on a sidewalk or draw in condensation and don't worry about permanence because everything passes

enobaria says: kill them stab something, make something with your hands that lets you be a little violent. also find a friend and bite yell, complain, throw things, be as mean and petty about it as you need

brutus says: damn right no one else defines your worth! do heavy work - lift stumps, swing sticks around, roll some logs, rearrange your furniture, do laundry (misha!), whatever, be present in your body. you are here, you are breathing, this ain't the end

lyme says: clean. pick a surface you've been ignoring or a clutter spot that's been staring at you and deal with it, clean out the inside of your fridge and toss away anything old and expired. sometimes you just need a reminder you accomplished something.

claudius says: kill them play music (doesn't have to be good! doesn't have to sound like anything!), go for a walk, pay attention to what's around you, get outside your head. life has a funny way of turning out

petra says: kill them work out, lift heavy things, punch something, move your body, break things, go outside and scream as loud as you can, do a wall-sit until your legs shake. don't hold it inside

callista says: kill them find a small, furry animal and take it hostage show it love - they don't know anything about capitalism, they only know food and cuddles. wonderful. also wear something that baffles everyone else but pleases you and delight in your impeccable taste

nero says: make something with your hands, fix something, ask someone if there’s something you can do to help and do it. find a connection between you and someone else, you and the earth, and ground yourself

adessa says: kill them ruin them destroy them emotionally plot their demise this is not the arena; one mistake or missed opportunity does not mean death. find a worthy companion and instruct them to list your positive qualities. don't contradict them; that is counterintuitive

odin says: take solace in your friends and family! food and drink and company won't change the situation but at least you are not alone

ronan says: they are watching how you take rejection as much as if you got it. this is your chance to show that you're not petty, and they'll remember you next time. in the meantime, make yourself invaluable to the one who did get it [and so on, Mr. I Eat Poisoned Cookies and Play Chess with President Snow on the Regular]

alec: have you tried spite? way more motivating than you'd think. also, when in doubt climb a tree and imagine your most annoying friend telling you what you need but don't want to hear

and as a bonus, injured creed says: your only job right now is to take care of yourself. it will feel awful for a while, but you are more than this moment and life isn't just an off-branch of the path you should have taken. one day you'll find the sacrifice you were truly made for

[jamiesfootball]

Do you have any ships in the ted lasso fandom that you enjoy? I just ask because most of your posts seem more interested in the gen side of the fandom. Are you more of a 'read about ships but write about gen' author? No hate, obviously, I'm just curious because that's pretty rare in my fandom experience! ✨

Thank you for asking! Sorry if this is a bit long. Answer to the last question is first and the ship list starts somewhere around the middle and includes some rarepairs that I think more people should give a chance

I’m pretty good and open to most ships on some level. I’m a ‘will try most things once’ sort of reader. However what I’ve learned about myself is that what interests me more is character dynamics and characters struggling with themselves rather than a lot of the popular romantic and/or sexual tension/buildup/catharsis tropes (slow burns, enemies to lovers, etc) I get why people read them, I’ve read them myself and enjoyed them, but I’ve come to accept that it’s just not what I personally want to write about

A few years ago I co-wrote a fic with a friend (the man from uncle fic), and my friend IS good at the slow burn, yearning, pining thing - in fact, hearing her talk about how much she enjoyed it and why was a big factor in my figuring out what I didn’t like about it and why I was struggling to write it. This is good! I think more people should consider branching out beyond the usual fandom offerings, but also that they should think about what’s not satisfying them and how find it- or how to make it themself, which is what I’ve been doing. Exploring the stuff I like to try to find what makes me happiest to write about

Which seems to be mostly jokes and psychological trauma with a side helping of people spending quality time with each other and supporting each other. And it turns out that a lot of the things I enjoy writing and reading (comedy, action scenes, ensemble dialogue) are the things that other people aren’t as comfortable writing, so I get to fill a niche as well!

Now. To go back to your question

I’ve always said I’d be interested in exploring what’s up with TedTrent. I think there’s a lot of intriguing potential in their interpersonal interactions and their overall dynamic as two middle aged divorced men. I’ve also commented before on the interesting parallel with Ted and Michelle and the way that Trent and Dr. Jacob both had very professional responsibilities to each of them, but whereas Trent gave up his career for the sake of doing right by someone he respected, Dr Jacob proceeded to date his client

I’ve also started a borderline crack fic that’s just Ted, going through a mild sexuality crisis, who keeps coming up with more and more euphemistic ways of saying he’s got the hots for Trent because he can’t quite bring himself to say it like a normal person ("He makes me want to ask my grandma for her blueberry casserole recipe" <- guy who has it bad)

Im also of course a big fan of Jamie, so I’ve read and dabbled in writing RKJ, RoyJamie, SamJamie, and DaniJamie, and Sam/Dani/Jamie. My take on Sam/Dani is that it’s a pairing that seems like it should work but i haven’t figured out what that looks like yet. Dani has a very hyper restlessness to him, and Sam a very calm one, so I think they would need to take breaks from each other

I’ve had half a mind for JanJamie as well, but I then I made up my own elaborate headcanon for my future fic so now I prefer them more as future coaching work husbands where Jan is very practical and steady and Jamie is the one with the creativity who inspires people and together they fight about football strategy until it’s time to go to their respective homes and then they do it all over again the next day. Which is the sort of wildly specific headcanon you can’t possibly expect someone else to have

I also made a post a million years ago about Jamie, Keeley, and Rebecca going to pride together and being confused for being an impeccably gorgeous queer threesome, and frankly I’m still here for that, although I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Rebecca/Keeley/Jamie fic in the wild. Honestly though, going back to what I said before: what I really want is the dynamic. I just want them to hang out together. Maybe I should send them on a spa day together — I already gave them a smoke break together, maybe after that they agreed on a spa day

Also BarbaraBeard sounds fun, for two characters who I don’t think ever met on screen. I feel like they would enjoy watching hockey together — and maybe Beard would forget about Jane if he found a woman who seems willing and able to deadlift him over her head

Whoever made that post years ago about how it looked like Colin and Moe were texting each other - you made a compelling point. Add to that the knitted scarf and Colin thinking Moe is the fittest one on the team, and ColinMoe sounds fucking adorable. They’d be so weird and confusing together and they’re both very passionate about very specific causes. I see it. I see the vision

I can’t believe I’ve never seen a word about DaniThierry. Come on. I’ve somehow had this in my pocket since season one and then season three gave us Dani smiling through being an absolute menace to him and Thierry being unbearably cringe but in such an earnest way (his “I like short walks on the beach” Bantr video fucking killed me I died)

And to cap off the list: I do like tedbecca, but it’s specifically the queerplatonic soulmate tedbecca in my head, where they light up the room for each other just by being nearby

[burnwater13]

Grogus gathered around Din Djarin as a reminder that the Force is strange and mysterious. Grogus in background are watercolors by me.

Uncomfortable

Meditation was a wonderfully useful tool for many things. You could use it to calm your breathing and give your body a break from the stress of everyday living. You could use it as a way to clear your mind and allow your brain to have time to recover and orient itself. You could use it as a means of communing with the Force, allowing yourself to be one with the universe and feel the connections all through its many galaxies. But you couldn’t use it to forget that you needed to use a privy. Nope. Never worked that way. Grogu was miserable.

He knew that his dad had some means for sorting out those natural biological processes, but he wasn’t his dad. He usually retained everything until they reached their destination. His biology allowed for that and he was grateful for the way it worked. At least most of the time. Sitting in the N-1 was not ideal for sorting out alternates. It just wasn’t.

Now they were in hyperspace and he’d have to wait until they reached their destination before he could address such a simple, clear cut need. Uff. 

“Grogu. It’s time to work on the background for the planet we’ll be meeting Ahsoka on. I’ve only been here once before and I don’t really remember enough about it. Paz was there, along with a few other Mandalorians and I’m pretty sure that I met the person who runs the place, but honestly, after everything we’ve done, it’s gotten a bit hazy.”

Wow. His dad had a real way of saying absolutely nothing and making it sound like he’d said something. Grogu wondered sourly if all Mandalorian bounty hunters took lessons in misdirection through boredom. He knew he was being biased. He knew that was because of his current condition. He couldn’t help either one and had no intention of trying. 

“Now, Buddy, I can feel you frowning at me. We’ll be on Takodana before you know it and you’ll be able to relieve yourself in your preferred manner. In the mean time, you should take this datapad and start finding all the information we talked about earlier and use it to work up your report and an initial plan of contact. Ahsoka suggested that we travel to Andui first. She plans on meeting us there, but she didn’t specify a location. Based on your education as a Jedi, I want you to develop a list of suggested locations that would be good to examine.”

Takodana! Yippee! At least that was one thing in Grogu’s favor. He’d already looked up a lot of information about the planet when he was setting up his art installation. Or at least planning his art installation. He hadn’t actually gotten to the real work of setting it all up. But now that was fine. He was actually going there and that real experience would help him determine if the places and features that he’d included in his sketches and layouts for the mural were the right things to focus on. That made this whole trip worthwhile, at least for him. He supposed when they finally got there, met Ahsoka, helped her with whatever she needed help with, there or somewhere else, it would be worthwhile for her. That was good, right?

Well, whether it was good or not, at least her interests and his interests coincided for once and Grogu was happy about that much. It took the edge off of how things had been going for the last year and he’d needed that much more than he thought he had. Just bouncing from one place to another was all well and good and very exciting, but being able to do a deep dive in advance really seemed like a luxury that they hadn’t been able to afford, until this moment. Yippee!

Grogu opened up the program on the datapad and began to pull up all the information he’d collected on Takodana for the cabin enhancement project. He liked the basic information he’d collected about the planet. It wasn’t cover by deserts like Tatooine or specifically volcanically active like Nevarro. It had water, but wasn’t swampy like Degobah or under a lot of constraints, like Sorgan. 

The galactic encyclopedia described it as being ‘hot and humid’ but they provided no reference data. As far as Grogu could tell from another report on the planet, Takodana was cooler than Tatooine and far less humid than Trask. He supposed whoever had collected the information just didn’t like breaking a sweat and it had been his experience that if you were doing enough work you could break a sweat on Hoth as easily as you could on Tatooine. You’d just find that you felt twice as cold when that happened if you didn’t keep up that same level of work. The cold was absolutely no fun.

Takodana didn’t have a moon which Grogu found interesting. He’d learned to appreciate moons when he’d been on planets that had them. That had actually been the only thing he’d liked about Hoth. Three moons decorating the sky and sliding through their phases and disrupting things when they were close enough to each other and the planet that their gravity wells created little pockets of special gravity. He’d once seen an avalanche of snow get sucked up into such a gravity anomaly and it had really been kind of magical. He’d wished he could do something like that with the Force but he had no idea how to even attempt it. But that wouldn’t be an issue on Takodana, so he had to refocus and consider what issues were there. 

He supposed an old Jedi Temple was a pretty good issue. There was always a chance that something special had been left in it and you’d need a real or experienced or dedicated Jedi to find it. Or, given that almost every Jedi Temple ever constructed had been built on the foundations of an old Sith Temple (looking at you Coruscant, Dantooine, Moraband, etc.,) it was possible that the Sith had left stuff on Takodana as well. That would be a good thing to sort out early. Given what they’d just been through, relatively speaking, keeping stuff away from any other Sith or Sith adjacent people seemed like an excellent use of time. 

And, even without an old Jedi Temple, there was a castle, and not just any castle. It was the home of the pirate Queen Maz Kanata. Had Ahsoka gotten in trouble with a bunch of pirates, again? Grogu hoped not. Pirates followed strange rules that they were happy to follow very strictly until it occurred to them that they didn’t actually have to follow them at all. Then you were in trouble. Also, pirates kept strange company. They tolerated all sorts of people that were normally not welcomed in civil society. People like bounty hunters. Oops. Maybe that was a good thing then. If Maz was a pirate, maybe she’d like the Mandalorian. Or at least not care that he was a bounty hunter. Grogu couldn’t imagine a Pirate Queen getting all obnoxious about handing over weapons and detonators the way those people on Chandrila had been. Another point in Takodana’s favor from Grogu’s perspective. 

Hmmm. There was still a lot for him to learn and to collate into a report that his dad could understand. He’d have to start his outline now and then fill in the blanks and take on new research paths when they called to him. After all, the initial data he had on Takodana didn’t really mention much about critters and it had been Grogu’s experience that critters, wherever they went, were a key aspect of how the work they performed would go. Rancor weren’t native to Tatooine. Someone had brought them there ages ago. What if they also existed on Takodana? Or Krayt dragons? Or rathtars? What if they had Mythosaurs? Sure, Takodana wasn’t close to Mandalore, but what did ‘close’ even mean in a galaxy as large as the one they were in? 

Uff. That was a lot to learn and he really needed to get a good handle on it before they arrived at Andui, Takodana’s only real city (more like a largish village, but again did size really matter). He also needed the layout of the city, where the landing port was, markets, taverns, and importantly privies. Yes, he couldn’t forget that even though having a project to occupy his mind was helping. He just hoped it lasted through the long ride there or they would both be very uncomfortable when they arrived.