#somebody get hunk a blanket

[1nkers]

they’re beauty and they’re grace ‼️

featuring hunk and keith from voltron force :) i love them so much especially hunk, he deserves much more love and recognition 💔

i’d imagine keith would prefer wearing hoodies or sweatpants alot while roaming around the castle, its his way of telling himself that he doesn’t have to worry about people grabbing him anymore while he was on the run and he has a team he can lean back against but i still can see him wearing clothes that stick to him easier like shorts or turtlenecks if they’re ever out on a mission or interacting with alot of allura’s counselors

hunk on the other end i feel like would be a real sweater type of guy, something big that fits his structure without overly revealing too much of himself (not that he’s insecure, he knows his worth but people do be weird sometimes) hunk’s easily one of the tallest people in vf (allura’s close behind) the way i see him so he already sticks out like a sore thumb and he doesn’t want to take away any of his friend’s recognition or audience

i feel like he’d also really be a big science fan hence the planet on his sweater and star earrings (or maybe thats just me liking stars) didn’t draw it on him cause i was lazy but hunk’s easily one of the most scarred up people in the team with him taking most of the hits for his friends or him accidentally hurting himself while experimenting with pidge or coran, i feel like he would also have a lot of unpleasant scars that he covers as to not scare anybody like the cadets or the people of arus, mans has had it ROUGH

and to top off all the angst i’ve written today, here’s some fluffy concepts

hunk can fall asleep ANYWHERE. he feels slightly tired and is in a place where he can sit? man’s out for the night

though he is a semi deep sleeper, he will wake up if needed to comfort somebody or for cuddles :)

keith has caught him asleep on the couch so many times he’s given up tryna make him stop and just instead makes him more comfortable

both hunk and keith are very fond though of sleeping in their lions for comfort and security though

their beds are fine but when you’ve been in war for that long you’d understand

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 8 - You're a...Wizard?

Gale has a theory.

On AO3.

By the time you feel good enough to do things like “stand up” and “form coherent sentences”, Gale’s talking to the people y’all found.

What gets you to that point is the raised voices.

“Left? What do you mean left?” Astarion, voice gone sharp in bitchy. “You were the one talking to them, wizard.”

Your hands and feet is cold. Got a blanket wrapped around you and a smoldering fire to your left. The faint scent of flowers (and sweat and blood and general road stink) washes over you.

Shadowheart. She gives you an appraising nod. Holds up a hunk of bread slathered in honey.

“You’ll need to eat this,��� she says.

Because your ass went into shock. Again. Goddamnit.

Between bites, you ask what the commotion is.

“The Harpers scurried off,” she says. Hands you a water skin. Doesn’t even need you to ask to answer, “They’re a bunch of meddlers that pretend at secrecy and tend to stick their noses where they don’t belong. This group apparently has a stronghold nearby, which they’ve invited us to.”

“Unbelievable!” Astarion squawks.

Gale has both his hands up like he’s soothing a pissy pony, and Karlach looks like somebody sucker punched her teddy bear for fun.

“I take it they wasn’t supposed to leave?” you say.

“Harpers have no sense of structure,” Shadowheart says. “They probably argued amongst themselves, and then ran off rather than come to any conclusion. Are you well enough to stand?”

Like a baby cow, all quaking legs and jitters.

The rest of the team catches the movement. Astarion’s gaze lands on you, and that offended expression softens a second.

“They gave us instructions,” Wyll says, heading over. “We’ll follow after them once we rest. They had wounded, too. They won’t have got far.”

Shadowheart leaves you with that water skin and a pear. You look at the pear a long moment. Had enough of them as a kid, too sweet, the flesh gritty. The phantom stink of sticky syrup gumming up your hands as you picked up that long, glittering piece of smashed jar. How easily that glass could open flesh, open an arm.

You wait until she ducks into her tent for a moment and then whistle to Wyll. He glances over, and you toss the fruit, which he catches in one hand.

“Don’t like pears,” you say at the question on his face. The Shadowheart reemerges, and you put a finger to your lips. Without missing a beat, Wyll slides the pear into a pouch on his belt and gives you a wink.

The rest of the party is mulling around, most of the tents lifted up. Sweetums crouches with Scratch in Wyll’s tent. But it’s that silver fluff of hair you’re looking for—

“Feeling better, I take it?” Gale stands over you. Dark circles smudge beneath his eyes and his shoulders slump. You’re pretty sure he ain’t aware of that, though. And despite it, there’s an…air to him.

“Yeah?” you say.

“May I?” He gestures to the space beside you right as Astarion circles into view. Must’a been doing a patrol lap.

He meets your gaze, glances to the wizard. And Gale, who ain’t no observational slouch, picks up on it. Clears his throat. “I can return at a later time.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Astarion says. “I can hardly monopolize the valuable time of our illustrious leader.”

Two nights he’s wanted to be with you, and two nights he got cock blocked. Once by an owlbear, and then by you.

You wince.

“It’s only, I heard from a bird—as I believe the saying goes—that you may have touched the Weave,” Gale says. Takes in your blank stare. “Done magic.”

Well shit. This sounds important.

Astarion watches, his face blank. You ain’t gonna cast him off again. Not because, like, you owe him sex or nothing. You done educated yourself enough in that regard. But y’all are dating (right?). And that means making time for one another.

“I still got a nose, right?” you say to him. “You checked?”

“I did, and yes.” You hope you ain’t imagining the slight thaw to him.

“Then it sounds like we still got dinner plans, if you want?” You tilt your head towards your tent—don’t remember putting it up but somebody clearly did, bless their heart.

He regards you a moment more. Then sweeps into one of his bows, lips turning in a tiny smile. “I suppose it’s only fair to leave you to the tender mercies of our resident wizard while I freshen up. I’ll see you soon, darling.”

He slips into his tent, and you look back to Gale. Only to find half the camp looking suspiciously away. Except Karlach, who grins and gives you what’s apparently the universal “get some” fist pump.

And the cold spot. The eerie shadow lurking to your right. The glacial disapproval blasting the back of your head. You won’t turn. You can’t.

You do. Find Shadowheart just…looking. With the single most disappointed and disgusted auntie stare you ever seen in your whole life.

Gale, however, is either real determined to not make you blurting out to the whole camp your hanky panky plans for the night awkward, or he’s just that invested in you maybe doing magic. And that means you got a good excuse not to make eye contact with nobody else. Neat.

Gale, bless his entire fucking heart, gets right into it. “I heard that spear you picked up had a daylight enchantment upon it. And I take it you were not the one to cast it.”

“Yeah.”

“In which case, I must surmise that the one who did was the poor woman you plucked it from?”

You kinda remember that. Did your best not to look too close at her, especially not the face (kind, brown eyes, he was just trying to help, be a decent person, god). But you nod.

Gale glances behind you. To your tent. To the spear you just now spot leaning against the frame. “Our gith friend insisted. I think she means to train you with that, as you seem to have the inkling of an aptitude. And it is a beginner-friendly weapon. But back to the point! When you lifted that, did you say or do anything?”

The whole thing was so fast. Pure chaos. You running, stumbling, out of time and you just saw it and that crocodile brain of yours reached out through you.

“I just…wanted it,” you way. “I don’t know that I said nothing, though.”

Gale shifts closer. His eyes is all lit up. “Did you feel anything?”

Numb. Cold.

“It, I think it was…humming?”

The man actually claps his hands once. Leans in like a gamer bro about to take on the last, grand prize.

“That’s not the first time that’s happened, is it?” he says. “During your drow encounter. With the ship. The movement continued after Astarion went back to shore, did it not?”

Just for a little bit.

But when you go over that again, Gale starts making choppy hand gestures, talks faster. “An enchantment can only be maintained as long as the caster can hold their concentration. Can continue directing the Weave. When Astarion broke contact, that should have been an end to it. The same with our unfortunate Harper. Yet sometimes, the Weave lingers, only for a moment. And in that moment, it is possible to sweep it up. Not at full capacity, and not for long. But it can be done. Only.” He lifts his lecture finger. He’s been resisting that the whole time, ain’t he? “By someone who can manipulate it.”

Do magic. Which you can’t do. Y’all tested that out pretty good, and not a damn thing. You hadn’t even been thinking of that with the spear. You just…wanted. To keep on glowing. To be safe. To not die. (To stop Shadowman.)

“But I can’t do magic,” you say.

And now, Gale’s beaming turns sly. “I may have a theory about that. One I suspect you also share.”

Behind him, Lae’zel emerges from her own tent holding something. She looks around, as if checking that nobody else is paying attention. Then focuses on Shadowheart kneeling in front of her tent.

Huh.

“You haven’t been surprised by a great deal of things as a visitor from another plane should be,” Gale says. “Your anatomy seems to be identical to a denizen of Toril, and human at that. You’ve had no trouble breathing here, which, well. I’ve read accounts of other travelers pitching over dead after a few minutes. Yet here you are, hale and healthy.”

“Mostly,” you say. “Aside from the soul jar shit. And freaking out all the time.”

“Pish posh. Pluck any citizen of Waterdeep from their daily life and drop them into this madness, and I’d say they’d be doing about as well as you. Perhaps poorer, even. My point being, people have found themselves here by other means than illithid abduction. But your world, Eyarth, seems to closely resemble our own.”

Lae’zel reaches Shadowheart, who lifts her head and gives the gith a single eyebrow arch. You can feel the judgment roiling off her all the way over here, and she ain’t even aiming it at you, this time.

But Lae’zel fucking squares off—Florida Man stepping out into a hurricane with a giant flag shouting “try me bro.” Thrusts what she’s holding towards the cleric. Which turns out to be something dead.

“I have tasted it myself,” she says. “The meat is dry, but it still offers sustenance.”

Oh yikes. Not what you meant. Not even a little.

You duck away from that train wreck to stammer at Gale, “Hmm?”

“Take our food for example,” Gale says. Either unaware of the catastrophe playing out at his back, or just that deep in nerding out. He’s such a sweetheart. “First of all, you have no trouble consuming our food or digesting it. Second of all, you don’t like pears.”

What? That’s just cause…

But y’all ain’t run across pears before. Not since the butthole ship crashed. But you have a preference. Because you seen one before. This is Middle fucking Narnia. Pretty much an alien planet. But y’all got the same food. You vaguely remember ranting to Astarion about it when you was tripping balls in the Underdark.

“Fucking ani,” you say. “Strawberries.”

“Precisely. The very presence of familiar foods, never mind the physical compatibility you demonstrate, is a clear indication of potential contact between our realms. And if food can make that journey, deliberately or not, so might more advanced organisms.”

Not parallel evolution. But…migration. Tomatoes came from South America to Europe after colonization, and were taken in so well, people think they was always part of Italian cuisine.

“You think adaptation?” you say.

Gale sounds out the word silently, and nods. “Based upon that theory, if plants and people can become part of a realm physically…”

“They might adapt to magic.”

The man shines like a fucking ray of sunshine. You can feel the second-hand excitement vibrating off him. “I propose we try routine testing. Perhaps we can do it once or twice a tenday. If something has changed, we can note it. Chart any progression. Monitor your acclimatization, and see of the Weave begins to recognizes you.”

“You’re saying I might…do magic. Maybe.”

“Yes.”

That…is terrifying in some deep, deep way. You don’t even know why.

But also.

You could set things on fire with a word. Fucking contribute something to this group of assholes that ain’t just being a mascot with the occasional idea.

You could be motherfucking Gandalf.

“Let’s fucking do it,” you say.

[autisticlancemcclain]

ask and you shall receive, @rottenseaweed my dear!!! julance drawing prompts for all my artist friends:

1. baby lance based on this image:

2. lance trying to do the cool wall lean and smirk to flirt with someone except he misses the wall and falls

3. lance and pidge furious and snarling at each other, fully ready to kill each other, so shiro separates them and starts giving them shit and they look at each other and start laughing bc they are asshole younger siblings who can’t take getting yelled at seriously

4. lance, leaning on hunk’s back as he rambles, and hunk completely focused on his work but reaching back to pat him on the head occasionally

5. coran fucking LAUNCHING lance into the pool

6. lance, visibly wearing something sparkly and pink that is Not His, terrorized expression on his face as he sprints away from allura who has murder written all over his face and is chasing him at top speeds

7. lance very carefully making charm bracelets for everyone

8. lance smiling softly as he pulls a blanket up over a couch-sleeping shiro

9. lance standing in front of like an easel or something with garbage memes on them, face very prim and instructional, holding a pointer and very clearly lecturing about meme culture to a wide-eyed, frantically note-taking allura

10. lance climbing kitchen cabinets to get something while hunk shouts at him in panic

11. lance absolutely kicking ass with a bow in this way from this video, if you’re into animation

12. lance standing with his hands on his hips, lecturing somebody about something, while hunk stands behind him with a photo of mrs mcclain whom he is imitating exactly without realising

13. lance braiding keith’s hair with like a million cutesy barrettes and charms and shit and just blabbing and keith is like fire truck red like truly glowing and lance is just completely overjoyed to be “fixing his mullet” and the rest of the team is losing their mind laughing at them

14. lance giving finger guns and winking at rebel matt who raises an eyebrow in amusement and pidge is mortified on his behalf

15. lance zooming around a moon, full armour and everything, picking up a thousand rocks and bringing them for shiro to hold bc they’re on a recon mission and shiro is watching this nerd boy in amusement (he is also geeking out about the rocks he’s just embarrassed about it)

16. veronica judo flipping lance upon their reunion on earth

17. lance, tongue out in concentration, knitting tiny little mouse sweaters

18. lance giving hunk a big ol’ cheek smooch bc he’s obnoxious (hunk pretends to be annoyed but is clearly holding back a smile)

18. coran and lance, faces both streaked with tears, hugging each other really tightly

19. keith really excitedly showing lance all the caves he explored when he was following blue’s trail and lance just staring at him, totally and completely whipped

20. pidge holding lance in a chokehold as he bites her. there are hearts around them bc they are both having literally so much fun even though they won’t admit it under pain of death

21. lance in daisy dukes and a cowboy hat, leaning against kaltenecker

22. lance, armour scuffed back from a rescue mission, teaching a bunch of scared alien children how to make friendship bracelets

23. lance and keith, on their honeymoon, faces half-obscured by the glare of the sun, grinning at the camera in front of the grand canyon (like this pic of my parents):

24. lance wearing a “i flexed so hard the sleeves ripped off” but the sleeves are very clearly still on. in fact the shirt is long-sleeved

25. preteen lance, beaming so wide his eyes squeeze shut, pink braces on his teeth

26. young lance, like maybe six or seven, missing four front teeth, giant satisfied smile on his face, at the beach (wearing shark swim trunks obviously) and holding a sea shell bigger than his entire head

27. tiny lance sitting on his brother’s shoulders, laughing, rest of his smiling family around him

28. a mirror of the food fight scene except it’s cake that the whole team (including the alteans!) are covered in, with a cake that says “happy birthday dorkbrain” absolutely destroyed with like clear imprints of people scooping up handfuls to throw

29. lance, in the backdrop of space, limp and unconscious, with both red and blue rushing towards him with protective snarls

30. lance hugging an alien scorpion the size of like a fucking horse, tears streaming down his face as if he’s looking at a particularly adorable kitten

31. the entire team except lance (he’s on a mission or smth) gathered in the common room, lounging on the couches. someone says “man i miss lance” and everyone is immediately like “oh my god me too i was waiting for someone to say it” “RIGHT ME TOO” “castle just isn’t the same without him” “seriously i’m so bored where is he when you need to bother him” etc etc

honestly i might do more of these dm me if u can come up with alliteration for a day of the week and i’ll post drawing prompts weekly

[mcsm-confessions]

Fuck it I’m giving all the Jesses names and you can’t stop me

REVAMP!

Red suspenders: Jesse (He’s a gay light skinned Biracial trans man 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈) (He's the sweetest person you will ever meet) (Has parentified older sibling syndrome, instinctively tries to help and take care of every person he meets) ( He and Lukas get together before the main game and only pretend to dislike each other in public but can't get their hands off each other in private) (Rueben's sick of it)

Yellow Clip: Jade (She's a Tsundere, full stop. She will literally say "Don't get me wrong, Its not like I Like you or anything" completely seriously and gets horribly flustered if anybody starts to poke through her prickly exterior)

Green Suspenders: Justinus (He's mute and semi-deaf in his left ear, He's stoical and is absolutely amazing at playing the violin) (Bro is spindly and 6'6, He's like an enderman) ( He falls for Lukas cus Bro was Nice to him tm)

Red Clip: Judith (She’s Uwu softie, shy, afraid of her own shadow, crybaby🥺) (But she's brave when she has to be, won't hesitate to save somebody) (She just does it while sobbing and trembling) (So down bad for Petra, gets all blushy and Puppy dog eyed around her) (Petra is also down bad for her)

Yellow Suspenders: Jarman (Their loud, Boisterous and confident) (When they get in a fight, their gonna let you know and everyone within earshot) (And often lose that fight) (They use They/he pronouns and has a Father-son Relationship with Radar)

Purple Clip: Julienne (No nonsense and a bit of a wet blanket) (She needs to be an example of stern discipline and wholesome Christian values) (but push the right buttons and you can her going) (She still cares tho) (Will commit self-deletus if any thing happens to Radar) (Thats her baby) (Her son)

Pink suspenders: Jay (A flirty, fun loving playboy that adores making Lukas blush) (Has the WILDEST hear me outs) (He’s a raging pansexual)

Pink Clip: Juri (Sweet, Bubbly and clumsy, she’d fit more as the protagonist of a shojo manga) (She's clumsy, ditzy and blunt, but makes up for it with her sweetness and high amounts of energy) (She gets broken. Viciously) (She' gets better in Season 2)

Orange Suspenders: Jasha (Smart, blunt and sharp, he’s closest to Olivia and Radar’s cool older brother figure) (He's a living "errn acshually") (He' can talk the enemy to death) (He’s intersex and identifies as male)

other yellow clip: Jennifer ( She Wants you to believe in yourself and receives flowers and chocolates from fans at the most Random moments) ( Loves to take care of people and dotes on them like she's their mother) (it's her whole mentality. To point where it can even be overbearing) (Tends to unintentionally infantilize Radar as a Result tho)

Black Suspenders: Jengo (An amazing cook who loves to spoil his friends and staff) (He's a short hunk king) (He will unironically wear hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts when he can) (Is in a cozy polycule with the new order) (Except Ivor He's their baby sitter)

other purple clip: Jemny (She acts super reserved and mysterious and is subtly trying to convince everybody that she’s a vampire) (She's not she's just a freak) (Maya gets a redemption arc cus she falls for Jemny and wants to get closer to her)

~~~

[litlunacy]

I don't have anything finished for N7 Day, but I do have this wip I've been chipping at for a while. Takes place immediately post Destroy ending. ~1200 words

It's deathly silent.

The quiet settles over her like a heavy blanket, thick enough to be suffocating. Though, that might be because the last time her world was this dark and silent she had been gasping for air in the vacuum of space. She remembers how her lungs had burned while she thrashed uselessly, panicking in a way she hadn't since she was a teenager watching her brother get shot in the face.

That same panic is lurking at the edges of her mind now, waiting to take over. But she won't let it. She can't let it. There are too many people waiting for her to come back. Friends, people she cares about and who care about her. A lover who would follow her to the end of the world, and practically has. A wild wrecking ball of an adopted son she has to keep pulling out of trouble. 

She is Commander Lorelei Fucking Shepard, and she did not save the whole damn galaxy just to leave it behind.

So she keeps calm. She takes slow, deep breaths to keep her heart rate steady. The wound on her side is still oozing blood between her fingers, and she tries to keep pressure on it as best she can. Her entire body hurts, but she's slightly more concerned about the parts she can't feel. Maybe they're just numb from blood loss, or maybe she actually lost them in the explosion, but she tries not to think about it. 

Instead, she thinks about her crew, her strange little family that she's built for herself. She thinks about Liara's gentle smile and Jack's rabid grin. Grunt's throaty laugh and Wrex's bone-crushing hugs. Traynor's babbling and her frightening dedication to strategy games. She thinks about Joker, and knows that he got them all out, somehow. She thinks about her hamster. Somebody better be feeding the little furball. And the fish.

But most of all, she thinks about Garrus. She thinks about his icy blue eyes, and the way they go all soft and warm when he looks at her. She thinks about the feel of his talons gently carding through her hair. His wry, sarcastic humor. His voice. The feel of his keelbone pressed against her spine, his thrumming subvocals lulling her to sleep. 

God, what she wouldn't give for that right now. She's so, so tired...

But she can't sleep. Not yet. Somebody will be looking for her, and she needs to stay awake. As long as she's awake she can remind herself to breathe. As long as she can breathe, she can get back to her people. Her family.

So Commander Shepard lays there in the rubble, and she breathes.

***

Most of the krogan teams were still on Earth when the Crucible fired. Wrex had been hip-deep in husks, blasting one to bits only for three more to take its place when the shockwave had rippled across the galaxy. 

And all the husks had dropped dead.

It's now too many hours and one cramped shuttle ride later, and Wrex is leading the search team combing the wreckage of the Citadel. Officially, they're searching for any survivors. People who were on the station when the Reapers had dragged it to Earth. Civilians, officials, even the damn Keepers need to be saved if they want any hope of getting the Citadel up and running again. 

But personally? Wrex is looking for Shepard. Wrex is only looking for Shepard, and anyone who has a problem with it can talk to his fucking shotgun. 

Thankfully, nobody has a problem with it. 

When he finds a corpse, he ignores it. There's nothing to be done for the dead and not enough time to waste on them. When he finds someone alive, but not Shepard, he calls for a medevac and moves on. There aren't many alive. 

He digs through piles of rubble, shifting hunks of metal and stone that other races would need machines for. There's smoke and the smell of blood in the air. The joy of victory is soured by the still-rising body count.

But he hopes. He has to. If anyone could survive this, it's Shepard. She's already come back from the dead and survived what should have been a suicide mission. His friend is still here. She has to be.

"I hate this," comes a grumble from behind him. Wrex knows that it's Shepard's whelp without even turning around. "It's too quiet. Makes me antsy. Like I wanna kill something, but there's nothing left to kill."

Wrex snorts. "It's called worry, kid. And it'll eat you up like fear if you let it, so stop worrying and keep looking." He moves some twisted hunks of metal out of the way and walks through the new hole. Grunt follows.

"Krogan don't worry. We shoot things, and then we die. We don't worry. We get angry. We get violent." He kicks the discarded scrap of metal as if to prove his point.

The older krogan heaves a tired sigh. "You've got a lot to learn, kid. Don't pull this tough-guy bullshit with me right now. You're worried about Shepard."

"Shepard is fine. She's here somewhere, and she's fine. Why would I be worried about her?"

Wrex whirls around and grabs him by the headplate. "Because we're all worried about her! I am worried about her! She's my friend--"

"And she's my Battlemaster!" Grunt shouts, wrenching his head free and throwing an angry punch that Wrex easily catches.

"Then you need to channel this worry like you do your battle rage. Focus yourself so we can find her." He shoves Grunt's hand away and keeps walking. But the next words out of the kid's mouth make him stop cold.

"And what if we don't find her?"

Wrex doesn't answer right away. He balls his hands into fists, biotics fizzling as he resists the urge to throw the tactless youngster. Of course he's aware of the possibility. He's not stupid. But he also knows that what-ifs won't help anyone right now. This is a rescue mission, not a retrieval, and this whelp had better get that through his head.

"We will find her," he growls, though his traitorous brain adds an unbidden dead or alive in his head. "And when we get back to Tuchanka, we'll build her the biggest fucking monument the galaxy has ever seen. Now let's go."

"How can you--"

"Shut up!"

Grunt narrows his eyes and makes to grab Wrex by the shoulder. "You can't tell me to shut up, you old fossil."

Wrex slaps a hand over his mouth. "I said shut up. I thought I heard something."

Grunt grumpily shoves the hand off his mouth, but stays quiet. He turns his head, straining to hear...anything.

The dead silence is unnerving. It reminds him of the tank. If Shepard were here, she'd be making noise. In all the time he's known her, Shepard was always making noise. Humming to herself, tapping her foot, muttering under her breath as she scoped out a target with her sniper rifle. The woman even made noise in her sleep.

Grunt hates this silence. The ash and dust floating in the air. The smell of burning and death. They just won the greatest war in galactic history, but this wreckage smells like loss.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Word Count: 1822

TW: Reader Death, Whump, Explosion, Internal Injury, Trapped, Angst

Part One, Aftermath

“I don’t know, I thought it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good? That movie sucked! I am so sick of these endless reboots and pointless sequels. You told a good story. It’s over and done, move on and give us something new.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, this coming from ‘Robin 2: The Adventure Continues’.”

Jason glared at you, but Dick burst out laughing. “Oh, oh! How about ‘Robin 2: The Second One’.”

“‘Robin 2: Electric Boogaloo’!”

“‘Robin 2: The Rise of Jason Todd’!”

“And the gritty reboot ‘The Red Hood: Return of Jason Todd’.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Very funny. Make fun of the dead guy.” Jason rolled his eyes as you and Dick high-fived each other. He jammed his hands in his pockets and began storming off.

“Formerly dead guy. You can’t keep playing that card forever.” You said teasingly, reaching out and linking your arm with Jason’s. You felt Dick link arms on your other side, so the three of you were all connected as you walked down the sidewalk.

Crime had been surprisingly low the last few days, so you had decided to enjoy yourselves and catch an afternoon movie. It wasn’t often the three oldest of Bruce Wayne’s wards managed to find time to hang out, and it felt like old times.

Jason had reluctantly dropped his scowl. He glanced over at the storefront on his right and stopped abruptly in amazement. He scoffed, “Oh my god! Did you guys see this?”

As you and Dick turned, you let out a small chuckle of surprise as you saw display after display of merchandise bearing a variety of bat symbols. All of you were represented in some form or another. Bruce’s Batman on a shower curtain, Dick’s Nightwing on a blanket, Jason’s Red Hood on a bathrobe, Tim’s Red Robin on a coffee mug, and Damian’s Robin on a coloring book. But the thing that really caught your eye was the hoodie that looked like a replica of your costume, complete with mask built into the hood and your signature Bat-Insignia across the front. Glancing at the sign, you chuckled again at the name. The Bat Cave.

“Did either of you know about this?” you asked.

Dick and Jason both shook their heads in disbelief. Then Jason snorted, “I think somebody owes us some royalties or something. Those things are trademarked.”

You laughed, but knew he was probably right. Suddenly, you realized something was missing. Cursing under your breath, you turned and hurried back towards the theatre. Both boys turned to watch you speed away.

“Where are you going?” Dick called after you.

You yelled back over your shoulder. “I forgot my sunglasses. I’ll be right back.”

Just as your hand reached the door to the theatre, you heard Jason yell, “Hey, dumbass!”

Glancing back, you saw Jason smirking as he pointed to the top of his head. Reaching up to your own head, you felt the sunglasses perched there. You blushed as you placed them on your face, sheepishly turning back to the boys. You shrugged dramatically and took a step in their direction. That’s when the theatre exploded.

Jason and Dick were thrown backward by the blast, landing in a heap about ten feet from where they had been standing. Groaning, both boys struggled to sit up and regain their bearings. People were screaming all around them and smoke curled out of the scant remains of what had just been the theatre.

All the blood rushed out of Jason’s face as he muttered, “Y/N.” He scrambled to his feet as Dick paled and frantically followed suit. They took off running towards the area they thought they had last seen you, but it was almost impossible to tell where anything had once been. When they thought they were in the approximate area, they began shifting desperately yet carefully through the rubble, screaming out your name. Jason couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Bruce had felt as he searched for his body years ago. Finally, Dick moved a hunk of cement and saw as a hand appeared from underneath it. He instantly recognized the bracelet that he had given you for your birthday on the wrist.

“Jay, over here! I found her!”

Feverishly, the two boys moved pieces of rock and debris, slowly uncovering more and more of your broken form, until the only wreckage that remained was a large section of the theatre wall that was too heavy for them to move. It was still pining you to the ground from the waist down, but there wasn’t any more they could do at the moment, so they began assessing your injuries.

You were lying awkwardly, half on your side, half on your back. Every inch of you was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The left side of your face was skinned raw where you had skidded across the asphalt. Your sunglasses were destroyed, the remains of which dangled haphazardly from your face. Dick carefully removed what was left and noticed that they had been rammed against your nose with such force, they had shattered bones and blacked both of your eyes. The rest of your body was littered with bruises, burns, blood, and small cuts while your breathing was irregular and strained. Dick and Jason both crouched down next to you and tried to rouse you but at first you barely stirred. Finally, they watched as your eyes flickered open with a pained groan.

“Wha – what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and weak.

Dick and Jason exchanged a worried glance before Dick said, “We’re not sure. There was an explosion in the theatre. You were still at the door and it seems like you took a pretty bad hit. You were completely buried when we found you and we still can’t move that big piece off your legs. It is too heavy for just the two of us. Jay, you stay here and I’m going to go get help.”

“No…. don’t.”

“Sweetheart, we have to get you out from under that thing. You need medical attention immediately. Who knows what kind of internal bleeding you have or if there are any worse injuries this piece of wall is concealing.”

“You’re right, which is why it won’t matter. I can feel it. My leg…. Well, I’m pretty sure the pressure from this wall is the only thing keeping me from bleeding out immediately. As soon as you move it…. So, yeah, it’s too late to do anything.”

Jason sat back on his heels, horrorstruck, as Dick shook his head vehemently refusing to believe what you had just said. “We can at least try. As soon as the paramedics get here, they can help us. They’ll know what to do.”

You smiled hazily up at your brothers. “It’s okay, Dick. I’m not in much pain at the moment, it’s more numb than anything, but if you move that piece of wall, it’s going to be utter agony. And it still won’t matter. So, please, just let me go in peace.”

Jason hissed in fury, “We can’t just sit here and watch you die!”

“I don’t want you to. It might be too late for me but you two can go help the other people who were injured. You might still be able to save them.”

“We’re not leaving you.”

“It’s what we do. We’re heroes, Jay.”

“Not today we aren’t.” Dick said through a clenched jaw. You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Today we are just three siblings who wanted to spend the day together. Who just deserved a goddamn break for once in their lives. And instead, this happens. So, no. Today we aren’t heroes. There are enough other people walking around helping right now. We’re going to stay with you for as long as we can. I don’t care what that makes us.”

You grabbed Dick’s hand as tightly as you could manage as tears began to flow down his face. “It makes you a good brother.”

You smiled up at him and started to say something else, but a chest rattling cough cuts you off. Your brothers held you down, so you didn’t hurt yourself more as your body was racked with the intense hacking fit. Finally, when it subsided, you relaxed, blood dripping from your mouth. You looked up at Dick and weakly said, “I guess you were right on both accounts. Internal bleeding and a concealed wound. Huh, who knew?”

Before either boy could answer, you gave a dry chuckle and said, “You know, I always thought I would die in the suit. Going down swingin’ with my Bat Symbol proudly on my chest and my mask firmly on my face. Instead, it’s going to be flip flops and Jason’s old t-shirt.”

Jason thought for a minute, then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Dick, stay with her.” Dick just nodded numbly.

A few moments later, Jason came rushing back carrying the hoodie resembling your suit you had seen in the souvenir shop what seemed like a lifetime ago. For the first time since the explosion, tears filled your eyes.

“It’s not your suit, but it’s the best we’ve got at the moment.” As carefully as he could and with Dick’s help, Jason gingerly wrapped the oversized hoodie around you and zipped it up as much as he could. Then he pulled the hood down over your face, so the built-in mask framed your eyes.

You slowly lifted your fingers and traced the familiar emblem that rested over your heart. “Thank you, Jay. It’s perfect.”

“Least I could do.” Jason kissed your knuckles and smiled sadly down at you. Keeping ahold of your hand, he began rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of it, a constant reminder he was with you. Dick shifted so he was behind you and lifted your head so it was resting comfortably in his lap. You felt that the tension was so thick with all of the unspoken things between the three of you, that it was almost suffocating. Or maybe that was just your blood filling your lungs.

You felt your head starting to get fuzzy as your vision began to blacken around the edges, and you knew you didn’t have much time left. You nuzzled your cheek softly into Dick’s leg and gave Jason’s hand another squeeze. After taking a few deep breaths, you managed to croak out, “Hey…. I love you guys.”

“Back at you sis,” Jason tearfully bent down and kissed your forehead.

You smiled up at them as your world went black. Jason felt your hand go limp in his, and he frantically looked to Dick, hoping beyond hope his older brother would make this all better. But Dick just gazed down at your empty, staring eyes, tears streaming down his face. And all he could think at that moment was, “How the hell are we supposed to tell Bruce?”

Part 2 out now!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Whumptober 2021: #7. Helplessness, #14. Crush Injuries, #20. Lost & Found, #21. Pressure, #31. Disaster Zone

Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Word Count: 1822

Part One, Aftermath

“I don’t know, I thought it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good? That movie sucked! I am so sick of these endless reboots and pointless sequels. You told a good story. It’s over and done, move on and give us something new.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, this coming from ‘Robin 2: The Adventure Continues’.”

Jason glared at you, but Dick burst out laughing. “Oh, oh! How about ‘Robin 2: The Second One’.”

“‘Robin 2: Electric Boogaloo’!”

“‘Robin 2: The Rise of Jason Todd’!”

“And the gritty reboot ‘The Red Hood: Return of Jason Todd’.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Very funny. Make fun of the dead guy.” Jason rolled his eyes as you and Dick high-fived each other. He jammed his hands in his pockets and began storming off.

“Formerly dead guy. You can’t keep playing that card forever.” You said teasingly, reaching out and linking your arm with Jason’s. You felt Dick link arms on your other side, so the three of you were all connected as you walked down the sidewalk.

Crime had been surprisingly low the last few days, so you had decided to enjoy yourselves and catch an afternoon movie. It wasn’t often the three oldest of Bruce Wayne’s wards managed to find time to hang out, and it felt like old times.

Jason had reluctantly dropped his scowl. He glanced over at the storefront on his right and stopped abruptly in amazement. He scoffed, “Oh my god! Did you guys see this?”

As you and Dick turned, you let out a small chuckle of surprise as you saw display after display of merchandise bearing a variety of bat symbols. All of you were represented in some form or another. Bruce’s Batman on a shower curtain, Dick’s Nightwing on a blanket, Jason’s Red Hood on a bathrobe, Tim’s Red Robin on a coffee mug, and Damian’s Robin on a coloring book. But the thing that really caught your eye was the hoodie that looked like a replica of your costume, complete with mask built into the hood and your signature Bat-Insignia across the front. Glancing at the sign, you chuckled again at the name. The Bat Cave.

“Did either of you know about this?” you asked.

Dick and Jason both shook their heads in disbelief. Then Jason snorted, “I think somebody owes us some royalties or something. Those things are trademarked.”

You laughed, but knew he was probably right. Suddenly, you realized something was missing. Cursing under your breath, you turned and hurried back towards the theatre. Both boys turned to watch you speed away.

“Where are you going?” Dick called after you.

You yelled back over your shoulder. “I forgot my sunglasses. I’ll be right back.”

Just as your hand reached the door to the theatre, you heard Jason yell, “Hey, dumbass!”

Glancing back, you saw Jason smirking as he pointed to the top of his head. Reaching up to your own head, you felt the sunglasses perched there. You blushed as you placed them on your face, sheepishly turning back to the boys. You shrugged dramatically and took a step in their direction. That’s when the theatre exploded.

Jason and Dick were thrown backward by the blast, landing in a heap about ten feet from where they had been standing. Groaning, both boys struggled to sit up and regain their bearings. People were screaming all around them and smoke curled out of the scant remains of what had just been the theatre.

All the blood rushed out of Jason’s face as he muttered, “Y/N.” He scrambled to his feet as Dick paled and frantically followed suit. They took off running towards the area they thought they had last seen you, but it was almost impossible to tell where anything had once been. When they thought they were in the approximate area, they began shifting desperately yet carefully through the rubble, screaming out your name. Jason couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Bruce had felt as he searched for his body years ago. Finally, Dick moved a hunk of cement and saw as a hand appeared from underneath it. He instantly recognized the bracelet that he had given you for your birthday on the wrist.

“Jay, over here! I found her!”

Feverishly, the two boys moved pieces of rock and debris, slowly uncovering more and more of your broken form, until the only wreckage that remained was a large section of the theatre wall that was too heavy for them to move. It was still pining you to the ground from the waist down, but there wasn’t any more they could do at the moment, so they began assessing your injuries.

You were lying awkwardly, half on your side, half on your back. Every inch of you was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The left side of your face was skinned raw where you had skidded across the asphalt. Your sunglasses were destroyed, the remains of which dangled haphazardly from your face. Dick carefully removed what was left and noticed that they had been rammed against your nose with such force, they had shattered bones and blacked both of your eyes. The rest of your body was littered with bruises, burns, blood, and small cuts while your breathing was irregular and strained. Dick and Jason both crouched down next to you and tried to rouse you but at first you barely stirred. Finally, they watched as your eyes flickered open with a pained groan.

“Wha – what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and weak.

Dick and Jason exchanged a worried glance before Dick said, “We’re not sure. There was an explosion in the theatre. You were still at the door and it seems like you took a pretty bad hit. You were completely buried when we found you and we still can’t move that big piece off your legs. It is too heavy for just the two of us. Jay, you stay here and I’m going to go get help.”

“No…. don’t.”

“Sweetheart, we have to get you out from under that thing. You need medical attention immediately. Who knows what kind of internal bleeding you have or if there are any worse injuries this piece of wall is concealing.”

“You’re right, which is why it won’t matter. I can feel it. My leg…. Well, I’m pretty sure the pressure from this wall is the only thing keeping me from bleeding out immediately. As soon as you move it…. So, yeah, it’s too late to do anything.”

Jason sat back on his heels, horrorstruck, as Dick shook his head vehemently refusing to believe what you had just said. “We can at least try. As soon as the paramedics get here, they can help us. They’ll know what to do.”

You smiled hazily up at your brothers. “It’s okay, Dick. I’m not in much pain at the moment, it’s more numb than anything, but if you move that piece of wall, it’s going to be utter agony. And it still won’t matter. So, please, just let me go in peace.”

Jason hissed in fury, “We can’t just sit here and watch you die!”

“I don’t want you to. It might be too late for me but you two can go help the other people who were injured. You might still be able to save them.”

“We’re not leaving you.”

“It’s what we do. We’re heroes, Jay.”

“Not today we aren’t.” Dick said through a clenched jaw. You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Today we are just three siblings who wanted to spend the day together. Who just deserved a goddamn break for once in their lives. And instead, this happens. So, no. Today we aren’t heroes. There are enough other people walking around helping right now. We’re going to stay with you for as long as we can. I don’t care what that makes us.”

You grabbed Dick’s hand as tightly as you could manage as tears began to flow down his face. “It makes you a good brother.”

You smiled up at him and started to say something else, but a chest rattling cough cuts you off. Your brothers held you down, so you didn’t hurt yourself more as your body was racked with the intense hacking fit. Finally, when it subsided, you relaxed, blood dripping from your mouth. You looked up at Dick and weakly said, “I guess you were right on both accounts. Internal bleeding and a concealed wound. Huh, who knew?”

Before either boy could answer, you gave a dry chuckle and said, “You know, I always thought I would die in the suit. Going down swingin’ with my Bat Symbol proudly on my chest and my mask firmly on my face. Instead, it’s going to be flip flops and Jason’s old t-shirt.”

Jason thought for a minute, then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Dick, stay with her.” Dick just nodded numbly.

A few moments later, Jason came rushing back carrying the hoodie resembling your suit you had seen in the souvenir shop what seemed like a lifetime ago. For the first time since the explosion, tears filled your eyes.

“It’s not your suit, but it’s the best we’ve got at the moment.” As carefully as he could and with Dick’s help, Jason gingerly wrapped the oversized hoodie around you and zipped it up as much as he could. Then he pulled the hood down over your face, so the built-in mask framed your eyes.

You slowly lifted your fingers and traced the familiar emblem that rested over your heart. “Thank you, Jay. It’s perfect.”

“Least I could do.” Jason kissed your knuckles and smiled sadly down at you. Keeping ahold of your hand, he began rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of it, a constant reminder he was with you. Dick shifted so he was behind you and lifted your head so it was resting comfortably in his lap. You felt that the tension was so thick with all of the unspoken things between the three of you, that it was almost suffocating. Or maybe that was just your blood filling your lungs.

You felt your head starting to get fuzzy as your vision began to blacken around the edges, and you knew you didn’t have much time left. You nuzzled your cheek softly into Dick’s leg and gave Jason’s hand another squeeze. After taking a few deep breaths, you managed to croak out, “Hey…. I love you guys.”

“Back at you sis,” Jason tearfully bent down and kissed your forehead.

You smiled up at them as your world went black. Jason felt your hand go limp in his, and he frantically looked to Dick, hoping beyond hope his older brother would make this all better. But Dick just gazed down at your empty, staring eyes, tears streaming down his face. And all he could think at that moment was, “How the hell are we supposed to tell Bruce?”

Part 2 out now!

[pink-apollo]

Would you be willing to write for Minotaur from CoD? I know he’s kinda obscure but I just love him! Personally I think he’s a huge softie despite the fact that he’s huge and could wreck your shit up XD but I’d love to hear your opinions/headcanons

Hi anon and yes! I love my beefy Russian bear boi💕 He’s such a goober desperate the fact his hands are so much larger and can easily wrap them around your neck....👀 But also can we just admire his body real quick?? Like he’s not built and skinny, he’s built and has like a bit of chunk on him😩 Like yes please.

Opinion: I love Minotaur. He’s one of my favorite operators and he just makes me so happy. Like I love how goofy this man is. He’s built like a bear but can be more cuddly and soft unlike his brother who I would imagine is a bit, not on the colder side, but somebody who would need getting used to affection. But for like a hot sec can we talk about his skins?? Beautiful💕 His intro made me giggle because it looks like he’s jamming out but gets super serious out of nowhere. Now the commentary between him and his brother I find interesting. I guess it’s obvious he was my first crush for mw remastered😂😂 So he is definitely one of my favorite operators of the whole game.

Headcanons:

🌸Maxim loves to pick up his s/o regardless if they’re his height or smaller than him. He just loves to prove to his s/o that he’s strong and can pick them up, but also to hear them squeak in surprise because of how cute it is

🌸Is a very laid back type of boyfriend. Wanna paint his nails? Go for it, just make sure it’s his color and he looks good as hell. Is the type to have music blasting as he’s making breakfast or whatever the case may be. He just loves to jam out

🌸doesn’t mind pda at all, just don’t over do it. Doesn’t mind hand holding, a quick kiss to the cheek or lips, or cuddling when sitting together. He loves the affection his s/o gives him because it makes him feel loved and appreciated.

🌸Minotaur is definitely a hunk and works out just about everyday. If you wanna work out with him? Please do! He loves to work out with his s/o, he wants them to be healthy and strong. Will even be as cheesy as asking you to sit on his back so he can do push ups or straddle him when he does his crunches to get a kiss from you every time he comes up.

🌸Loves whatever his s/o cooks. He will eat it up until his plate is clean. Nothing ever goes to waste with this man and very much appreciates when you cook. Always loved a good home cooked meal because when he was in jail, he didn’t have the luxury to have such things

🌸Finds it adorable if his s/o blushes very easily. Like look at you all red and being shy. He just finds it funny that he can make you into a blushy mess by barley doing anything besides wink from across the room even though you’ve been dating for how long?

🌸Loves to snuggle. Maxim usually lays on his back and has you on top with your head nuzzled in the crook of his neck as there’s blankets all around the both of you to keep you both cozy and warm, even though this man is like heater himself

Okay I need to stop before this list gets out of hand because he is just a big cuddly goofy bear that I want to pick me up and love me. 😂😂

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[fieryhonesty]

The life of You

[AO3]

“This is funny I never planned this become multi chapter. Was meant only as chaptered oneshot (time to make a masterlist, huh) what can I promise you: this series will always have the banner where only name of specific chapters changes”

Words: 2479

Warning(s): rated this as mature on AO3 just cause it might turn whatever direction in future (I say might, not will 😳), already has swearing in and might get more (depends on situation I put characters in, we don’t swear without reason, right?), maybe suggestive innuendos

Perhaps you could have expected journeying with your ever so flirty friend would turn into one wild ride. Especially if the destination was Stormterror’s lair. As Dvalin was freed and the area is now accessible. The place piqued the curiosity of many. When Frostblade approached you if you were fancy to tag along. You were quite surprised as he didn’t seem like somebody who deliberately enjoys adventuring.

However after sharing his reason you quickly understood. Fatui started being active, the ones within city walls were seen in small groups. Debating about the honorary knight, no how people of Mondstadt were able to drive Stormterror away. They were scheming something, that’s for sure.

Maybe it hurt their imaginary pride or perhaps they had their own plans. Whatever it is, Kaeya wanted to be one step ahead. Seeing what was behind the wind barrier for so long was a good start. And who knows. Maybe he will be able to screw over Fatui plans. 

Well that’s it if the area was not overly complicated. The ruins you had to explore first in order to get further into the lair were quite complicated. But the problem was you accidentally activated a trap and now each of you were standing at different sides of the bars which nearly skewered you.

Staring with wide eyes at the bars which were just a few inches away from your face. One step more and you would be goner. Gulping loudly. “Too close to my comfort.”

“Oh? And if it were me?” Letting out a sigh and shaking your head in disapproval. “Then I’d reconsider if giving you frostbite would be punishment enough. Anyway I’ll backtrack and try to find another way.”

---

More than you finding another way, the another way has found you. During your exploration you came across a ruin guard. Its eye light up in dangerous demeanor. If one thing could go wrong then it was probably meeting up with this walking hunk of steel. Corridors were too narrow for fighting. 

You decided to run away from it, hoping it will either lose sight of you or get stuck somewhere. You had no idea where the hell you were running. But managed to end up in a dead end. However you noticed the wall was in a bad shape, feeling wind blowing between the bricks. 

Charging elemental energy in your sword and hurling it forward, creating a hole. Big enough for you to get out. Finally getting out and breathing fresh air, your hair were ruffled by the blowing wind. Such a nice change after all that time spent in ruins where it smelled like- well mold and dust. 

The noise of falling debris behind brought you back to reality. The ruin guard was making its way out. Following the intruder no matter what. Such a persistent thing. But at least now you can fight. Air got extremely cold as you summoned several cryo blades and dashed towards the machine. It tried to hit you but it’s too huge and slow to land a hit on you. Rolling to the side or jumping a bit back to avoid any kind of danger. No matter how much it tried, you were faster. Slashing here and there. Your attacks might not do much but there's way too many of them. Even the sturdy material those things are made off will slowly fall apart. Leaving the more vulnerable parts exposed. Nothing can work in such cold temperature as you were attacking it with.

Cutting one of its arms off. As it fell down, dust rose up. How heavy are those things? You better never find out. Sliding between its legs, leaving a thin slippery surface behind you, hoping it will slip and fall down. However the ice crushed under its weight. Well it was a good try?

Noticing how it turned around and kneeled. You had seen this once. Dashing behind a pillar and praying it will withstand the rockets. When you were sure no more explosives were coming your way. Jumping out of the hiding spot and seeing the Captain of Cavalry was having its attention. When did he get there?

You had exploited this situation and aimed one of the cryo blades at its weak spot on back which caused it to flinch. Kaeya didn’t waste any moment and used his own elemental power to hit its front eye, causing it to shut down. The damage caused by the both of you was enough for it to never initiate the auto recovery function. Leaving it in a half destroyed state forever. 

Keaya has looked towards you and clapped.

“I knew I can rely on you, partner.”

“Technically it was you who was the game changer. How did you find me anyway? The exit is near by?” Chuckle coming out of the male’s chest. He walked closer to you, lips curled up into his usual smug.

“Princess, I’m not deaf you know. I heard distant noise and thought it might be my cute friend needing help. But I guess you were having fun, sorry for breaking your toy.”

The sarcasm in his voice was more than obvious. Rising your hand up towards him, saying ‘high five’ which made him chuckle once more. He was quite worried when each of you stood at different sides of bars. He felt responsible for your well being although he knew you can take care of yourself. You had to do it for half a decade anyway. Yet, something inside of him was making him anxious.

As the two of you reunited it was time to slowly explore the unknown area. It was quite peaceful there but also empty. There probably used to grow trees and more stuff but now it was just a few twigs here and there. The lair felt like one big crater with several ruins shattered around with one bigger at the entrance. To probably keep invaders off. That’s it if they could get through the wind barrier. But it was gone now, so of course you would meet something here.

Hilichurls had several camps around the whole area. Making you wonder if they were living here ever since or just recently moved in. Also wild animals, which was even weirder as you knew animals are sensitive to elemental energy. And just until recently there was a huge concentration of anemo. 

To your surprise or maybe not, you had encountered a few more ruin guards. However as you are two it was no huge issue to deal with them. The only issue was it started raining during one of the encounters. Deciding it was kind of pointless to hide as your clothes were already wet so why not explore a bit more.

The fourth encounter with a ruin guard was quite more challenging for you than the rest. It seemed different than the others, it was bigger and more sturdier and hit like a truck. You were rubbing your wrist. It seemed alright however your sword didn't look so well. It was more than visible how the steel was slightly curved as you had to use it to block one of its attacks.

Looking up at Kaeya who was examining the destroyed colossus. Having a hand on his chin, thinking of something.

"Hmm, I just realized this is our second time being just the two of us and it's again raining." Rising his head and giving you a playful wink.

You just chuckled at his remark. He was not wrong. Ever since you got back you two didn't see each other that often. Kaeya was sort of avoiding you or so it seemed like. Until you accidently ran into him one day. You were hungry and decided to dine at Good Hunter. Before he could disappear you spoke up. Teasing him to yet again chickening out which obviously made him look back at you. Sometimes he is so easy to challenge.

In the end you sorted out everything over a double honey sticky roast. Talking about stuff like nothing, like you weren’t separated or anything. Since then you kept seeing each other here and now. Be at the tavern or when you were passing by the knights. Dropping by, knocking at doors and just exchanging a few words before you ran off to do your tasks.

"Still. It's so strange. Why is there so many of those oversized toys? And what's more strange. How the hell did Aether pass by without coming across any of them?!"

You pouted, arms crossed on your chest. When you come back to Monds you will have to ask the blonde.  

"I wouldn't be surprised if this was Abyss Order's makings." The bluenette answered and pointed towards something that looked like a small cave. "Let's head there and rest."

The cave was big enough to fit both of you in. However the issue was you were soaked and there was no way to make fire. Unless Kaeya will magically pull out of nowhere a few dry sticks. Luckily you had packed a blanket which surprised the iceman. Scoffing at him.

"What? I am an adventurer now, might not be a fully fledged one. But still I'm always ready!"

"Always ready, huh." 

His remark made you blush, you did not expect it. Well, maybe you did but still you reacted this way. ‘Why must he be like this?!’ Coughing a little.

"What I mean is. I always carry with me this little fuzzy blanket. It was my first thing I bought when I got here. And not once it proved to be useful. Also! I got some canned food!" You chirped happily. 

Ok, this surprised him even more. When he asked you to accompany him on a small venture. He did not expect you to bring an entire survival kit. The bag was not even that huge. How do women stuff so many things into such small bags?

"Let me guess. You got there packed your entire bedroom." He joked as he took one of the cans from you. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a spoon.

Kaeya checked what's on the menu. Some veggies and ground meat. Not the fanciest thing he ever ate but better than nothing. All that fighting made him quite hungry after all. He won’t admit it but he quite enjoyed this little adventure with you. It’s been so long since he could fight side by side with his friend. The way you swung your blade and used the cryo vision to obliterate enemies. Color him impressed, not once he wanted to just whistle. 

When you had finished the very modest lunch it was still raining which meant you will be stuck there for a while. You stood up to pull the blanket over your friend and realized it’s not that big as you thought. Sitting next to him, your shoulders were brushing against each other. For some reason you could feel heat in your cheeks. Rather looking outside, hoping he didn’t see it. Otherwise you can ready up for another wave of teasing.

"It's sad none of us have pyro, we could dry our clothes." You whined while trying not to shake.

Suddenly feeling Kaeya's breath at you ear. "Dear, that would require you to be naked for a certain period of time." He whispered in a teasy manner. You didn’t look at him but you are one hundred percent sure his smile is dangerously wide.

The way you groaned, ears turned red despite all of your efforts. Kaeya was more than satisfied. It took him awhile to find out how to make you feel embarrassed. Now he just found deliberate joy in teasing you all the time. 

"You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" You murmured with an annoyed voice. Eyes still locked at cave entrance. How long will it take until it stops raining?

The sound of rain drops landing on the ground was quite relaxing. It didn't take long until you felt really sleepy. Trying to keep eyes open was close to impossible. 

"Kaeya?"

The bluenette hummed in response.

"Talk to me or I will fall asleep..."

He did not want to admit it but he was already half asleep. The only thing which kept him awake was your occasional shaking. Silently chuckling as he turned head to you.

"I've got a better idea. Do you remember that one night when you were sleeping over and couldn't sleep. When I found you looking out of the window in the middle of night?" 

Shaking your head, not remembering anything at all. Wondering how he can remember something like that.

"Well, we ended up watching out of the window together. Sitting on a chair while you were leaning on me. We fell asleep and the maids woke us up in the morning. Questioning why we weren't in beds."

Really? Did they? Why can't you recall anything like that? Giving Kaeya a confused look.

"How could we fit one chair-" As you finished it, the answer flashed through your mind. Finally you get what he meant with lean on him.

Not even giving it a second thought you shifted in front of him, hesitantly pressing your back on his chest. If you did this as kids then it clearly felt different than now. You were not sure if the warm feeling was caused by your flushed cheeks. Feeling like your entire body is burning right now. Or if it was because of how Kaeya put the blanket over the two of you and wrapped one hand around your waist. 

"Don't mind that hand. I just want to have you secure.~"

"Secure for what?"

"In case you slide to side while sleeping, silly."

"I'm not going to sleep. It's embarrassing and worst is you are having fun!" You protested, pouting once again. 

He could not deny the fact he found this whole situation amusing. Not even feeling guilty for his little lie. You are such a cutie when you are pouting like that

"The real embarrassing thing would be you shifting around and waking up my-"

"What the- Kaeya!" You groaned and wanted to get up but couldn't as his hand kept you in place.

"Shh, I'm just joking, Dearie. Relax. Let's just keep each other warm." Pulling you closer, feeling how your muscles relaxed a bit.

There was silence between you for a while. You were wishing he can't hear your heart beating so loud for no reason. The butterfly feeling in your stomach was lingering there for the whole time.

"You better not run your mouth about this to anyone, or..." You whispered silently, not even bothering to finish the sentence.

"Or? What's wrong about two friends being close, hmm?"

"I dunno." Admitting while completely relaxing against him and closing eyes. You are too tired to bother about anything.

Previous ✨ Next

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day eleven: “This isn’t you.”

CW: fighting, murder ;)

fic under the cut

“What are you two doing?!” Opal shouted, blowing the huge hunks of earth they held above their heads in either direction.

“You’re sisters, why would you want to hurt each other??” She looked between them as Lin hunched over, both she and Su breathing heavily.

Lin panted and put her hands on her knees, trying to keep herself upright. Her vision blurred and before she knew it she lost consciousness, falling quickly to the ground.

When she finally opened her eyes again, it was dark outside. She’d been brought back to her room and put in bed, though she couldn’t remember any of it. She pushed herself from under the blankets, away from the hard mattress, and dragged herself to the window. She suddenly remembered everything that had happened before she’d fainted, her anger renewing itself instantly.

She growled and she gripped the windowsill, scowling out at the dimly lit garden below. She thought of Su sleeping in her room, peaceful and unsuspecting and decided there was only one thing to do. She had to finish what Su had started all those years ago.

She changed back into her tank top and cargo pants before leaving her room. The distance to Su’s house was not a long one, and she got there quickly. She’d noticed that everyone seemed to leave their doors and windows unlocked, Su included, because of the so-called “safety” of the metal domes over the city. She scoffed at the naïveté of it all but was glad that at least she didn’t have to break in.

She opened and closed the door as quietly as she could, walking down the long main hall purposefully. The air around her was still, and it seemed that not a single other person was awake. She continued walking through the dark halls until she saw a light coming from the cracks of a large door. She walked towards it, pulling part of the metal on the wall away to use for defense if somebody noticed her. As she neared the door, she could hear quiet humming from within.

She recognized it as Su right away and prayed there was no one else with her. She opened the door quickly, stepping into the room and shutting it behind her. Su’s head snapped up at the interruption, her focus tearing away from the designs she’d been working on.

“Lin?” She asked, eyebrows arching in surprise.

“You should really lock your doors at night,” Lin spat, walking towards Su’s desk.

“What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night, you should be resting,” Su’s eyes narrowed as Lin’s hands rested heavily on the table.

Lin scowled right back at her, leaning in closer before answering.

“I came to finish what you started,” She hissed.

“Lin, what-,” Su started, pushing her chair back with the intent of standing.

Before she got the chance, Lin whipped the metal from the wall at her. She managed to dodge it, hurrying out of her seat and to the other end of the room. She took hold of the metal from her outfit and from her surroundings, bending it to fend off Lin’s attacks.

“Lin, stop!” She shouted as Lin got closer to her, stealing the metal from her and forcing her back the wall.

Lin stalked forward and grabbed Su by the collar, all but throwing her away from the wall. Su stumbled and tried to take some of the metal from Lin to defend herself, but Lin was already at her back. She felt the cold, sharp metal against her throat and panicked.

“This isn’t you,” She rasped, trying to keep her voice even.

“You don’t know me,” Lin responded coldly, pressing the blade harder against Su’s throat.

“Please,” Su breathed.

“Lin, please. This isn’t- I do know you, Lin, at least well enough to know you’d never do something like this, and-,” She let out an odd gurgling noise when Lin dragged the blade across her throat, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Lin growled into her ear, her arms the only thing keeping Su on her feet.

Su clutched a hand to her throat, desperately trying to contain the blood. She was terribly light headed, and it was only seconds before her vision turned black and she fell unconscious. She slumped in Lin’s arms, her full weight pulling down on her sister. Lin barely hesitated before letting go of her, letting her fall to the floor. She stood above her barely living sister, watching the pool of blood below her grow for a long moment before turning to leave. She bent the metal back onto the wall as she left, walking back the way she came. The halls remained silent and dark the entire way, and she made it out the front door unnoticed.

Once she was back in her room, she shanked out of her blood-spattered shirt and pants and into a set of metal clan pyjamas that had been set in there for her. She climbed into her bed, settling in and adjusting to make herself comfortable. She felt a great sense of relief, accompanied by an odd sort of peace, and fell asleep within minutes.

She woke up to the sun shining brightly through her window. She’d not felt this well rested since she was a child, and happily sprung out of bed to get dressed. Instead of her usual uniform, though, she put on one of the outfits Su had insisted she wear while in the city. Shortly after she was dressed and had put her hair up in its usual bun, she heard a knock on the door.

“Uh, Chief? You’ve been sleeping for sixteen hours, we just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Mako said from the other side.

She opened the door, accidentally causing him to fall to the ground in front of her. She yawned loudly and stretched her arms out, a smile forming on her face.

“Good morning,” She said cheerily as she walked around Mako and past Korra and Bolin.

She could feel them all staring at her as she continued walking, making her way towards Su’s house. She stopped and turned back to them, giving them a questioning look.

“Are you coming?” She asked with a light laugh.

“Uh- uh, yeah,” Mako stuttered, widening his eyes at Korra and Bolin before all three of them followed her to the house.

When they got there, the place was in chaos.

“What’s going on?” Lin demanded of a panicked looking guard, feigning obliviousness.

“Someone- they- Suyin is dead,” They stuttered before running off down one of the many long hallways.

Lin stood completely still, a look of shock stuck to her face. Mako was the first one to say anything, all of them desperately confused and astonished by the news.

“We- we should find your family,” He said, taking a step forward and hesitantly resting his hand on Lin’s shoulder.

Lin nodded slowly, her eyes wide and trained at the ground. The group began to walk in silence towards the dining room, Lin not looking up from the floor until they got there.

Baatar Sr. sat in a chair with his knees pulled up to his chest, sobs shaking his shoulders. Opal and Wing were on either side of him, with Wei standing slightly back. There was not a dry eye between them. Baatar Jr. was seated slightly farther away, staring at the table in bewilderment with his head resting on his palm. Huan was on the floor in the corner looking angrily at a small piece of metal in his hand that he kept bending into new shapes, never seeming satisfied.

Opal looked up when they walked in, unintentionally meeting Lin’s eye. Lin left where she stood by Korra and her friends, making her way over to Opal. She pulled out the seat next to her and sat, reaching out to take her niece's hand.

“I’m so sorry about how I acted the other day,” She husked.

Opal looked at her with puffy red eyes and nodded slightly before getting up from her chair and crushing Lin in a hug. Lin pulled the girl into her lap, hugging her back as she sobbed into her shoulder.

It was a few days later that they held the funeral. The weather was fittingly grim, a drizzly present throughout the day. There was a ceremonial walking of Su’s coffin down a long street crowded with mourning residents of Zaofu before a more private affair was held for family and close friends alone. They brought Su’s coffin down to a field just outside the city, a few people speaking before the actual burial.

“Lin, would you…” Baatar Jr. motioned towards the coffin, one of the only others there not weeping.

His father leaned heavily on him as Lin made her way to the front of the group, not daring to watch what Lin was about to do. Once she was standing beside the coffin, she took a long look at everyone there. Her face was stoic, her hardened mask of indifference returning with extra strength. She turned so she faced the coffin, planting her feet firmly on the ground and bending a deep hole beside them. She then bent the stone-based coffin down, taking care not to rattle it around too much. She was about to bend the dirt back over it when Opal stopped her.

“We should all put some back over her,” She said quietly, hand resting lightly on Lin’s forearm.

Lin looked at the girl for a moment before nodding, splitting the hunk of earth into enough pieces for everyone. They came up one at a time, Baatar Sr. and the kids going first, and broke the soil into the hole. Lin waited until the end to drop hers, thoroughly crumbling the dirt over the top.

“Goodbye, Su,” She whispered, sliding her foot almost imperceptibly to condense the layer of dirt just above the coffin.

[double-daredevil]

folklore ; chapter one

din djarin x reader (no y/n)

words: 6.2k

rating: T for swearing i guess. its a slow burn there isnt anything sexii yet lol

themes: slow burn (like y’all its so SLOW lol), eventual angst, no Y/N, eventual smut, eventual EVERYTHING this is like the establishing shot of a movie its gonna be a FIC lmfao. dont get attached the end is already planned.

notes: set before the tv series. canon doesn’t exist anymore. i make the rules here pals. yes it is named after the tswift album so that gives you some fuckin HINTS 

--

Accident.

Pretty much everything that happened to you happened by accident, but you weren't one to complain. Without much control over your life for your adolescent years, seeing as you were raised as an Imperial trooper and just followed orders, you happily let yourself float along in life whichever way the forces led you. 

That doesn't mean you don't have, say, a moral guideline.

It's difficult to explain to people once they get to know you better and eventually squeeze out of you that yes, you were trained Imperial. Details are not awarded to most people, in fact— you’re not sure anyone except one of your commanding officers in the rebellion knew that you were a clone. 

You have spent countless hours trying to transition from regret to simply shame. After all, how is it your fault you did what you were told? If you didn’t, you would have been executed. Tossed to the trash like a faulty toy. The greatest decision in your life was the first decision you, personally, got to make— to run. It took you a few years to plan the scheme, but you defected successfully. Your moral issues were simply too strong to subvert, and you had to leave. So you did. That's all. You don't like to talk about it much.

After you mustered up some vengeance by joining the rebellion, you had to find a living once the major fighting died down for a while. With your particular skills— too deadly to be a simple security guard, or any occupation that doesn't involve tactical warfare, you settled on hoarding money through bounties. Not quite professed in the field of bounty hunting, you would latch on to more experienced hunters and offer to split rewards 20-80 for your help. The meager money filled your pocket enough for food and lodging while you learned the ways of the trade and, subsequently, your new way of life.

That's how you met your first Mandalorian. 

A mutual acquaintance from the Guild had a heavy quarry, a difficult one that he had trouble passing off. Too complex and detailed for just you, your acquaintance told you that when he found a suitable hunter to take the lead, he'd hail you to tag along. A week after the quarry was first put on the table, a renowned bounty hunter— this Mandalorian, rolled into town to collect the tracking fob. Part of the agreement was to take you along. The Mandalorian agreed. A brief encounter mediated by your mutual acquaintance and you were following the beskar-clad hunter to his ship, which you’ve come to know as the Razor Crest. A dingy, huge hunk of metal that could use a good list of upgrades, but you quickly grew accustomed to the flying garbage can. 

And somehow, after that singular bounty hunt, where you actually got to assist in the capture and the shoving of the unruly quarry into the carbonite, Mando offered you constant refuge aboard his ship in return for some pay and help on his harder bounties. That conversation, so far, has been the longest exchange of words between you and him, and it only lasted maybe five minutes. That’s all. You’re not one that aches for human interaction, having been commanded all your life by others, so you almost welcome the silence.

Almost.

—

Officially, you have been a part of Mando’s crew for nearing six months.

You hear metal clanging against metal, and you glance over your shoulder to see him climbing down from the cockpit. “Are we headed to the next quarry?” You ask.

“Yes,” comes through the vocoder. “Carajam.”

“Oh lovely,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm as you focus on polishing the trigger of the blaster in your hands. “Another desert planet in the Outer Rim.”

“Our favorite,” Mando deadpans as he walks over, sitting across from you at the janky table. 

Once you were an official employee of his, you spent your first few payday collections on your own blasters. In all honesty, weapons never made you nervous, as you grew up in a space station that was literally just a giant weapon, but owning your own seemed… different. Blasters are weapons made just to kill, and you are allowed to have that power again. But, anyway, most of your money goes to savings so you can buy a house to retire to one day. One day. 

The Mandalorian rolls his shoulders back to adjust his cape out of the way of his hands as he starts to dismantle the blaster that’s usually holstered at his hip. Piece by piece, he sets his blaster on the table like a new jigsaw puzzle, and you’ve just finished polishing the little blaster you’ve decided to keep stashed in your boot.

“How long until we arrive?” You ask.

His visor is focused downwards, at the metal pieces on the table, his right gloved hand hovering over the pieces like an excited child in a candy shop trying to pick his favorite one. “Not long,” he replies, picking up the barrel and beginning to wipe it clean with a cloth. “We will arrive once it becomes night on the planet. Cooler temps.”

You nod, letting out an appreciative sigh. That meant you had a night’s rest before the hunt began. As he finished up with the barrel of his blaster, you removed your longer, daily use blaster and began dismantling. You two stay like that, at a dimly lit table cleaning the blasters, until the ship notified that it was about to drop out of hyperdrive. 

Mando quickly reassembled his blaster, slipping the completed gun back into its holster as he stood and hustles over to the cockpit. Following suit, you dusted off any last specs of dirt on yours and planted your feet firmly against the floor, as the ship dropped out of its easy glide through the stars and into the gravity pull of Carajam. The Razor Crest isn’t the smoothest rig, but you’re still very appreciative. And, you like to think you have good balance, so it’s not a hard task to stay stable.

You want to say that Mando is a good pilot, and you really think he is, but you can’t help but miss the sheer amount of credits that the Empire was able to spend on simple luxuries to make their lives easier, like enhanced stabilization in and out of hyperdrive, cleaner hyperdrives, even, and— 

The Razor Crest lands and you shake those dark thoughts out of your head, reassembling your blaster but with clearly less finesse than Mando. Stars, are weapons actually part of his religion, or was that a joke as well? It’s quite the challenge to pick up on the subtleties of somebody who wears intense armor literally every waking moment, but you’ve grown accustomed (more or less) to the separate circles of things that Mando talks about. Those circles are: one, things he says and means, two, things he says as a joke, and three, the gray, shadowy area where those two circles meet and you’re still deciphering what brief conversations and quick remarks belong there. 

As the ship starts to rest, expelling various airs and sighs itself as the sheer weight settles on the landing gear, you clear off the table and slip your smaller blaster back into your boot, and your other into your holster that’s banded to your right thigh. The Mandalorian comes down the cockpit ladder soon enough and goes to stand at the main ship door. You hop up from your seat and stand next to him, as he punches something into the control pad on the archway and the large door hisses and starts to lower. The first glimpse of the planet you get is the peak of the spectacular night sky, and eventually the ramp meets the sand on the ground and you see it all. Mando struts down the ramp to go and meet the landing dock manager and pay for the spot here in this spaceport Danan Karr, but you wait aboard still, leaning against the open doorway and gazing out into the night. Planets are always easier for you at night, as they were calmer— at least, those that don’t have an avid nightlife. A few that you and Mando have stopped at have been busier in the dark hours than the light, but it was always fitting. 

The breeze of the desert planet comes sifting around you, caressing your cheeks with warm air and particles of sand, but you don’t mind. Raised in space, you have an affinity for the ground and real, non-recycled air. Although it’s never any trouble for you to stay inside a ship for however long, there is always something alluring about fresh air. Plus, this planet in the Outer Rim isn’t exactly prime vacationing, so there is nearly no light pollution. It was almost hard to wrench your eyes away from the bright stars speckling the dark blanket of the sky. 

You almost don’t notice when Mando comes walking back up the ramp, too busy basking in the breeze to notice the beskar-clad hunter. He stands at the top of the ramp, slightly in front of you, for a good few seconds as you look straight over his head.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, and you look down at his face. Or, well, the specific area in the T of his visor where you’re pretty sure his eyes are. He tilts his helmet to the side and you know he’s begun to worry about you.

So you flash him a smile. “I just love the air here,” you say, and turn around to step back inside the ship. Mando walks the rest of the way up the ramp and inside, pressing a button to raise the ramp.

“Rest tonight,” he starts. “Tomorrow we go on the hunt.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, going back to sit at the janky table to clean one more blaster before retreating to your bunk.

The Mandalorian sits at the table as well, after having taken his ambam rifle out of storage for a quick clean. In silence you two work on your respective blasters, caring for them as they are just as important to the job as the tracking fob. Perhaps an hour or so went by, and as you were putting your blaster back together piece by piece, the comfortable silence was broken. But this time— not by you.

“What did you say about the air?”

You look up from your blaster and see that Mando isn’t looking at you, but still at his rifle. The fact that he’s trying to start casual conversation accidentally makes a smile appear on your face. You quickly look back down at your blaster, but your smile still remains.

“I said that I loved it,” you reply. “Because the air here is very fresh. Even though there’s like, no trees, there’s almost no people. No pollution.”

He hums in understanding and continues cleaning. 

Back to the comfortable silence. 

—

The Razor Crest looks large from the outside, but it’s pretty cramped inside. The majority of its bulk is for it’s engines and practical components— hyperdrive, fuel tanks, cooling systems and whatnot. It was once a gunship, and that fact does put you on edge. Ships like this used to transport troops and drop them in combat. So, there is a large portion of the ship’s cargo bay that remains unused, as Mando doesn’t usually transport large quarries. The living space, or at least that’s what you’ve called it in your head, consists of an open area with a small but sturdy table, a few stools to sit on, and various crates that contain meal rations and tools and various trinkets. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that this ship was never meant to be lived in. You estimate that maybe four or five people could stay on the ship before everyone felt claustrophobic. 

There used to be only one cot hidden in the walls, you’d knocked against one of the panels and the door would swoosh away, revealing a simple bed and just enough room to roll around to attempt to be comfortable. The night after the first bounty you helped Mando with, he let you sleep some in the hidden nook as he piloted you two back to Nevarro. While you were standing outside the ramp and helping unload bounties, the Mandalorian inquired whether or not you would want to join him on future bounties. With an assurance that you would get your own cot, you obliged. 

—

The bounty that you two are hunting on Carajam, the lovely desert planet, is hiding somewhere in the caves and cliffs a few klicks east of the space port that you are staying in. From the info you’ve picked up talking with a few locals, the quarry likes to hide in the sand caves because he has no friends. Well, actually it’s because he’s murdered about a person per household out of everyone who still lives on the desert planet. You thank the locals for their information with a few credits and a jug of desirable water.

You make your way to the only cantina on the planet, and by cantina you mean what is quite literally a bar top and six stools outside the shop of a local mechanic. The Mandalorian is sitting, waiting, on the last stool, facing the expanse of the desert that is a mere fifty feet from the edge of the little star port. You swiftly occupy the stool next to him.

“So,” you start, and he swivels in his stool to face you. You brace your elbows on the table. “About seven klicks east towards the main expanse of cliffs, and then about two more klicks north to the caves. One of the caves will look obviously occupied, trash and debris and whatnot. That’s what I’ve gathered.”

“Good work,” comes through the vocoder. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, adjusting the straps of the small backpack you have. “After your lead.”

He swivels again and hops off his stool, and waits a moment until he hears you following him before beelining to the edge of town. You follow, obedient, as he weaves through the sparse crowd to another shop, lined with speederbikes and a few larger landcrafts. The Mandalorian walks up to the shop owner and exchanges a few words, and a few credits, and then moves to two of the speederbikes. 

“You know how to ride?” He asks you, as you stand beside one and he the other. 

“Yes, actually,” you say, always having a soft spot for fast land vehicles. You briefly wonder that, if you had said no, would he have made you sit behind him on one bike? The thought makes you smile, bashful, and you wait until he mounts his bike before climbing onto yours.

“Seven klicks east,” Mando says, repeating your earlier words and firing up his bike.

You turn yours on as well, and grab a pair of goggles from your backpack. You pull up the bandana you keep around your neck to cover your mouth, and then put on the goggles. You give a thumbs up to Mando, who was glancing over his shoulder to wait for your cue.

And then he zooms off. And you diligently follow.

— 

You two reach the caves in a quick hour, specifically saving some hours of daylight just in case this job takes a turn. The two of you park your speederbikes about half a klick downwind of the cave, just in case. You keep your goggles on and bandana over your mouth, as the wind out here doesn’t seem to want to settle. Dust and sand weave around your feet like a clingy pet as you scale the short cliffside after your Mandalorian, following him quickly toward the cave. 

You hover around the mouth of the cave as Mando stalks in, somehow still quiet despite his sturdy boots against the rock. To see down inside was near impossible, even as you took off your goggles. You hear some sort of scuffle, a few clatters, and then Mando is shoving a handcuffed quarry your direction. You reach up and steady the quarry, your hands on the man’s shoulders. Stars, he was a large man, so you assume that Mando only managed to shackle him due to surprise. 

“Let go of me, you kriffing bitch,” the quarry seethes at you and aggressively shrugs his shoulders to loosen your grip. Mando takes a step towards him, you imagine he’s reacting to the derogatory term thrown your way, but you beat him to it— 

You release your grip on the quarry, and while he’s stunned for a moment from it, you kick his foot out from underneath him. He falls hard on his ass and plops to the side, unable to stifle his fall due to being cuffed. With a slight smile, you watch him struggle on the ground.

“F-fuckin’ bitch,” he groans out, trying to roll over to a kneeling position. Once he manages that, Mando comes and grips the man’s shirt— lifting him inches off of the ground towards his helmet. 

“Watch your mouth.”

And then Mando drops him. 

The quarry gasps at the contact back on the ground and groans, almost falling over again. You go up behind him and grab the cuffs, wrenching him upwards and forcing him to stand. You grip the cuffs tightly in your left hand, and hold your blaster to the quarry’s back with your right.

“Let’s go, then,” you say. 

The Mandalorian leads the way back towards the speeders.

—

After tying up the quarry to transport him on the back of Mando’s speederbike, you settle nicely back inside the Razor Crest. Mando already froze the quarry after he wouldn’t stop blubbering about how sorry he was for mindlessly murdering the people in port— he couldn’t help himself, apparently. 

“Nobody is born a killer,” the Mandalorian tells the quarry before freezing him.

You avert your gaze away from him once the carbonite process is finished, allowing him to believe he had privacy with the quarry during their discussion. You had tucked yourself around a corner to avoid letting him know you like listening to the Mandalorian’s stern and assertive remarks to unruly quarries. You take mental notes on the way he talks, mostly to figure out what he believes in. A Mandalorian follows a creed, and your Mandalorian hasn’t mentioned a single thing about it since you’ve met him. By now, after half a cycle, you’ve figured out the basics. And the bottom line is that Mando is generally a good guy— a moral guy, you guess. Kind of like a vigilante who upholds his own justice, but a good guy nonetheless. If Mandalorians picked sides besides their own people, you think he would’ve joined the rebellion. 

“I’ve set us on course back to Nevarro,” you offer as Mando walks back through to the main area of the ship and raises the ramp. You lean against the metal wall in one corner, watching him fulfil his routine.

“Good,” he says, appreciative in his own way that you know that he likes to be constantly on the move. “What’s the ETA?”

“Only a few hours,” you say, pushing yourself off of the wall and going to the ladder to the cockpit. The ramp closes as you grab the rungs, looking back to Mando as he shadows you at the ladder. “You should get some rest before we arrive,” you offer.

He’s silent a moment while you face back to the ladder and start ascending. You hear him mutter a ‘okay, thank you,’ through his helmet before you climb your way fully into the cockpit. Once you’ve ascended, you don’t hesitate to go and sit in the pilot’s chair. Although you’re not the best pilot, favoring studying combat and languages instead of flight and mechanics, you manage. 

You settle in the seat and grab the flight controls, and hear Mando stepping onto the floor of the cockpit. You flick up a few switches and start the ship, letting her rumble to life while you look back over your shoulder at your Mandalorian.

“Sleep well,” you say with a hint of a smile.

He gives you a nod, hesitates, and then opens the door on the wall behind the cockpit, leading to the captain’s quarters. Once you hear his door swoosh close after his retreating footsteps, you let out a breath and encourage yourself, grabbing tightly onto the handles. 

Just get it into the sky, and the autopilot gets you there, you tell yourself, forcing the Razor Crest into the air. She succeeds in ascending, and you raise the landing gear and disarm any land security protocols. Following a mental list, you do exactly as you’ve seen Mando, and get the ship into space in no time. A little shaky, sure, but you don’t think it was enough to stir the captain out of bed.

—

One cycle.

You two take a brief break. There aren’t any bounties worthy of your time, anyway.

The smoke crawls up your wrist, wrapping around your forearm before dissipating into the air. You hold the ornate stem of the smoking pipe to your lips, inhaling shallowly, and let your arm drop as you try to breathe the smoke in deeper. A heavy sigh and the smoke passes back out of your lungs, past your lips, forming a cloud in front of your face. You wait, still holding the pipe, and look expectantly at your hosts.

Upon landing on this planet, at what seems to be the only one semi-decent town, the Razor Crest was surrounded by the inhabitants. Seemingly human-esque, you and the Mandalorian walked out of the ship with no weapons in your hands, ready to barter for some fuel and lodging for the night. The people of the planet, through an interpreter, were more than happy to allow you to stay.

Under one condition; uphold their welcoming traditions and take a huge hit off of the pipe the dude who seemed to be the chief was eagerly thrusting towards you two. 

Startled at the proposition, and more so by the growing ruckus of the onlooking crowd the longer Mando tried to deny the offer, you grabbed the pipe. The chief smiled widely and the crowd calmed, but Mando whipped his head towards you.

“Don’t smoke that,” he said. “You have no idea what it is.”

The interpreter tried to reassure you that it was safe, it was fine, a common plant that everyone on the planet enjoys. The longer you held the pipe without smoking it, the smaller the smile of the chief was and the more and more the rest of the people stirred. Eventually, it did devolve into a shouting match between Mando, the interpreter, the chief, and a few people in the crowd who were brandishing weapons. 

So you smoked it.

You’ve smoked a few things before in your experience, not a lot. Drinking was always more your thing, knowing that once the liquid passes through you it will be gone from your system. Inhalants? You could never be sure. But you would be a bad sidekick to the Mandalorian if you didn’t sacrifice your lungs for ease of service.

After the first inhale, the chief smiled again, and gestured for you to smoke some more. Ignoring the verbal protest of Mando, you brought the pipe back up to your mouth and puffed again. A bit bigger of a hit this time.

Well, much bigger, judging by the size of the cloud you just breathed out. Surprised, you let out a chuckle, but the irritation in your throat causes your laugh to turn into a hearty cough.

And the crowd cheered.

The chief took the pipe from you and draped his arm over your shoulders, guiding you and Mando behind you into the town. It’s a little town tucked into a small clearing beside a freshwater river and a thick grove of forest, tall and green trees that seem to tower over everything— perhaps the tallest trees you think you have ever seen. On this planet, there are three suns, and they are constantly setting in succession. So, it’s never really nighttime. 

And it seems like these people take advantage of that.

As the chief leads you and your Mandalorian through the stone streets lined with dark, muddy brick houses, your head starts to get light. Like, the tension in your neck loosens and your shoulders go slack. It’s nice— well, it would be, if you didn’t quickly associate it with whatever the chief insisted you smoke. The chief’s arm was still draped over your shoulders and he excitedly explained, in his native tongue, what you assume to be a detailed history of the town. All you could do was feign a smile, probably looking a bit dumb considered you don’t know if your cheeks are numb or just used to your wide grin by now, and nod in fake understanding. The Mandalorian is exactly three and a half paces behind you.

The interpreter is walking beside Mando, re-explaining everything the chief is saying. You aren’t able to listen to both the chief and the interpreter, somehow lacking the mental capacity to focus back and forth between the two, now. The crowd of people disappeared once you smoked from the fancy pipe, save for a handful that you assume are the chief’s servants, so the little troop led by you and the chief eventually hits the end of the main street. 

The chief removes his arm from your shoulders and gives you a nice, hard slap on the back. He says something, while gesturing to a small cottage that bookends the houses lining the road. You’re too busy staring off in the distance, past the green grass that traces the treeline and river. One of the suns is setting, casting a mesmerizing red haze over the tips of the trees, painting the freshwater of the river golden. 

You hear the Mandalorian call your name, and turn to face him.

And he’s standing there, at the door of the cottage the chief is letting you two use for the night, practically glowing with how the setting sun is glinting off of his beskar. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, a second time, but you didn’t hear the first.

You cannot help the unabashed grin that swallows your face, and stumble over to the door. “Never better. Everything is great. You should’ve smoked that shit, too.”

You hear him sigh and he opens the door for you, stepping back so you can walk in first. So you meander in, hand lightly following the wall because you’re suddenly doubting your balance. You find a seat at the small table that’s placed in the middle of the room, and you still can’t stop yourself from smiling. 

The Mandalorian drops a bag at the foot of one of the cots that he must’ve gone back to the Crest to get, but you don’t remember him doing that. And then he drops your night bag at the foot of the other cot, and you wonder when he went and got your bag.

“Thanks,” you croak out, still smiley, and brace your elbows on the table. “D’you have any idea what I smoked?”

“No,” he admits, voice monotone as usual through the vocoder. He pulls out the second chair and sits across from you. The cottage, small but spacious enough for two people to not knock elbows, was alight with soft sunshine filtering in through the numerous windows. Who needs light on a planet that is constantly day?

“How do you feel?” He asks, visor intent on staring you down. 

“Spectacular,” you reply, staring back at the visor. You used to wear a gaudy helmet when you were a trooper, so you’re pretty damn sure you know exactly where his eyes are behind that mask. 

“You look drunk.”

Your smile, instead of faltering, is drawn a little wider and your elbows slip forward on the table until your chest is pressed up against the wood, your chin almost touching the tabletop but your cheeks are squished by your hands, keeping your head up. “I feel like it, too. But, different at the same time, y’know?” 

“No, I don’t know,” the Mandalorian says as he leans back in his chair. His hands are flat against his thighs, and you’re 99% sure he is simply watching you. Out of worry or annoyance, of course you can’t tell, but you’re leaning towards annoyance.

So you tilt your head to the side, staring back, trying your fucking hardest to stifle the stupid smile on your face but you just can’t. “Want me to tell you what you’re missin’?”

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian tilts his head as well, mimicking you. “Enlighten me.”

“Have y’ever got so drunk that you just had to sit there and wait ‘til the booze gets filtered out of your system?” You start, letting your head— so heavy— fall further to the side and land on the table, a nice foundation to ground you. You’re so slumped in your chair your legs are straight, sticking out of the sides underneath the table as you stretch your arms to dangle off of the table. “And yet it’s like, the best part of bein’ sloshed is comin’ up so you don’t want to sober up and y’just— just— sit there, stewing.” 

He lets out a hum, letting you know he’s still politely listening to your ramblings.

Any thoughts in your head blur, images and words swishing around behind your eyes as you try to focus on what you were saying. “And nothin’ hurts or aches and you get to forget ‘bout everything bad you did that day and just look at the stars. Y’get to look at them, and for the first time you see them, see the life they hold and foster and you feel special knowin’ you’re a part of it all.”

There is a moment of silence, or— you think so, but your breathing is a little heavier than usual. The moment draws out, longer, and you’re beginning to wonder if you actually said that stuff out loud or if you simply thought it.

You bolt upright in your chair, cheeks red with embarrassment— but the fucking smile is still on your stupid face. 

“I don’t know what’s up with me right now,” you admit, eyes focused on one of the windowsills off near the door, so you don’t have to look at that helmet and feel the stare behind it. “The chief said that they smoke this stuff all the time and don’t sleep a wink, but I feel super tired.”

In your peripheral vision you see the dreaded helmet glint in the sunlight. He’s looking at you, quizzically. “What do you mean?” He asks. “The interpreter didn’t say that.”

“No,” you agree, looking back at him. You try to focus where you know a face is behind the helmet, but you can’t get the image to clear in your head. It’s all a little blurry at the edges, and your Mandalorian is all edges. “I said the chief said that.” 

“He didn’t speak any Galactic Basic. When did you hear him say that?”

The edges blur some more. “He said it when we were all walking, I dunno. He just said it.”

The Mandalorian looks toward the door, thinking. 

“It must be the ganja,” you offer.

He looks back. “The what?”

“The offering. That’s what the chief called it. But, well, I dunno if that’s what it’s actually named or what they call it,” you say, unable to look at the sharpness and crisp lines that make up the beskar armor. What’s going on with you? You weren’t concerned until now, reaching a hand up to trace your bottom lip and finding that you have control over your face again. No more creepy smiling. “I feel fine, though. From smoking.”

You steal a glance at him and find that he is still, predictably, staring at you. Your cheeks grow hot again, suddenly feeling like a burden to your employer. He is not a babysitter, and you don’t want him to feel like he has to watch over you as you ride this high.

“Really,” you add. “I feel fine. Things look weird, right now, and my head is fuzzy, but it feels good.”

He stares, and you bitterly wonder if that’s all he’s good for.

So you stand up, eyes scanning the room and you notice the heavy curtains tied neatly above each window. “Guess we should sleep,” you say, stepping towards one of the windows to let the curtains down to block out the never-ending sunlight.

But, your ankles feel a little weak, and your balance falters. 

Before your hazy head even registers that you’ve lost your footing, the Mandalorian is at your side, his right arm tucked behind your back, his right hand firmly on your right hip. His left hand is grasping your left upper arm tight enough to bruise, but without his strong grip, you would have crumbled to the floor like a tossed blanket. 

“Are you okay?” He asks immediately, and holds you tighter and hauls you up back onto your unsteady feet. Once the words finally registered in your brain, you briefly thought that he really did sound concerned— masked voice a little higher in pitch than usual.

Your fuzzy head decides the best thing to do in response is laugh as you stood up back on your own. “I’m okay,” you assure, a hint of laughter still in your voice, and you raise your hand to lightly shove him away, not needing his support anymore.

But, since he’s solid as a fucking rock, your hand just brushes against the beskar chestplate uselessly. That causes you to laugh a little more, and he lets go of you once he’s sure you can stand solidly on your own.

“Are you sure?” He asks, still with that higher pitch that the vocoder almost hides. He’s hovering close to your side, ready to catch you again if he has to. 

Curious, you raise your hand and tap your knuckles against his chestplate, and the resounding thud thud makes you smile. “Fuckin’ hardcore, Mando. I’m so jealous of your armor.”

“Yeah, you’re not okay,” he says, but you swear you hear a lilt in his voice, as though he finds you amusing. “You should try to sleep it off.”

He gestures towards one of the beds but you don’t look over to it. Instead, you tap your knuckles against one of his pauldrons. Tink tink. 

“Really,” he insists, and you for sure hear the smile on his face in that one word. “You need some sleep.” He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, slowly, so that you’re facing the bed. 

“Would you close the blinds?” You ask, stumbling forward to the bed. You flounce on top of the blanket, as this planet is quite comfortably warm— or are you just warm? — and let out a heavy sigh. A real bed.

“Of course,” Mando replies, strutting to each of the five windows in this small, quaint cottage and letting down each of the curtains. In the back of your hazy mind, you know he can see in the dark with the HUD in his helmet. The thought makes you slightly jealous, and you wonder if, as you turn to lay on your back in the blackness, if he may be looking at you. You blame the ganja for the fuzziness that overtakes you at the thought.

“Thank you,” you call into the darkness.

You hear his friendly hum somewhere in the room, and hear him sit down at the table again. Truly, the inhabitants of this planet know how to utilize the sun, and how to hide from it, as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling and see nothing. It is completely pitch black, and you’re impressed.

The feeling of the mattress underneath you is almost too soft. You can’t remember the last time you were able to sleep on a real bed— if you ever had the pleasure. It reminds you of floating in deep salt water, the effort of staying afloat taken away from you as you just let it happen. Currently, you’re not sure if your eyes are open or closed, as it makes no difference. Your breathing is stable, and the haze in your head is tolerable. You must be coming down from the peak, and it’s making you tired.

Quietly, you hear the Mandalorian’s gloved hands grasp metal, but you’re not sure what. You hear something slightly heavy placed on the table.

He calls your name, softly, and unfiltered. 

“Yes?” You reply, breathless. Did he take his helmet off?

“Go to sleep,” he says. His usually gruff voice sounds gentle without the vocoder.

“Okay,” you say, and you do indeed need to close your eyes. The blackness behind your eyelids seems almost darker than the darkness of the room. Unbeknownst to you, you must’ve been extremely tired, because you pass out almost immediately.

[miss-pearlescent]

Universal Differences (2/7)

Trapped in a dilapidated spaceship, you kidnap an alien to help you gain your key to freedom: marriage to a safe and trustworthy diplomat.

As a rich and handsome son of billionaires, Kai is bored of his repetitive party life. It isn’t until he’s kidnapped by a little human with a mission that he realizes the fun he’s been missing.

Rated M for smut (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) ♡

[ 1 | 2 | 3ᵐ | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

---

[2/7]

“Have you thought about sex when you marry this man?”

You shot a glare at Kai, who was still in his seat. It had been a full day and he hadn’t spoken about being untied. He hadn’t mentioned about eating, sleeping, or even the bathroom. You weren’t going to bring it up either. “Is sex always on your mind?”

Ignoring your glare, he kept watching as you tinkered with the thermostat that had been making loud clanging noises for a while. “It’s going to be an issue.”

“An issue?” You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the grimace of sharing a bed with an old man—because diplomats were always old men.

“Have you ever had sex before?”

Your screwdriver dropped to the ground and you scrambled to pick it up before it rolled away. “O-of course. ”

Heavy silence filled the ship and you felt your cheeks warming up.

Clearing your throat, you brushed the too-long strands of hair out of your face. “I’ve had sex with Earthens before.”

“That’s just it.” Kai’s voice was dead serious. “Have you ever seen a naked man outside of Earth? We’re different.”

You rose an eyebrow and looked him up and down. He was still wearing the same dark grey suit as yesterday, though you had already changed into your faded red jumpsuit. He had a nose, eyes, ears. His lips were slightly fuller than you expected, a trait that many human girls longed for. He had silver hair, but any stylist could do that in a couple of sessions. Arms, check. Legs, check. “You don’t look different to me.”

His lips kicked up in a smirk. “Then you should come find out.”

Your cheeks got even warmer and the screwdriver slipped from your hand again, knocking into the thermostat with a loud bang.

“Thermal engine restarting in one hour.”

You froze halfway as the loud clanging stopped. So did the whirring. Soon, there was a dead silence.

“What was that?”

You looked over at Kai who was eyeing the thermostat suspiciously. Then you breathed out and saw your own breath frosting in the air.

This was not good.

You hopped over your seat, rushing over to the bedding area where you found two blankets, one thin and one a little thicker. You considered which one to use but soon decided to throw the thicker one over Kai’s shoulders.

“What are you doing, human?”

“I fucked up the thermostat. The ship is going to be freezing cold for the next hour until it re-calibrates.” You tucked the blanket around his chin, hoping his nose and ears wouldn’t freeze off. “Just don’t die, okay?” Your fingers were shaking but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from the fear.

If Kai died, you would live a life knowing you were a murderer. The authorities would never let you leave. You’d never be able to settle down anywhere, not on one of these strange planets and definitely not back on Earth.

It was getting colder by the second and you wrapped the thin sheet around your shoulders, padding over to the bathroom where it was the warmest. The last time this happened, you had survived there with a bunch of padding. This time...

“Where are you going?”

You stopped, realizing you couldn’t just leave Kai alone. “Right. I have to stay here,” you muttered to yourself. But it was going to be too cold. Already, your teeth were beginning to chatter between your words.

Looking around, you wondered if you should take your seat at the head of the ship. Unfortunately, even with the thermostat on, that spot was the coldest because of the huge window. Then there was your makeshift bed where you could roll into and hopefully not freeze to death if you accidentally fell asleep.

Kai tossed his blanket to the side with a flick on his shoulder. “Come here.”

You blinked, a little upset that he didn’t seem to care for your peace offering. “What?”

“I was born here, remember? You and I are different. My body is used to fluctuating temperatures on different planets.” He raised his chin and spread his legs. “Come here,” he repeated.

Every second that you stood there felt like an eon. Your toes got colder but your face was on fire. If somebody told you there was steam coming off the top of your head, you would believe them.

“Just to keep warm,” you told yourself as you picked up your frozen feet and stood in front of Kai.

His expression was serious but you could see the hint of playfulness in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. “Just to keep warm,” he replied with a soft nod.

Holding your breath, you sat down between his legs and picked up the blanket on the floor. When you asked him if he needed it, he said no, so you threw it on top of the thinner sheet around your shoulders. Still, you tucked it into the chair behind Kai’s neck. If he was offering body heat, you were going to use all of it.

You tucked your feet under you, turning to the side so that you could fit a bit more comfortably. Your heart hammered in your chest as you blew warm air on your hands, trying to make the silence tick away faster.

Just one hour. Just one stupid hour.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I can’t touch you.”

You looked up at him, suddenly feeling all sorts of guilt. He was right. His hands were still tied behind the chair and here you were, using him as a personal furnace. “I’m sorry. Let me—”

His knee came up, stopping you from going anywhere. “No, stay. I’m okay like this.”

Stiffly, you shifted back until you were curled up again. Your body shivered, enjoying the warmth that his chest gave off. It didn’t help that he also smelled nice. You may have been able to loathe this hour more if he smelled bad, but the darn Alien had to smell nice.

He chuckled as if he had heard your thoughts. “How you poor, little humans survived on Earth, I will never know.”

You bristled but saw the teasing in his eyes again. Sighing, you leaned back just a little bit. “Earth stays in homeostasis, and humans are usually more prepared if they live in a climate that could kill them. If I had known my thermostat would make a habit of going bust, I would have brought a few winter coats with me.”

“This happens often, then?” he asked, turning toward the blasted dial on the wall.

“No, only once before.” You remembered being really scared that day. It had been a good day too, until the temperature started dropping and you realized you could freeze to death. Nobody had answered your check-in call, and it wasn’t until two hours later that somebody picked up your distress signal. By then, everything was fine and they sounded annoyed as if you were a child crying wolf. “Must be nice to have a thermoregulator built into your DNA.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before turning back. “The government decided it was more energy efficient to have their people self-regulate rather than change every planet’s natural climate. My home in WestorX was built on a beach beside a dormant volcano, and I have another home on Q’artier in the mountains. All feels the same to me.”

“You really are rich,” you said as a matter of fact. “What do you do with all those homes?”

He shrugged and the blanket threatened to fall off. You caught it in time and leaned forward to tuck it in again. “Nothing. Why would I want to stay there?”

“Why not?” You imagined a whole beach to yourself, how nice it would be to have hot sand in between your toes after a year of sitting in a hunk of metal. Warm water, palm trees, tanning under the sun...

He shrugged again, though this time more carefully. “There is nothing to do there. Everybody gathers in the city centres where parties and celebrations happen every single day.”

“Doesn’t that get boring?”

Kai thought about it for a second but shook his head. “I can’t think of what else I would do.”

You blew out a little whistle, utterly impressed by this man’s wealth. “Where do you get all this money to blow, anyway? I can’t believe your parents would let you do that to their savings.”

“I own a farm on New Home as well.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “You’re a farmer?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. My androids do all the work. I collect the money and occasionally do repairs from time to time.” Then he threw an exaggerated wink. “Though I wouldn’t mind an extra farm hand.”

You laughed at his absurd offer, though your own plans weren’t much better in terms of normalcy. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about farming. I’m a researcher.”

“So why are you taking me to the most well-known party on New Home?”

Playing with a loose thread, you decided to tell him your plans. Maybe he would be able to help you a bit more. “I’m not going to this party to marry any regular man,” you said. “I need to marry somebody who has money and power. Somebody who will not mind a human as a wife. I’m hoping it will be a diplomat, because they seem to be kind and accepting, you know?”

You really hoped they were all kind and accepting.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all this,” you said, looking around at your cluttered spaceship. You realized how small and cramped it was now that there were two passengers inside. “I just need you to help me get inside this party, and then I won’t bother you ever again.”

Kai was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air. It wasn’t until you shifted uncomfortably in your seat when he spoke again. “And I’m going to ask you one more time: have you thought about the sex yet?”

You furrowed your brows. He was bringing this conversation back to square one. “No, for your information, I have not. I am sure it will not be much different.”

“How are you so sure?” He was speaking right into your ear and you realized belatedly that you were leaning right up to him.

Suddenly, you wondered if maybe this little cocoon was getting too warm.

“As you probably know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “my people don’t see humans as equals.”

You pouted. “You’ve made that very clear.”

He didn’t bother to correct your statement. “I cannot guarantee that the man you choose to marry will honour your human wishes when it comes to sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our rituals are...different.”

“You keep saying that word but it makes no sense to me.”

He raised a brow, challenging you. “The only way you will understand is by demonstration.”

You rolled your eyes. “How different can it be? Kissing, blowjob, penetration. It’s all the same.”

Kai threw his head back in a laugh, his chest shaking against you. Finally, when he caught his breath, he gave you a hard look. “Let’s start with kissing then, human.”

You shook your head.

“What?” he laughed again. “You said it couldn’t be much different.”

Your eyes darted to his easy smile. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that he was daring a human to kiss him. His lips were full and looked soft, unlike the thin cracked lips of an old man you often had to imagine. Kissing Kai wouldn’t be torturous, per se.

Before you lost your courage, you placed your hands on his cheeks and leaned in, pressing a small kiss on his lower lip. “There,” you muttered and promptly wrapped the sheet around your shoulders even tighter before he could see that your shaking was from nerves and not from the cold.

The man had the audacity to snort. “What was that?”

“A kiss,” you bit out.

“That was a kiss? You humans really are innocent things, aren’t you?”

You crossed your arms, embarrassed that he was treating you like a kid. “How do you guys kiss, then?”

“Let me show you.” He raised one leg a little, tilting your body toward him. “Come here.”

Before you could stop yourself, you were already leaning into him again. You squeezed your eyes shut as your lips touched and your hands grabbed onto his jacket to keep from falling off his lap.

To your surprise, his tongue came out, invading the seal between your lips. He explored your mouth, licking and lapping, putting up a little fight with your own tongue that didn’t know what to do anymore. He sucked on your tongue, encouraging it to come out and play.

It was like a promise of things to come later.

He was devouring you with every taste and you shivered as the heat traveled lower and lower down your body. Each time his tongue tangled with yours, he was stoking the warm ache in your belly.

You squealed as you felt something prodding between your legs. Paired with the tongue action, it was too much, too fast. You pulled away, slapping a hand over Kai’s mouth.

“What the hell was that?”

He watched you with hooded eyes as he took a deep breath, panting against your hand. Then you felt the prodding again.

You gasped.

No, this time it wasn’t a prod. It was a deliberate stroke.

“What the...” You looked down but found no tent in his pants. Lifting your hand from Kai’s mouth, you crossed your arms and demanded answers.

He simply smirked. “That’s how we kiss around here, little human.”

---

I hope you guys liked that chapter! I don’t usually write much about kisses because there are a lot of words and descriptors I don’t like when talking about kisses LOL Like fight scenes, I tend to skim over them whenever I read hehehehhehehehe

Anyway, I hope you guys are doing well! Stay safe and take care of yourselves :3

[kendelias]

i dont remember what i already sent bc i took a nacho break but 11 for Deith bc im on voltron hours

11. And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

It’s quiet, Declan thinks. More than usual, anyway; his roommates are out for the day, the dogs with them. Even Cosmo has gone elsewhere for the time being, probably to the kitchens with Hunk, he suspects. He usually doesn’t like quiet - he grew up with six siblings, it was easy to get accustomed to racket and chaos. But this... the gentle hum from the air conditioner in the window, the steady rise and fall of Keith’s chest, his fluttering heartbeat beneath Declan's ear. This kind of quiet he could get used to.

It’s then that Keith speaks, breaking the tentative blanket of peace by saying, “I thought about you.” Declan doesn’t have much more energy than to give a noncommittal hum, his eyelids fluttering lazily. Keith continues. “When I was... away, I mean.”

Declan considers this. They don’t usually talk about when he was away - Keith doesn’t often seem eager to recount his experiences, and Declan is just happy to have him here, alive and in the flesh, to ask. So, for the first time in a long time, he’s no idea what to say. It’s not funny, he thinks distantly, but he jokes anyway: “I feel like an old sailor’s wife taking a stroll down the widow’s walk when you say stuff like that.” Keith snorts, but Declan gathers himself and tries again, to have a normal conversation. He looks up at Keith, who’s staring at the ceiling, contentedly. “Did you really?”

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, and his hand absentmindedly plays with Declan’s hair. He always does this - it’s not like Declan minds, far from it. It’s a nervous habit, he thinks. Keith looks for a moment like he didn’t say anything at all, then glances down at Declan. “All the time,” he says. “I felt like you tethered me back to earth. What else was there to come back to?”

Declan’s heart fumbles over the words as Keith says them. He’s never been that for somebody before - people have needed him, sure, his siblings and his friends, but this is different. Keith is different. He clears his throat. “And isn’t that just so pretty to think? That all along there was some invisible string tying you to me.”

He watches Keith smile. “Yeah,” he says. It always comes back to us, Declan thinks, but he doesn’t say it, as they just slip back into quiet.

send me folklore prompts!

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Lance X !Fat Reader X Lotor - Race To Your Heart Ch.3

---

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

Lance threw his hands up at Hunk who spoke those words, as the larger paladin put the finishing touches on the cake he was decorating; a look of concern etched on his face.

“Why’s that Hunk,” the blue paladin crossed his arms, an annoyed look coming upon his face. “It’s not like (Y/N) would pick Lotor anyways.” 

Putting the piping tube down, Hunk looked at his friend with a raised brow. “How do you know what (Y/N) wants Lance?” 

“(Y/N) avoids him like he’s a disease, there’s no way she’d go for him!” Hunk scoffed at Lance’s pathetic explanation, only shaking his head at his friend. “She’d go for me in a heartbeat, I guarantee.”

Hunk full out laughed at Lance’s words as he grasped his stomach with the force of his laugh. “Wait,” The yellow paladin finally got his laughing under control and cleared his throat before continuing on. “You mean to tell me that (Y/N) would go for the guy she tries to stay away from every time he flirts with her, dude, have you not seen the looks (Y/N) gives you when you try to make a move on her?”

The confident smile slipped from Lance’s face. “What’re you talkin’ about Hunk?”

“Easy,” A voice piped up from the door, both guys turning to see Pidge walk through the door. “Lance, (Y/N) loathes that you flirt with her the way you do, you honestly get on her nerves a bit.” The green paladin said this with a cheeky smile.  

Lance was slack jawed at the small girls’ comment. Looking between his two friends, he wasn’t really sure what to say; which was actually a relief to the two other paladins in the room.

“But,” Pidge shut the door to the kitchen, gaining the other two’s attention. “Moving on from Lance’s nonexistence love life to something more important like what the hell kind of deal you made about (Y/N).” Hunk just shook his head and pointed to Lance.

“It was all him, he just told me about right before you got here.”

“Wow, way to throw a guy under the bus, Hunk.” Hunk sent a nervous smile over to Lance who was getting stared down by the small paladin.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Pidge crossed her arms and glared at Lance. “(Y/N) isn’t some damn prize to be won Lance and I thought you had half a mind to know that!” Pidges’ voice rose with each word she spoke and soon she was poking Lance in the chest.

“Listen Pidge, it’s ju-.” Lance was cut off by a sharp poke to the chest. 

“No! Now you have until the end of the week to tell (Y/N) about this yourself or I’ll tell her; got it?” With that said, Pidge left the other two silent and Lance trembling at the small girls’ words. 

“Man, you totally messed up this time Lance.” Hunk went back to piping, shaking his head. 

“Yeah….yeah I did.” 

--

“What should I do?” Your voice echoed lightly through your silent room as you gazed up at the ceiling. Your talk with Pidge did help a bit, but your mind was still frazzled by everything.

Lance and Lotor’s behavior have been really weird, but at the same time, you didn’t want it to stop. One part of you enjoyed the attention they gave you, but the other part made you push them away and act as if their actions disgusted you.

I mean, sometimes they did.

Between Lance’s flirty comments, sometimes borderline harassment and Lotor’s overly nice attitude and constant pestering for your attention; you were stuck between a rock and a hard place that was for damn sure. 

I mean, back on Earth guys never really gave you the time of day unless it was to ask about getting one of your friends’ numbers or just throwing some insults your way. It used to bother you, but now the small insults never really fazed you at this point. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. 

Well, the only thing you did know was that laying here staring at the ceiling wouldn’t solve anything. Swinging your legs to the side, you sluggishly stood up, stretching your limbs until the satisfying ‘pops’ emitted. Maybe you can go cook with Hunk, yeah that usually helps you unwind.

As your door slid open, a face startled you. Lance’s face to be exact who still had his hand raised up ready to knock. 

“Oh, h-hey (Y/N).” 

“Hey Lance….what’s up?” Your brow raised at how weird, well, weirder he was acting.

“I just wanted to see if…..if you wanted to eat some cake with me?” He looked nervous and on edge like he was hiding something. 

“Ar-“ 

“I mean,” Lance cut you off with a boisterous laugh, clearly showing his nerves. “You like cake, right? Sure ya do, you never skip desert that’s for sure!” Your eyes narrowed at his words, words that he obviously didn’t think about before he spoke them. Crossing your arms, your jaw clenched a bit.

“I….I didn’t mean it like that… you kn-.” 

You cut him off with a sharp look. “Lance, enough.” 

Without waiting for his response, you pushed past him and made your way toward the library where you could hopefully get some peace and not a desert jab or whatever the hell he was trying to say.

Rounding the corner, there was Lotor entering the library with a book in hand. You cursed the higher power above and thought somebody had it out for you. Well, he didn’t notice you, that was good, but now you had a choice. Do you turn around and go back to your room and hope that Lance was gone and being a stuttering fool somewhere else, or go into the library and get a book. One where it can take you far away to another world even though Lotor was occupying the space. 

Heaving a sigh, you continued down the hallway finally deciding that you wanted to get your hands on a book to occupy yourself. 

Opening the door just enough to slip yourself through, you tried shutting the door as quietly as you could, but a loud creaking noise emitted as you shut the door fully. You silently cursed to whoever was trying to get back at you from up above. 

“Hello?” Lotor’s voice filtered through the quite room and you wanted to bang your head against the door in hopes of knocking yourself out so you wouldn’t have to have another conversation with a man, at least not tonight. 

“Ah, (Y/N)…. Are you alright?” Lifting your head up, you turned to Lotors concerned face. 

“Yeah, just been a bad night is all.” You managed to give a tight smile as you moved around the Prince and toward the shelves of books. Your hands grazed the spines of the books, feeling the roughness on your fingertips was nice and calming. 

“Hoping to calm your mind with a nice read then?” Glancing up, you met his gaze through the cracks between the books. Giving a scoff, you nodded. 

“Yeah, something like that.” Your eyes scanned the titles, most of them in another language, the strange markings catching your eye.

“Well, might I suggest a title?” Well, at least this conversation was going better than the one you had with Lance. Turning to the Prince, you leaned against the huge bookcase not worrying about it not holding your weight for once. 

“As long as it’s a book I can actually read,” Lotor smirked at your words, as he took another step toward you as you tried to keep space between you two, but with already being against the bookshelf, there really wasn’t much room.

You could feel the heat radiating off Lotor’s body and you weren’t going to lie, it felt nice. “O-or if they have pictures, otherwise I’ll be completely lost.” You cursed yourself for stuttering like that. Lotor only chuckled at your words as he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Since this book has neither of those, how about I read it to you, that way, you can relax and wander to another world without doing any of the work.” 

Before you could respond, or even comprehend what to say, Lotor guided you toward the reading area of the Library. It was beautiful, it always stole your breath away when you saw it. The reading area was composed of extravagant love seats and chairs with soft pillows, soft handmade rugs surrounded the area and it even had a giant fireplace in marble that had a fire already roaring in it. 

Lotor ushered you to the love seat where you sank down into the softness of the furniture. You closed your eyes for a moment to enjoy the softness overtaking you until something fuzzy was placed over you. Cracking open your eyes, Lotor finished placing a blanket over your form. 

“I didn’t want you to get cold.” You gave him a small smile as he cracked open the book and began reading. You were half listening to the book as your mind wandered, trying to figure out Lotor’s behavior. Yes, he has been trying to interact with you for a while now, but you never gave him the time of day because of how he changed sides, fighting against the Galra now. Your eyes shifted over to Lotor who was still reading the book, a small smile on his face as he did so. 

Snuggling into the blanket and pillows surrounding you, you let his voice soothe you into a calming relaxing mode. Maybe Lotor wasn’t all that bad, maybe you jumped the gun too quickly on him. 

Slowly, your eyes started to close thanks to the Prince’s soothing voice.

[supergirlfics]

How about fem reader and Lena doing grocery shopping together being cute, flirty and gay. R doing product name/fruit name puns and Lena pretending to hate them. They go home together and start cooking together aka reader keeping Lena from burning things. Lena just keeps annoying her wife because she thinks R is cute when she's annoyed. Thanks! - J

“I want to push the cart,” You said, practically pushing Lena out of the way as you rushed to grab it.

“I won’t argue.” Lena held her hands up in surrender.

You gleefully skipped into the store, Lena several paces behind her as she laughed at the childishness of her wife.

“So, we need,” Lena said, staring down at the shopping list.. “Eggs, milk, almond extract, Gala apples -”

“Gala apples are only your favorite because you love galas. I think we should get a different kind.”

“It’s on the list as Gala. Two lemons, a cake pan.”

“Because you burned ours to a crisp.”

“It was an accident.”

“Was it though?” You asked. “Because I don’t think you can accidentally make that huge a disaster with a hunk of metal. You’re not Supergirl.”

Lena forced a laugh before continuing with the list. “Laundry detergent, and . . . Did you add ‘fuzzy blanket’?”

“Yes. We need a new one for the couch. Ours has lost some of its fuzziness.”

“You are such a child.”

“A child with priorities. Please? It’s important.” You gave Lena the puppy eyes you knew she could never resist.”

“Fine,” Lena said. “But I get to choose it.”

“Deal,” You said. Lena always chose the best blanket.

In the produce section, as Lena was busying herself with the apples, you picked up the best looking pear you could find. “Hey Lena,” You said, grabbing her hand and placing the pear in it. “I just want to remind you that we make a great . . . pear.” You grinned stupidly as Lena rolled her eyes at the fruit in her hand, though she couldn’t hide her smirk.

Moments later, as Lena was putting away the pear you abandoned to her, you returned to her side holding olives. “I’m sending olive my love to you, Lena.”

And so it continued. It was hard to read Lena with each joke you made. She would roll her eyes, make a sarcastic comment, but her smile was getting more and more difficult to hide. 

When you reached the kitchen supplies, you held up a fork and spun around to make another pun. To your surprise, she was holding a cheese grater and spoke first. “Well that’s just grate,” she said. “Y/N is about to make another pun.”

You threw the fork an practically ran to close the distance between you and your wife, engulfing her in a hug. ‘You really do love me.”

“Of course I do,” Lena said, giving you a quick kiss.

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

As soon as you got home, you took your place in the kitchen to make dinner. 

“Oh no,” Lena said. “It’s my turn tonight.”

You held up the chicken breasts you had pulled out of the fridge, though it did nothing, even without her heels, Lena was taller than you. “You’re a terrible cook.”

“I’m a wonderful cook.” She took the chicken easily and cut open the package.

“Okay, fine. Just, let me help you.”

“Go sit down, take a break. You’ve had a rough day, love.”

“I didn’t even work today. I was in my pajamas until an hour ago. I think I’m fine.”

Lena chuckled as she threw the chicken on a frying pan.

“Did you even oil that first? Please tell me there’s oil on that pan and seasoning on that chicken.”

“I’ll oil it now,” Lena said, a little too calmly for your taste.

“That will ruin it, Lena Luthor. Go wash your hands. You have raw chicken on them.”

You fixed her mistake while she washed and then stood on her side to make sure she didn’t mess anything else up with your precious dinner.

“Lena, sweetie,” You said after a few minutes.

“Yes dear?”

“The chicken’s gonna burn.”

“It’s cooking just right.”

“How can you say that? The bottom is going to be black.”

Lena chuckled. “But the middle will be cooked though.”

You couldn’t respond, only give her a horrified look. How could you have married somebody with such terrible cooking skills? It had been a core part of your life since you were a child.

But then Lena turned the chicken over and winked at you with those beautiful green eyes and you remembered why you married her. Every good memory you had with her. The way she teased you - knowing you were a little overly dramatic and just a tad uptight. And how she not only dealt with, but embraced your childishness. 

“Lena,” You said quietly. “I love you so much.”