#also just to mention I def headcanon rayla as having some nerves about adjusting to katolis so that def a thing that came thru in this

[blutopaz15]

For the fluff prompts (sorry, I saw the list and thought it was cute and reblogged it, knowing full well this would happen): “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

heheheh, as SOON as I saw it I was like....This speaks to me 😆😆😆

Also, tagging @nothingmorethanageminiboar bc you also asked for this prompt!! There was an anon friend too so I hope they see this, whoever they are!

I’m prob gonna write this scene differently when we get there in my current wip, but this prompt just has Rayla’s first night in Katolis written all over it, lol <3

Hope y’all enjoy :)

Prompt #1: “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

Callum blinked at Rayla’s empty bed, surprised to find the sheets still crisp and unrumpled.

“Hey,” she sighed from the opposite corner of the room. He lingered in the washroom, his shoulder leaned against the doorframe, as he took in every little detail of Rayla—cuter and cozier than he could’ve imagined possible—at the center of his bed instead, making herself at home, like he’d said she should, perched comfortably atop the blanket tightly tucked in along the edge of the mattress.

Her knees, still covered in teal, were gathered up in her arms, pressed to her chest, and she crossed one ankle, pinkish and pale, in front of the other. The rest of her outfit made the slight smile already on his lips widen into a full-grin. Rayla wore a playful smirk to match, which grew as her eyes flickered down over his—also matching—pajamas.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked with a nod to the familiar yellow nightshirt that matched his own.

The light material hung loosely on her body unlike the armor she’d shed. She’d piled the pieces up on his desk and draped her belt across his chair, he saw. Her hand pushed back through her hair, the red cuff falling away from her slender wrist. Rayla looked up at him through her eyelashes, smirking still, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. A flush spread down Callum’s neck at seeing Rayla all wrapped up—looking so comfortable and so sweet—in something of his.

“You mean our shirt?” she asked, giggling and nodding at his own attire. She unfolded her legs and pressed the heels of her hands into her thighs.

Her cheek angled down to brush against the fabric at her shoulder—again, so impossibly adorable—and her eyes tracked to the wardrobe where she’d found the spare clothes. When she looked back up, a more serious question flashed in her eyes before her stare wandered away from his again, down now to her shins sprawled out in front of her.

“It’s okay, right? You said to make myself at home, and I don’t have any other clothes, so…” Rayla tugged at the hem of her leggings, pulling at a loose thread, a note of doubt darkening her tone. She didn’t look up until he spoke.

“You want pants too?” Callum asked, crossing to the set of drawers caddy-corner from the bed and casting her a gentle smile as he began digging around for a pair of pajamas bottoms to match his own.

Her nose wrinkled just slightly with the reassured chuckle she breathed. “Yes, please,”

By the time he’d pulled a neatly folded pair of pants from the bottom drawer, she was at his side, taking the bundle of white from his hands. Rayla took another step closer, quickening his pulse with the lingering smell of wilderness combined with fresh laundry. She tenderly pulled him closer by the elbow so she could touch her lips—soft and even warmer than his blush—to his cheek. She hummed another tiny chuckle before padding across the room to the washroom door, where she paused, fingers wrapped around the doorframe, her head tilted and hair hanging over to one side. She turned, beaming beautifully at him.

“Be right back,” she said over her shoulder. “Thanks, Callum.”