#for like at least an hour a day on top of comms and my day job...

[sitepathos]

What if (Reader) just kills themselves? Or just find him dead somewhere

Does the Batfam care about him at all or just hate him completely?

Cause I'm slowly wanting to beat all of them up

I imagine then finding him dead or at least near death, instead of calling for Bruce, he calls for Alfred

And (reader) is literally batshit pun intended scared of everyone cause of trauma except for butler

I think if the Batfamily were to discover Reader dead, his body long since gone cold, it would be a slap in the face for all of them. For years, they’ve known that you exist, but couldn’t be bothered to really get to know you. Since you aren’t a vigilante and lack the capability to be trained and with all oof them having their own lives, they didn’t see the point in talking to you. Now, seeing their forgotten brother and son a corpse, they feel like shit. At your funeral, they try to talk about all the good times, but it’s only then do they realize most of them have never had a conversation with you, or even spent time with you.

And to top it all off, Alfred is PISSED at them. Sure, the butler’s expressed disappointment in all of them at some point (mostly over not properly caring for themselves), but this is different. He was just talking to you on that dreadful day and after not hearing from you for over 24 hours, he finds out that you’re dead and phone records show that the kidnappers tried to arrange a ransom, but not only do they not notice you missing, but they antagonize the man, no doubt leading to you paying the price.

He locks himself away in his room and no one tries to talk to him. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to hear from any of them. Inside his room, he’s quietly weeping, begging for your forgiveness. Had he known you’d meet with such a fate, he never would’ve left Gotham. Hell, he probably would’ve kept you in the manor, pulling you out of Gotham Academy and homeschooled you himself. Out of everyone in the family, you were the only normal one (the bar for “normal” in the Wayne Family is exceedingly low) and he treasured that more than anything. He knew you hated living at the manor, but he had hoped that he could convince you to at least stay in Gotham while he tried to get your father and siblings to notice you.

And now, you’ll never leave Gotham, buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery. Perhaps he should’ve let you leave when you turned eighteen. Sure, you’d be on the opposite side of the country, but at least you’d be alive.

Now, let’s say you decided to give your kidnappers Alfred’s number. The moment he’s told you’ve been kidnapped, he’s packing his bags and heading back to Gotham. He’s former Special Operations, so he no doubt has a few favors he can call in and in this case, he’s requesting the fastest plane available and flying it at top speed to Gotham. He arranges your ransom, over a million from Bruce’s personal account (Bruce has Alfred on all his bank accounts for safety reasons, but this is the first time he’s ever had to use it) and while he’s taking off at top speed, he’s on the phone with Bruce.

It doesn’t matter if he’s in the middle of a fight, Alfred knows how to make Bruce’s comm come on and the moment the line is open, he’s tearing the man a new one. Bruce isn’t able to say a word because his butler/father figure is spitting out 200 insults and threats a second. The last thing he says is: “I’ve arranged for the kidnappers to drop Master Y/N at the fairgrounds. I will be back within the hour and if he’s not back at the manor upon my return, you will not like what happens next. And god help you if a single hair of his is out of place.”

It’s been years since Bruce has known true fear (probably when he was rushing to save Jason and seeing the warehouse explode), but right now, he’s absolutely afraid of what will happen if he fails to bring you home. He rushes to the fairgrounds and sees you tied to some pole and blindfolded and he feels a world of guilt hit him in the gut.

You are his firstborn son and here you are, traumatized from some thugs. And if he didn’t feel like a piece of shit before, he really does when you tell him you not only knew he’s Batman, but that you were surprised that he’d be the one to save you. He actually sheds a few tears upon hearing that. He picks you up and refuses to let you go until you’re back home.

Things at Wayne Manor take a 180. When Bruce sees that you’ve been staying in a small guest room on the other side for the manor, he moves you to a room next to his; you’re not able to go anywhere, even within the house, without at least two of them following you; and they actually start treating you with decency, patting you on the head/back, greeting you in passing, having conversations with you, etc. They all feel guilty over their behavior towards you for over 10 years and try to make it up to you.

When Alfred tells them that you have plans to move back to Goodsprings, they beg you to stay in Gotham, Bruce even offering to put you up in a luxury apartment if you don’t want to stay in the manor. Just be prepared for them to visit at all hours everyday, even stoping by during their patrols.

[starman-john-tracy]

Garden Party Gale [RP]

@socialitesleuth:

Penelope had since risen from her armchair and repositioned herself by the window, as if her taking a proper look herself would change matters. Lips purse in consideration. Abandon plans...? But so much effort had already gone into the event. It seemed unfair to be beaten by a little rain, but Penelope knew when to listen. Especially when it was John, and especially when he sounded so concerned. She flicks a strand of blonde from her face, noting with her own eyes the car that has now arrived. "I suppose we could bring the party indoors, though I'm not sure how well Parker will take it. He's spent the last couple of days organising and setting it up. Still, it is better to be safe than sorry." After all, Creighton-Wards never quit, unless they absolutely had to, and this situation most definitely fell under the banner of what was an acceptable defeat. "Parker!" She calls out briefly over her shoulder, and as far away from the communicator to avoid possibly defeaning her friend, before replying directly to John again. "It was a good few years ago. I believe they signed us off as fine, but... Well, Parker has been expressing concern over the East Wing these last few months. He wanted to bring some surveyors in, but I'm afraid we haven't had the chance. Work has kept us rather... tied up, on occasion." As nice as it had been to visit Southern France last month, Penelope hadn't been appreciative of the criminal she and Parker had been tracking down. The lack of manners was astonishing, to say the least. Realising this probably wouldn't help John in feeling less worried, Penelope offers a quick, soft, reassuring smile in an attempt to lessen his concern. "We'll make sure we bunker down somewhere safe, John."

A strong gust of wind buffets the wall outside, rattling the window panes violently in their frames. It must be loud enough for John to hear over the comm because his eyes flick to the side, ginger brows furrowing. The sky outside the window is black with thick, heavy storm clouds. The darkness hangs threateningly over the manor - the air seems just about ready to burst.

"You’ll have to pass my apologies on to Parker.” John says, which is rather charming considering he has no control over the weather. “I'm not talking just a little British rain, Penelope. Upwards of sixty three miles per hour," John shakes his head, clearly trying to convey the severity of her situation, “we're looking at flying gazebos.” And the straight face the man keeps, saying things like that, is genuinely impressive. “Let him know to hurry. I’d hate for anyone to get caught out there… and speaking of, you better get your guests inside. How many people were on your invite list this time anyway?”

He thinks he could probably call anyone else in transit and warn them to return home or, if the rain and wind is about to get as bad as his meteorological predictions suggest, to take shelter. John turns to the side and swipes the weather map, with its rolling red of oncoming inclement weather, up to the top of his periphery and expands his palms to open a new window as another thought hits him.

“And keep away from that East Wing.” He’s pulled up a perhaps-not-entirely-legal three dimensional satellite map of her estate, and is busy examining the building.

“Eos, could you run a structural analysis on these segments of the manor for me?” He earmarks something Penny can't see with a few quick, short taps.

There’s a chirpy little FAB John, before the information begins to cascade into his hands. 

On the ground, the first few drops of rain fall, bursting against Penny's antique glass windows like tiny, wet grenades. It's going to be, what they call in England, a bloody great storm.

[anony-man]

Apologies for the long stretch of silence on my end. Now we’re back to normal and I’m ready to jump right into drabbles again!

Chubformers drabble #120!

Characters: Red Alert (& Inferno - G1)

Word count: 1.5k

Inferno was always the mech for the job when it came to fixing whatever mountains Red Alert had made out of a simple molehill. The poor, anxious mech’s mind was put at ease more times than he’d care to admit thanks to his good friend’s support, and there was hardly a time where the bot went down for tackling the troubles the Autobot’s top security personnel.

Boundaries were important, and lines should have to be drawn eventually, but Red Alert was always too relieved by Inferno’s help to ever consider that maybe it would be in his best interests to establish a bit of better trust between himself and other Autobots. When a situation came up, like getting himself wedged into his office chair, for example, pre-established relationships between acquaintances that could be easily dropped after such an awkward rescue mission would have been very, very helpful.

Alas…

Most complaints that came from his sector were filtered through various other members of the faction, which meant something as simple as a request for looking into more reliable furniture would have been tossed out by the first set of rolled optics. Red Alert’s reputation for bringing way too much attention to unimportant matters had already made him infamous amongst his peers, that was for sure. It wasn’t the sort of reputation that earned him dirty looks or tainted energon, but it didn’t help him much when there was a legitimate concern to bring to his team’s attention.

Could getting himself stuck in his office chair count as a legitimate concern? He wasn’t quite sure… maybe he’d try to bring it up in the next meeting after all. In the meantime, the worst of his fears had in fact happened, and he was now forced to try to keep his cool and deal with the worst of it.

Thus, his dilemma.

Inferno would come racing down the halls and kick the door in the very nanosecond Red Alert pinged his comm. It wasn’t the best treatment for easing his chronic paranoia, but his friend at least cared enough to try. The unyielding support and gentle encouragement towards maybe looking at things through a less drastic lens was nice when the poor mech wasn’t squirming against the restraints of his armrests and struggling to peel the rolls of fat hanging from his hips out from between the narrow spaces, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

This hadn’t been intentional. It never was, of course. Red Alert had just been so focused, and so obsessively involved in his task that morning, that he had missed the warning signs.

His chair certainly was a little snug when he went to sit down, and he may have had to wiggle his aft around a bit more than usual before he finally found a solution to the uncomfortable perch, but it wasn’t all that concerning. A tight fit was a relief in its own way, and Red Alert found comfort in the way the armrests squeezed into his waist, and in the sensation of the rolls of fat spilling into place. Hell, he was feeling safe enough to shed a bit of the plating around his middle before leaning back in his chair and getting settled.

The monitor room was his safe space, and his chair was his throne. The rest of the day passed in a blurr as he got himself comfortable and began his shift, all while occasionally stopping for the few mandatory snack breaks peppered in between.

Nothing topped sitting idle at his desk for hours each day like getting up to stretch his legs and refill his grumbling tanks, that was for sure. Red Alert hadn’t given it much thought at the time, considering he was too wrapped up in licking his fingers clean of the residue chocolate staining the thin metal before digging his servo back into the candy bowl Inferno often brought him little bags of sweets with every visit, and it had become something of a routine for them both. Red Alert couldn’t keep up with the constantly growing pile of treats in his office, but he could still try… and try he did.

He had gotten up to refill his candy bowl about for times at least, if he were counting. Each time meant struggling to pry the fat rolls of mesh from out of the chair so he could stand, and each attempt grew harder and harder as the day progressed. Red Alert wasn’t sure what the final straw was now, nor did he really want to know, but as his failed attempts at prying his hips out from between the plastic-covered metal bars and lifting his fat aft up from where it had become wedged into the seat grew more desperate, he knew he needed to call for backup.

Red Alert whined softly as he looked back up at the monitors, which flickered and buzzed with little to no activity. Everything was as it should be—the halls were clear, the rooms were alive with happy Autobots, and their alarms remained silent. He really didn’t have good reason for contacting Inferno, but the more he struggled, the more he realized this was going to be a joined effort.

He couldn’t leave his team exposed to potential dangers when he was trapped in his chair. The right thing to do was to call up Inferno and request backup, and he knew it. Another pitiful sound worked its way up Red Alert’s throat, and he whined all the louder as another attempt at shimmying his way to freedom ended in failure.

Inferno would understand. All he had to do was press his comm and give his friend a call.

The comm fizzled to life only a second after Red Alert had made the connection. On the other end, Inferno’s smooth, happy voice could be heard above the background sounds of bots at work.

“Red Alert! There you are, pal,” he said, his voice crackling against the radio static of their connection. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Busy morning?”

“Sort of,” Red Alert said. His relief was palpable as he sighed and relaxed, only to be startled by the pinch of his cramped seat against the exposed mesh on his thighs. “Inferno, I was… well, I have a bit of a—“

The comm was silent for a moment as he stumbled over his words before Inferno’s voice reappeared, cutting through the soon-to-be ramble from the worked up mech.

“Got yourself in a pickle?” his friend asked, the telltale sound of shouts fading into the background accompanying the heavy step of his pedes. “Say no more. I’ll be right there, okay?”

It seemed important to give Inferno a bit of information on what he would be walking into, but Red Alert found he was now far too embarrassed to say another word. The security director buried his face in his servos and mumbled a sound of agreement before listening to the line go dead. He wasn’t sure how to even begin to explain his current predicament, anyway, and he supposed it was better to just… well, leave it as is. Inferno dealt with plenty of emergencies on the daily; he could easily work with this.

There was little time for obsessing over it, and little room to prepare, as on cue, the door was swung wide following a pounding of Inferno’s fist against the metal. Red Alert was almost disappointed to have missed the look on the mech’s face, given that he had yet to gather up the courage needed to lift his own face from his servos, but the long stretch of silence that came before his savior even dared to speak was enough of an answer.

“Talk about an emergency,” the firetruck said, prompting Red Alert to finally lift his helm. “You been stuck there long?”

The cocked hip and arms crossed over his chest as he studied the situation was a good indication that the predicament wasn’t nearly enough to take him by surprise, but even Red Alert clocked the flush of faceplates on Inferno’s naturally red cheeks. He supposed there wasn’t much of a choice when it came to handling this situation with a professional air when they’d gotten to know each other as long as they had, but a bit of tact from the mech’s part would have been nice.

Should he snap? Should he beg? Red Alert didn’t do either, in the end. In fact, the only thing he seemed capable of doing was squirming in place, feeling much like another vulnerable patient waiting for rescue as Inferno’s looked on with an air of shared embarrassment.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” he said, sounding sheepish and ashamed as he stared down at the floor, and at his lap, which was still bunched up and squeezed into place between the armrests of the seat. “It hasn’t been long, but…”

“Long enough,” Inferno nodded. “I gotcha. Let’s get you out then, hm?”

Red Alert let his helm hang. “Please.”

This was definitely going down in the books as something he hoped they never discussed again. With his luck, however, and with Inferno’s track record, he had a feeling it was only the beginning… but the beginning of what?

Primus, he hoped they never found out.

[continuous-spec]

ME Fic: The Messages In Between Ch.1

Summary: Shepard and Garrus messages to each other throughout the events of the Reaper War.

Link: Ao3

Notes: GST: Galatic Standard Time. Cycles are one-day cycle of the Citadel per the GST. One Orbit has 40 Cycles. There are ten Orbits in a GST year. 2686 GS is also 2186 for the Alliance.

Galactic Standard Time: Cycle 20, Orbit 9, 2686. Day 6 of the Reaper War.

Garrus breathed in the stale air of his cabin, trying to relax in his makeshift cot. He had been without sleep for almost two days.

Four days since the Reapers hit Palaven and six days since they hit Earth. Six days without contact with the Sol system. Six days not knowing if Shepard was still alive.  

Garrus rubbed his brow plates, trying to push the thoughts of her out of his head. He needed to sleep. He had spent the last two hours stuck on top of a comm tower, sniping any reaper forces within scope of Vitcus' men—All while fixing the comm tower too.  That was somehow just this morning. Garrus' mind whirled with fog without sleep, trying to keep track of the time. He needed to rest, but the adrenaline still kept him stirring in bed. 

Just as he felt himself drifting to sleep, his omni-tool pinged dozens of times. Messages upon messages poured in. Almost all from the same source: Datapad Model OXIV, Alliance Addition.  Garrus shot up out of the cot, trying to scan the messages. The words shifted and moved with his exhaustion, but there was no way he could sleep now. 

***

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 30, Orbit 4, 2686] 

Garrus, It’s Shepard. I'm sending this out. Hotwired a datapad they’re allowing me to have to prep evidence. I doubt the Alliance is reading. I'm pretty sure they won't notice when this datapad goes missing, either.

Give the Hierarchy hell, and hopefully, we’ll get somewhere with it.

Send back if you can. I think this is going out? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 4, 2686]

House arrest, you got to be fucking kidding me. Is this on the news? Can you see this? I’m sure Khalisah is having a field day with this.

At least Joker can still get on the Normandy. I'm stuck. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer to break me out. You know, we can steal the Normandy again, too, just like old times. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 5, Orbit 5, 2686]

You’d hate this. It’s all pointless jabbering. Tribunal after tribunal. They won’t listen. Aratoht is all they care about. I’ve shown them the proof. They keep putting their heads in the sand.

Do you know that saying? Does it even translate? It just means that, as always, they’re ignoring the real problem. Why is that not a surprise? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 5, 2686]

Did you know today is my birthday? On Earth its April 11th. I'm only a little disappointed you didn't get me a gift. 

I think I’m 32 or 30. Does being dead count towards age? Do turians celebrate birthdays? 

30 is a big one, a big milestone for humans. When I was a teenager, I never thought I would get to it running with the Reds. I guess, technically, I didn’t get to celebrate it.  Humans don't generally celebrate it in a jail cell either. 

I just wish you were here with me for it. We could have shared another glass of wine. Among other things…

Right now, I’m so bored that I’m trying to figure out how to make prison wine. Hopefully, I won’t go blind. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 23, Orbit 5, 2686]

If I could go without hearing about the Reds for one more day, I might not scream. They have spent a week dissecting my time with the Reds. Seriously? I left them when I joined the Alliance.  I’m just some drugged-out teen junkie on Red Sand to them still.

When do we stop paying for the sins of youth? 

I hope this is getting to you. I hope you’re getting further than I am. Good thing you left. Imagine both of us in an Alliance interrogation room? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 5, 2686]

Want to take any bets on how long until the Reapers are here? I'll give it two more months. that what like three orbits? You think the Councils cares? 

What are you wagering? How about we wager like we did with Strip Skyllian-Five? This isn't a bet I want to win this time though. Even if I like seeing you in your skivs. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 29, Orbit 5, 2686]

Still no answer from you. You playing hard to get Vakarian? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 37, Orbit 5, 2686]

The prison wine is nasty, almost as bad as the stuff you brought last time. Still not blind, although I am having visions of you pinning me up against the aquarium. Did I get you blushing yet? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 1, Orbit 6, 2686]

I’d like to think you’re just playing hard to get, and I’m not just sending these off into the ether. It's hard doing one-sided sexting you know?  

No one tells you how boring prison is, even with the datapad. I wish they’d give me a keyboard so I can practice. Also, to hotwire it to get a better signal to you. 

Now I’m starting to know why they try to limit how much electronics I get. It’s the Alliance's fault, they trained me how to do this. Yeah, that’s the excuse I’m going for. 

If you can, send a voice recording, I miss it. You I mean.

I miss you. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 35, Orbit 6, 2686]

God, it’s so annoying. They have these guards watching me constantly. What do they think I’m going to do? Fight someone? or someones gonna fight me? Ridiculous.

It'd be nice to have some privacy to take care of myself since you're not here. I guess I'll just have to think about you in the shower...

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 7, 2686]

I got tarred and feathered today by the Brass. This is totally something humans do, not an expression like the sand one. Don’t look it up. Just believe me. 

 If I have to hear one more thing about the geth, I might blow a gasket. Okay, now that one is an expression, although, with the cybernetics, I think that might be possible for me. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

I got stabbed by a batarian. He cloaked into the base. Been in the med bay for a week now. Apparently, my heart stopped. I guess that’s twice now on me dying? Let’s hope we don’t get a third anytime soon.  

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

There was poison on the knife too.  So what is that twice now toooo that a batarian poisoned me? Who'se conting 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

*cunting

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

*counting wow third times the charm

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

the morphine im getting is niceeee though

Who needs prison wine 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 25, Orbit 7, 2686]

I misssssss you

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 26, Orbit 7, 2686]

Sorry, morphine brain.

I did end up figuring out how to make more wine from some apples. You can’t have it, obviously.

But I wish we could share another glass of achiral wine. Maybe you can get something a bit more pricey this time? I’m sure you're not just on a vigilante salary still. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 27, Orbit 7, 2686]

Patia Semmark. Besine Kodsoh. 

Those were the names of his family. He screamed them at me. The batarian I mean.

I think he wanted me to kill him. Now he’s in some cell on this base alongside me. 

Did I do the right thing? What if I am crazy? What if the Reapers were all in my head? 

Did they die for nothing? 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 7, Orbit 8, 2686]

Sorry, I haven't sent it in a while. The stress is getting to me. Maybe you're reading this? My face looks like it’s burning a hole through it. I hope you find scars attractive too. 

I’m back on my home planet, but I can't sleep easily most nights. It was easier when you were with me in my cabin. I’m cuddling up on pillows right now, wanting them to be you.

At least the pillows are softer than you, Vakarian. 

But still, I need you here with me. 

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 36, Orbit 8, 2686]

It’s been almost a month since I’ve sent anything. Sorry, I haven't written. It was starting to feel more like a diary.

Sorry as well I don't think I even asked how are you doing?

How is your family? Did your mom ever get that treatment on Sur'Kesh? How is Solana and your dad? Did you ever get those paintings back from Vlyrica? I'm sure you're doing great things out there. 

I hope you're doing well. I'm thinking about you a lot.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 39, Orbit 8, 2686]

I’m pretty sure I'm not getting past certain encryptions set up by the Alliance. 

This is why I could use you. You were always better at this kind of stuff than me. While you know I am the better shot and better looking, I’m pretty sure I am a better dancer, too.

Where was I going with this? Oh, right. I miss you. I hope you've missed me. I'm still waiting for you to break me out.

[Datapad Model OXIV - Draft date GST: Cycle 6, Orbit 9, 2686]

I guess I lost the wager. That a good thing right?

What is the news saying out there? They forgot about me and the Reapers?

Not that it matters. Nothings changed. We're getting nowhere. Six months and nothing to show for it. Almost two and half years of my life gone. First dead, now jailed. At least we made the most of it when I had a few free months together. 

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 14, Orbit 9, 2686]

They're here. Left Earth, on Normandy. Got Joker, and even Kaidan is back. We're getting possible plans for a weapon on Mars. 

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 15, Orbit 9, 2686]

Kaidan is badly hurt. Cerberus attacked us. We’re going to the Citadel if you're there. Meet me at the Embassy if you are. 

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 16, Orbit 9, 2686]

In the old docking bay. Kaidan's not of the wood yet, but stable. Just got all your messages you've been sending. I guess you never got mine either? Hopefully, we can talk now. Where are you?

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 17, Orbit 9, 2686]

Please Garrus, I need you. 

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 18, Orbit 9, 2686]

We're coming to Menae. It might take time to get there. Are you on Palaven? 

[Shepard - Draft date GST: Cycle 19, Orbit 9, 2686]

Come back alive, you promised

***

Garrus' mandibles held tight to his jaw as he poured through the messages. Cycles upon cycles, he kept sending out a message to her only to be met with silence. He even set a damn voice recording and vids, hoping those would slip by Alliance encryption. He guessed once she landed on the Citadel she got his message. Now, maybe, hopefully, with the comm tower back on, she was somewhere on Menae? Why else would the messages finally come in? To taunt him? 

Another ping rang out from his omni-tool, bringing Garrus out of his thoughts. General Corinthus needed him. The comms were back down. Garrus cursed under his breath. He hadn't even sent Shepard a message back. Hopefully, she was still out there on the battlefield. Garrus would make damn sure he was right behind her. 

[skinnyazn]

Texas Sun

Drabble that takes place after The Masks We Wear and In the Bleak Midwinter Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish Chapters: 1/1 Notes: EXPLICIT SMUTTY CONTENT 18+, I was driving with the windows down, wind in my hair, sun baking me face, so obv I had to write a fic inspired by it, and the song Texas Sun, takes place after The Masks We Wear but also works as a stand alone, all u need to know is Soap overheard Ghost and Jag banging in Italy a while back, u knew Johnny was gonna make a love triangle appearance at some point, I churned this out today and don't have a beta reader so enjoy

In the Bleak Midwinter | The Masks We Wear| AO3 | MASTERLIST

Ghost watched you from the back seat of the GMV; his signature skull mask snug across his face and sharp eyes on you. The vehicle kicked up red dust as you drove. Off-road and hot and somewhere in the desert. Warm wind whipped through the truck—a respite as it rushed against your sweat-stained tank top. Soap was in the passenger seat, chatting away.

“Ahhh good shite. Nothin’ like a job well done, ey L.T.?”

Simon grunted in agreement.

“Not too bad yourself there, bonnie. Glad I finally got to see you in action on the field—now I see why Simon’s obsessed with you,” the Scot laughed as he looked at you with something of a twinkle in his eye.

“Nice to see I’ve converted you to the Domination of Jaguar,” you joked back.

“Didn’t have ta convert me. I’d have come willingly.”

“That’ll do.” Simon’s voice was a bit too loud, a bit too terse.

You glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. The orange sun glinted off your aviators.

He’d been acting short with you the whole day, which was surprising since the mission was executed perfectly. And jealous Simon was new. The Brit was usually great at keeping his emotions in line—especially on missions. But you’d be lying if you said this newfound possessiveness didn’t do things for you. Each bump along the rocky terrain made the hulking man shift in his seat behind you.

“Ack. C’mon, Ghost. Shouldn’t have kept the mic on if you’re the jealous type,” Johnny replied, all humor void from his voice. His mohawk ruffled in the wind.

Neither of you had brought up the fact that Simon left the coms on that fateful night in Venice.

His large hands spread you, sliding his fingers inside while he ate you from behind. 

Thassit. Need you to come for me, doll.

It had become some unspoken thing between the three of you. It had changed the dynamic. 

You’d always liked Soap. He was an easy guy to get along with and he placated Simon, which earned your respect. And besides, there was some kind of chemistry between the two as well, but you never pried. During your first stint with the 141, you were hardly close with Soap. There wasn’t the time to know him that well.

Then after the comms incident, the three of you became closer. Some triangle of tacit intimacy. Sometimes testing its boundaries—like Soap was doing today. 

Simon shifted again in the back seat. His large frame took up most of the space.

“Safe-house’s just up ahead,” you broke the growing silence.

_____

The sun was dipping to the horizon when you pulled in.

“Hope this place has running water,” Johnny said as he hopped out of the vehicle, slinging his rifle into his hands. Everyone smelled of dust and grit and sweat.

He did a quick sweep of the shack while you and Simon grabbed the gear from the back of the GMV. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, leaning against the metal beam of the truck. 

His eyes raked you in. “You tell me.” It came out gruff as he grabbed a duffle and made his way to the house. Well. Guess that’s where the line was drawn.

Ragged curtains filtered in the golden hour lighting, bathing the inside of the shack in a sepia tone. You set the bags down on the floor next to the worn couch, sporing a little cloud of dust, and looked around. At least there were no bugs… that you could see.

Simon had stalked off to investigate the bedroom. Johnny greeted you again.

“Lassies first,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom.

You smiled, but looked back to find Simon.

“S’alright. I’ll go an’ talk to him,” he rested his hand on your shoulder. It was so warm.

Once inside, you turned on the shower and undressed; your skin was still hot from the sun. As you stepped under the tepid water, you couldn’t help but wonder what was bothering Simon. Obviously Soap’s comment didn’t help, but even before that he’d been in some kind of mood. The water ran over your face as the dirt dripped down your body and spiraled into the drain.

An unnecessary bang interrupted your thoughts as Simon swung the door open. He stepped in and began to strip off his clothes. You watched the beautiful man from under the spray of the shower. Watched the rippling of his muscles as he lifted his shirt—the scars that littered his pale skin shifting as he moved to undress, until he was left with only his mask. You got wet just looking at him; it never got old.

He was already half hard when he stepped into the shower, taking up most of the small space.

“Hi,” you breathed as his hands stroked down your body. He pressed his erection against your stomach. “Is this why you’ve been acting like an ass toward me all day?”

“Y’ave no idea, doll. Watchin’ you work in that outfit… does things to me, Jag.” He rutted up against you, needing the friction. So he was just horny.

You reached to raise the bottom of his mask, exposing his perfect lips. “Gonna waterboard yourself in this, baby.” But he towered above the spray of the showerhead.

It had become second nature now, wrapping your arms around his huge frame for leverage and kissing him. You tasted the salt from his lips as you laved your tongue against his. Simon’s hands reached down and squeezed your ass, then started stroking your clit and folds, pulling a moan from you.

“Johnny’s gonna join,” he said as he slid a finger into you.

“I—What?” but he slid a second in and started undulating and curling his fingers so sweetly inside that your mind went blank. You reached for his cock to regain some control of the situation. He was rock solid now. “T-thought you were jealous back in the car,” you managed.

Simon groaned into your mouth as you worked him just the way he liked. “Just wanted ‘im to shut up before I made you pull over and fucked you in the back seat.”

So he was really horny.

“Saying I should wear tank tops more oft—” but he silenced the tease as he quickened the pace of his fingers inside you, making your knees weak and brining a heat straight to your core. 

At that moment, Johnny walked in, taking in the scene of you getting finger fucked by a very hard Simon.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” he exhaled, frozen in place. You turned toward him, looking him up and down with half lidded eyes and a slack jaw while Simon sucked at your neck and continued to work you. Johnny started stripping. 

But Simon already had you pressed up against the shower wall and your orgasm on the brink. You watched as Johnny walked to you, planting soft kisses up your arm as he reached for your breasts.

“Christ, look at you. So pretty as you take him," he breathed. "This ok?” You nodded.

His calloused hands squeezed, thumbing over your pebbled nipples. This was really fucking happening. Seeing Soap naked and having his warm hands play with your tits while Simon worked your now soaked pussy so perfectly was all too much. Your eyes flicked back to Simon’s as he sped up the tempo, knowing you were about to break. An orgasm pulsed through you and you dug your nails into his tattooed arm and Soap’s back. 

“Fffuck, Simon!!” you ground out, clenching against his fingers.

He stifled your cry with his mouth while you rode out your orgasm. It was a sloppy kiss; when he pulled back, saliva strung between both your lips. 

“Take ‘er, Johnny,” he said hoarsely, as he turned you around. You barely had time to recover.

With Simon, you, and Soap inside, the shower was severely cramped. Soap was under the spray of the water now, while you rested your weight on him. Your legs felt weak after the orgasm, but his hands smoothed down your waist to steady you. Behind you, Simon patted his heavy cock on your ass.

“So pretty when you cum, Jaguar.”

You followed the stream of water that traced down the Scotsman’s body. He was stockier than Simon, with less scars and more hair. You reached for his bronzed cock—a stark contrast from Simon’s perfectly pink one. He was already throbbing.

“Ahhh Jesus,” he breathed as you started to pump him.

“Did you get this hard when you heard us fucking through the comms?” you slurred, placing kisses along his neck. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you bit softly into his meaty shoulder. He let out a sharp exhale and bucked into your hands.

“She asked you a question, Sergeant,” Ghost reached over you, thumbing Soap’s lips with his tattooed hand before sliding it into his mouth. You watched Soap suck as you squeezed the head of his cock—his precum dripped over your fingers.

Simon’s thumb made an audible pop as Soap pulled away and shook his head.

“Harder,” was all he said before taking Ghost’s thumb against the flat of his tongue again.

“You’re sick,” Simon breathed, but it was low and unravelled. And it clearly had an effect on your beast of a man because the next thing you felt was his cock pushing through into you, stretching you out so perfectly as it always did. You moaned and you pressed your forehead against Johnny’s chest.

The Scotsman reached for your hair, grabbing a fistful in one hand and pressing you firmer against him, while the other gripped Simon’s wrist. Your moans grew louder against Johnny’s chest while Simon fucked you hard, pushing deeper with each thrust. His right hand was leaving bruises on your hips with how tightly he was squeezing you.

You fisted Johnny cock with one hand while the other circled your clit.

“Jesus, Jaguar.” “Take me so fuckin’ good, luv.” The men said at the same time.  

You couldn’t help but laugh before Simon picked up the pace and fucked the noise out of you; the sounds of your ass slapping against his massive thighs filled the small room. You weren’t going to last long. 

Pumping harder, you used both hands on Soap’s cock now, trying your best to keep a steady rhythm while Simon pounded into you from behind. You burrowed into the crook of his neck, stifling your moans while sucking and biting at him. His hips were stuttering as he thrust into your hands. The water pulled your hair down. 

“Jaguar I’m—feck,” Johnny thunked the back of his head against the shower’s tile. He let go of Simon’s arm and grabbed your face with both hands, crushing his lips against yours. His tongue vied for yours, kissing you open mouthed and messily, as his hot cum shot across your stomach. Johnny moaned against your lips as you pumped every last drop from him. You clenched around your lover.

Groaning, Simon took the opportunity to snake his free hand around and punish your clit, while sinking his entire length into you. It was his dirty little trick to always bring you over the edge immediately. Your legs buckled as another orgasm overtook you, but the men held you upright as Simon forced you deeper onto his cock. It felt like your organs were pushed into your throat. You cried in euphoria but no sound escaped as you rode out your orgasm on his punishing thrusts. With how tightly your pussy clamped around him, he finally released inside of you—biting into your shoulder as he filled you so full that he leaked out.

By the time everyone came down from their orgasms, the water had gone cold. It was a small miracle any of you were upright by the end of it. Johnny leaned against the wall, holding you to him as Simon slowly pulled out. Hot cum dripped down you leg and was washed away by the water.

“Jesus, Ghost, you made her bleed.”

Simon brushed the small beads of blood from the bite mark on your shoulder and placed his mouth over it, sucking softly. You moaned breathlessly into Soap’s neck.

“Sorry, luv."

Turning around, you rested your back flush against Johnny. Could feel his cock twitch as he reached around to caress your breasts. Simon closed the distance and kissed you, smoothing over the points of your hip bones with his thumbs. His mask was soaked under the water. Black streaks ran down his face from his eye makeup. And yet he still looked like the most perfect thing in the world.

“That’s okay, baby,” you sighed into his kiss. “Know how you can make it up to me.”

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 52 - My kar’ta

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Masterlist

Chapter 52 - My kar'ta

------

**This chapter contains brief NSFW content. 18+ only**

The night sky over the cool Nevarro desert was inky black, with every single star visible, twinkling overhead.

It was a stark contrast from the weather just a few hours prior, where a grumbling thunderstorm had belted down rain for over an hour.

The ground underfoot was still damp- the first thing Din noticed as he jumped from his N-1 Starfighter, and his boots hit the, normally, dusty earth just a little way from his small cabin.

Din and Grogu had been out since dawn. Having received a message on the wrist-comm from Carson Teva, who wanted to meet with them to discuss business in a quiet, back-street bar in Mos Eisley.

The meeting had been interesting, with Teva pretty much assuring Din that with the troubles the New Republic seemed to be having with bandits and outlaws on the Outer Rim, he would be kept well topped up with credits for the next Standard year at least!

On the long journey home, Grogu had fallen fast asleep against Din’s shoulder. Snoring softly.

Leaving Din eager to get home, pushing his Starfighter to its limits on the return journey.

It had been Din’s first trip off-planet since arriving back from Nar Shaddaa a little over a week ago. And the Mandalorian was keen to get home and see Lysa. Today having also been the first day that she had ventured into the city, since making her last delivery all those days prior.

Din had spent all of the previous evening showing Lysa how to properly use the speeder bike, which had been a fun couple of hours. At first Din had been rattled to see Lysa speed off, looking like she had little-to-no control over the vehicle in question. But he had been wrong to doubt her. And within just ten minutes she had mastered the precarious speeder easily, enjoying how exhilaratingly fast it moved compared to her sluggish and ancient old landspeeder.

They had made sure that the basket could easily hook onto the back, which it did, even providing Grogu with a fun place to sit, giggling and cooing happily as Lysa did laps of the cabin at a speed. As Din had chuckled beneath his helmet, watching them from the porch, muscular arms folded over his beskar plated chest.

But the basket had been unhooked for now, with Lysa informing Din that she didn't quite want to start back making deliveries yet. Instead wanting to take today to head into town and settle up with a few of the vendors she owed money to for their ingredients, and collect a few things she needed.

She had seemed to him over the last couple of days, a different person to that of a week ago, when she had first woken from her fever, upset and traumatised. Now it was as though that light had returned to her eyes. Her shoulders having untensed and that worried frown slipping slowly away as the days went on.

Din had savoured her closeness this past week, his chest constricting when he was near to her, unable to help the smile that slipped its way into his features when he looked her way. Knowing now that no matter what happened between them now, Din’s heart would forever be hers.

The lights were on inside the cabin now, but they were dimmed, signalling to him that Lysa was likely already in bed. With her having left the lights on low, knowing that he would see them as his ship circled overhead, welcoming him home.

As Din arrived at the top step of his porch, he approached the front door watching as it slid open.

Quietly he went inside only to find Lysa half way across the room, having returned from using the Refresher. Dressed in just her usual short, this time- pale green slip, that ended at her smooth thighs, and bare feet. Looking like an angelic vision to Din.

She smiled happily at their sudden presence, tucking a long strand of mussed-up long blonde hair behind her ear.

He noted that she must have been sleeping, likely roused by the noise from the N-1 landing just outside. The next time he was to arrive back so late he would make sure to park up a little distance away, as not to disturb her. But in a selfish way, he now was glad that he had interrupted her sleep, to allow himself the chance to look at her now, smiling back at him in the twilight.

Lysa’s eyes swiftly fell to the sleeping Grogu still nestled in Din’s arms and her face softened to one of adoration.

“Has he been sleeping long?” she said with a whisper.

Din angled his gaze down to his son as best he could with his helmet half obscuring his view.

“An hour or two,” he commented. “I’m going to put him down and then get freshened up. A Tatooine summer is no joke.”

He watched as Lysa offered him a smile, wrinkling her nose affectionately as she did so. Before she approached, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the very top of Grogu’s head.

Din felt a swell of pride as he gazed down at them both, realising then just how lucky he truly was.

Pulling back carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child, Lysa gently passed the pair, heading into Din’s bedroom, as he watched her go for a lingering moment. Before strolling silently into the Sleeper just beside that one.

Less than ten minutes later Din emerged back into the living space, having showered, dressed in just his tunic and pants and helmet now.

He rounded the corner into the sleeper to see Lysa sat facing him from her position on his bed, a smile on her face, her head propped up with a pillow.

And from behind his helmet, Din couldn't help but smile back.

“How was Tatooine?” she asked gently.

Din gave an easy shrug entering the room, beginning to re-unbutton his tunic at the collar. 

Din was so used to covering up in front of others, he had not yet become accustomed to walking the length of the cabin without his tunic yet.

“Fine,” he replied tiredly, not having found his day interesting enough to expand on. “How was the city?”

Din was far more eager to hear how Lysa had found her first trip into town since everything that had happened.

“It was good,” she said brightly, her green eyes watching as his neck was revealed little by little. “Visited the market. Everyone was….sweet.”

At her words Din glanced her way, earning a small, but happy sigh from Lysa’s lips.

“Seems like news travels fast when the High-Magistrate comes to Nar Shaddaa to rescue you,” she explained.

Din pursed his lips. “Karga shouldn't have-”

“It’s fine,” uttered Lysa in a soothing voice, giving a small smile. “I don't think any of them had even met Crix, so I think it was all just a surprise to them that I’d put up with someone like that for so long without doing anything about it.”

She gave a small sniff now, her eyes drifting down to her knees for a moment, before she glanced up at him once more. 

“And I can see now how stupid I was, of course I can,” she said in a voice quieter now than before. “But…y’know…hindsight can be a funny thing. I think I’d accepted that that was my life. And that I had no choice.”

Din stared back at her for a long moment, as the room fell quiet.

Lysa swallowed harshly before she spoke again.

“I…uh…I also went back to my old apartment today,” she said with a nod, a soft smile gracing her lips once more. “Just to pick up a couple of things, and I…I bumped into my landlord.”

Din stared up at her instantly, his fingers slipping against a button at his collar.

“...and I uh…I asked about the lease…it’s under Crix’s name…” she explained, her face flushing slightly as she spoke, her eyes instantly dropping from his and instead becoming fixed to a loose thread on the white sheet before her. “...and um, well, he asked if I wanted to take it over…”

Behind his beskar Din Djarin suddenly felt his throat go instantly dry and his heart seem to skip a beat.

“...and, well, I told him I’d think about it…” she said, her unsure eyes drifting back up to Din’s, obscured behind his helmet. “...I just…”

Lysa swallowed hard again, offering Din a sweet smile, her wide green eyes full of uncertainty now.

“...I wasn't sure if I’d outstayed my welcome with you…here…” she explained, taking in a breath and seeming to hold it in place, waiting for Din’s response.

A frown slipped between Din’s brows, his brown eyes roving across her face, his breathing becoming suddenly shallow.

Din didn't want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. His heart aching at the idea of losing her.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice sounding stark in the quiet of the room. “I want you to stay. We want you to stay.”

Lysa gazed at him, with eyes filled with a hopeful disbelief and she opened her mouth to speak, but Din did not give her the chance. Cutting across her now.

“After what happened in Nar Shaddaa,” said Din in a serious voice through his modulator. “...I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you again.”

His gaze remaining fixed on hers throughout.

“And I know this place might not seem like much of a home,” he continued, his voice earnest. “But to us…it is now that you’re in it. If you want it to, it could be your home too…”

At Din’s words, Lysa’s face seemed to warm in front of his eyes. A blushing smile breaking onto her pretty features.

“Ok,” she said with a beaming nod.

“Ok,” replied Din firmly, finally letting go of his breath for the first time in what felt like an age, a relieved smile flitting its way onto his face. His chest swelling with pride.

Din’s heart now ached for her. For the woman sat before him, looking like a vision in pale starlight.

And he knew now that he didn't want her questioning things between them again. 

He never again wanted to see her uncertain about how much love for her he had.

Never wanted to see her doubt how much she meant to him and how much he wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

As she stared back at him now, Din could see the love pouring from her. Her beautiful face a shining light even in the darkness of the room.

And feeling a lump settle in his throat, and a frown settle itself between Din’s brows, he gazed down at her knowing exactly how he felt about her now. 

How he’d felt about her from that first moment he’s laid eyes on her.

The ever-shining sunlight to his dark and pouring rain.

And without warning, Din, with that frown still there and chest rising and falling hard, unpinned his tunic and shucked it from his shoulders. Before reaching over and pressing a hand to the square button beneath the window.

And just before the room, plunged into darkness, he saw Lysa wet her lips gently with her tongue, a warm expectation set within her gaze.

A moment later the room became black, as Din dropped his knees onto the bed one by one, pulling off his beskar helmet as he did so. Throwing it onto the mattress beside them.

And almost instantly he felt Lysa’s hand on his chest, knowing exactly where he was even in the dark. Her palms sliding over his shoulders, as she pulled him close, her lips meeting with his.

Her kiss was soft and sweet and Din felt his chest constrict with the adoration he felt for her in that moment.

Lysa lay back, tugging him on top of her, her fingers threading themselves through his dark hair. Just as Din’s propped himself up with his arms either side of her, penning her in.

Wanting now to right every wrong that had ever befallen her.

Wanting to soothe every hurt.

Determined tonight, to kiss every part of her body that Crix had bruised her.

And moving his mouth from hers, he began to press gentle open-mouthed kisses to her neck, staring from the space just beneath her ear, and travelling down slowly to her collarbone.

Her heard Lysa let out a satisfied ‘mmmmm’, hearing now that she was smiling.

And how Din loved making her smile.

He dipped his head, dropping his lips next to her chest, inching lower, as his rough hands unbuttoned her pale slip slowly, revealing even more skin to him.

A moment later the fabric between them was gone, Lysa letting it slide from her shoulders, propping herself up onto her elbows for a second to toss it aside.

As her back hit the mattress once more, Din’s hands skimmed down her sides, coming to stop on the small of her waist, as his kisses followed, one falling between her breasts before his lips grazed her ribs. Peppering each side with brief and open-mouthed laps.

He knew that Crix had broken and bruised more than a few of her rib-bones over the years. And despite not being able to take those hard memories away from Lysa. Din wanted to do what he could to let her know that the hurt was now gone.

The noise of his lips gently kissing her skin, caused Lysa to emit several soft little moans that were enough to make Din frown darkly, his breathing becoming shallower within his chest now. Enjoying the sounds he was able to ease from her mouth.

Her stomach was next to receive attention from him, followed by her hips, one-by-one, as he slowly moved to her thighs. Positioning himself between them and using his hands to hitch up both legs and press soft wet kisses to those smooth inner-thighs of hers.

He heard her gasp out expectantly, the noise sending waves of arousal coursing through his body.

But he was not done yet. Nor was he ready to finish in kissing away the ghosts of the bruises Crix had once given her. His entire chest constricting, as his thoughts lingered on all she had gone through, and all she had survived.

With Din Djarin knowing that there was nothing she could ever do, for him to consider ever inflicting those same bruises on her.

And so sliding his body up and over hers once again, and propping himself up with one arm taught against the mattress, his face found hers in the dark.

Din pressed a gentle kiss to one cheekbone now, and then the other, feeling her smile instantly at that. Before his lips grazed her temples, once, twice then three times…

…before finally, moving to the space between her brows…

…to that frown line…

…to that place he had once promised himself, long before Lysa had even been his, that he would one day press his lips to.

And it was in that moment, that everything seemed to change. With Din pulling back, feeling his breathing become shallow and that frown that had graced his own brow, returning. As he stared down at Lysa, without being able to even see her in the darkness.

Knowing now that she completed him.

That his existence now felt utterly fulfilled now that she was in it. As though every moment of his life was leading to him meeting her.

And that was when Din Djarin made a decision. A decision which he knew now that he would not regret for the rest of his days.

And so breathing hard, he lifted his face back just an inch, staring down at Lysa…

…as his free hand moved to the window.

And in an instant, Din had flipped the switch…

… opening the shutters…

…with shining starlight illuminating the small room…

…revealing his face, at last, to the beautiful woman before him.

Din gave a harsh swallow, as he stared down at her. His heart thudding inside his chest, almost trembling with apprehension.

Unable to help the fear and worry that appeared in his brown eyes, as he stared wordlessly down at her.

Before him, he saw Lysa blink a couple of times, her green eyes wide, her lips parting gently.

Dank farrik.

What if she found him grotesque?

What if upon seeing his face after so long, she decided that he was not the man she thought he was?

Aside from Grogu and the Jedi, Din had not shown his face to another living being since he was a child, putting on the helmet for the first time.

To him now, this felt like standing naked in a room full of people, vulnerable, with nowhere to hide.

But before Din could worry further, Lysa had lifted her smooth hand to his face, her fingers lightly tracing over his cheekbones and down his jaw, grazing over his bottom lip. As her eyes followed the same path, taking in his every feature.

Before those marsh-green eyes of hers finally settled on his brown ones…

…for the very first time.

And awash in her eyes was a look that told him all he ever needed to know.

A look that told him just how utterly in love with him she was.

A feeling Din reciprocated now, so strongly in return, that he felt his heart might shatter in two if he were to ever lose her again.

A love so intense, he felt that no force in this galaxy could keep them apart any longer.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he uttered aloud, before he could do a thing to stop himself. The words presenting themselves to her, as though she was always meant to have had them.

And for a moment, her eyes searched his…

But Din did not give her the chance to worry on their meaning. As he swallowed hard again, his gaze never leaving hers.

“It means- I will know you forever.”

Din stared down at her as a look of shining awe appeared like morning dew over Lysa perfect features.

“It’s what the people of Mandalore would say to those that they-” he paused, just for the very briefest of seconds, wetting his bottom lip gently with his tongue. “-that they love.”

Din watched, as the frown line between Lysa’s eyes deepended for a split second before her face softened completely.

“I love you,” said Din, with a slight shake of his head, his words honest in the quiet of the night. “I think I loved you from that first time you showed up outside in your speeder.”

A gentle smile slipped it’s way over Lysa’s face, her sparkling ocean green eyes still searching his in the starlight.

“I love you too,” she said breathlessly, reaching up and cupping at his cheek with her hand, as she lifted her head from the pillow behind her head, her lips gently meeting with his.

To Din, her lips tasted like golden honey. 

Like pure sunlight.

Her kiss sweet and delicious, and filled with love in its most truest form.

And like that they remained, kissing at one another languidly, hands sliding over skin.

Enjoying every inch of each other as the minutes slowly passed them by. 

Until those kisses of theirs became far more heated, the swirling vortex of their need for one another getting bigger and more powerful until neither of them could bear it any longer.

Thighs sliding over hips…

Hands fumbling between them, as Din’s dark pants were pushed from his waist and kicked to the floor.

They felt like magnets now, unable and unwilling to part, as they sought their pleasure, so wrapped in one another neither would have noticed if a StarCruiser had crashed into the planet right outside.

Their lips parted for a brief moment, huffing hot breaths into each other’s mouths, as Lysa’s hand found his erect length, hard and throbbing between his legs. Eager to seek its goal in that soaked aching slit between her thighs.

And a moment later, with mouths hanging open, both mirroring the other, eyes locked, Din was there, buried inside her.

Their pace started slow, with Lysa’s hand moving to his muscular bicep, now flexed taught beside her shoulder. Fingernails from her other hand raking through his dark hair.

And Din could only breathe out raggedly, as their hips began to move in sync with one another.

Moving faster and ever faster. 

Lips grazing. 

Tongue’s lapping. 

Both intoxicated on each other.

Lysa moaned into Din’s mouth, her eyes closing blissfully, as her back arched against the sheets beneath her.

Din’s hands skimmed up the bare skin of Lysa’s warm outer thigh, huffing a grunt into her parted lips, as he buried himself inside her time and time again. The wet, sinful noises between them, truly something to behold.

A moment later, her hand moved to his neck and she lifted her face to his again. Her green eyes seeking his in the pale light.

And their eye contact remained as Lysa fell apart first, gasping out, clenching around his hard cock, which now sodden with her juices.

The sensation enough to trigger Din’s own climax, a dark frown gracing his sweat beaded brow, as he came hard, groaning out as Lysa watched him from her own comedown.

“Dank farrik…” he murmured, as Lysa gave a hazy nod in response, her thumb grazing over Din’s bottom lip, as she leaned her lips in close to his.

“Yeah…” she responded breathlessly, as Din eased himself from her now, his trembling arm almost giving out on him. Settling himself down onto his back, onto the mattress beside her.

The two of them breathing hard, their chests both rising and falling hard in the pale light of the stars.

A few seconds later, Din felt Lysa turn towards him, shifting onto her side to gaze at his profile, feeling her eyes on him.

And shifting his own body, he came to face her.

The pair were silent for a long moment, with Lysa’s hand drifting up to Din’s face, her thumb drifting over the hollow beneath Din’s eye gently, where he bore the small marks of more than a few fights he had both won and lost over the years.

Din closed his eyes, even after weeks of removing his helmet in the dark and feeling her contact, he still cherished the feeling of her warm fingers touching a place he had not had touched by another since he was a small child.

“Won’t you get in trouble for removing your helmet?” he heard Lysa ask now, amidst the quiet. “Isn't it against the Creed?”

Her words were caring and soft. And as Din opened his eyes, he looked upon her face, full of concern and love for him, and only him.

Din’s hand moved to her middle, his fingers reaching the small of her waist as he caressed her smooth skin.

“You are part of my family now,” he said, leaning in and nudging his nose with hers gently. “My clan.”

He saw her green eyes seek his lips in the darkness, watching every word as they spilled from his lips.

“I have abided by the rules for so long. Sacrificing so much along the way,” he continued in earnest, knowing that every word was true.

Being a Mandalorian, he had missed out on so very much.

Missed out on what others sought so often. 

On that intimacy, with not only lovers but family too.

But now, Din Djarin was no longer on the outside looking in. For the galaxy had provided him with his own family. His own clan.

“These moments with you-” he uttered now, pulling her hips into his and pressing his hand to the dipped small of her back, holding her so very close. “-we are bonded. And I-”

Din gave a hard swallow now, gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved so dearly.

“I just….I don't ever want to let you go,” he said, letting out a huff of air through his nose, as he reached down, his hand grasping hers.

“You are my kar’ta…” he said, pressing her palm flat to his bare chest, as he translated in a low and firm voice. “...my heart.”

He saw Lysa tilt her head, and tears glint in her eyes in the pale starlight. But she did not let any fall now. 

A smile gracing her perfect face as she shifted closer to Din now and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her hand finding his once more, their fingers entwining neatly.

Both listening to the rain as it began to pitter-patter on the roof of the cabin, but neither allowing sleep to take them just yet.

The two of them, Din and Lysa, basking now in the glow of both the rain…

…and the sunlight.

………………………………………………………

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Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 11]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Should know the drill on my use of Mando'a, italics and my headcanons by now if you've been following along with the AU series this far. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Can you call it a road trip if there's no cars in Star Wars? Who knows, who cares. Batch and Medic!Reader go on a road trip back to that mining planet so the brothers can have a nice little day to use their skill sets in peace and quiet away from the Empire. More domestic(-ish) moments. Only days into dating Hunter and basically like one of the family, lucky lucky you. If you don't try to embarrass your siblings in front of their significant others, are you really even siblings? Someone figured out where to make a "nap nest" in the Marauder to escape the heat? Sure why not, we don't know the exact layout of the attack shuttle so fuck it we vibe. ❤️✌️ Couple of suggestive lines but overall this is just me finding excuses for fluff/soft content. Batchers need a break and so do you. 

Word-count: 5,479

Trp-trp-trp-trp!

Scraping wet food out of the can, [____] glances down at the light-furred critter winding eagerly around her feet, the sound of the Tooka's curved nails tip-tipping against the floor as she prances and paces in tight circles. "I'm going as fast as I can without making a mess, silly!"

Rorw! M'oww!

She sets the plate down along with the ceramic bowl with water just as there's a knock at the door. The hour, exactly on the dot, Hunter said he'd be by to walk her to the shipyards. "Spoon, you be good for me, okay girl? I'll be home before dinner. Sounds like that's him." Straightening out the hem of an older, comfortable shirt she won't mind getting dirty, she plucks the emergency medkit off the counter as she walks past it. "Be right there!"

Hunter doesn't hide the visual head-to-toe sweep when she opens the door to him, the dark ink that makes up his tattoo of the half-skull making it very easy to notice when he starts to smile at the sight of her. "Hey… Good morning." He looks bright-eyed in a way beyond possibly being awake for an hour or two longer than the medic. She'd slept in pretty late - compared to the days she was working at least - since she'd gone home late after dinner. It was difficult to say no to Omega's suggestion to watch a holofilm once the leftovers were tucked away in the cold-unit and dishes were washed up.

Besides, more excuses to remain close to one another and enjoy the company, the chance to hold one another close while she laid out her thoughts for how to spend tomorrow? (Distract themselves from the collective thoughts of the Imperial at her health practice.) Would they really have passed that up?

She smiles back, threading her arm in the offered space to walk arm in arm once she's locked the door. "G'morning, Hunter." She realizes he's clean-shaven when he moves in close to peck her cheek with a sweet little sound. "Sleep well, mesh'la?"

"Mhm. You?" she asks.

"Probably better than Wrecker and Crosshair…" Hunter chuckles, sighing just slightly. "They were pretty excited, y'know. They have a chance to show off, so there's a chance they'll get a bit competitive like the old days." he warns her; not that [____] needed the reminder that his brothers' habit of competition had survived the war.

"Still a little confused how exactly they competed with such different skill sets at times." [____] admits and laughs softly under her breath as they pass one of the management-personnel of the shipyards, the top fin of the Marauder easy to spot, "But siblings always find a way, don't they? So I suppose that's enough of an explanation."

Ducking under the wing of another ship just before they get to the Omicron-class ship, the two of them are greeted by the sight of his brothers waiting for them, and Omega breaks away from helping Tech with last-minute supply checks to greet her friend. "[____]!" Ordinarily someone would be warning her for forgetting (once again) that shipyards were no place to be running around, but she doesn't go too far before the medic catches her with a laugh and hoists her up in her arms.

"Good morning to you too, sweetie! Looks like someone's excited for today!"

"Yeah, we get to spend it with you!" Omega giggles, lacing her arms around the grown woman's neck and shoulders. Tech was pointedly looking away to conceal a grimace of annoyance, likely having lost track of what he was counting within a very full crate. Oh dear. Lowering the youngster, [____] kindly reminds the girl she was in the middle of helping one of her brothers with a wink and loving ruffle of her hair.

"And as much as I love a good hug from the galaxy's cutest little heat-seeking missile, you were helping your brother count something important from the look of things before you ran off." The crate was marked "SNACKS" in bold, sloppy Aurebesh, but something told her the contents inside were most definitely not bursting with flavor.

Omega's hands wring and twist the hem of her shirt. "Ri-right, sorry Tech! I just got excited."

"It's fine Omega, I understand..." Tech smiles softly, finally nodding in greeting in [____]'s direction to be polite, "I just lost track of how many I've already count-"

"Twenty-four!" Omega declares confidently, swinging off [____]'s wrist with a slight laugh.

"Oh, excellent, I was only one off. Twenty-five, six… twenty-eight. Perfect. Full crate." Lid latched tightly, the container is pawned off to Wrecker, excitedly prancing in place, so he can haul it up the ramp into the shuttle. "Awh right! Can't wait!"

[____] gives Hunter a questioning and amused look. Did Wrecker really have twenty-eight explosives in that crate? "Don't worry, those snacks aren't any spicier than the way Cross likes his fruit and spice-dough pastries." he assures her, nudging Tech and Omega to get into the ship and get things running now that Echo's called from the cockpit that the shipyard crew has given them the go-ahead to lift-off with the rest of the morning rush. They ought to hurry before the skyway was choked with ships.

Crosshair scoffed lazily, collecting his case for the 773 Firepuncher with a lifted brow and a gentle shoulder slugging. "Big words for the guy who didn't make the cut for galaxy's number one cutest heat-seeking missile."

"I'm okay with that." Hunter retorts in a gruffer voice, returning the slug with a touch more effort. He's the last up the ramp after the medic, so he hits the proper button on the panel to draw in the ramp. "I'll gladly settle for being number two." he adds with a smug, confident expression. Oh Maker, her face feels warm, suddenly. Something about Hunter's moments of confidence in himself could be so attractive.

Tech calls a final warning from the cockpit as the engines rumble and burst to life. "Ready for lift-off! Strap in, this will not be very smooth, I'm afraid!"

Finding a crash seat for herself, [____] gets her medkit secured and carefully straps in. Hunter joins her shortly after, having helped Omega get settled in in the cockpit's seats. (Until she was a little more acclimated to a bumpier than average take-off, she could get airsick being further back in the ship.) Crosshair takes a seat directly across from his brother, a devious smirk washing over every feature.

Oh boy, here comes trouble. Hunter senses it too, preliminarily rolling his eyes after securing the shoulder harness. "What is it, Cross?" He's certain he's going to wish he hadn't asked, so he chooses a non-Basic language to get this over with and spare [____] the potential for embarrassment. "Out with it."

Adopting the same language, Cross purrs delicately around the toothpick with a mirthful smile. "Shame you can't act out that bunkroom fantasy you had as a cadet, Hunter." He only groans regretfully, ignoring the provocative grins from the sniper and the strongman once he's gotten seated. "And I shouldn't have asked…"

She looks sideways at him and across the ship at his brothers, and her later reply only makes Wrecker laugh harder. Hunter's mortified because forgot she understands this language thanks to the time she was employed at her first of two health centers. That smirk tells Hunter he should have worried about himself being embarrassed.

Kark…

"Now, now, Crosshair. We both know he'd want a door he can lock before anything else." [____] croons in a salacious voice.

Hunter sinks further into the seat in a way that has nothing to do with the spacecraft picking up speed once hitting clear skies.

Kark!

"That looks like a mining town." Omega marvels, pointing to something she sees out of the viewport.

"That's because it is," Echo replies, reaching overhead to hit some control as part of the landing sequence, "that's the mountain [____] fell down, actually. Thank the Force she wasn't badly hurt at least." Omega shudders, shrinking back against her seat until the landing struts have made contact with the surface of the desert planet. "I know that she said it was more of an uncontrolled slide than a fall after she slipped on loose shale, but still… That must've been scary…"

[____] and Hunter briefly glanced at one another by chance as they gathered their things. The twisting expression of torment in his face when his eyes found that fading evidence of her partially unsuccessful exploit left no doubt in [____]'s mind that Hunter had some really strong what if? thoughts surging right now. Maybe the very same ones she'd had that day when making her way home.

What if she'd hit her head and ended up severely concussed? If she'd been badly hurt, would the wildlife here pose a threat to her? (What wildlife was out here, actually? She didn't know; hopefully no big carnivores.) How quickly would help have come to her if she'd given Echo the SOS; that unfortunately yes, their "favorite medic" had gotten herself hurt?

Was Echo serious about that… is she really their favorite medic?

"Wow. Hardly a cloud in the sky…" Wrecker rumbles with wonder as he's the first to step off the Havoc Marauder. "Good thing we brought so much water and stuff for shade! But first, needa put on all the sun-stuff before someone ends up lookin' like a roasted porg again; c'mere you!" He plucks his sister off her feet with frightening ease as she tries to skip past him after Tech, who'd wandered off ahead to inspect the desert vegetation. She giggles and struggles in mild protest, swearing she can put the protective lotion on herself without any help. "Nuh-uh, we're not repeatin' last time, Omega. Fried the back of your poor neck 'cause you forgot."

"But what about Te-!" she tries asking, gasping when Wrecker accidentally tickles her by moving her hair off the back of her neck to apply the sun protectant. He apologizes, large fingers making quick work of the application process before she's thoroughly covered and she can take it from there. "Awh, someone'll drag him back eventually if he's not coming back on his own. Y'know how Techie is."

"Don't be stingy on the lotion, sweetie," [____] encourages her, "I brought plenty."

Echo laughs, taking one of the many bottles from the crate she and Hunter had collected from her clinic last night as part of the preparation for today with a grateful smile. "Benefits of knowing a damn good medic." He tosses his head in a nodding motion at Cross, "Mind helping me out? Goes a lot faster with two hands." Both chuckle when Echo whirrs the scomplink attachment once for good measure to emphasize his point.

"Sure thing."

"Hey… uh-uh." [____] chides Hunter softly for quickly smearing the sun cream across his face before reaching behind his head to apply it to his neck, "Come here. I want to make sure that nice tattoo of yours is properly covered so it stays nicer longer." Her fingertips carefully paint a thin layer of the lotion over the dark ink of the half-skull on the left side of his face, glazing it in a coat of white before tenderly massaging it into his face so it absorbs into the skin. The whole ordeal, Hunter's keen eyes are trained on her, watching her with rapt attention. She'd become the galaxy's most interesting spectacle to Hunter since freeing himself from refraining from expressing how he realized he felt about her. Becoming braver, bolder, to watch her with adoration, without much shame if she caught him staring.

Her kindness, her compassion, her soothing, nurturing nature that served as the groundwork for her inner and outer beauty had him so enamored shortly from the start, perhaps.

And she… she's wearing the Nabooian pendant.

How in the stars did he miss that? It looked so beautiful in the sunlight. She looked so beautiful in the sunlight. "Something on my face, or…?" she asks softly, teasingly as she takes the container again and carefully applies some to her own face. "Am I missing something?"

"Mm-m." he confirms shortly and leans in to pepper her in sweet little kisses, feeling bold, daring, in this moment.

"Ew," Omega giggles brightly behind them when Hunter grimaces reflexively after hitting a patch of lotion, "I bet that didn't taste very good."

"No… Definitely went a lot better in my head…" he murmurs in answer, pulling on the collar of his civvies to clean the opaque residue from his lips. "Sorry."

She chuckles sympathetically, watching as Wrecker tramped up the gangplank and said he was gonna start getting the charges ready once he had them out of the ship, "Someone better ask Techie if there's a safe place to set these bad boys off! Don't want any serious debris comin' our way!" She agrees to go ask, taking the lotion with her to gently interrupt Tech's deep analysis if she can. He's hunched over in a squat, studying the roots of the shrub-tree now, muttering scientific names from the sound of things.

Recognizing her by the shadow she casts, Tech greets her with an enthusiastic question. "Aren't these fascinating, [____]?"

"Gotta know what I'm looking at, Tech," she laughs lightly, trading his datapad for the bottle of lotion, "and after you put this on, Wrecker wants your input on where he can safely plant the explosives to get the day kicked off with a bang." He takes the lotion with a sheepish smile. He’d gotten so ahead of himself he forgot to explain what he was looking at first. "Ah, of course-'' Tech murmurs apologetically, "These are ucca brevifolia - common name “shu'ah tree”. They have thick, waxy leaves that are capable of retaining critical moisture through prolonged drought that are protected against herbivores with a mild, serrated, outer edge. It serves as a deterrent to grazers.”

“Oh yeah? Is that an adaptation to grazing wildlife or something they’ve always had?” [____] asks with genuine interest as she walks with him back to the ship. Tech grinned appreciatively, a little relieved, as always, when someone wanted to know what was currently of-interest to him without brushing him off. (When he’d given Hunter’s letter a final read-through to catch any errors Hunter worried there being, he was surprised by some of the additional observations his brother had made about [____]’s friendship with him.) “I haven’t gotten that far in the reading I was doing, but I can determine such a thing once I’ve assisted Wrecker.” he admits with an offering, carefully lifting his goggles so someone can help him apply everything without squinting in the sunlight.

Wrecker looks from Tech to [____] with a curious smile, settling the crate at his feet to wait while she helps his brother carefully distribute the protective coverage around his eyes as Hunter helps out by holding Tech’s goggles for the time being. “Whatcha talking about?”

“Oh, Techie was telling me those trees out there,” she pointed over Tech’s shoulder with a free hand to indicate to everyone what their brother had wandered off to inspect, “the ones that have the shaggy-looking trunks and those red-tipped, blade-like leaves. I think they’re kinda pretty, in a way.”

Adding with a nod, Tech turns his face to the left to speak with Wrecker, “Which, once I’ve helped you, Wrecker, I can return to researching to answer her question once we’ve gotten the day ‘kicked off with a bang’. Ack, that tickles…” Wrecker chortles alongside Hunter, stitching his arms across his chest with a warm smile.

This was gonna be a fun day for everyone.

“HAHAHA! That last one could bring down the whole mountain!” Wrecker whooped, caught up in the excitement of planting the last of his charges at the foothills of the mountain the mining town is perched on as he gleefully jogs back to the safety zone.

Tech shakes his head as he ducks back into the ship. “Seems like a gross exaggeration for the amount of-”

“Hah! Dumb ol’ mining town deserves it!” Wrecker declares decidedly, tossing his head at Hunter knowingly, which only makes him chuckle and shake his head with a sigh, “Wrecker… Are you going to try to teach a whole mountain a lesson for hurting [____] when she slipped?”

“Nah,” Wrecker laughs, idly tossing and catching the primer, “not unless you want to.”

[____] and Omega exchange glances and shake their heads softly for more or less the same reason. "Boys…" they agree with a knowing sigh. The explosive charge wasn't going to be enough to bring down a boomtown mountain even if it was riddled with hollowed-out passageways and tunnels, but it wouldn't stop the brothers from arguing - playfully - if it would or not. The idea of showing an inanimate object who's boss after her mistake of not minding her footing was at least a little endearing and nothing she was stranger to either. The first time the medic had been invited to the Batcher's housing, she'd knocked on the door in the middle of Wrecker's tirade against a chair Omega had tripped over.

"Think you can get away with hurtin' MY sister, HUH?! You think you're tough?!"

"Hi... Did I come at a bad time, Hunter?"

"Er, no, it's just- You're fine. H-he's yelling at a chair Omega tripped over to try to cheer her up; make her laugh.”

“Aw, that’s nice of him. Is she hurt?”

Hunter shook his head, perhaps for the fifth time at Wrecker’s insistent offering. “No, really, I- I’m good, Wreck. Kind of you to offer, but it’s not really my thing. You can ask someone else.” He was more interested in just watching his brothers have fun, relax, and do their own things. More interested in listening to Tech rattle off a parts list inside the ship as he worked on repairing something, expressing terse disinterest to Wrecker. More interested in hearing the languid sweep of a cleaning cloth over a trusty 773 Firepuncher as Crosshair made sure sand didn’t settle into the grooves and crevices in the weaponry. Comforted by the aroma of sun-warmed cotton and skin from a pace away where Echo sat, happily soaking in the sun for some much-desired phototherapy. Amused by Wrecker’s delight in this opportunity to blow something up that was coming to a close as soon as he found someone to take him up on his offer. Entertained by Omega and [____] trailing their fingers in the sand of the desert planet, an endless, completely reusable canvas for their creativity together.

Stolen, precious memories the Empire could never take from him no matter how hard they tried. Acts of resistance in their own right. A refusal to be stifled, to be silenced, to comply blindly.

Man, someone in the Empire would hate knowing a stolen crate of their precious bombs were being used to blow craters in the desert sand for the hell of it. That Wrecker had scoffed over the fancy, intimidating exteriors and pulled them apart to scrutinize some sap’s work.

“Hah, that’s pathetic. I’ve made better bombs with half as many wires that I secured so much better than that under pressure! Tech, look!”

“... pathetic. Their wiring is so sloppy.”

“Tha’s what I said!!”

Omega lifts her head from her current work of art in the sand, brows lifted in question when [____] waves down the offer. “Can I set off the last charges?” Initially, Hunter wasn’t sure he liked that idea. Omega understood perfectly well that the vode didn’t mess with bombs of any sort that Wrecker or Tech cobbled together, and her first experience trying to disable a smoke bomb nearly a year ago with Wrecker’s tutelage had ended in, well, a smokeshow on Bracca.

“You let the kid try to disarm a bomb…? That has to be one of your dumbest-”

“C’mon, I’m not an idiot, Crosshair… I’m not gonna let her train with a live explosive. And would you stop calling her ‘the kid’ already? Omega has a name, just like you.”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever-”

“Hunter, don’t! Enough fighting, you two! We all just got our chips out for kriff sake!”

Omega looks to Hunter for permission when Wrecker hesitates. Deferring to the leader. But he wasn’t just their leader anymore, he was their brother. He was trying to be their brother more than a low-ranking commanding officer. They didn’t need his permission for every little thing, but it was so habitual. For all of them.

Good soldiers…

“Hunter, can I?” Omega asks softly.

“I’ll leave that up to Wrecker to decide.” he gives Wrecker a slow nod. I trust you, it says.

… follow orders.

“I’d feel better if we did it together, Omega. Jus’ to be safe, y’know. C’mere.” Omega took Wrecker’s outstretched hand and walked forward to get in-range of the charge with the primer, listening to his instructions intently as they walked a few paces closer to the old mountain mining town. Crosshair called over his shoulder into the Marauder that Tech might wanna watch this one, carefully laying aside his rifle. Echo sat up and climbed out of his low seat to move back towards their ship out of an abundance of caution. Hunter and [____] scooched closer together on the old blanket now that Omega had gotten up, leaning comfortably against one another. Hands finding the other’s, clasped comfortably.

“This oughta be good.” she murmurs fondly, head against his shoulder.    

“THREE!” Wrecker called; the signal for all spectators to brace themselves for the noise to come. Three seconds to detonation and total, momentary chaos.

Cross calls them rib-rattlers. She can understand why. A thick plume of dust, debris and spent powder smoke shoots high into the blue expanse of the sky above the seven of them. They can feel the shockwave through the ground below their feet and booming into their chest cavities. Omega shrieks with delighted laughter alongside Wrecker, both of them whooping on their way back to the ship to watch as the dust cloud begins to disperse and dissipate with the gentle breeze that’s picked up across the arid plain.

“Not bad,” Cross approves, nodding to Wrecker and Omega as they get closer to the ship, approvingly before glancing around at his datapad for the time, “think I’ll go sneak a quick break from the heat. Then I hope you’re up for a- Hunter?”

Hunter’s suddenly on his feet in a flash, instinctually and visibly bristling at the sight of a second plume building and rising into the sky from the side of the mountain. The blast in the foothills has one last trick to play; one of the buildings nestled in the winding, serpentine road that had been worked into the stony surface of the natural formation has been knocked from its crumbling foundation and has become mobile. The entire structure is slowly sliding down the slope. It looks like a tiny, very old-fashioned and simple prison house; probably would have held no more than four cells for the roughest and rowdiest in a boomtown.

“Hunter, it’s okay.” [____] says soothingly as she too sees the little building coming down the mountain. “It’s coming to a stop on the next level of the switch-back. We’re not in any danger so far away.” she reminds him, putting a comforting hand on his back, his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re safe. Right?”

It’s about a moment before he’s satisfied that the little structure sliding down the mountainside is in fact not going to move again before he settles himself down, softening his stance, feeling the fine hairs on the back of his neck lay flat once more the longer [____] keeps her hands on him, the longer her heartbeat remains so steady. “R-right…”

Crosshair cautiously utters under his breath to avoid breaking this newly established sense of calm for his brother that he’s going to find a snap-activated cold pack and hide out from the heat for roughly twenty minutes, and they’d front row seats to another impressive spectacle.

Twenty minutes of calm would do them all some good.

Well, calm as “calm” could be with his brothers. But, Crosshair supposed he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was just a simple snap-pack and he couldn’t find the blasted thing, Hunter could hear Crosshair tramping through the whole of the Marauder, opening the odd cabinet here and there in his search. Just like he couldn’t find the spare blankets or pillows. Or the misplaced tool when the box tipped over as he helped Tech shift everything outside.

"Hunterrrr… I can't find it!"

He sighs heavily, finally and reluctantly pushing himself off the edge of the old blanket for the third time to assist his brother. "Do I seriously have to find everything around here?" He just wants to spend a little time in the sun, dammit. Some time to settle his head after that last detonation, and the ear-splitting clatter of tools after Tech had tripped over his own toolbox after moving everything so people could escape the heat in peace. (���Apologies! Don’t worry: I’m not hurt!”)

Tech was now working on his project in the shadow cast by the bulk of the Marauder's body, a long cable snaking out of the cockpit plugged into some radio-like device so he could continue listening along to an educational program about the insectoid Yalbec species. (No, she didn't want to know what happened on Yalbec Prime apparently.)

Echo just chuckles softly as his younger brother begrudgingly trudges past him to the ship for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Hey, I'd ask for help finding something from an expert tracker too." Poor guy just sighs, trotting up the steps to the side-ramp a little faster now after asking Tech to turn down the radio a notch. "Shut up…"

"You're a good brother, Hunter!" the ARC calls after him. Sometimes, try as he might, it was harder than other days to turn off that part of his conditioning to lead and look out for his brothers all the time. While letting go of leadership and rank was getting better with practice, it was that gnawing, almost screaming urge to constantly be on high alert and let his brothers mind themselves that was harder to wrangle.

What was it Crosshair had teased Hunter for once? Something about being paternal?

She wasn't quite sure what that remark was off the top of her head while she was more concerned with making sure she had a proper eye on Wrecker while he was moving heavy stones out in the dry heat of the desert. Thank the stars they brought so much water, no one would run the risk of being dehydrated at least, she thought as she watched Wrecker take another pull from his hydro pack. (Her bigger concern was heatstroke or overexertion.) Looked like he was crafting a makeshift bench for the targets and novelty props Cross had brought with them so he could show off his sharpshooting skills; the whole reason [____] had hinted to Hunter she could think of a good excuse to stay away from her clinic today last night over dinner.

(She thought of that letter often, and had read it last night before going to sleep as a way of warding away any dreams of the Imperial forces at her clinic.)

Wrecker sat down under the shade of a low shrub-tree after she flashed him a flat palm that morphed into a cupping motion with a turn of the wrist.

Rest.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh," [____] chuckles softly behind that same raised hand to stifle her laughter, "but is Crosshair getting whiny?" She's no stranger to the often high and nasally whines of a tired tot or a fussy baby thanks to her professional experience, and the hint of impatience in Cross's voice is enough to remind her of the little ones she's treated over the years since completing medical training.

Echo just chuckles before adjusting his sun shades. Omega glances at the medic's time device on her wrist. "It's around the time Crosshair naps at home some days. He sleeps in bursts." Her voice drops into that timid, nervous whisper when she’s afraid someone will hear one of her inner observations that might not be taken so well if said out loud. “He can get… a little cranky in the heat, too…”

“Ahh…” she replies, understanding now, “I see. But hey, he’s got the right idea to escape the heat. Wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to do the same thing. Oh kriff, that’s right; should I tell ‘em they’re not gonna find any snap-packs in there, or do you wanna do it?” [____] had told them while they were traveling and hadn’t quite reached the planet that she was going to add the packs she found in their tiny infirmary aboard the attack shuttle to her medbag so they’d be in easy reach. (She couldn’t blame them for forgetting she did that when she’d done it herself until Echo diligently touched up his UV coverage with more lotion just a moment ago.)

“You better,” Omega tells the medic with a smile, “I’m gonna go get Wrecker. He looks tired.”

[____] nods. “Good idea.” Climbing up the ramp a step at a time, she’s got two snap-activated packs in her opposite hand that are a very welcome sight for the sniper.

“Oh, Maker, forgot they wouldn’t be on the ship. Thanks, doc.”

“I forgot too, sorry boys.” [____] offers an apologetic smile, peering around the marksman and tracker at a mess on the floor between all the sleeping racks near the back of the ship and gunner’s mount. “What’s all that?” It looked like a rumpled nest of blankets and pillows on the cool durasteel floor.

“Omega calls them ‘nap nests’,” Crosshair offers, biting down a yawn (Hunter less successfully) and thanking her for the rapidly chilling pack, “or, somethin’ like that… And how come you’re suddenly tired, vod?” Hunter shrugs. He’d truly slept fine last night, but he felt pretty tired being in the ship, suddenly. Admitted to feeling a little lightheaded, too. Neither [____] or Cross liked the sound of that. “That doesn’t sound good, vod.”

“Have you been drinking enough water?” [____] asks, patting down her pockets. Blast, she’d finished off the last of her hydro pack. “Shiiiit.” the medic hissed, mentally rattling off symptoms. “Are you also feeling like it’s difficult to concentrate?”

Omega and Wrecker poked their heads into the ship before climbing in, a hydro pack, unopened, in her hands. “Hunter accidentally let himself get dehydrated didn’t he? I-I found this where he was sitting.”

“I’ve had at least one pack,” Hunter tried thinking back, feeling that wave of guilt washing over him when his siblings, his… could he call her that, yet? “Girlfriend”? (Would she prefer something else?) “I think I just got distracted and forgot to open the next one. I’m sor-”

“Some water is better than none, could be worse.” [____] conceded with a tender smile, allowing Omega to take a seat next to her in the middle of the “nap nest” when Crosshair suggested Hunter better lay down and he’d climb into a sleeping rack instead, popping in a pair of ear-jammers so he could sleep while sister and friend teamed up to take care of his brother. “Here, bandana comes off, and we’ll give you the second cold pack while you slowly nurse this…” The scarlet bandana was pawned to Omega, and once it was carefully laid aside in a neat fold, she watched with interest (and confusion) as her little brother’s eyes fluttered reflexively at the first pass of [____]’s hand through his hair once his head was propped up with one of the pillows from the nap nest in the back of the ship, but not her’s. That was strange. How’d she do that? What did Omega do differently than the medic?

“Here, try it like this.” the grown woman offered kindly, noticing the girl’s cute pout of confusion. She tried encouraging Omega to give it another shot when it didn’t work as expected. “You’ll get it, sweetie. Just try again. He’s not going anywhere until I feel he’s properly hydrated again.” [____] laughed lightly at Hunter’s mumbled apology for making her play medic when she was supposed to have the day off, again, just to take care of him when he wasn’t being proactive about his safety and health.

Before bending forward to kiss Hunter, [____] playfully rolled her eyes in his line of vision before closing the distance. “Oh, hush, handsome. Like I told Captain Rex, you guys just keep my job interesting for me. And I don’t mind a bit.”

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @ladytano420​ @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904

Note from Frost: The "shu'ah" trees Tech described for you are space!Joshua trees (I just tried to creatively modify the name and description a bit). The mining town is heavily inspired by Jerome, Arizona, which is what inspired the beginning and opening location of this fic even though it wasn't described in detail until now. Threw in a vague reference to Sliding Jail for funsies. As a born-and-raised desert dweller, this chapter felt like writing about home for me as much as it's about your more domestic/everyday-flavored moments with Hunter and his siblings. Start thinking now if you wanna be added to the all-encompassing SW fic taglist (sans OC stories, most likely) while I get the last chapter all nice and purdy!  🩷 

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[pearlsinmyhair]

༄ breath of venus ༄

chapter six ~ eye of the storm

summary: venus bullies lopez a little. she and mansk have another moment. quaritch and venus find a little bit of calm. quaritch and lyle start to coparent. venus speaks spanish.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: cursing en español

authors note: ok guys, i’m so sorry if this spanish is not up to par. i cross referenced so many different sources, especially about the use of ‘chocha.’ remember how venus patted lyle’s head when she was a baby?

glossary

¿hablás español? - (do) you speak spanish?

Sí, lo estudié durante muchos años. Sin embargo, mi acento está fuera de práctica. - yes, i studied it for many years. however, my accent is out of practice.

Tu acento está bien. Sólo un poco rígido. - your accent is fine. just a little stiff.

Tus tatuajes son un farol, ¿verdad? - your tattoos are a bluff, right?

¿Qúe? - what?

chocha - pussy

eres terrible, niña - you are terrible, girl

Y eres crédulo. - and you are gullible

“all sins are attempts to fill voids.” - simone weil

“I don’t believe you.” said Ja from the bank of the spring they had stopped at. Venus was knee deep in said spring cooling off, and she laughed softly at his words.

“You can refuse to believe it. That doesn’t mean that it is not true.” she replied as she waded to the sand. “I swear to you, on all that I hold dear, that they are like my siblings.”

They had been traveling non-stop for nearly two weeks now, and their bodies ached with cramps and knots that never seemed to ease. It was Venus’s suggestion that they stop.

She knew the area by description, not experience. The Omatikaya had close connections with the Tawkami due to the latter clan’s trading outposts and routes. As tsakarem, Venus was given the responsibility of diplomacy and hospitality and was charged with greeting the visitors. Neteyam occasionally accompanied her, but his age made him quick to annoyance and uneasy with the tentative nature of alliance. She had not seen a trader since before the war, and she personally believed that they had hidden, at least from the Omatikaya and other clans of close proximity to Bridgehead.

Many of the marines had taken the opportunity to empty their packs and wash clothes. Venus even showed them some plants they could use to clean, not wanting to pollute the stream with the harsh soap they carried.

Quaritch notably did not participate, instead keeping watch whilst leaning against a nearby tree. He seemed determined to disassociate from anything Venus involved herself in, and it was beginning to irk her.

“What are their names, then?” Zdog butt in, and Venus waved a dismissive hand at her.

“It’s my turn now. You’ll have to save your question.”

It took three days for someone to break the silence of the group as they traveled. Quaritch had given Venus a throat comm and ear piece, but there hadn’t been much talking besides orders and directions. It was Lopez who had snapped whatever invisible tension that rested between her and the recombinants when he suggested a game.

It was simple: Venus and the squad would each have five questions that they would ask a day. Ten questions total over the span of twenty-four hours. He called it ‘trade’. Quaritch called it a waste of time. But they had tried it anyway, and it was working so far.

The squad had already asked her two questions: the one at which Ja showed disbelief of was if she had animal mounts besides her ikran. She had explained Pali, and then added that she had a close familial bond with a few thanators.

Venus pulled her songcord from beside her ear as she asked her question.

“Can I see your tattoos?”

She figured that it wasn’t too much to ask.

That was another rule: no deep questions. None that would entail revealing secrets, at least, both personal and war related. Said rule had been instilled by none other than the grumpy Colonel not twenty feet from where she stood.

Most of the squad had removed their tops to rinse off, so she got a pretty good view of most of their tattoos. The few that hadn’t stripped were Ja, Mansk, and Quaritch.

Zdog went first. The female recombinant hadn’t exactly minded taking off her shirt and standing in a sports bra. Next to Venus you look like a nun, Brown had joked. Venus whacked him with her tail and Z whipped his shoulder with her rolled up tank.

Unlike most of the others, Zdog’s tattoos were colored, and she even allowed the girl to trace the honeycomb-like structures across her arm. When her finger wandered to the snake with the inscription of ‘deathless’ on its scales, she met Z’s eyes and raised a brow.

The woman just chuckled, and Venus moved to the others. She deliberately saved Quaritch and Wainfleet for last. She lingered at Mansk, whose tattoo was covered by his shirt. He had flipped his sunglasses atop his head, showing his different colored irises.

“Eventually.” she said to him, referring to his covered tattoo. He nodded. “Eventually.”

When she moved on to Lopez, she had to bite back a grin. She had been waiting for this moment for some time now.

There was a human woman that had stayed after the war. She was beautiful, with dark curly hair and bronze skin, and her voice tilted with an accent that sounded delightful to young Venus’s ears.

The woman’s name was Lilliana, and she was one of the first avatars who interacted with her without fearing Neytiri’s wrath. Venus grew attracted to her and often went with her to the avatar tent, something that Neytiri greatly appreciated when she had Neteyam and Kiri, with Lo’ak on the way.

It was there that she got introduced to Reggaeton. She could still remember the moment that she heard the strings of a guitar and the bump of electronic bass when she was seven.

Long story short, she demanded that Lilliana teach her spanish, mostly so she could sing it, and partially so she could understand. Norm was able to procure language books and work pages while Lilliana helped instruct her and fill the gaps.

And it was for that reason that she easily translated the tattoo inked across Lopez’s chest.

Sepulturero.

She had nearly curled her lip in disgust when she first saw it, but then she decided that the irony of it was amusing.

“Gravedigger.” she uttered as she stood in front of Lopez, studying the way the word arched under his collarbones.

He raised a brow, eyes widening in slight shock. “¿Hablas español?” he asked softly.

“Sí, lo estudié durante muchos años. Sin embargo, mi acento está fuera de práctica.” she said as she shifted her attention to the tatted brass knuckles on his hand.

“Tu acento está bien. Sólo un poco rígido.”

She nodded at his words. As much as she’d love to sit and talk with him, she had much more pressing matters to attend to.

“Tus tatuajes son un farol, ¿verdad?” she said, allowing her voice to rise slightly in volume. The marines conversations had died down, now attuned to the way that Lopez’s expression shifted from surprise to anger at her words.

“¿Qué?” he questioned, his eyes hardening as her face shifted towards amusement.

“Your tattoos, they must be a bluff. There is a saying from a human book: any man who says ‘I am king’ is no king. I believe it to be the same with these markings. Why would you need to write it on your skin if your actions did not already prove them true?”

Lopez practically snarled at her, but this was not the first time that a man taller and older than her had shown such hubris. Having brothers honed her skills at humbling others, and she applied them when needed.

She smiled up at Lopez mockingly, cocking her head to the side in a silent challenge.

This was a common occurance between them. Lopez was the only one who truly entertained her antics, so she pestered him when she needed to let off steam. Be that through ikran chases or arm wrestling or death diving.

She knew she had touched a nerve, but she had learned Lopez’s emotions well. He was pissed, yes, but he wouldnt hurt her. He frequently insulted her back, so this verbal repertoire was relatively tame.

It was Quaritch’s insistence upon her stopping that angered her. And now was no different.

“Venus, Lopez, knock it off.” he called from the shade. Venus’s tail lashed as she glared over her shoulder at the Colonel. Every time she had any semblance of relaxation or fun, he was breathing down the back of her neck, treating her like she was some spoiled brat that he’d been stuck with.

Lopez followed his orders, though he shoulder checked Venus as he passed. It was that action that made her realize that she may have bruised his ego a bit more than intended, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

These were her captors, after all. She had no need to feel sorry for them.

At least, not about immature insults about tattoos.

She carefully removed the woven jewelry from around her waist as she stepped to the water once more. She set the strands and her armbands down on her bag before she reached up and untied her chocker from her neck.

She passed the piece to Ja, explaining how each little dark point was a claw or a tooth from one of her siblings when they were babies, and his eyebrows shifted up as he handled it with care, studying the necklace.

Venus walked over to a ledge that wasn’t far from where Lopez and Brown were now conversing good naturedly. Lopez’s shoulders still knit from her insults, and she smiled to herself. She checked to make sure that the water was deep enough as she stood on the edge of the rock.

She turned to them and took a deep breathe, recalling what Lilliana had always said.

‘If a boy or a man every gets a big head, you set him right. you plant your feet in the ground, turn to him, and call him una-‘

“chocha.”

Lopez turned to her so quick that she barely had time to squeak before he leapt at her, tackling her right into the water below.

For a moment there was nothing but splashing and churning white, and the recombinants watched in amusement as a blue foot appeared before slipping below the surface. When the water calmed and neither Venus nor Lopez rose to the surface, that amusement turned to slight panic.

“They’re gonna drown each other.” said Brown, who leaned over the edge to gaze into the deep water below. Due to their blue skin, he couldn’t pick out any figures. “They won’t drown each other. Venus will drown Lopez.” said Z confidently.

The soldiers turned to the woman, and she simply raised an eyebrow. “She’s really very strong, and she’s lived here for longer than we have. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t underestimate her.”

Quaritch walked up to look over the ledge, standing next to Brown.

“Ten seconds and we’re going in to get them.” he said, brow knitting as he too searched to no avail.

“We? Who’s we?” called Lyle, who stepped towards the bank of the river. “I’m not going to get Lopez’s sorry ass if he drowns. He tackled her, so he’s going to face the consequences.”

“Since when is everyone so confident in the kids skills at drowning people?” Quaritch asked, smirking at Lyle. His corporal looked to him with his head cocked to the side.

“If you paid attention to her, you’d not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Lopez burst from the water, coughing and sputtering like a drowned cat. He looked like one, too, wet and pissed off. For a moment, the squad waited with baited breath for Venus to emerge.

“Im right here.” came a voice from one of the pools behind them.

And there she was, squeezing water from her hair like she had gone for a nice swim rather than wrestling a marine a foot taller than her.

Zdog was the first to break the silence.

“Who won?”

Venus flashed her canines in a quirked smile.

“Who do you think?”

Zdog fist bumped her, and Quaritch scowled. Z’s ears folded back, backing down, but Venus seemed to rise under his glower.

“He tackled me.” she said as she walked past him, making sure to sling some water from her hair onto his back.

She stepped to Lopez, who was catching his breath on his back on the sand. She reached out a hand.

“Eres terrible, niña.” he said as he took it. Venus pulled him up with a smile. “Y eres crédulo.” she replied.

As he walked away to his pack to get a clean shirt, Venus turned back to the Colonel and Wainfleet.

She wasn’t surprised by Quaritch’s tight jaw or tense posture, no. It was Wainfleet’s look of disappointment that seemed to cool her blood, but she became irritated just as quickly. What right did he have to be disappointed at her?

She simply scoffed and moved to a patch of sun to dry off and comb through her hair, refusing to acknowledge anyone for the rest of their time at the spring.

༄

Venus shifted against the bark of the tree, thinking that when she got the chance, she was going to hibernate on her mat at home.

While she never had qualms about sleeping in trees, constantly doing so was taking a toll on her spine. She practically had to wring herself out every morning to stretch, and the cracking that ensued made her cringe.

But being a hostage wasn’t a luxury, so she took it in stride. There were worse things.

Mansk had taken first watch, sitting a few feet from where she was. His sunglasses sat in his lap, so she was able to study his face. The way that his ears flicked told her that he knew she was looking.

“What are their names?” he asked, voice quiet as to not disturb some of the sleeping soldiers.

Of course he had remembered. Mansk paid close attention to things around him, and he must have mentally saved Z-dog’s question for later.

His eyes shifted to meet hers, and this time she didn’t shy away. He had grown comfortable with her over the past days, peeling back the layers that he concealed himself with as a defense mechanism.

Under all the stoicism was uncertainty and some insecurity. While they hid it well, the recombinants were not happy with their body switch. Venus could empathize: if she woke up in a human body tomorrow, she’d be devastated. So she didn’t push them to talk too much about the change.

She tilted her chin in question, and he gestured for her to come closer. She did, scooting her butt until she sat beside him, listening to his breathing as she thought of her answer.

She registered that Quaritch was awake and listening, though he tried to pretend otherwise. His ears pricked up, swerving to listen to their conversation as his eyes remained closed.

“There were five in the litter.” she said softly. “But only three live. A boy, Armua, died when the sky people returned, burned up in the fire of the ships thrusters. And a girl, Wa’su, died giving birth to her first litter.”

Mansk hummed, looking down at her without fully turning. She was thankful for it. While the wound of Wa’sus death had healed, Armua was still fresh. She remembered searching for him for weeks. He had been the one that was closest to her, having territory not far from the villiage.

She had found nothing but ash.

Some of the marines had risen now, woken by their voices. Lyle yawned widely as he shifted to look at them. Quaritch had given up his little ruse and took a sip of water before handing the flask to Lyle.

“The three are Tamar, Salínu, and Ke’muntxa.” she said, turning to address them as well.

Brown’s ears pricked up. “No mate.” he translated, and Venus’s brows raised in surprise. So they had been listening to her language lessons.

“Yes. She’s a female thanator who lives not too far from here. We flew over part of her territory. She’s the eldest of the group, though not by much. She is my favorite.”

“And she has no mate?” asked Mansk.

“Nope. She rejects every male that tries, fighting them and chasing them off her territory.” Venus answered, smiling fondly at the memory of her sister chasing her brothers away from her, viciously protective from a young age.

Lyle smirked. “Remind you of yourself?”

Venus’s smile sharpened. “Piss off.”

He raised his hands in a ‘I surrender’ gesture, laughing softly. “Just saying. I don’t see you with a mate either, V.”

Something about him smiling made her soften, like the grip around her chest loosened slightly. Lyle had all but ignored her this whole time, outright refusing to talk about the first three years of her life and the last three of his.

She couldn’t exactly blame him. It wasn’t the conversation to have lightly over their comms, but still. The way he looked at her, with his brow furrowed and words behind his eyes, hadn’t exactly helped the tension.

This was the first time that he really spoke to her, looking directly at her and smiling. He joked easily with the others, even the Colonel. But with her, he was distant and cold, only acknowledging her when necessary.

But just as quickly as the mask slipped off, he put it back on, and the warmth of his eyes vanished. Her smiled dropped as well, and she retreated back to lean against the tree. She settled back, and Mansk’s arm brushed hers softly.

She looked to Quaritch, meeting eyes with him. “I meant to tell you earlier, but we’ll be traveling straight through Tamar’s territory. He’s highly aggressive and very protective, so we may want to remain above ground for as long as we can.”

Quaritch nodded, laying back down on his back, stiff as a board. He didn’t like taking advice from Venus, but he was learning that her knowledge was useful when it came to protecting his squad. It was a silent truce of giving him morsels of information and him taking it like a child forced to swallow medicine herbs.

She watched him for a while, and after a few moments his eyes turned to meet hers. The shift in his face was barely visible, but his ears dropped, jaw relaxing as his eyes softened. It was odd to see his inner turmoil, and if Venus had been any less aware of others emotions she would have missed it entirely.

He broke the staring contest first, and she looked away.

The rest of the soldiers settled down, burying themselves in their packs to try and get some sleep before their own watch shift came.

She turned back to Mansk, opening her mouth when-

“Lights out, Venus.” came Quaritch’s low but stern voice, and her tail flicked irritatedly as she turned to look at him.

“You’re not my father.” she uttered, so low that only he and Mansk heard. Mansk inhaled sharply, pointedly turning his face away from whatever father-daughter confrontation was happening.

Quaritch leaned up once more to look squarely at her. “Fine, kid. I’m not, but I am the person in charge of keeping you in line. So get in your pack before I make you.” he practically hissed. Venus barred her teeth, ready to bite back when Lyle’s sleepy voice interrupted.

“Quaritch, let her do her thing. She’ll be fine.”

Venus turned to him, surprised at the casual ignorance of authority. Lyle was feircely loyal to Quaritch, following and respecting his orders always. But now he interviened on her bahalf?

Lyle’s eyes shifted to meet hers before glancing at Mansk, then back once more.

He winked.

Oh, Great Mother.

Her ears burned viciously and heat prickled the back of her neck.

Quaritch glared at the corporal before sighing and rolling over so that his back faced them.

She glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed what just transpired, but everyone seemed asleep.

Seemed.

She leaned back against the truck of the tree, giving Mansk a disbeliving look. His shoulders shifted in a silent laugh, and she bumped her elbow against his in mock annoyance.

Mansk was…easy. Quiet. Now that she knew him, she hesitated to call him shy. He was more contemplative, not as brazen or cocky as the others. He could be when he got loose enough, but most of the time he was wound tighter than a bow string.

And she had made it her mission to loosen it. She didn’t know why.

Well, maybe she did.

“Your turn.” came his opening.

She reached up and rolled the beads of her song cord thoughtfully as she debated. She had two more questions to ask per Lopez’s rules.

“How old are you, really?”

Mansk leaned his head back to look up at the stars just peaking through the leaves. The stretch moved his shirt slightly, and Venus took a moment to admire the peek of his chest tattoo that poked through.

“Well, I was sent to Pandora when I was sixteen.”

Her eyes snapped up to look at his face. “That hardly sounds ethical.” she replied tentatively.

He hummed thoughtfully, putting the memories together in his mind. “I had an aunt who was pretty high up in the RDA, and she personally recommended me to the Colonel. I needed the money, so I took the offer. When I got to Hellsgate, I was technically twenty-one, but no one ages in cryo sleep. I was on there for four years before I died.”

“Twenty.” she murmured, thinking it over. How it would feel to have lost all that time but at the same time having no repercussions for it.

“Is it the same feeling now, having been gone for sixteen years?” she asked.

Mansk’s ears lowered, and she immediately regretted asking. But as soon as she opened her mouth to apologize, Mansk lifted a hand, silencing her.

“Kind of. I know that it should feel like a gap, but it feels like i was asleep. But then…that man isn’t me. I just house his memories.” he replied, and Venus had to fight the urge again to reach to him.

So that was how they felt? Like corpses, carrying on someone else’s lives.

She supposed that was what an avatar was. A vessel.

But they were not avatars. There was no body in the distance piloting them.

Words sat on the tip of her tongue, begging to fill the quiet between them. But she clenched her jaw and held them in.

Instead, she gently took Mansk’s raised hand.

He flinched, the touch unexpected, but she just cradled his hand in the palms of hers, spreading the fingers and studying them.

A beat of silence, only filled by the soft breathing of the soldiers around them, all asleep.

Mansk’s question filled the air without him having to say it.

What are you doing?

She didn’t answer it, instead tracing the lines that flowed down to his wrist. He shivered as her fingertips traced his veins. She pressed her thumb against the center of his hand, and his fingers curled reflexively.

“You are not him.” was all she said before she let the hand go. He retracted it slowly to his lap. Only then did she notice that he had fully turned to her and that their knees were brushing.

“I used my last two questions. You have two to ask.”

She didn’t look up into his eyes, she was afraid of what she might see in them.

It is much harder to kill something when you see it, granddaughter.

But sometimes it needs to be killed, regardless of its thoughts.

You have much to learn.

“How do you know english so well?”

Ah.

“My father always suspected, at least a little, that the war was not over. It was for that reason that he kept his english sharp. And as the eldest, I learned it as well. I understood it could be useful diplomatically.” she murmured, gesturing between them as if to say ‘see?’.

“And my vocabulary comes from reading and speaking to the scientists that stayed back. I love books, but I had to use a magnifying glass to see the letters without holding the pages up to my face.” she chuckled, swallowing awkwardly as silence filled the space between them again.

The thing about Mansk was that when he thought, you could feel it. Like a cloud of static enveloping you if you were close enough. And with his breath teasing the hairs on her forehead, she was easily close enough.

She studied the camo of his pants, tracing the designs with her eyes as he put the words together in his head.

“Why are you doing this?”

She looked up at that, only to be met with Mansk’s heterochromic irises.

The intensity of the stare made her swallow, and she was once again hit with the same feeling of being seen that she had tried to ignore weeks before.

“Doing what?” she asked, trying to play innocent.

“Talking to us, teaching us, warning us.” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

It was a question that had haunted her many sleepless nights. A fight of her heart and her morals. They are the enemy, they are people. They are redeemable, they will never be uncorrupt. She had not yet solved it.

So she answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

His eyebrows knit at her response, and she could tell that he was unsatisfied with that answer. But he didn’t push it. Instead, he reached forward and gently traced his thumb along the veins at her wrist.

“Let me know when you do.” he said, with a note of finality that let her know that the conversation was over.

She let out a breath of air as she stood, unsettled with it. But she went to Quaritch’s bag, where he kept a spare bed roll for her.

“No complaining, you hear me?” he had said as he handed it to her.

She was grateful for it, but she decided to mess with him a bit. “Does Ardmore know that you took an additional roll for the savage girl?”

His eyes hardened, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling something about “taking the high ground” as he stalked away.

The only available space around was next to Wainfleet. Otherwise, she’d have to climb, but the her head swam with exhaustion in a way that suggested certain death if she even tried to get higher up.

So she unrolled her pack along one of the intertwined branches and laid down, determined to get as much shut eye before sunrise.

As she stared up at the sky, Lyle rolled over, wide awake and bright eyed.

“That was a fucking train wreck.” he said, and she had to fight the urge to slap him. “You talk to everyone you’re interested like that?”

“Oh and i’m sure you were a real lady killer back in your day, huh. It’s not like that, anyway.” she responded, voice low as she turned to face him.

His smile was sharp. “Oh sure. And i’m still spry enough to kick you off that branch.”

“You won’t. You like me too much.” she said, chuckling.

The weight of her words thudded in her chest, too late to take them back.

He looked…frozen. Like he had been caught by a predator in the forest, deciding if he should run or fight.

She didn’t know exactly how long they stared at each other, but it was long enough for her stress to turn into frustration.

Now or never.

She reached her hand forward and set it on top of his head.

It was ludicrous, borderline comical as she sat up on her elbow with her hand on top of a killer marines bald head.

When he didn’t slap her palm away, or bite an insult, or kick her off the branch, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m her, Lyle. She’s still here.” she murmured, watching his expression carefully.

The moisture pooling in his eyes must have been a trick of her eyesight and the light of the bioluminescence around them.

She swallowed, pulled her hand away, and rolled so that her back faced him, begging the Great Mother to give her the sweet mercy of sleep.

༄

She awoke to the soft cooing of an ikran.

Her eyes fluttered as she took in her surroundings, checking each bed roll to see who was here.

The only one missing was Quaritch.

Go figure. He had taken the last watch, pressured by the others to get some rest. Now, as the sun began to rise over the horizon, she found herself searching for the man she was so determined to avoid.

The cooing sound rose through the branches again, and Venus stood to follow it to one of the branches on the opposite side of the tree.

She had instructed the recombinants on what branches to sleep on, and she had deliberately made sure that they slept on the side opposite the rising sun.

She rounded the tree trunk to find Quaritch trying to give Cupcake a tumpasuk.

She let out a soft whistle to alert them of her presence, and their heads both snapped to her. Cupcake let out a low hiss as she took a step forward, and Quaritch turned to the ikran and tutted her.

She watched as his ears suddenly shot forward, and he reached a hand to her.

Ah, so he had been paying attention to her and Mansk at Bridgehead.

She carefully grabbed his forearm, allowing him to pull her to Cupcake. The ikran hissed again before sniffing at her. She let out a snort of approval, and Venus raised her hand.

Cupcake snapped at her halfheartedly, but Venus had dealt with temperamental banshees all her life. She carefully slid her hand past the orange comb at the base of her jaw, finding the dip of skin along the underside of her head and itching.

Cupcake’s head dropped against her chest with a soft squeal, nudging her in a silent demand for more. She looked at Quaritch to find him staring at her wide eyed.

“How come she acts like a hardass to me, but shes all sweet with you?” he said softly, the question mostly rhetorical.

“Because i’m listening to her.” she responded anyway, rubbing her hands along the various divots that were hard for the ikran to scratch. She carefully grabbed the banshee by her chin and turned her to Quaritch, gesturing for him to continue her actions. When he did so, the banshee cooed gratefully.

“I was trying to feed her.” he told her as she settled down next to him, and she studied the fruit that he showed her.

She smiled. “Ikran do not eat tumpasuk. They prefer meat, always.” The colonel rolled his eyes.

She watched him try to bond with Cupcake, but there was something wrong.

“You’re hesitating to fully become one with her. It is why you struggle when you fly.” she said, resting a hand to his bicep to get him to stop. He turned to her in surprise at the touch, but she was already sliding under Cupcake’s neck to stand by her side.

She gestured for Quaritch to follow, pressing her ear to the banshee’s ribs. “Feel her breath, and then breathe with her. Start to become one with her before you even make tsaheylu.”

Quaritch did as she instructed hesitantly, pressing his own cheek to Cupcakes skin, feeling the pattern of her breath before trying to match it.

In and out.

She felt the coils of the ikran’s muscles loosen, and she gradually relaxed against her rider. Quaritch himself seemed less tense. Or, as less tense as he could possibly get.

“When you are ready, make the bond gently. Allow yourself to really feel her thoughts, her lungs, her strength.” she whispered as Cupcake lowered her queue to Quaritch.

The colonel brought his braid over his shoulder and carefully made tsaheylu. The ikran shuddered, and he whispered little reassurances. Venus watched as Quaritch slowly unfurled, allowing his mind to fuse with his ikran’s.

She had instructed many before him, but the change in him was the most drastic of all. His shoulders dipped, and she watched as the pairs breathing became simultaneous and connected.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, but after what seemed like a century Quaritch opened his eyes.

“I’m still not letting you indoctrinate me into your little insurgency, kid.” he grunted, still pressing his face against Cupcake.

She sighed in mock disappointment. “I know.” she said, taking a step around the ikran back to the trunk. “But it was worth a shot.”

As she began to round the corner, Quaritch called out to her.

She turned, wondering if he was going to insult her.

“Thank you.” was all he said, and Venus nodded, retreating to the rest of the squad to wake them up.

previous | masterlists | next

taglist:

@xstarsmvxz @lisedanie @avatar4eva

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

Ficlet about a little bit of nothing, corrie guard Blaze and Vorn having a lighthearted conversation during patrol, and oh, there is unhealthy amount of mention of piss.

Wordcount around 700.

Gems of the Republic

(The Clone Wars)

“Hey, LT! CHECK THIS OUT!!!”

Blaze’s overenthusiastic voice screeched through the inner channel of the radio which made Vorn sneer from annoyance. Staying on guard while on patrol duty as your brother relieved himself in a semi-public place was not something he enjoyed nor approved. But here they were. Gems of the Republic. Using Coruscant’s alleyways as their personal fresher. Something to boast about to the starboys.

“I’m not interested seeing your dick, Di’kut!” Answered Lieutenant in the comm. “And don’t shout.”

Blaze ran back from the alleyway, with one hand still readjusting his codpiece, and fingers entwined over some object in the other.

“Sorry, LT, got excited.”

“What? From peeing?”

“Wha- no, ew, no??? Look!” Blaze excitedly held out his hand, a credit chip shined on the top of his palm. “Ten creds!”

The helmet may hid their faces but Vorn knew that his kih’vod grinned like an idiot. He carefully looked around then he reached out and folded Blaze’s fingers over the credit chip to hide it from prying eyes.

“Put away. We shouldn’t have money on us anyway.”

“I will see the civvie who will call me out for owning money found by trash bin.”

Blaze stashed the chip in one of his pockets then proceeded to close the gap between him and Vorn who was already on their established route. Lazy day on Triple Z, they call it. Sometimes the very presence of the Guard was enough to make citizens think twice before acting out.

Vorn spoke in their inner channel.

“You really should check yourself out with Headshot.”

“Why?”

“Peeing during duty? Unacceptable.”

“Are you just shaming me for having bodily needs?”asked Blaze with mild discomfort by the fact that he has to do with anything with the medbay, but also because Vorn was chewing on his skin again.

“I’m shaming you,” said Vorn with such pompous manner he could pass as a senator “because you are supposed to hold it till the shift’s end. Or at least reaching the guard post and not urinating in the middle of the city. When we were deployed to Geonosis, we had to hold back for at least 30 hours, no pee-breaks.”

The anecdote of Vorn made Blaze’s eye roll and blink so hard, the motion activated his helmet screen and his schedule shifted from the right corner before his eyes. He dismissed it with a quick blink as well.

“You are just shitting me” he scoffed.

“Nu draar!”

Old troopers and their mando’a. But Blaze started to get a hang of it now for a while. “Nah, you totally shitting me. How come your balls didn't explode from all that piss?”

“My balls.”

“Duuuh?”

“Fucking hell.”

“Nah, I don’t buy it” declared Blaze and quickly lost interest in Vorn’s warstories, given that Vorn always had something to make it a lesson for a completely unrelated issue. He was pretty sure, half of them aren’t even true. He wanted to ask about it but Vorn was quicker.

“Speaking of buying, what are you going to do with the creds?”

“Hmmm,” Blaze pondered a bit “I always wanted to try that cafshop near the Market. You know, where they sign your name on the cups.”

“That’s nice.” nodded Vorn.

“Yeah! I could buy you one too!”

“Don’t waste your money on me” Vorn scoffed by the idea, but gentle warmness swirled around his whole upperbody, and he was glad the helmet hid his reddened face. Being taken care of is not something he expected but very much welcomed, though his mouth told otherwise. “It’s yours after all.”

“Alright, then I ask Lily” shrugged Blaze, but his voice was full of tease.

“What-! You little shit, that’s how you treat your Ori’vod!”

“SELF-PROCLAIMED Ori’vod! I just let you tag along with me because no one can stand you and your warstories. Speaking of which… I should ask Fox if he ever peed in the sands of Geonosis.”

“Okay I thought we had been over the piss-topic” Vorn sighed. “How about you just don’t.”

“Too late I already asked him.”

“Me’ven?!” gasped Vorn in disbelief.

“CorrieNet. I asked him.”

The hidden application of the CorrieNet appeared as Vorn brought it before his eyes with the very recent post by Blaze, 24 seconds ago.

@Pyromantic - Blaze CT-9133 14:32

[@CommanderCaf, sir, have you ever peed in the sands of Geonosis?]

Yet again, gems of the Republic.

Mando'a Di’kut - Idiot kih’vod - Little brother/sister Nu draar! - No way/absolutely not/not in the world! Ori’vod - Big brother/sister Me’ven?! - What?! (expression of disbelief)

You can read about more about the CorrieNet here, the CG-exclusive social media platform, but because this is a shared concept between me and @ithillia in our stories and RPs, please don't use it under this name. Please reblog, if you enjoyed it, my corrie blorbos will be over and back!!! And I planned to do a little continuation for it with them actually go to that cafshop, if you are interested, throw me a comment so I can tag you when it's finished! :)

[theconstellationprincess]

Whumptober day 4: Sensory Deprivation, Alternate Prompt: Motion Sickness

Empires s2 with Pix + Joel (and mentioned Fwhip), minor agere @froggymarsh

tw for emetophobia (not graphic, very minor)

-

Pix closed his eyes as Joel continued the tour across Stratos. As beautiful as the floating city was, and it was very beautfiul, Pix wasn't the biggest fan of heights. Mountains he could handle, tops of abandoned castles, because he had his feet on solid ground and still felt a connection to the Earth.

Up here, in Stratos, there is none of that. Walking in the city feels nothing like any material down on the ground, and there is no sense of connection to the history he is so familiar with up here. It is odd, and it's making him feel... unwell.

Joel stands in front of a statue, and Pix wants to pay attention to him, because he does find this fascinating, but his world is spinning around him and he's somewhat worried he's about to faint. The roiling of his stomach grows stronger, and he has no control over the fact that when he opens his mouth to tell Joel something is wrong, the only thing that comes out is most of the lunch they had not yet an hour ago.

He groans weakly and sits down (making sure to avoid the puke, which fascinatingly does not seem to sink into the ground? Floor? Material upon which Stratos is construction. Joel stops talking, and Pix feels a mixture of guilt and shame as the young God approaches him hesitantly.

"You aren't supposed to do that." Joel says petulantly, easily picking Pix up. He goes to protest, and then promptly snaps his mouth shut when the nausea threatens to overpower him again. He closes his eyes for good measure, because it is even more disorienting to be carried, and it is not long before he is laid down. He hesitantly opens his eyes, trying to give Joel a reassuring smile. He's not sure he succeeds.

"Sorry." Pix mumbles, grimacing at the taste in his mouth. He's handed a glass of water, and though he's unsure of it's origin, it tastes well enough so he drinks it. Joel is biting his nails, and Pix can help but feel endeared to him. Fond, even. He is very much like the other young emperors, of which he cares for deeply because they do not look down on him despite him being not even remotely royal in any sense of the word. He grabs his comm from where it is attached to his pants and sends a message to Fwhip, because he knows that he can care for Joel while Pix rests.

"Don't apologise for being sick." Joel tells him, narrowing his eyes, and Pix blushes a bit, because he has just had is own words thrown back at him. He sighs and leans forward, breathing deeply for a moment.

"I will be fine once I get some rest in my own bed. Will you escort me?" Joel brightens at that, at least, and PIx is glad because as much as he loves Joel and is willing to drop most anything to help him, it is harder to care for other's when you are not taking care of yourself. Joel ensures that they make the trip slowly, and Fwhip is there waiting for them when they arrive.

It does not surprise him, that when he collapses into bed and squeezes his pillow to remind himself that he is, in fact, back on solid ground where everything feels as it should, that he can still hear them nearby. It is pleasant, to hear Joel laugh as he drifts off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that he will be alright, just as Pix will be.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Hello it's @clone-anon I just got your request and this sounds like an emergency Fives situation!

You sent Fives a message over comms to please come get you from the dentist's office. You didn't think you were going to need a lot of help, but after that root canal and the amount of numbing they gave you, you didn't want to go home alone, especially since it seemed to make your vision a little wonky. While Fives could be an absolute goofball, he took this very seriously. He took notes on the aftercare instructions from the dental assistant. He kept an arm around you as he walked you out of the building and took you home. Once home, he parked you on the couch.

"Does it hurt, cyar'ika?" He tucked your hair behind your ear, concern written all over his face.

You kind of nodded. "My jaw," you tried to say. He understood.

He tried to get you pain medication, but you were so numb you couldn't keep water from splashing out of your mouth.

"Okay," he said. "Let's wait until the numbing wears off a little more and try again until you can take something."

You nodded. He took his boots and armor off, having rushed from the barracks to get you. He adjusted himself on the couch and pulled you on top of him, making sure you laid on the side that would cause the least discomfort.

"Lay on me, try to rest," he said. "In a little while we'll try again. And if your eyesight doesn't get better I'm calling the dentist office back. Until then I'll be your eyes." He gently rubbed your back and you laid there in silence. You couldn't really talk, but you wanted to cry. Your jaw ached from being held open so long and you were stressed you would have to go back for a crown.

"I'm going to tell Rex I need those days off when you have to go back," he said. You looked up at him and tried to smile with the half of your face that was still partially functional. "You don't have to say anything," he said. "I want to make sure you're taken care of." He kissed the top of your head and gave your body a little squeeze.

You eventually put on a holomovie and a few hours later the swelling was down enough that you could swallow some pain pills. Fives was so gentle. Normally you had so much fun together, but it was a comfort to see him on top of all of it. He made sure that the minute you were able to eat, food was ready. He wished he could do more, but he stuck it out with you.

"Everything's gonna be okay, cyar'ika."

Clone-anon, thank you so much 🥺

This was absolutely perfect to wake up to. It's been one heck of a day, and to just be taken care of would be a dream 🥰

Please, just let me lay on his lap and be miserable while he strokes my hair 😭

Fives, my beloved 💚 He's so perfect and soft, and caring, and just, ugh. I love him 🥹

Everything is going to be okay 😌

[mamamittens]

Well, didn't get as much done today but I'm on track to finish the first comm this week at least. Would have helped if we didn't have a +1 today but tomorrow is looking to be the same so idk how much progress I'll make after a shower and dinner.

Not going to lie, I fell into a bit of a slump the past two weeks which was... Interesting. Stress, burnout, anxiety, or whatever really said "make time or it'll make you" huh? Mostly with inexplicable exhaustion. Anyone in my DMS probably noticed I was spacy as fuck and honestly, it was a bit embarrassing. Is embarrassing.

Got a discord group I've basically not interacted with (sorry Franky bro) cause I've been so spacey and tired. Hopefully I'll clear my plate enough to chime in soon without losing the plot.

I'm still tired. But it's not quite soul deep this week so far. Still not quite Tuesday though so we'll have to wait and see on that front. Helped I slept 14 hours and then spent the day with my brother and his friend who treated us to dinner and a movie (The First Omen, I liked it but kept forgetting it was a prequel. Did NOT expect to see full pussy in a nightmare/hallucination scene so warning to the dam that was wanting to watch it.) and saw the biggest fucking parmesan chicken in my life.

They brought that bitch out on a pizza stone and I legit thought he changed his mind and ordered pizza. A pound of chicken the size of a personal pizza COVERED IN SAUCE AND CHEESE ENOUGH TO PASS AS A LITTLE CEASERS.

Mad lads.

And I also started thinking about Nikia in Wano again! Shockingly, it's been a minute. Seems like pouring out my hyperfixation has helped me focus on other things instead of being consumed by pokemon while in the middle of One Piece shit lol

This is about the end of the useful updates btw, the rest will just be me rambling about Wano thoughts

So, I suddenly had the thought about what little dramatic plot would go nicely in the middle of this for the bois to do while the Straw Hats are fucking shit up.

And clearly, Izou is gathering Intel while keeping Thatch from blowing their cover. Nikia taking advantage of her anonymity to do some sight seeing and maybe take some eyes off of them cause who wouldn't investigate this new woman with giant ass wings?!?

(she's not a fan of the nosy bitches but we tolerate things for the people we love. They'll make it up to her later lol)

Had the hilarious mental image of Thatch disguising himself, specifically his hair. Very upset to part from the pompadour and gets a topknot that has a suspiciously shaped bundle up top. Izou hates it but picks his damn battles at this point.

So! The cheap trope drama I figured I'd give a little spin was!!!

Amnesia!

Manufacture to be specific. As maybe a follow up once King clarifies that Nikia is absolutely NOT Lunarian. Maybe to keep her in check so she doesn't run off before they do DNA tests to see wtf she is. No idea she can fly, so they (I feel like Kaido is the one suggesting it first cause he's a bitch with Big Mom seeing no issue and King just going along with it cause Nikia may not be like him but she's close enough he doesn't feel alone so whatever works, right?) go with a bit of a caged bird thing.

She's a 'guest' while she 'recovers' with King 'looking after her'.

And even with no memory of who she is, she doesn't trust this set up at all. Like, more in an awkward way cause it's clear she's meant to be displayed in a way so she can't 'repay' her 'hosts' like she'd traditionally want to via chores or cooking. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do at all and hates it. Her aloof expression just barely masking the 'someone give me a social clue about wtf is going on already'.

Gets on well enough with King, especially once he stops wearing the damn mask cause it really freaked her out. Pretends to be amicable with the others, can't erase the 'hostess' mask that easily. So it's a legit surprise when she finally admits she doesn't like or trust anyone there at all and has smelled the bullshit from the start and just didn't say anything.

Runs into Yamamoto at some point and likes his spunk even if he's a little weird. Has a hard time keeping up the act under his insistent investigation about why she's there cause honestly, same fam. Why am I here? WTF is going on?!?

I feel like Big Mom tries to touch her wings at some point out of curiosity and King stops her cause I can't imagine that's not a pretty intimate gesture for even Lunarians. Wins brownie points. Thanks for being a bro and all that.

On the night of the throw down the Bois finally manage to get into the palace and shit and Nikia immediately recognizes Thatch from his silhouette despite still not remembering shit.

A hilariously awkward "oh, hey, what are u doing here? Trying to steal shit? I heard it was bad out there but this is pretty risky don't you think?" And Thatch is staring at her in full Wano gear, makeup and all like

(⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

"I'm looking for my lover"

"OUR lover"

"ye that. Uhm. U seen her?"

Nikia just stares at them.

"... Ya gonna describe her or am I supposed to vibe check everyone I've seen here?"

They do recognize her btw, it's just painfully clear she doesn't so they're wondering if she's the real deal or something.

Cue Thatch trying to come up with a noteworthy detail she'd realize is her own feature but her hair has been changed up and he doesn't even think about her wings. Trying to be smooth and razz her up a little to knock some memories loose.

Notices the lipstick.

"Oh! She has a freckle on her lip! Right here!" He's so proud of himself, Izou ready to smack him as he continues "It's my s--one of my favorite places to kiss!"

It takes a moment before she blushes, realizing the obvious implications.

"ah... Why do I get the feeling you were about to say something else? Are u sure your lover would like you talking about that with a stranger?" She's flustered horribly as Izou smacks him.

"Ignore him. He's being an idiot. May we have your name?"

Honestly didn't have an alt name planned, thought it would be funny briefly if it was Nika but idk. Not committed to that but yet.

Anyway! She does remember on her own as she considers how compelled she feels to trust the two and how familiar they are. Comforting, dare she say. And, without remembering she can fly either deliberately does her 'clearing exercise' or is tossed up in a fight.

The clearing exercise is a rather dangerous, borderline suicidal act she does every so often when she feels conflicted or uncertain.

Usually, she'd go to the practice cliffs with updrafts. And then she'd fall down. The idea is that the threat of death would help clear her mind and what really matters to her. Is it really that important if it's not the first thing she thinks of when faced with the threat of death? And then she uses her wings to glide out of danger. She never does this injured, but the awareness that inaction will kill her is part of the process. She tends to overthink so this really streamlines the process in a way that can't be argued with.

She did NOT mention this habit to anyone before so the bois bout shit themselves when it looks like she's free falling to her death. Maybe Marco is there and goes to help only to end up banking with her as she recovers instinctively at the last moment, memories flooding back.

She's a little too good at faking an uncontrolled fall as part of her 'fighting style' to throw people off and it's steadily giving the bois gray hairs. Mostly because she's lost control while flying a lot due to the chaotic up/down drafts on the mountain.

Anyway, thats about all I thought of while spiritually ascending from this plane of existence for this scenario. Who knows if I'll use it or scrap the whole damn thing.

[nyctophobia-au]

Where I've Been

Okay, so, 'sup babygrills. This is going to be a bit of a lengthy post, but I feel like I should update followers on here as to where I've been because I haven't been active for, like, months.

If you don't care to read all of the stuff under the cut, that's fine. Here's my TL;DR: I've been having issues with mental illness, trauma, motivation, gender dysphoria (?), and have been busy with college and YouTube/social media stuff. However, luckily my HK special interest has returned and I plan on posting more often hopefully. (Mild cw for mental health mentions ig.)

Okay, so, to begin, I've been gone a lot due to responsibilities outside of making Nyctophobia content. So, up until recently, I've been working on graduating from college. I've been finishing up my final class this Summer, but last quarter in the Spring was really difficult for me time-wise and mental health-wise. I've had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety throughout my life, and being at college was torturous and sapped all of my energy. It did not help that, last quarter, I had to be there at the college for six hours of my day five days a week. It was not easy to make art for myself and my channel, much less for this blog.

Outside of college, and I've mentioned this before in passing, but I also make YouTube videos and, at the moment, YT is my income (alongside comms as well). I've been pretty focused on keeping my my schedule at least a little bit consistent, and that alone has been draining and tiring. It also affects the kind of art that I can create, as I have to draw certain things for certain videos. I've been really weary when it comes to making content as of late, and I really need to take a small break so that I can work on stuff I actually want to work on rather than being stuck drawing certain things for the sake of videos I'm not inspired to make.

Pivoting more into specifics about my mental health, I have been needing to see a therapist for a long while, but I haven't had the motivation or the funds to pursue that option up until recently. Hopefully, I will be attending therapy soon. Last year in, uhm, September I had a particularly bad mental health episode and I've come to realise that some events that happened during that time have left me with trauma that I'm still currently working past and healing from. I've had issues with self-harm, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and self-perception for a long time, but in the Spring they were stifling and impossible to ignore. Lately, they have been better, though. So, that's nice. There hasn't been just the usual stuff lately (oh no, that's be too easy), but I've gotten jumpscared with gender issues (hooray, my favourite /s) during this time, and am struggling with my self-perception regarding my gender up to current day. (Hi, I currently go by Rot or Sexy Fictional Bug Enthusiast and my pronouns are they/them, but they may very well be they/he soon). Also, I had a bad identity crisis a couple of months ago and had to do this whole rebrand thing that was a lot of work and it kinda sucked away a lot of energy and time.

On top of all of that, ya boy's special interest metre has been focused primarily on OC stuff and other things outside of HK. It's pretty well-known that I have autism and Hollow Knight is one of my special interests. I'm unsure how it works for most people, but my fixations tend to come in waves and fluctuate (though super special meaningful ones stick for a long time). So, like, I had this whole issue with my mind always being fixated more on things outside of HK. It's been my OCs for a few months, but alongside that, I also suddenly became enraptured by The Owl House and my Digimon special interest sleeper agent returned for a hot second there. As of recently, I've been interested in HK again, but have been afraid to start/work on projects related to my AU because of me having to work on OC content for my channel and also for my friends who are invested.

As of right now, I have some more time on my hands to make the content I want to make, and my HK fixation is back (thank fuck). I've generally been doing a bit better in the mental health arena, but I will also be taking some time off of YT and posting videos regularly in favour of focusing on making stuff I want to make. So, like, expect me to be more active here for some time. I might be finishing a fic in the next month (hopefully) as well, and I have some general comic and art ideas. I just want to draw Auric again, god dammit. My beloved. <3

Anyways, thanks for reading if you did. Just figured I'd make a post about this for people who thought I died or something (and for the people who were once interested in my projects on here and are starving for content, lmao).

[innanetthug]

*inspired by bro @bysisandamgedezi who had me reflecting on what has gone on in my own life & how far i’ve come.

for the lesser part of the last 4-years I’ve spent time recovering from something brutally destructive & soul crushing that I’ll never completely be whole from. there is no justice that will ever "restore" what I lost. I can never be made whole, by therapy or anyone for that matter. shit, a nigga just had to pick up the pieces and rebuild.

It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, juggling the ebbs & flows of it all.

I think approaching 30 the outlook leans towards no points to prove to anyone anymore. being misunderstood, underestimated etc it's shit you gotta charge to the game, more important to be present & thankful in the things you're able to do while working to be & do more.

the next few goals I’d like to knock down:

* get Run & Gun Studios (my consultancy agency) into the crossroads of art, sport, technology and culture - as a leading voice to strategically consult in.

* get to push the PSL as a top 10 league globally by way of production quality & broadcasting which snowballs into work with Serie A/La Liga/Ligue 1 regaining a greater share of the competitive market held in a vice grip by Premier League.

* exercise my writing skills in scriptwriting an hour a day with the goal of having espionage/thriller/political dramas in SA tv being picked up.

* stack my bread, travel Africa (Ghana/Nigeria/Kenya/Congo) as my first destinations to then go to Europe & Asia.

* work on my “Branded Anarchy” photo series documenting street style/night life/black businesses of all the black and brown talent that exists in the city to then exhibit my work at 16 on Lerotholi for years and years to come.

* learn to build things with my hands, furniture specially.

* do dope and fly shit with the people whom I think exists in that realm.

* further build my career in digital with the goal of being an insights/cultural analyst for my favourite boutique e-comm hubs.

* build a budding car collection of my favourite 70s & 80s models starting with the ‘87 E30 & ‘87 911 Cabriolet.

*see the sporting & creative talents of my son shine abundantly with me his dad through the continued blessing of Allah to be his springboard to greatness.

*try not to give him a baby sister until he’s at least 10 (after that it’s triple vasectomy gang)

in the illustrious words of YZY *Jay’s favourite line: dawg, in due time*

[ozwriterchick]

Birthday Mission...

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes; OFC/Arabella; Steve Rogers; Tony Stark; Peter Parker; Bruce Banner; Clint Barton; Wanda Maximoff; Vision; Natasha Romanoff

Content warning: Misunderstanding; Just fluff

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Arabella’s pov..

“Seriously, Tony? Today? Why today?”

“Because tonight is the only night we can be 100% positive we can get in, get the data we need and get out without getting caught.  He’ll be at the big gala in the city all night, and the intel says he is staying overnight at one of the big hotels as well”

“Right.  You mean I can get in, get the info and get out again.  Not we?”

“Well yeah, but it has to be tonight.”

“And why me?”

“Because you’re the only one with the skills to get into their sophisticated security system and bypass it.  It can only be done on-site.”

“This is most inconvenient Tony, you know what today is right?”

“Ahhhh, yes, it’s Manchurian Candidates birthday isn’t it?”

“Correct and I really wanted to be here to give him his present.  I’m sure he’s gonna love it.”

“Well, you can always give it to him tomorrow.  Now suit up, you leave in 30 minutes.”

I moved quickly to change into dark top and pants, forgoing my black boots in favour of some all black trainers to reduce the amount of noise I would make.

Heading back to the lab I ran into Nat.

“Hey Nat, I have to go on a last minute mission, I really wanted to be at the dinner tonight and give Bucky his birthday present but Tony insists, I have to leave like now.  If I give you  the present, can you please give it to him for me and apologise.  I’d do it now but I’m in a rush and I’m not sure where he is.”

“Of course Bella” Nat smiled at me.

“Thanks, I owe you one.  Hopefully I’ll be in and out and back in time but just in case..”

“No worries, leave it with me.”

I continued on to get my comms and the other tech I needed to complete the mission.

I really hoped I’d be back in time to give Bucky his present.  It was his first birthday I would celebrate with him.  Having joined the team a little under a year ago, I missed his last birthday.

He had become a big part of my life over the last 10 months and I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope that we could have something more in the future, but if friends is all we were destined for, then I’d be ok with that.

Nobody knew about your feelings for Bucky, or at least you didn’t think anyone did.  Nobody had mentioned it to you and the way this team didn’t hold back with getting into each other’s business, if anyone knew, they’d for sure have said something.

Tony met me in the garage.  Because this was just a 1 day mission, all by myself and local, I took one of the bikes. It would also allow a quick getaway if necessary.

“Good luck, I’ll be on comms if you need me.”

“See you later tonight Tony” and with that I took off towards my target.

Later that afternoon..

The Avengers were all gathered in the dining room.  Tony had ordered like 20 pizzas, cause that was Bucky’s favourite thing to eat, but he also asked for those because he knew it was Bella’s favourite thing to eat.  But he hadn’t seen or heard from you all day and he was confused why you would miss his birthday.

“Hey Barnes.  Happy Birthday old man”

“Hey Nat, Ummm, do you know where Belle is?” Your full name is Arabella but nobody except your parents actually called you that.  Most of the team just called you Bella, but Bucky called you Belle or Belles.

“Oh yeah, she had a last minute mission, Tony sent her this morning.”

“Oh. Ok”

“What’s wrong Barnes?” She noticed his face had dropped at the knowledge that you had gone on a mission, on his birthday, and hadn’t said anything to him.

“Well, I’m just surprised I guess that she didn’t come say goodbye, or Happy Birthday or whatever.”

“Well, it was pretty sudden, Tony gave her like half an hours notice, so she didn’t have a lot of time. But don’t worry, she gave me something for you in case she wasn’t back in time.”

Bucky accepted that somewhat hesitantly, knowing that at least you didn’t forget about him.

Despite his favourite person in the world not being there, Bucky decided to have a good time anyway.

After dinner..

The team is sitting in the media room, ready for a movie of Bucky’s choosing, but first Nat announces that he needs to open his gifts.

Bucky keeps looking towards the door, waiting for you to come in.  He tried to encourage the team to do the presents after the movie but they are having none of it.

Bucky hesitantly agreed and the parade of presents started.

Steve went first, obviously.  He got Bucky a years subscription to Astronomy magazine, because of Bucky’s love of space and his nerdiness.

“Thanks Punk” Bucky said.  “You’re welcome Jerk” Steve replied.

Nat handed over her gift - she got him a weighted blanket and explained how it can help with anxiety and could help him with his nightmares.  Bucky was really touched by this as they all knew how much he suffered from the nightmares.

He opened all the others gifts in turn.  Bruce got him a Navy blue leather-bound journal/notebook and a fancy pen.

Peter got him a set of 4 whiskey glasses & decanter which had topographic representation of the Grand Teton mountains in the bottom of the each glass and the decanter.

Clint got him some funny t-shirts and a hoodie, which Bucky appreciated as you can never have enough t-shirts.  

Wanda & Vision were next.  They got him a philodendron white knight plant.  They said it was iconic for a guy who regularly saves their asses.

Next was Sam, who got him a bit of a gag gift - a pair of Ugg slippers.

”You know, cause you a old dude."  “Yeah Sam, we get it, thanks” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Bucky spied one las gift sitting on the coffee table.  “And who’s this from?” He asked.

“Oh, that's Bella’s gift for you” Nat said.

Bucky opened the gift and saw a small-ish jewellery box. He opened that and his eyes teared up. “Oh my.. Ummm.. She remembered..”

Peter: “Remembered what?”

Bucky: “A few months ago, we were in the city and we walked past this antique store and this was in the window.” He said, holding up a mans pocket watch for the team to see.

Bucky: “I pointed it out and told her it was exactly like one my Dad had when I was a kid. I can’t believe she remembered” he said.

Wanda: “Oh it’s so beautiful, it must have cost a fortune”

Nat: “I can't believe she did that”

Sam: Really? Arabella?  Remember when she first joined the team and she was in love with that guy and she bought him that ridiculously expensive Tissot watch?”

They all look at him, Bucky included, realising what he meant.

Bucky: “Sam, what did you say?”

Sam: :Umm.. Tissot.. Watch…”

Bucky: “Sam”

Sam: “Ummm.. No, I didn’t say anything else..”

Bucky: “The love part..?”

Sam: “Oh dear god, I’ve gotta go..” And he ran out of the room.

Bucky: “Oh…. My…. God…. I mean, this is…”

Wanda: “Huge, this is huge”

Bucky: “Tony, when is she back from this mission?”

Tony: “She should be back soon, within the hour if everything went well.”

Bucky: “Thanks for tonight guys, I’m gonna skip the movie, I need umm, to think.” And with that he hurried out of the room, looking at the watch and shaking his head.

About 90 minutes later Arabella got back from her mission.  Tony met her in the garage.

“Hey Tony, mission accomplished” she handed him the flash drive with the information on it “here is what you want, now, I have a birthday party to get to.”

“Umm, Bella, actually the party is over, sorry you missed it.”

“But it’s still early, at the least they should still be watching the movie he picked out, right?”  Tony shook his head.  “Tony, what happened?”

“Umm, it’s kinda hard to explain, maybe you should go talk to Nat?”

“Tony.. What happened?”

“Well, we opened gifts and then Bucky just got up and left.”

“Really?  Did he say anything? Did he open all the gifts? Including mine?”

“Yeah, he opened them all, he opened yours last.”

“So he opened my gift last and then left the party?”

“Uhhh, yeah, but, ummm…”

“Oh god, he hated the gift.  I’m gonna go find him.”

Bella took off towards the apartment wing of the building, looking for Bucky.  On the way she ran into Steve.

“Oh hey Bella, how did the mission go?”

“No time Steve, where’s Bucky?”

“Oh umm.. I think he might be in his room?”

“Ok, I gotta find him and talk to him.”

“Oh, sure, well, good luck.” He cringed at himself realising that might have been too much to say.

“Why do I need good luck to talk to my best friend Steve?  What happened?”

“Nothing, just go find him.”

Bella no longer doubted something had gone wrong, she knew it had.  But what - did he really hate the gift she bought him?  After they saw the pocket watch in the antique store she knew it was the perfect gift for his birthday.  And finding the picture of his Mum & Dad - with Steve’s help - was the perfect addition.  She was going to get the cover engraved with his initials but then thought she’d wait and see, maybe he’d want his Dad’s initials on it.

Bella checked his room, no sign of him.  She checked the gym cause sometimes if he was feeling a bit off, for whatever reason, he worked out, but he wasn’t here either.

She checked the kitchen, outside in the pool area, back in the media room where they should have all been.  He was nowhere to be found.  She headed back to her room to shower and get changed.

Bella walked into her room, shutting the door behind her.  She headed straight through the living area towards the bathroom.  As she did so, she pulled her sweater over her head and kicked off her shoes.  

She had no idea where Bucky was or what had gone wrong but at that moment, all she could think about was letting the hot water run over her back and down her body to relax her.

As she unbuttoned her pants and got ready to push them down her hips she froze.  She had that prickly feeling at the back of her neck, like someone was there.  She turned towards her little kitchenette and dining table and saw a shadow sitting at the table.

“Buck, is that you?” She asked.

Silence.

“Buck.. What’s going on?  I'm sorry I missed your party.  I really wanted to be there but Tony sent me on this stupid mission.  He said I was the only one who could do it and it had to happen today. Did you open my gift? I hope you liked it and I am rambling.  Please say something, Buck.  If you hated the gift I can exchange it for something else.”

Silence.

“Ok, well if you’re not going to talk to me, I’m going to go have a shower, I’ll see you when I get out if you’re still here.”

With that she turned and headed into the shower.

15 minutes later, she came out of the shower, wrapped in a big fluffy, white towel and headed into her bedroom.  A quick glance towards the kitchen told her that Bucky was still sitting in the same spot, in the dark.

Bella quickly got dressed and headed out to get a drink and then sat at the table opposite him.

“Bucky, talk to me please?  I’m sorry I missed the…”

“This isn’t about the party.”

“Then what is it about? Why won’t you talk to me?  Why did you cut the party short?”

He sat up a bit straighter and pushed the box the pocket watch was in towards me.  “What’s that?”

“I don’t know what you mean Bucky, did you open it?  If you did you know what it is.  I’m really confused and I don’t want to go to bed on your birthday like this but if you don’t start making sense, I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“What does this mean?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you mean Buck.  It’s your birthday, you’re my best friend, I remembered you pointing that out a few months back and I thought you’d appreciate it.  If I was wrong and I offended you, then I apologise and I can take it back.”

“So, this means nothing other than a present?  Are you sure Belle, because Sam said…”

“What did Sam say to you Buck?  I’m gonna kill that son of a ..”

“Woah, hold up, no need to kill him, I think he’s sufficiently embarrassed.”

“Ok Buck, you better start making some sense or I swear to god I’m gonna walk out of here. And this is my room!!”

“Ok, here goes.. Belle, do you have feelings for me?”

“I.. uh.. what.. I mean, why do you ask? Is this about whatever Sam said?”

“Uhhh, yeah actually it is.  I opened your gift and Belles, I was blown away that you would remember this and what it meant to me.  I said I couldn’t believe you’d remember and that’s when Sam said…”

“Just spit it out Bucky..”

“Sam said that when you first joined the team and you were in love with this dude, you bought him an expensive watch.  Did you buy me this because you’re in love with me?”

Bella was speechless.  She didn’t think anyone knew about her feelings and now she was faced with the big question, from the guy himself.

“Oh.  Well.  Uhh, Bucky, I think you’re great ..”

“So, that’s a no, I’m gonna kill Wilson. I’ve been beating myself up all night for not noticing and there was nothing to notice..”

“No Buck, please, let me finish.  You’re great and I love our friendship but lately I have been having other feelings.  I didn’t want to say anything to ruin our friendship.  I wouldn’t say I’m in love with you, yet.  But I have strong feelings for you.”

“Really Belles, that’s.. I like you too, I mean as more than friends as well.  I love the present so much.  So, do you want to go out on a date with me?”

“I’d love to Buck"

Taglist:

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[johaerys-writes]

Shiro/Keith | Voltron: Legendary Defender | E | Ch. 1/3

Summary: During a fight with the Galra, Shiro and Keith are sucked into a wormhole and flung to the far edge of the universe. They land on an empty and unfamiliar planet, with no way of contacting the castle, but Keith isn't too worried. Things could be worse— at least they have each other. 

Until Shiro collapses.

My contribution for the Sheith Secret Santa 2022 event on twitter! Sickfic, hurt/comfort, angst and Shiro whump :)

Read on Ao3!

Keith’s fingers tighten around the control stick in a death grip. There is sweat running down his spine and his hair is plastered to his forehead beneath his helmet. Coran’s and Allura’s voices in his ears have long turned into steady background droning.

“Fighter, three o’clock!” Hunk yells at him through the comms, but there isn’t much Keith can do about it. He is surrounded, and no matter how many he takes down there’s still more. The damage they do isn’t enough to disturb the lions much; all they do is stand in the way between them and the Galra cruiser that has been terrorising the Alpha Orithyia quarter for weeks. Their laser beams and rockets glide harmlessly off of the lions’ surface, but the pushback is enough to considerably reduce their flying speed.

What started as a lucky break after days of fruitless searching has now turned into a wild goose chase. It was the sensors that Pidge had installed on the ship that managed to track the cruiser, passing through the TA-235 asteroid field, and Voltron didn’t waste a moment before following them. They’ve been going around in circles for hours, with hardly any progress to show for it.

And the cruiser keeps slipping further and further away from their reach.

“The way this is going, we’ll be left behind before we’ve even had a chance to find out where their base is!” Lance huffs in his ear.

Keith winces when the shockwave from a nearby ship exploding knocks Red aside. “Do you have any better ideas, Lance?”

“You need a new plan of attack,” Coran tells them all. “This isn’t working. Perhaps if you form Voltron—”

“No,” Shiro says. “We need the advantage that attacking them from multiple angles will give us. But you’re right that we need a new plan of attack, Coran. The cruiser is our top priority. Keith, you and I will go after it while Pidge, Hunk and Lance deal with the fighters here. With some luck, we might be able to slow it down a bit until the others come to back us up.”

Keith nods, steering Red close to Shiro. He doesn’t even need to give an answer, because it is known. He will always follow Shiro, without a second thought.

“Lay down some covering fire so we can make a break for it,” Keith tells Lance. “Follow us as soon as you’re able.”

“Got it,” Lance says, and proceeds to pulverise the fighters that crowd around him like buzzing flies with a swoop of Blue’s tail laser.

Shiro and Keith fly side by side, fighters and stars blurring past them. The cruiser has put a good deal of distance between them, the fire of its thrusters leaving a flame-pink trail behind. It is nothing for their lions, though; without the fighters hampering their advance it isn’t long before they gain ground, following the Cruiser as it tries to lose them behind a pulsing red giant.

“The Galra will put up a fight,” Shiro warns him. “We’ll need to give it our all, leave them no wiggle room. Are you with me, Keith?”

“Always,” Keith says. The answer comes to him naturally, like his breath.

It is a tough fight, and in such close quarters it’s easy to take a hit that will debilitate them. The cruiser’s cannon is deadly, nothing like the fighters’ lasers that were little more than a nuisance; if it gets them it might take seconds, even minutes for their lions’ systems to reboot.

But this has never been a problem for either of them. Red weaves effortlessly through their attacks, taking advantage of the time it takes the Galra to change the direction of the cannon and charge, while Black’s lasers are steadily wearing down the cruiser’s defences. They soon have the cruiser exactly where they want it, backed into a corner amidst the ruins of a destroyed planet. There is nowhere for it to go, no space to manoeuvre without endangering the integrity of the ship.

“This is it, Keith." Shiro's voice in his ear is a steady and comforting presence as always. “Ready?”

“You got it,” Keith says, and he smiles. He can’t wait to give those fuckers what they’ve had coming for days.

They’re both about to launch a final attack, when a flash of blinding light stops them. The space before them ripples as a wormhole shifts into existence and starts expanding— and then the cruiser starts drifting towards it.

Keith clicks his tongue in frustration. Of course they’d try to make a run for it. He kicks Red forward, pushing through the cruiser’s renewed shield.

“Keith, stop,” Shiro says. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t get too close, or we’ll get sucked into the wormhole as well. We have no idea where it leads.”

“And we’re just going to let them get away?” Keith says. He pulls back reluctantly, his eyes never leaving the cruiser. “I’m not going to let them blast their way through another galaxy, Shiro, that’s not happening. We have to stop them.”

Shiro stays quiet for a moment too long. Keith’s pulse pounds in his throat as the cruiser escapes right before them and they just stand there watching. Every second counts— they don’t have time for this.

“Shiro,” Keith pleads, caught between the urge to kick Red into action and lay waste to that cruiser, and his loyalty to his friend. He will back down if Shiro asks him to, no matter how little he wants that. But if they lose the cruiser now, after all the effort they put into finding it, after all the destruction it’s wrought—

“Alright.” Shiro’s voice is quiet, but determined. “Let’s get closer. Carefully.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice. Keith takes off, guns blazing; it takes him a few seconds to find a break through the shield and penetrate the cruiser’s defences. He has one goal in mind: the front of the ship that’s heading towards the wormhole, where the ion cannon is placed. If he manages to damage one of the bases holding it in place, the pushback and change of weight distribution will reduce the cruiser’s speed, buying them precious time.

It is risky, a tough fight. He’s flying too close to the wormhole now and its pull is strong; one wrong move and he’ll be sucked into it and shot wherever the cruiser is headed, possibly into a well-armed Galra base. The danger and thrill of the fight sings through Keith’s blood; he can feel Red’s anticipation, the high of her bloodlust.

A carefully calculated laser beam sends the cannon erupting in flames. A huge chunk breaks off from the main body of the ship, debris exploding all around it as it tilts to the side. Shiro takes advantage of the cruiser’s change of pace to load Black’s laser for the killing blow; it is sure to cut straight through the ship like butter now that the shield is down.

And it does just that. Black flies away at a safe distance as the cruiser is engulfed in flames, small explosions that keep blossoming along its surface until they all meet into a large, violent one.

“About fucking time,” Keith murmurs under his breath, smiling at their triumph. The Galra never stood a chance against them— Keith and Shiro are unbeatable when they’re together.

The only thing left is the wormhole.

Keith's dangerously close to it now. It folds in on itself as it collapses, warping the space around it. Keith presses the control stick forward to fly away, but the lion stays in place. Even as he boosts her rear thrusters, Red barely moves an inch before she’s pulled right back.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice is rushed, panicked in his ears. “Get out of there, now!”

“I’m trying,” Keith grunts, pushing the thrusters to their limit. “This thing is— too strong—” Red's claws scramble for purchase, but there’s nothing to hold on to. It’s all debris and fire and broken parts of the cruiser and the wrecked planets floating around him, all of it caught into the inexorable pull of the wormhole, twisted and bent out of shape under the crushing weight of its gravity.

“Shiro, stay back,” Keith says when he sees Black flying close to help him. “Don’t come any closer, or it'll pull you too.”

“Keith—”

“Stay away!” he says again, gripping the control stick tighter. “Do you hear me, Shiro?” The sweat that drips into his eyes stings; he can barely breathe he’s pushing so hard. Alarms of all kinds are blaring in his ears, Red’s monitors blur and crackle with the force of the wormhole’s immense pressure, and the comms system seems to be turning any incoming sound into warbled noise. Keith can’t see what’s happening outside, if Shiro’s still there. It’s like time has stopped, like he’s suspended in the void. Like he’s dying.

“Shiro?” Keith whispers.

Next thing he knows, he’s spinning out of control.

The flashing lights blind him. It’s not unlike other times he’s travelled through a wormhole, but this time it’s stronger, more violent. The quintessence in this place is too potent; it ripples through him, makes his skin itch. Keeping control of Red now is impossible. Keith focuses on his breathing, tries his best not to give in to panic. Patience yields focus.

“Patience yields focus,” he says out loud to himself. There is nowhere to go now but down.

At least Shiro managed to stay out of this shitshow, he thinks, as he lets the wormhole swallow him whole.

Read the rest on AO3!