#i barely scratched the surface here too i have headcanons all over the place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

earliebirb · 3 years ago

Note

Steve not noticing that he goes into Tony kisses withdrawals when Tony’s away, but the rest of the team do. Like a first if Tony is out for a day or two and Steve doesn’t get his morning kiss he’s grumpy until after lunch, so the team introduces secret “Tony is away” brunch protocols, to get it over faster. After 4 days he’s moping unless he’s training or out with friends so it’s bootcamp/friend fieldtrips time.

2 weeks where he’s not on a mission and Tony’s out of the country and so busy he can barely video chat? The rest of the team sequesters him to the couch with ice cream and tv shows that Steve would like but aren’t on the “only watch first with Tony” list.

(The list includes all Star Wars’ and Treks, LoTR, Ghibli movies, and Die Hards. Steve can watch Mike Schur shows and Game of Thrones. While Disney movies and Romcoms are allowed by Tony without him, they are banned by the team cuz Steve starts crying during them at this point in the withdrawal process)

Eventually the team just kidnaps and throws him into a Quinjet and has him surprise Tony in his hotel after 3 weeks of no Tony and no mission calls. He is intolerably whiny, has grown his depression beard, and keeps calling the president, Fury, and other country’s heads of state to see if there’s aliens attacking.

LOOK LISTEN THE FIRST TIME I RECEIVED THIS ASK I WAS LIKE WOW ARE WE THE SAME PERSON??? Because Steve-suffering-from-Tony-withdrawal is also a personal headcanon of mine that I've carried in my head for years. It's my Favorite. This ask is very fun and made me laugh a lot and I love it very, very much. Keep your brilliant ideas coming, Anon. I really love them. (I am very sorry for taking a century to go through all of them 😔) Also, since it's Steve's birthday (shhh I'm not late, what are you talking about, shhhhh), I decided to develop this lovely idea and turn it into a birthday fic! I hope you like it! 🤍

let the heart grow fonder

steve/tony, birthday fluff, established relationship, 1174 words

“Was the flight really worth it? A few more days and I would’ve been home anyway.”

“Yeah.” Steve noses the back of his ear and Tony shivers. “But I would’ve been all alone on my birthday.”

“You would hardly be alone. There’s the whole team, and besides— The entire country would practically be celebrating your birthday. Fireworks, barbecues, the whole nine yards.”

“Not the same,” Steve insists stubbornly. Tony sees Steve cupping his hands to gather some water from in front of Tony’s chest before dumping it on Tony’s head. Closing his eyes, Tony lets the warm water seep into his hair and trickle down his face, neck, and back.

He opens his eyes when he feels Steve’s fingers sweeping his hair away from his forehead. “I would trade all of it for a day of doing nothing with my fella.”

“Sweet talker.” Tony huffs.

“‘S true.” Steve punctuates his statement with a kiss on Tony’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“‘S all your fault. You’re the one who was gone for a ridiculously long time.”

“Honey, trust me, if I had the choice I would much rather stay at home with you.”

Steve sighs, the sound echoing in the bathroom. “I know.”

This time, Tony cups his hands together, gathering a mountain of soapsuds. He blows on it, sending suds and bubbles flying.

“Nat told me all about it, you know.”

“About what?” Steve asks, his luscious beard tickling Tony’s temple.

“About the depression beard. All your sulking and moping. And whining.”

“I did no such things. The beard is me… trying out a new look.”

Tony snorts. “And crying.”

“Natasha’s a lying liar,” Steve grumbles, hiding his face in Tony’s hair.

“Come on, which movie was it?”

Steve stays silent. With his movements hidden by the soapy water, Tony pokes Steve’s side stealthily.

“Ah!” Steve yelps.

“Which movie was it, baby?”

Steve huffs, resting his forehead against the back of Tony’s skull.

And then, finally:

“Dumbo,” Steve mumbles in defeat. Tony snickers.

“Oh, honey. You’re such a softie.” Tony sighs fondly as he leans back, letting more of his weight rest against Steve’s body. He lets out a delighted hum when Steve welcomes the extra weight by snaking an arm around his waist.

“No judging,” Steve whines, and Tony grins when he can hear the pout in his voice. “You’d been gone for two weeks by then and I really missed you. Besides, you have no room to talk. Remember The Fox and the Hound?”

“Please. That’s totally different.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t cry at The Fox and the Hound is a monster.”

Submerged up to his shoulders in warm water and pressed up against his naked husband, Tony feels well-rested and content in a way he hadn’t been for the past few weeks.

Still, they only have a few days left before they have to leave for New York, so they should probably make good use of what little time they have left in Milan.

“I wanna take you to this really beautiful restaurant for your birthday dinner. Super romantic. We could get a private table. You’d love it.”

“Yeah?” Tony feels Steve’s hand stroking up and down his stomach.

“Mm-hm. We should probably get out soon. Get dressed. Look presentable,” Tony says, resting his head back on one of Steve’s shoulders and looking up at him.

Steve looks down at him, his unfairly long lashes wet and clumped together. For a moment, he simply stares back at Tony silently.

“What?” Tony eventually says, unable to withstand the silent scrutiny. He breaks eye contact and lifts one of his feet up and out of the water just because he can, just for something to do.

Tony watches his own foot hover above the surface of the water for a few seconds before another hairy leg breaks the surface of the water. The bigger foot settles on top of Tony’s hovering one until his leg buckles under the weight, sending the two left feet plunging back into the water.

“Rude,” Tony remarks with a frown, turning back to stare up at Steve again.

Steve is already looking at him, almost as if he never looked away in the first place.

“What?”

“Would you be mad at me,” Steve begins, one of his hands reaching up to bury itself in Tony’s damp hair, fingers lightly scratching his scalp, “if I said I’d much prefer it if we stayed in tonight and ordered room service?”

Tony leans back, incredulous. “Room service?”

Steve nods.

“For your birthday dinner?”

He nods again.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs, disturbing the water slightly with the movement. “I mean, I didn’t exactly fly all the way to Italy for the food.”

Tony softens and tries in vain to hold back his smile.

“Yeah?”

An answering smile blooms on Steve’s face. He leans in to nudge Tony’s nose affectionately with his own. “Uh-huh.”

“What did you come here for then?” Tony asks, voice dangerously low and eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Oh.” Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Keep looking at me like that and I may just skip the room service and go straight for dessert.”

Tony smirks devilishly. “What’s stopping you?”

Blinking rapidly, Steve swallows. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you are the birthday boy.” Tony strokes the line of Steve’s throat with the back of his fingertips and watches in glee as the man shivers.

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Steve leans in close and—

“Actually, it’s me. I’m stopping you. I’m really craving some lasagna right now.”

Initially headed for Tony’s lips, Steve changes course and buries his face in Tony’s neck with a guttural groan.

“Sweetheart. You’re not making things easy for me.”

Tony chuckles. “Nothing about me is easy, honey. I’m a challenge.”

“But it’s my birthday,” Steve complains, voice muffled.

“You got off an eight-hour flight, got to the hotel, and immediately napped for four hours. You haven’t had a proper meal.”

“I ate on the plane.”

“No, we need to get you some proper Italian food. Hearty, heartwarming, fulfilling.”

“Food is just food. I just wanna have you.”

“Um, excuse me? That is deeply insulting. Authentic Italian food is not just food, it’s an experience.”

“I wanna have the Tony experience.”

“You’ll get the Tony experience after you have a proper meal. Look, we can order room service, but we can’t skip dinner.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbles, face finally emerging from its hiding place. “But can we stay like this for another fifteen minutes?”

Tony settles back against Steve’s chest and lets Steve pull him close. “Of course, birthday boy.”

Steve hums contentedly, resting his chin on the crown of Tony’s head. “You make me really happy, sweetheart. I love you.”

Tony feels Steve’s fingers interlocking on top of his stomach. He looks down, spotting the wedding ring worn on Steve’s ring finger, one that he knows is engraved with his own handwriting.

The image of the ring is distorted by the water, but still, it glints golden. Tony smiles to himself.

“I love you, too, honey. Happy birthday.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #happy birthday steve #earl answers #anonymous #stevetony chatter

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afvisende · 3 years ago

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EGO JINPACHI NSFW HEADCANONS.

No one will write raunchy headcanons of my repulsive husband, so here I am to deliver for fellow Ego enthusiasts. These were written with a female reader in mind, since it's all I've experience writing for. 18+ only. Potentially dark content below the cut.

- Ego doesn't strike me necessarily as "dominant" per se, but he does have a nigh unhealthy obsession with power and control. As a result, he's the type to dabble in BDSM. He has a fondness for binding his partner with an array of restraints. These may include, chains, handcuffs, and rope. He particularly fancies shibari; the way the rope is artistically woven across your skin so tightly, restricting your movements, making you vulnerable to his sadistic whims sets his heart aflame.

- Sometimes you may be uncomfortably suspended by the ropes, or helplessly sprawled on the bed. In these instances, he'll opt to insert a vibrator and observe how the different settings (that he messes with experimentally) elicit varying reactions. Not only is he scrutinizing in detail which provoke the best reactions, he shamelessly masturbates as his eyes ogle your nude form straining against the exquisite rope. When he's close to climax, he'll move towards you, to shoot strings of his cum onto your bare body. He thoroughly enjoys smearing you in it, depending on where it landed, he'll massage the sticky fluid over your breasts, belly, or thighs. There's something ribald about the sheen it gives your skin that makes him rock hard all over again.

- Absolutely revels in drowning you in his cum, outside of massaging it over different parts of your body as aforementioned, nothing surpasses the feeling of pumping his hot seed inside of you. When he pulls out, he adjusts his glasses to observe how it lewdly oozes out of your warmth that beckons him to blow another load within you.

- On the topic of restraints, if you're feeling feisty, he won't hesitate to use his belt or a tie if he's wearing one to restrain you. If you refuse to spread your legs for him, he WILL pry them apart, his calloused digits squeezing roughly at your meaty thighs.

- If he tied your hands behind your back and he's feeling lazy, he will make you straddle his lap and order you to ride him where he's seated. He'll never gag you, as he prefers to hear your pitiful whines, choked sobs, and euphoric sighs. Often times, he'll have a very smug but amused expression as he watches you struggle to keep a steady pace. If you're too slow, he'll harshly grip your hips, fingernails digging into the flesh enough to tear at the skin as he violently thrusts upward. Ego will lean dangerously near your lips to condescendingly whisper with a lusty breath… "Must I do everything myself?"

- Has an animalistic side that surfaces when least expected, though it's usually sparked in any position that has you bent over for him. Anticipate rough kisses, harsh bites, scratches, bruises, fierce groping, vicious thrusts and you may earn several throaty growls from him too.

- Degradation and dirty talk; expect LOTS of it from Ego. Will gladly use derogatory terms such as slut, bitch, whore, and there'll be a superfluous amount of expletives during the act, as well. Will say things like… "If you wanted my fucking dick so badly, all you had to do was beg." Definitely the type to casually pull your panties aside and insert his fingers to gauge how wet you are. If you're soaked, he'll make a snide comment along the lines of… "Drenched already? I didn't even need to touch you, filthy whore."

- He's a fan of quickies, especially in semi-public places that allow a bit of privacy. In example, a public restroom, where you're at risk of being heard in a neighboring stall. Will tease you if he coaxes any loud moans. "Do you really want others to hear how brutally you're getting fucked?"

- A master of edging. Will do so for hours on end, is especially relentless and unbelievably callous in this practice to the point he drives you to tears. He licks the tears off your cheeks with a predatory smile and malicious glint to his eyes. Having you teetering on rapturous highs to strip you away of that pleasure, simply to bring you to the apex all over again swells his chest with a silent pride.

- Contrary to popular belief, while Ego does relish receiving blowjobs and will readily fuck your face, he'd much rather eat you out. If asked why? He'll plainly state he's a gluttonous man that has to be 'fed' and you're the only meal that quells his appetite. (Other than instant yakisoba and ramen that is.)

- He's downright insatiable when it comes to giving oral. He slithers over you, pulling your underwear down with his teeth; adorning your thighs in bites and a trail of hickeys to remind you WHO EXACTLY YOU BELONG TO. He drags his tongue along the blemishes as a way to laud his debauched work.

- His tongue has a slightly rough texture that blissfully scrapes your inner walls with each wanton stroke. He's rather snake-like right before he starts, tongue lightly flicking out of his lips prior to prodding at your entrance. He rams the full length of his tongue in if you start to squirm and then wiggles the appendage. The pace he goes tends to alternate. He either goes really slow to savor all of your flavor… or really fast if he's feeling particularly rapacious. For the latter, his tongue slips in and out with a potent vehemence, occasionally moving up and down, he'll curve the tip to brush against your most needy areas inclusively. He spells out his surname, 'Ego' as he licks, to test if you're able to notice or are too lost to ecstasy. Sucks hungrily on a certain bundle of highly sensitive nerves, his hot breath always caresses it lustfully when he pulls away.

- It stirs a fire in his crux if your fingernails rake at his nape, urging him to bury himself deeper in you. He frequently combines deft finger work with his skilled tongue. When you cum, not a single drop goes to waste, if any of it dribbles down your thighs, he laps it up. If some of it trickles from his mouth, he'll turn your face to make you look at him. This ensures that you meet his intense gaze as he brazenly licks the remnants off. For an added bonus, if some of it gets on his glasses, he'll remove them to lick it off the lenses. It makes you BLUSH whenever he does, tugging a devious smirk onto his features.

- Outside of degradation, dirty talk, and issuing commands; he's not a very talkative man, though he's capable of sounds that he knows will make you quiver. Your ears are graced with grunts, growls, heavy breathing, and raspy groans; make sure to cherish these rare euphonies.

- There'll be a hidden camera recording your shared and individual lascivious activities at times. When Ego's bored, he'll watch them to entertain himself. If he hasn't had you to himself for a while, these recordings may spur him to seek you out to utterly ravish you. In this event, he skips the foreplay and gets straight down to business. Nothing quite lights a fire in his soul than to see you writhing as he has his way with your tantalizing body.

- While he won't outright admit it, he approves of your attempts to seduce and tease him. The notion of being completely irresistible to you arouses him; making him cockier than he already is. While he mocks your 'desperation' -- it makes him undeniably eager for you.

- Loves to wrap his fingers around your neck! The way his pale slim fingers envelop your throat draws the eyes somehow. He only chokes you if he's above you, be it if he's over your bent form, or is looming over you as you're laying down. If you're riding him, he prefers to grip and squeeze your sides, hips, or thighs instead; should you be facing him, he tends to lick a stripe along the length of your neck before taking a bite.

- He has a thing for maid outfits and maid/master roleplay. He'll play the role of master of the household, having you perform menial tasks while dressed in a revealing maid outfit. He purposely drops trash on the floor to have you bend over to pick it up, carefully taking in the up-skirt shot; admiring how your panties hug your curves. Knowing how it flusters you, he cops a feel of you or runs his fingers along your panties. If he's feeling ruthless, he'll strike your bottom with a riding crop, this usually happens if you're not 'working fast enough.'

- Feederism. Given his horrible eating habits and how he even has Anri boil the water for him, what greater kink is there? One where you prepare food he likes and feed it to him, so it's ideal in his book. Due to his immense capacity, he can eat large amounts in one sitting, he loves the feeling of being unbearably full. He typically tries to distract you while he's being fed to impede your success. These hindrances are inappropriate fleeting touches, or ceaseless fingering. "How're you supposed to feed me if you can barely focus?"

- There is a DARKER reason as to why he likes it. Being full is disadvantageous as one is usually weighed down, but not for Ego. He utilizes the added heft from the immense amount of consumed comestibles to keep you pinned under him. Normally, after a feeding, returning to the snake motif -- he looks similar to one after swallowing sizable prey; he stays slim, but swells at his center. If he's plowing into you, he likes how his protruding stomach presses and rubs against you.

- Something about gorging himself on delectable food and 'devouring' you appeals to him greatly. He incorporates minor food play into it as well, such as licking sauce from your skin, or eating from a part of your body like your chest. He has a predilection for it as he can take your breasts into his mouth and mark them. When the feeding session ends, he'll insist he doesn't require aftercare, but won't actively discourage you from it either.

- Rub his shoulders, pepper kisses along his face, and massage the curve of his bloated midsection. Loosen his belt, pants, and unbutton his shirt; he'll melt into your care and secretly enjoys being this spoiled. If you praise him for finishing all the food and worship his body, it inflates his already massive ego.

- If you're feeling a little cheeky, you can sneak your hand between his legs to palm him, he'll fervently grind into it. Expect to be punished for it with aggressive kisses full of teeth, he won't stop till your lips are swollen, bruised, and bloody; the coppery taste of your blood is like the 'final spice' so to speak.

- He's not into weight gain, but is fascinated by the temporary bloating the kink provides. The contrast of having a rounded gut jutting out from his otherwise slender frame plays a visual factor that intrigues him. Not only is it an encumberance that has him panting heavily and moving sluggish, he adores the sated and esurient feeling of being so packed to the brim, yet greedy and ambitious enough to still fuck you senseless. It's a MAJOR turn on for him.

#blue lock #bllk #ego jinpachi #jinpachi ego #my writing #female reader #tw voyeurism #tw choking #tw degradation #tw roleplay #tw shibari #tw feederism #pretty sure the last one will earn distaste... but with his horrid eating habits? he's perfect for it #i love this terrible man #when will he wife me?

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

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headcanon: “when the svu boys propose to you”

created in conjunction with @hurricanejjareau. tw: food eating and mentions of food (especially mike and peter’s portions).

rafael barba -

rafael does everything he can to pamper you. so when he texts you halfway through your day with a time and place, it doesn’t even register past another sweet date with your man. what does is the gentle urging when you get home, the smile and light touch moving you to the fancier part of your closet.

“let’s really enjoy tonight, mi amor.”

the dinner is delicious. because of course it is. and rafael is grinning, because of course he is. each time you meet his gaze he’s winking, scanning you, teasing you. and he’s reaching for your hands.

each time he opens his mouth it’s another story, another moment that he remembers with fondness. you both reminisce about the first time you’d caught each other’s eye. and as the candle burns on the table, you see something in his gaze that makes you stop.

“what?” you have to ask. because you think the shine you see isn’t just the warmth in his eyes.

“nothing,” he murmurs. “i just love you.”

it’s a winter evening. your coats scratch against each other, as you walk arm-in-arm. your noses are numb, but the streetlights are bright. it’s a walk he insists on, and your feet step on fresh snow that’s starting to sprinkle on concrete sidewalks.

“i just love you.” he says it again. it’s reverent, as the flakes fall, and you turn to look at him as you walk home.

“hey.” you lean forward, meet his gaze, and then forward motion stops. “what’s going on, rafa? what’s got you looking like that?”

“nothing, nothing —“ he starts again, but you just level him with a look.

“don’t give me that. what’s going on with you?”

the snow keeps falling.

and he just looks. and that shine in his eyes is back, the streetlights bright. there’s no mistaking the way he swallows. the way his arm moves to his jacket pocket.

“i kept... waiting. for the right moment. that moment i could look at you and know exactly how to ask you to —“

he kinda laughs. at himself, you guess. no, you know. because he shakes his head, in that way he gets, the way that has your fingers lifting his chin.

“rafa.”

“i had a plan, mi amor. i promise. a romantic dinner date, at your favorite place. a whole speech, i wrote it down, but... this isn’t a closing on a case.”

he pulls his hand out of his pocket. the next snowflake you see that doesn’t get caught in rafa’s hair is on the red velvet box. it seems to glisten, snd you’re reaching for it before you can stop yourself. mesmerized.

“i’m never at a loss for words. you know that. but right now i look at you and i think there’s nothing i can say that fully gets it across. that could ever help anyone understand how much i love you.”

the box flicks open. your jaw drops.

“i love you. now. always. i promise that. nothing high or low, big or small. nothing... nothing will change that. will you marry me, mi amor? will you?”

the snow flurries down, but that’s not what makes it hard to see him. hard to reach out and manage to grasp both his cheeks in your palms, to pull him in for a kiss that rocks your worlds.

“yes, rafael,” you say. “i do, i will, yes to it all.” and when you kiss him again the cold of the night is but a distant sensation, the snow in your hair barely noticed as you kiss your future husband.

sonny carisi -

you wake up in the morning, a day off with sonny head of you. but instead of rolling over and finding a body to curl around, your fingers connect with a piece of paper.

you can’t help the way your brow furrows and your lips pout. you’d expected a breakfast maybe, but there’s no divine smell filtering through the apartment. all there is this note, and when you pull it to your eyes you squint to read his chicken scratch.

sorry, sweetheart. i know it’s early, but i planned something special for you. get dressed. and meet me at the place we first met.

even groggy, the sight of the note makes you smile. and you rub your eyes as you get up, reading over it over and over as you dress yourself.

you know where he’s talking about. a chance stumble in a coffee shop halfway across town. but when you get there he’s gone, and all that’s there is a note scribbled on a napkin the waitress gives you, her smile coy.

not quick enough. our first kiss, maybe?

you can’t help but roll your eyes. ever the tease. you can basically see his grin as he scribbled it out.

so you go. the courthouse. meeting him outside after a tough case, the way he lifted you. but his friend (and yours) rollins is there instead, leaning against a pillar with sunglasses and a wry quirk of her lips.

those notes take you all across the city. first date, second kiss, first anniversary. you’re thrown this way and that, notes from his team, his squad. you kinda feel the need the apologize, but they don’t even blink.

“it’s sonny,” they laugh. all of them, even barba. “we expect nothing less.”

and all of them seem clued in to something you’re still searching for. because by the time you get to the last clue, his sergeant, mike, seems positively giddy.

last one, i promise, he writes. now. i’ll see you at home. our home.

you can’t help your sigh. of course. and by the time you get there you’re feeling run ragged. it’s cute, the reminiscence, but finding yourself back where you start has your mouth open before you even open the door.

“sonny, while i love the trip down memory lane —“ you start. but any words left in your throat are stole, because before you, your living room is transformed.

it’s still recognizable. the couch you and sonny picked, the tv he begged you for. but in the center of the room is sonny looking taller and more sure than you’ve ever seen him, and flowers seem to cover every surface.

he’s grinning. he’s so - so proud of himself, and you can’t help the gasp as your nose picks up what’s simmering on the stove, as you realize what he’s holding in his hand.

and then he goes to one knee.

“hey,” he says. and that confident lift of his chin doesn’t hide the way his voice trembles. as you love with long strides to his side, to look down at him as he gazes lovingly up at you. “i’m real sorry, but. i had to get you out of the apartment.”

his eyes are teary. you can barely see him.

“it’s okay,” you say immediately. nodding. “it’s fine.”

“i know, but. still.” and he laughs, and you laugh, and when he pops the box open you’re nodding. immediately. “i - i’m here. in our home. and i think about things i wanna do. with my future. and each time i think about it i think about you. there’s no step i wanna take where you’re not there. and i have to ask you —“

you can’t let him finish. you’re already nodding. already laughing, already crying. “yes, yes, yes, yes, sonny, i’ll marry you,” you’re saying, and before you can think you’re on your knees, too, pulling him into a hug.

(the ring is forgotten until later. you’re both laughing and still a little teary when you see it on the coffee table. and it’s another round of “yes, sonny,” that gets it on your finger, finally. as it should be.)

nick amaro -

in another life nick amaro gets shot and comes out broken. in this life, he has you.

he’s here, instead. drying dishes, the laughter of his squad in the other room, and he gets the joy of watching you. gets to watch your little smile, the way you glance at him and shake your head.

“take a picture. it’ll last longer,” you say, and it’s a tease, and he gets to grin and ignore the pain in his knee because you’re here, too. there are aches and pains that are going to last forever, but so is this, and he knows it.

it’s a simple motion. he sets the dish he has to the side. leans from the counter to against you, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other into his pocket.

“you make my life better, y’know that?” his voice is low. you hum, lean back into him, mindful of the lone foot he’s balancing on.

“you say that like i’m not lucky, too,” you murmur, right back, wiping suds off onto your shirt before holding his hand.

he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, chin on your shoulder. and when he pulls out the little box he’s been carrying around for too long he can feel your breath falter.

“nick,” you mumble.

“i’m not - not a poet. i know that. but it’s not poetry to say that i love you. it’s just the truth. you love on my kids, you laugh with my squad, you... you show me what it’s like to see the world with... fresh eyes.”

it’s that simple. the middle of your kitchen, your family behind you, your dishes in front of you. he lifts the lid, and your hand drops to the one he has on your waist, squeezing it tightly, swallowing as you glance up at him with big eyes.

“marry me.”

he watches you. watches your eyes scan the ring, trace up his arm until you’re turning to face him. your hand drops the dish you have, and if he could hear anything but his own heart pounding, he’d know that the other room quiets in an instant.

“nick,” you say again.

“marry me,” he whispers back, “because each day is better with you in it. my life is better with you, and... i never want to let that go.”

that’s all he can say, if he wants his voice is stay steady. but you know the rest. you whisper your yes. over and over. pull him in for a kiss, and the two of you are clinging to the counter because right now he can’t hold you quite how he likes.

and when prying ears become prying eyes, and the box is seen in nick’s death grip, there’s cheers of yeses, too.

mike dodds -

it’s spring.

you both sit on a blanket with wildflowers around, looking at each other in the bright sunshine. there’s a chill in the air, but the sun cuts through it. makes mike’s hair look a little golden, makes your eyes shine.

a day off for the both of you. a rarity, but one you both cherished. usually days off mean nights in, but this day is different. mike has a plan, one he doesn’t share until you park and he has to grin.

“how about a picnic?”

it’s spring.

he looks at you as he leans back on the grass. watches your hand move as you tell him about your week, laugh about something you heard through the grapevine. he watches as you reach for a few berries, pop them in your mouth.

the sun is high in the sky. it’s burning his nose, his cheeks, he’s sure, but that’s not what matters. what matters is that he gets a little closer to you, sits up so he can smile gently, reach for your hand.

“hey, sweetheart. can we talk for a minute?”

you’ve finished your story, but the question still makes you pause. makes your brow furrow as you look at him, but his smile tells you all you need to know. it’s not something to worry about.

“sure, mike,” you say, squeezing his hand. “what about?”

it’s spring. and what is spring if not the buzz of bees, the flower buds, and new beginnings with the ones you love? with the one who makes your heart flutter in your chest, who makes butterflies in your stomach feel as real as the ones that land on windowsills?

“the fact that i love you.” his thumb runs over your skin, and his grin is vibrant.

“i love you, too,” you say back. it’s instinct. easy.

not as easy as this.

“and i’m lucky. because i met someone who saw me past all the pomp, and circumstance, and bad ties, and —“

“i love your ties,” you protest, and he has to lean forward to kiss you. kisses you over and over, until you’re both giggling, so he can slide past the basket and dig his hand in.

“and i love you.” his voice is a little breathless, as he looks at you. “i love the way you make me smile. i love them way you make me laugh. i love you, every inch of you, and the fact that you love every inch of me. you’re home, to me, sweetheart.”

your smile is gone. your face is open, vulnerable, and he has to lean forward and kiss you one more time. “mike,” you whisper, and when your voice cracks, he pulls his hand forward.

“will you marry me?” he asks. and he feels that familiar warmth, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, as his cheeks go a little red, and your eyes widen with delight as the sight of the ring he pulls out of the basket he packed.

you laugh again. bright and warm and a yes thrown in there for the certainty. and when he gets to kiss you again, your back hits the blanket.

peter stone -

“how the hell did we lose that game?” peter groans. it’s about the drama of it, the way he leans on you with an over-the-top amount of pain, because it makes you laugh like that.

“well, i think the long and short of it is that they scored more runs than us,” you tease. peter lifts up, stares agape, and you try and dart away before he pinches your side. you’re unsuccessful. cackle as he pulls you close to blow kisses into your neck. and your delight echoes down the street.

the sun is setting now. summer heat warms metal buildings and the back of your heads as you walk alongside a busy new york street. a walk you’ve made a million times, always ending up at the same spot to get some grub.

always the same spot.

that’s the thing that peter savors with you. the routine of it all. the fact that peter can wake up in the morning and see you, call you in the afternoon and hear you.

building a life with you. step by step. building a routine, step by step.

this walk is different. this walk has peter’s hand in his pocket, a three-fingered grip on the ring he spent ages searching for. you pull him towards the usual restaurant, make the turn, and he follows with ease. he’d follow you anywhere.

the host recognizes the both of you. your booth is open. peter has a flash of that first walk together, the way you grinned and pulled him down on the same side.

“let’s be cheesy, peter stone.”

he remembers that any time he slides in next to you. this time, included. it’s cheesy, to keep his hand tangled in yours, to blow kisses onto the side of your neck to make you laugh. it’s cheesy to pull you against his side and feed you a piece of something from the appetizer. it’s cheesy as hell to look at you and see everything he wants for the rest of his life.

but he loves it.

loves you.

he reaches into his pocket. holds the ring like a good fastball, tight grip, thumb running against smooth velvet. he feels his heart pound, blood roar in his ears, as the sun lowers behind the new york high-rises.

“hey,” he murmurs. you’re both tired from the time out in the sun, the feeling of hot plastic seats, three hours and eight innings. but his voice is low for another reason, as he leans close and sets the box gently in front of you.

your fingers holding his grip him. reach for his thigh, and hold that, too. “peter —”

“home is new york, and you, because you made it that way. hope is baseball games and late night dinners, and... this booth because of you. i’ve - i’ve lost so much, but gained so much more because of you. i love you. i’m in love with you. and i always will be.”

you’re leaning against him, now. your grip is no longer tight, but firm. he glances down and sees your little smile, the single tear that he swipes away.

“i want to marry you. will - will you let me?”

the lid pops open. but the ring isn’t the focus. the focus is your hands on his jaw, now, pulling him in for a kiss and murmures yeses against his lips.

tag list: @duchesschameleon // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @altsvu // @ssaic-jareau // @encounterthepast // @mijop // @bureaudart // @1234-angelika // @nuvoleincielo // @wanniiieeee // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @caracalwithchips // @xxlovingfandomsxx // @mad-girl-without-a-box // @alliekenner

#law and order: svu headcanons #rafael barba x reader #sonny carisi x reader #nick amaro x reader #mike dodds x reader #peter stone x reader #rafael barba #sonny carisi #nick amaro #mike dodds #peter stone #my fic #red :)#headcanons #gender neutral reader #tw food mention #tw food

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yanderesleepybutwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanons for: “Haikyuu!!”

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Darling With A Personality Like A Cat

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Pairing: Kageyama x Reader | Hinata x Reader

Request: “Safe and nsfw with Kags and Hinata and their darling who’s a bit like a cat: independent but docile and cuddly with those she really trusts. Poly preferred but not poly is okay too! -Anonymous”

Notes: Poly it shall be! Hope you like how it turned out. Heads up, yandere themes are ahead [18+, NSFW, Controlling, Protective, Cursing, etc.]

_____

+ Hinata and Kageyama are complete opposites at time

+ On the surface, Kageyama shows a respect for your independent nature, while on another level he wishes you would depend on him a bit more

+ Hinata on the other hand hates when you do things on your own without him, and won’t hesitate to call you out

+ “Baby, that looks really heavy. Let me get that for you.”

+ “No, I’m good. I can do it on my own.”

+ Fuck he hates when you say that. Every time ‘I’m good’, leaves your mouth, Hinata wants to tie you up so you can’t do anything at all without him

+ “Baby, you’re so far away. Come sit closer to us, there’s plenty of room.”

+ “No thanks, I’m good. I’m comfortable over here.”

+ He didn’t care that you were comfortable over there. He wanted you comfortable curled up next to him and Kageyama

+ They love having you around and just having your attention on them

+ “We weren’t asking, now come and sit with us.”

+ At first they’ll be a safe distance away, giving you your space, but a bit longer and suddenly all of you are a tangled mess

+ Every time you laid with them, they felt complete. Nothing could compare to the feeling of your skin on theirs

+ And at first it may have felt a little weird to you, but eventually you started craving their touch as well, not even a blanket comparing to the feeling of being wrapped in their arms or being laid across their laps as their hands lovingly run up and down your body

+ Both of them have plenty of pictures of you asleep on top of them that they like to stare at whenever they’re apart from you

+ Whenever they come home exhausted from volleyball, you’re more than happy to return the favor and allow them to each place a head on your thighs as you run your fingers through their hair

+ Feeling them melt and hearing their gentle hums of satisfaction brings a warm feeling to your heart

+ Their naturally competitive nature doesn’t end on the courts. While they try to put their differences aside in front of you, sometimes that heated rivalry still manages to make its way home

+ Most of the time it’s small stuff

+ Wanting you to lay your head on one shoulder instead of the others

+ Wanting you to sleep more on one side

+ The only time their rivalry truly shows itself is in the bedroom

+ While Kageyama is more slow and sensual, eager to make you feel every part of him, Hinata will be the complete opposite

+ The orange-haired boy gets so excited he barely wastes any time prepping you, eager to be the first one to enter you

+ Not even an exaggeration, your clothes barely hit the floor before Hinata already began lining himself at your entrance

+ “Slow it down, Dumbass. You’re going to hurt her being as impatient as you are.”

+ “Shut up, Bakageyama. I don’t see you doing any better.”

+ “Damn, if you’re that fucking impatient. Maybe our little darling will be nice enough to suck you off while I get her ready. Does that sound like a plan baby?” Kageyama coos, shoving Hinata out of the way and lowering himself so he’s right between your thighs

+ You don’t know what switches in him exactly, but Kageyama becomes almost sadistic when it comes to pleasing you

+ Slowly dragging the tip of his hot tongue between your folds before flicking it against your clit

+ You bolt to cover your mouth in an attempt to suppress your moans, but it doesn’t stay there long before Hinata is standing over you, gently tugging your hand away

+ “Sorry, baby. Mind if I borrow that pretty little mouth of yours?”

+ There’s nothing Hinata loves more than watching you gag on his dick. You could be going a comfortable pace, slowly working your way up to taking all of him before suddenly he threads his fingers through your hair, using his grip as leverage while he shoves his dick to the back of your throat

+You immediately start choking. Your eyes going wide and watering as you go into a panic trying to push him off, but he doesn’t let up. Relishing in the feeling of your throat clamped around his dick and the look of panic in your eyes

+ “Hmm, too much for you to handle? Aww, poor baby.”

+ Its hard to focus on your choking when Kageyama isn’t showing your poor pussy any mercy

+ He tightens his grip on your thighs, lifting them up so he can delve even deeper inside you, nose pressed against your clit as his tongue is lapping at your juices like a dog

+ God is he even breathing??

+ You moan out in pure pleasure, the vibration transferring through Hinata’s dick, causing him to release a groan of his own

+ “Hey! Hmph… no fair. I… mmhmm..fuck…want a turn,” Hinata manages to get out, “I wanna make, Y/N feel good too.”

+ “Shut the fuck up and wait your turn.” Kageyama growls voice muffled from between your legs

+ It’s a rough start, but believe me, once they’re in sync, it’s over for you

+ You wake up the next morning covered in marks, each one wanting to outdo the other

+ Hickies, Bite Marks, Scratches, you name it

+ Each one a reminder of your boyfriends, and just how much they love you

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imma-potatoo · 4 years ago

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heyyy, I hope you dont mind but can you spare some hc about the dark side of the mind-scape? your writing is amazingg have a great day/night!

Hello Captain! Love the new icon! And so sorry that this took so long!!

I'm happy to give headcanons (as always!)

This one is going to be under a cut though.. The descriptions get pretty graphic at times, please look at the TWs in the tags

In my headcanon for the mindscape, there is 3 main places, the Dark side, the Light side, and the Gray.

The Light side is on one side, the Dark on the other. But in the middle is where you find the Gray.

The Gray is... Well. The Gray is a very dangerous place.

The Gray is where nightmares are made

The Gray is also where sides are formed, but it's also where sides go to die. -unlike the light and dark halfs of the mind, the Gray doesn't have it's own energy source. So the Gray, drains all the power and energy from a side, meaning that the longer the side is in there, the closer they are to fading.

The longer you remain in the Gray, the more effects that you will process after it. Sides can go blind, lose their sense of self, or even completely forget their memories if they have prolonged exposure. The Gray looks more like an endless black void then of any other place, thick smoke fogs the your vision, and it feels burning, but still freezing cold. If you inhale any of the smoke, the effects will stay with you until the smoke can be released, normally via surgery if the depending on the amount inhaled

The gray can be used as a punishment, but only by the most malicious of the sides. The side who was locked in there was the king, who got lost in the Gray, and didn't end up coming back. The Gray caused the split

The sides are terrified of the Gray, and avoid it completely if possible, it's the most terrifying place in the mindscape

But if you make it past the Gray, you'll find an old cracking door. It's dark in colour and smells like old rust, the handle used to shine, but now it's now so cloudy, light doesn't shine off of it

The door is locked from the outside

Inside of the door.. Isn't something you would expect..

On the front door itself, its covered completely in long thin scratches, bits of blood and skin stuck in the splintered wood

The walls are concrete, the floors are too

All the walls and floors are covered in cracks in the concrete. Blood spatters cover the floor

It's freezing cold too. It freezes up your joints, making them seize with pain everytime you move

There's barely any lights, maybe a few dim bulbs above a splintered table and metal folding chairs (which don't even match)

The main room is small. Very small. It's maybe a 10ft by 10ft room. All it has is a small rundown kitchen, which isn't suitable to cook in. The wooden table with folded chairs mentioned above, a pair of couches that are hard as a rock, and a small old box tv with a broken antenna

Theres five doors connected to this main room

One door, leads to a bathroom, where no matter how hard you try to scrub it clean, the stains never come off

Another door is boarded shut. Locks Cover the entire surface of the scratched up wood. Inside, you can hear vague muttering and threats of violence. If you make a sound, the muttering stops and all you can hear is sharp breathing on the other side and thin nails scraping on the wood. Almost like the side is trying to claw their way out.

The door next to that one, is slightly less... Gaurded.. No locks sit on that door, but instead a multitude of gory paintings and sketches. This is Remus' room.

Inside, its well... Small. Its a 6x8 foot room. With only a twin sized mattress on the floor, a thin green blanket, a crate for a nightstand, a small basket for clothes, and a table with experiments on it.

The table is also used for Remus' projects as well

The walls are covered with small paintings. They're normally of gore and undescribable acts, but some of the older ones are more interesting.

The oldest painting, is a decade old at least. It pictures a white stick figure being torn in half with two smaller stick figures, one painted red and another green, next to it.

That painting is covered up by Remus' only poster.

The next room also doesn't have any locks, but the door is covered in bashes and dents. If you look closely, you can see small sections of blood splatter on the wood. This is Janus' room

Inside, is another twin sized mattress, another crate for a nightstand, as well as another basket for clothes. It isn't any bigger then Remus' room, maybe a bit smaller

The cracks that cover all the walls are (sort of) hidden by posters. On the crate is a few books on philosophy, but the covers are beaten and worn, the paper inside torn and missing pages. The floor is full of various wine and liquor bottles, a thin knife is also tucked underneath the mattress.

The knife is bloodstained. Next to it, is a pile of dull scales.

A small cracked mirror also sits next to the bed. Blood stains the corners of the cracked glass

The last room.. Is empty. Nothing sits in the abandoned bedroom except for a broken pair of headphones, a crate for a nightstand, and a dust covered mattress. This room is locked. This was Virgil's room.

Back in the main room, is where the kitchen is

The kitchen is rather barren, the stove and fridge covered in dirt and crime that refuses to move. Cracks still cover the walls and floors here

The kitchen is small. But takes up the majority of the living space. The counters are old, the lights dim bulbs that go out constantly

The Kitchen is also where the only window is. It has bars on it, and it looks out into the Gray

The dinning table also doubles as the kitchen island. With two foldable chairs on one side, and a place to prepare food on the other

It doesn't matter how good of a cook the side is, the stove only produces burnt food

The dark side of the mind.. Is basically a place where all the unwanted, dangerous, and hated sides go.

Janus isn't wanted, he's viewed as unneeded, and as a threat to Thomas. So therefore, he is placed on the dark side.

Remus is viewed as incredibly dangerous, is hated by multiple sides, and thought of like he's a toxic for Thomas's health and wellbeing. So, Remus is a dark side.

Virgil was once hated, thought of as bad for Thomas, and was thought to be dangerous, before he was accepted, he was a dark side.

The Dark side isn't a happy place. For Janus, he nearly dies of hypothermia every night from the finger biting cold. For Remus, his creations have no place to thrive, so he ends up suppressing his creativity until it bursts and causes harm to others.

The Gray is slowly taking over the Dark side. It's slowly slipping through the cracks of the concrete.

This is causing the dark sides to slowly fade, and it's why the they are trying so desperately to get accepted, to get their room moved, to leave the Dark Side

The dark sides, know that their job is important and needed, they know that Thomas would crumble without them..

Yet they can't help but believe that them fading would be for the better

Janus has no control on which of the doors stay locked

Remus is the side who cooks the most in the household

Needless to say, the dark sides hate their home.

Always feel free to ask for more headcanons! I love answering them!!

#sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #Janus sanders #Headcanons #Headcanon #Sanders sides headcanon #Tw poor living conditons #tw blood mention #Tw blood #Tw forced containment #Tw inprisionment #tw death mention #Tw memory loss mention #Ask to tag #tw alcohol mention #selfharm tw #Tw selfharm mention #Tw bad living conditions

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onbanksofadragonriver · 4 years ago

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Varric x Merrill thoughts

This is a rarepair ship I’ve believed in ever since I saw this fabulous art a few years ago, and the fic “Perfume Shop” (in Russian) has been a major inspiration too. And then recently, @hollyand-writes got me to air my headcanons and to actually get down to writing for this ship, so here we are.

I’ll go by points, but it’s not my goal to somehow attempt to prove that this ship is or should be canon. They’re my headcanons: Don’t like, don’t ship. Also, I haven’t played DA2 in a few years, and have never played any of the DLCs, so feel free to take this with a grain of salt. All dialogue with no specifically indicated source is from the wiki.

Buckle in, this is long!

@geekalogian, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold ♥

>> Amazing banter

All the companions get frustrated by Merrill’s silly questions, though I believe half of them are actually only asked as a joke. They try to explain it or avoid the question, or sigh about Merrill’s naivete. Fenris is downright hostile to her, and Anders tends to get preachy. Aveline treats her like a child sometimes. Isabela is protective and friendly, but sometimes she sounds a bit condescending and impatient with Merrill’s innocence.

But Varric, he gets her. He gets her silly jokes and just rolls with it, and their dialogues are a pleasure to listen to. It’s with Varric that her somewhat straight-faced, silly humour really shines, because he’s the only one to play along: about frolicking in the woods, and his resemblance to Hahren Paivel, and Bianca having a pretty name, or how his family is like fleas, or Darktown rats following the mage/templar mess, etc. He never brings up her naivete or makes her feel inadequate or as if she’s missed some context. And they’re both so relaxed around each other it’s like Varric has unlocked a whole new dimension to Merrill.

>> Protecting her freedom. The ball of twine and taking care of the gangs.

I’ve seen meta on how Varric paying off the thugs is him infantilizing Merrill, but he does this for Anders too. It’s his way of caring about people. And also, if you see Merrill’s reaction in case Hawke doesn’t let her have the arulin’holm, you’ll see that she’s perfectly capable of realising when people are coddling her, and letting them know — in no uncertain terms — when that kind of meddling is unwelcome. (see also: Varric and his product deliveries below)

I also like to think that half of the reason “nothing ever happens” when she wanders around at night is because Merrill is a badass mage perfectly capable of taking care of herself. One of her default starting spells is rock armour, and when Hawke meets her, she admits to having fought before, and having done so alone. She’s certainly capable or recognising the stupidity and danger Sister Petrice is walking in as she wanders around Lowtown, and that’s in broad daylight.

Also, I’m thinking Varric must have put that protection in place after news of some incidents reached his ears, because it’s not something he does by default to other party members who’re new to Kirkwall. So perhaps it is, or was necessary at some point. On the other hand, perhaps Merrill is totally taking care of herself, and the thugs are not even trying to attack her, they’re just enjoying ripping off Varric :P

I like to think that the Viscount’s gardens were an honest mistake and Merrill did cut down on wandering there after Varric’s comment.

The ball of twine is interesting. Her closest friends in the gang seem to be Hawke, Isabela and Varric, but only Varric actually gives her a tool enabling her to find her way around the confusing human city. I don’t know what others did. Did they expect Merrill to just stay in the Alienage if there was nobody to accompany her around the city? Or did they expect her to find her own way through trial and error? Varric gives her a weird, but apparently functional tool for navigating the city until she learns her own way.

And the common motif between ensuring safe streets, an access to gardens and the ball of twine, is how Varric is safeguarding Merrill’s freedom. She’s Dalish, used to living under open sky, travelling from place to place. She’s used to green, growing things and wandering about as she pleases. And she’s used to doing magic freely and in ways that she herself believes appropriate. Now she’s stuck in a barely hospitable alienage of a city with a strong templar and slaver presence, and Varric doesn’t have the heart to scold her and limit her freedom even more.

Considering Varric is part of the ascendant group in Merchant Guild, who believe in leaving behind Orzammar’s strict caste system and traditions and embracing surface life instead, looks like Merrill’s freedom speaks to something deep in Varric’s own beliefs and values, nonchalant as he seems.

>> Trying to take care of her. Delivering produce.

This gives me feels. First, Varric noticed that something was off. Maybe he missed her showing up at the Hanged Man, maybe he went to visit her. Either way, he noticed that she wasn’t going out, not even to the market. It’s funny to imagine Varric standing in the market scratching his head about what actually goes into food preparation, but more probably he initially just threw some money at the problem, sending someone shopping for her. And then he checked up and saw she’s still not going out. And then he tries to talk her into going for a walk, to get fresh air.

And again this is something I’ve read as coddling and infantilizing, but — when Merrill is clearly not in a mood for teasing, she rebukes him politely: “I’m not a plant, Varric.” She’s not harsh as in case with Hawke and arulin’holm. When Varric leaves, she admits: “Varric is... very sweet. Frequently infuriating and a terrible busybody, but sweet.”

Which at first read as... Merrill not reciprocating Varric’s feelings for her? But on a second thought: what if Merrill is the oblivious one? Not only to Varric’s caring but about her own feelings for him? What if she never considered Varric romantically because she always thought she’d end up with a Dalish partner, and then she becomes friends with Hawke and starts opening up to the idea that what if she takes a human lover? And falling in love with a dwarf has not even crossed her mind yet? (Look lower, queen.)

Because when Merrill cares, she helps people: waters their plants or repairs ancient artifacts. Part of her potentially falling in love with Hawke is due to how they help��her, how they have her back. Varric and Merrill have the same love language. I choose to think of it as a mystery, why Merrill is not canonically head over heels for Varric. Maybe she’s so used to his confident, handsome self boasting about all the female attention he gets that she thinks she’s out of his league and has friendzoned herself :P

Additionally, I believe “sweet” and “infuriating” is something that the gang could equally attribute to Merrill herself. Pot calling kettle black? :D

>> Opinions on magic

Varric largely doesn’t have an opinion on Merrill being a mage, a blood mage, or whatever. He’s not afraid, because he has other, more pressing concerns, like Merchant’s Guild breathing down his neck and sending assassins, and when he does mention Merrill’s blood magic being “evil” it sounds like a rehearsed thing that might cause him headache due to other people getting their knickers in a twist over it.

He does acknowledge he’s distrustful of letting “dangerous people run amok” if Hawke sides with the mages in the end of DA2, but apparently he trusts Merrill enough that she knows what she’s doing and leaves it at that. He’s just sick of the whole mage/templar drama.

>> Mutual interest in what they do.

Merrill is interested in what he does for a living, while he tries to keep her out of trouble that would come from her knowing too much. And Varric is pondering why Eluvian is a mirror, and not some other piece of furniture. Not judging each other, just — curious. Showing they are in each other’s thoughts. And I won’t go into details here, because @hollyand-writes has, like, ALL the receipts where Varric thinks about Merrill in DAI, but he does — a lot :) He knows her interest in history and lore, knows that news of ancient elves keeping slaves would upset her, knows she would have liked to see the Dales. He seems to be missing her a lot...

>> Priority.

LOOK at the sequence he mentions his friends in, Merrill is No.1, while Hawke is almost an afterthought :D

Merrill: How do you do it, living in the city without picking a side? Doesn't it matter to you? Varric: Of course it does. That's why I don't take sides. Merrill: That doesn't make any sense. Varric: I've got you and Aveline, Fenris and Anders. Hawke. Isabela. I've got friends in the Circle and drinking buddies in the templars. All of them matter.

And who’s the first person that comes to Merrill’s mind when Hawke calls her pretty? Varric! :D [X]

>> Comfort in storytelling.

Yeah, Merrill says somewhere later that she wouldn’t have made a good Keeper because she’s not good with people, but she did receive all the requisite education. She studied lore and elven legends and history, as much as is left of it anyway, and I believe that storytelling, thriving on stories, is something that she and Varric both have in common.

Maybe she’s too shy to tell her own stories, but she’s definitely enjoying Varric’s and looking for consolation in his stories when things get rough.

Merrill: Varric, how does the story end? Varric: Which story, Daisy? Merrill: The big one. With us and Hawke, the mages and templars. Everything. Varric: You want to know before it happens? You're not worried about spoiling the surprise? Merrill: I might not see it end. Varric: You have to stick with us if you want to find out how it turns out, Daisy.

Merrill: Tell me a story, Varric. Varric: Right now? I don't think we have time, Daisy. Merrill: Maybe a very short story, then? Please? Varric: Fine. "When the cards turned, he lost." Merrill: Oh. Did it have to be so sad?

Merrill: (passing the Hanged Man): "Do you think there's time for Varric to tell us a story while we're here?"

Merrill: I hope we win. Varric will make it a good story, I'm sure.

>> Conclusions & Future

The thing that gets me the most is how good and kind they are to each other. It’s in their teasing, their jokes, the way Varric takes care of Merrill. I love Merrill’s confidence in Varric’s storytelling talent, and I like to think Varric finds Merrill’s confident tinkering with the mirror at least a little bit hot, even if he doesn’t understand magic (Bianca is/was a brilliant engineer, and I think Varric has a bit of a competence kink :D)

I also enjoy thinking of them both as slightly out of touch with emotions: Varric ignoring his own, and Merrill oblivious to his. I like to think of what happens when Merrill realises Varric loves her: because she’s open and honest in her affections, and it would be awesome to see Varric taken by that storm. To see him openly fall for someone so different, at a first glance, but also familiar: a knowledgeable storyteller, confident in her abilities, believing in free will and freedom.

I see them moving on together: Merrill learning to let go of the disappointment that is the unfinished eluvian, and Varric learning to let go of his lingering feelings for Bianca. Yes, the past is important for Merrill, while Varric wants to live in the moment, but the point of knowing the past, for Merrill, is to be able to move forward, and Varric certainly knows his family’s past, so I don’t see any disagreements there. If anything, Varric’s resources and connections can help Merrill get her hands on more artefacts and ancient tomes, letting her continue on her path in some other way.

It’s interesting to imagine their life together. After DAI, Varric pours his own funds into various infrastructure projects until he ends up the Viscount of Kirkwall, and Merrill is in Kirkwall too, helping the city elves. Somehow, it feels logical that at least some of those projects would be new elf housing and improvements to the alienage.

Would they get married? Probably, because I think it would be important to Merrill, and also probably because it might be a better way to protect her, a rumoured/known blood mage, from the Chantry than if she was just the Viscount’s mistress. On the other hand, knowing Varric and his cousin Elmand, and his spy network, and his tendency to successfully evade the Merchant Guild messengers [X], it’s equally possible he’d whip up a completely fake story about how his beloved Merrill is a hatter, and leave it at that. Probably he couldn’t even be found in the Keep, instead preferring to hide out in the Hanged Man or in his wife’s house in the alienage :D

Because, in the end, I think they both enjoy doing their respective Things very much, whether it’s helping elves or writing books, and they let each other do it selflessly, even if maybe it means they can’t live together. (Because can you imagine a Viscomtesse Merrill having to host a ball? Dealing with Hightown nobles? No, I don’t think Varric would ever ask such a sacrifice of her.) But they live close, and help and support each other, and, in short, I think they’d be awesome :)

#dragon age #dragon age meta #varric x merrill #merrill #varric #this is my tiny OTP #feel free to add your own headcanons #ship and let ship!

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senjuushi · 4 years ago

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General headcanons for the new gun boys?

OwO I’ve had this ask waiting for a while, but.... here we go! Time for a little infodump of things I’ve thought of~ There are only a few that I can say are “general”, but I’ll try to go into detail!

Marks

• I... don’t have too many headcanons for him yet, aside from the fact that I’ll forever be calling this cutie “abuse bait”. So instead of a headcanon, y’all get a bit of character analysis. Marks is the only one of the moderns to have “Master” in his likes section. Even freaking Mauser doesn’t have “Ashley” there. This implies a level of attachment from this boy that’s both terrifying and so, so sweet. Marks is baby. He’s a good, good boy, and that trust and open adoration he has makes it so easy to abuse him... He really is abuse bait...

• But to try for a headcanon, well, here’s a simple one. Marks would do anything to please his Master. He’s a pushover. If he was attached enough to them (which he obviously is), they could tell him to lick their shoes and he’d barely hesitate. Master is his world, and all he wants is for them to be happy, so with a little convincing and manipulating... what does a good gun like Marks need with things like pride? His line about ‘wanting to be used by his Master’s hand” also makes me think that he’d seriously crave physical intimacy, which would be yet another manipulation point for him.

Like Two

• Despite his more abrasive nature and apparent dislike for his brothers, Like Two is a lot more like his equally-pink counterpart than either of them really want to think about. This is pretty obvious with the whole “muscle/strength training” thing that the two of them seem to be fond of, but it goes much deeper. Like Two tries to seem like he’s a tough, capable weapon who will tell anyone who tries to baby or look down on him to fuck off...

But the reality is that he has the same streak for wanting to be spoiled. And the same feminine tendencies. To put it simply, if you whispered in his ear that he’s your precious little princess, Like Two would blush and melt just the same as LIke2 would... he’d just be a lot more angry about it. And a lot more intent on trying to deny that his face is crimson and he can barely talk properly.

Arisaka

• I’ve said this one before, but his childlike body is the result of both trauma and the gun equivalent of failure to thrive. Arisaka is a Japanese gun who was used in WW2... he’s seen some shit. Not good stuff. And those things kind of fucked him up. I mean, we all can see how dead inside he looks. Just imagine how much trauma is lurking beneath the surface of those empty eyes.

Another point in favor of this is that, almost without fail, gun size corresponds to physical maturity in the boys. Smaller guns usually look more like children, while larger guns are more adult-like. Arisaka is the only one that I can think of who has a large gun but still looks so youthful. Between that and his extremely disturbing history, I headcanon that his human body is between 18-20 years old... just extremely stunted. He’s short, scrawny, and immature-looking because he was so traumatized as a weapon that he, like human children who suffer extreme circumstances, couldn’t grow and mature properly.

Herme

• My prevailing headcanon for Herme is that he has some serious identity issues. Namely, in his profile... he talks about how he and the other gun boys are exactly that-- guns. They’re made of metal, and there’s no need to treat them like humans. This clearly shows a disconnect between his human self and his existence as a weapon, but it also clashes with how he talks about his life’s history and family in much the same way that a human would. The way I see it, he’s got some strong conflict between a deeply-rooted view that he’s nothing but a gun and the innate humanity that he clearly can’t fully suppress.

• I’m probably going to have to fight canon on this one, but because of Herme’s polite, respectable, useful personality and his issues with seeing himself as anything but a tool, I’m firmly believing that he’s very submissive to his Master. Anyone who’s not Master? They get a capable, arrogant man who won’t hesitate to put those beneath him in his place. His Master? (Or perhaps even humans in general?) They get a polite, respectful, obedient tool who fulfills every order to the best of his ability-- no matter if it hurts him. There’s a war in this man between being a weapon and his own ego, and the side of him that knows to be good is winning.

Springfield

• It’s barely even a headcanon at this point, but I see him as very physically weak and fragile. This covers the obvious (frail health, weak body, constant fatigue and bouts of illness), of course, but it also extends to other things. To give a ridiculously specific example, I see this Springy as having very, very sensitive skin. As in, he bruises easily and badly, it's easy to break his skin, even light scratches leave temporary marks, and he's overall very sensitive to touch. There’s also the possibility that he has scarring/damage to his human body because of what we can see on his gun... and those areas might be even more delicate than the rest of him.

• Another one that I’ll probably have to fight canon over, but I strongly doubt that other moderns would like him very well. He’s not a real modern gun. He’s just an antique who’s trying too hard. He’s weak and useless anyway, so it would be an embarrassment to even consider him to be one. Those things would be in Springfield’s head at the very least... and it’s likely that some of them would have been used against him too.

Siegblut

• Honestly, most of what I’m getting from him so far is that the core of his personality is overcompensation. I mean, the whore has big shoes to fill. He’s Herme’s successor. That’s a lot to live up to. Siegblut (ha, I used his actual name for once) probably has a ton of issues when it comes to wanting to be something he’s not. So what if his whole deal is being good enough? It would explain why he’s trying so hard to look like a tough guy.

• And on that note... he’s a fucking housewife. I will take no argument. And I’m not sure if he hides that kind of thing yet... but just imagine how cute it would be to tease him over how domestic he can be. Maybe if he likes homemaking so much, you should just take him off the battlefield and make him your wife, hm? It might suit him better than trying to live up to Herme like he has been for so long. He’s just way too easy to bully lmao.

#Marks #Like Two #Arisaka #Herme #Springfield #Siegblut #Headcanon

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helpinghanikan · 4 years ago

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James “Bucky” Barnes A-Z

James “Bucky” Barnes A-Z NSFW head-cannons

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

The second time you had slept together had resulted with bruises, and bite marks and groans from you that was anything but pleasurable. It had been intense for the both of you, and there was no use in blaming Bucky for it.

Ever since then he’s been on the little obsessive side of being careful with you. After finishing he doesn’t let himself fall to the side like others would. Instead he immediately focuses on you, asking if you were okay or if you needed anything. Even though your eyes were still rolled back in your head and your knuckles hadn’t released their grip on the sheets yet.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you: He loves your breasts. He’s always been more of a boob guy, doesn’t matter if they’re so small they’re flat or so large no shirt could be considered appropriate. There’s nothing better than innocently letting you lean against him. His hand just so happening to land over your breasts, cupping it and squeezing gently.

On himself: He loves his neck, how you nibble at the clean-shaven skin or you scratch through his beard. Your kisses are gentle, like cleaning away any tainted feeling there might have been, and you bites are just enough to distract from any intrusive thoughts.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

After years of ice and murder and no physical contact other than pain a soft touch has more effect. Sometimes he will cum quickly when with you. The old man jokes and the “happens to a lot of men” don’t really help the situation.

What does help is how he’s ready to go after a few minutes of kissing and exploring. Using his fingers and tongue over his dick. Making a new game out of “training”. Which has, so far, favorable results.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Way back in the day the ideal date was the last showing of a movie. Where the theater would be mostly empty, the lights were low, and the employees were too tired to care about enforcing the rules. It was here that he learned to enjoy the female breast, and the joy of forbidden nookie in the dark. Whispering in her ear and getting permission, then his hands would begin to wonder.

With the new age it would be awkward to ask you to do this. As he would have to specifically ask you to wear a skirt, a long one, like the girls way back when. That would most of the fun. But it might be worth it if he gets the chance to cover your mouth in the dark of the theater, the other hand curling and rubbing under a hitched-up skirt.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

When he was young and before anything mattered Bucky got around. Slut might be too strong of a word, but more like the local tom cat most would pet but no one wanted to let inside.

With his experience with women before easily transferred to you now. Although hindered by his fear of new strength and arm he started to find himself again. Although it’d be a little weird to admit, doing the same things with you as he did before helps with finding the good memories.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

On a hard surface, where your butt is barely on the edge and most of your weight being supported by him.

It’s here that he can be engulfed by you. Bury his face into your shoulder and hair, inhale deeply and groan as you run a hand through his hair. Where you can cross your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer, tighter and groaning as it’s deeper.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s more serious when it comes down to it. Preferring to get you in the mood with a nice hold and a sweeping kiss then with a goofy grin and silly movements.

Sometimes he’ll play with you via a cute nip or taking you up in his arms. Where you’d scream and laugh but succumb to his charms in the end. Using that chance to be the one who kisses him deeply, groaning while doing so.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

During his time as an asset he had to clean shaven everywhere; from beard to chest to lower it had to be gone and smooth.

Now, with his freedom, he started to his chest and arm hair grow out. The same with below the belt but that he tries to keep a little more groomed then just going wild like his hair and beard. Even those aspect he has considered a trim or more.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It varies from situation or even time how he treats the moment. Where quickies and the slightly tipsy sex are treated with more “get in and get done” attitude. When it’s early morning or there is time carved out of the day it’s slower and a stronger connection with more kisses and less rutting.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’d rather have you but there are times when he just can’t handle being with someone right now. It’s nothing personal, everything has just become too much and he needs a little time away from you, from everyone.

It’s there that he usually finishes himself off. Better to jerk one off then to live with blue balls during this episode.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He loves a woman in uniform; lingerie, stockings, a little soldier’s uniform or nurse that wouldn’t be appropriate in the field. Hours could be spent running his hands over the fabric, touching skin, and then finding more tight fabric.

The difference between Bucky and others is that the ‘uniforms’ aren’t immediately removed for the prize underneath. Instead he pulls and tugs at the strings until the goods are within his grasp.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have an exact location he likes to steal you away to. Anywhere that’s private, an office or your room, even your kitchen or living room. Just so long as there isn’t an audience. Or there isn’t an audience he can’t glare away.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It’s not an exact thing you do, or that he sees. It’s a growing feeling that starts in the morning with a head kiss, or when you walk towards him with that smile. All innocent things that he hangs onto throughout the day.

It’s amazing that you haven’t broken a nose being bent over when he gets his hands on you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Restraints on his wrists and ankles, he can’t handle anything holding him down. Even too hard of a grip on his wrists are enough to send him into a bad place.

To avoid this you jokingly hold him down by intertwining your fingers. Pressing them Into the bed with a little squeeze, making sure he knew that, if he wanted, he could switch things around. A few times he has taken advantage of that. Slipping an arm around your back after his eyes go slightly glasses. Moving into a different, better, scenario of being with you rather then slipping into the past.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing you before him. How his hands look through your hair, gripping and holding it, control that guides you through the paces.

It’s not that he’s unwilling to go down on you, get and give and all that. But it’s being able to sit back and let himself be pampered that makes the relationship the best he’s ever had.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

What he’s capable of and what he delivers are two different things. He’s slow, he takes his time, and is gentle to the point of teasing.

It took some time before you could convince him to go a little faster, maybe a little rougher. It’s only when you take control that he realizes he wants to have more. The experimenting of his thrusts and grabs and little smacks on your backside as gradual but it’s growing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Most of his trysts back int eh day were quickies, and he’s continued to tradition into the modern day. Wanting you whenever he has a moment, or when his blood starts pumping from the smallest, dumbest things.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

A surprisingly vanilla guy it takes some coaxing to get him to try new things. Using little bits of negotiation; “It’s a different position, you’re on top.” “we’ll be gentle, with eachother.”

There have been several times where he’s said no to things, like restraints or chains or anything of the like. But he’s willing to try other things; new positions or maybe some food play that didn’t go as well as you thought. Although, going from sex to eating sundaes in your underwear was a fun experiment.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Although he’s had issues of premature arrival he’s like a horse. Ready to go again after a few minutes, kissing and massaging you in the meantime.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Bucky has never been big on toys. You have your own, a vibrator or something else to keep you busy while he was gone. But he’s always made a little face when you would bring something in or suggest something to be added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he teases you it’s almost always by accident.

He almost crushes you, laying chest to chest with you. Nuzzling into your shoulder and neck, his hands and fingers sliding past quivering thighs into your center. Being gentle but taking his time to the point that the red on your face wasn’t just a blush.

“If you don’t-I swear…” Words are hard to find when the man above you is taking your breathe away and refusing to give it back. “If you don’t do anything…I’m gonna rip your other arm off.”

After a second he smiles against your neck. Probably only now realizing what he was unintentionally doing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Bucky was a quiet man from both his training and just his personality. Trying to coax the sounds from him wasn’t working nearly as well as people had suggested. The best you could get was a grunt and a groan, maybe a few grumbled words.

It takes a conversation away from the bedroom to learn he just doesn’t like making noises. He’s not the kind of person who will scream and “oh yeah, oh yeah” all night.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sex was the closest thing he could get to an effective drug. Where nothing existed in that moment except for you and how it felt to have everything about you as his. In this same vein he was addicted to you.

In the middle of the night, when the dreams were sliding into his mind, he would reach out for you. So long as he could find you, his drug of choice, before the dreams took hold everything could and would be fine.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He never really cared about the size of himself. No one had ever mentioned whether it was smaller or larger than average. He was thicker than most, something he could only tell by your face when he enters, it’s only then that he truly cares.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As previously mentioned his want for you would build and build throughout the day. But he never went out of his way to ask you, or pressure into have sex. It’s only when you ask or drop enough hints that he gets it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s had trouble sleeping since Wakanda, but when he does sleep, he sleeps like the dead. After finishing he stays against you, holding close to your body that had fought away nightmares and memories alike.

It’s random who falls asleep first. Either of you feeling the other start to breathe deeper; Bucky seeming to take comfort in the smell of your sweat and living body. You finding the metal arm and holding it close, hoping to make the metal warm enough to be mistaken for a hand.

#reader insert #jame bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #the winter solider imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #A-Z headcannons #A-Z

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mckittyarts · 6 years ago

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HEY GUYS sorry for the long silence! this thing took a while but im so glad to finally have these gals to show everyone!! but yeah, just like the Links i did a little while ago, these gals are my interpretations of all the Zeldas over the years! because my gals needs some love too baybe!!!

as usual, nicknames and headcanons under the cut!

Harp (Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask): - post-ocarina so basically she’s in the adult timeline but seven years older than she were when we last saw her at the end of oot - big mom friend,,,,,,,,,,,, tall and Motherly will adopt every child - she can and will slice a bitch if she needs to dont cross her - her scars were from the 7 years where she hid as Sheik while Time took himself a nice little nap - after sending Time back to his childhood she’s just been working to rebuild her kingdom and is now Queen - like i said on the Links one, headcanon that she’s Time’s twin sister - nothing much to say about her design it’s pretty much the same asdfghj

Plume (Skyward Sword): - still rowdy. still bapey - can and will push you off a cliff - really loves her animals and insists her remlit’s a sweetheart despite what Sky may tell her - really sweet and understanding about Sky and his napping but will still Suplex A Bitch if he’s being an ass - after what happened in skyward sword she’s in the lead of getting the settlement on the surface up and running - changed her outfit a bit to one more inspired by one of her concept designs but it’s kinda hard to see anything but a white shirt in this image asdfghj - a few scrapes and scratches from tumbling around on the surface, nothing too serious though

Dawn (Twilight Princess): - Stoic and Quiet - i’ve had Twi for five minutes, but if anything were to happen to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself - cares a whole lot about her kingdom and will do just about anything for her people- has been working to rebuild her kingdom too but like there isn’t much to fix anyway so i guess she gets off easy - again, same design as usual aaaaand no real noteworthy scars she’s smart enough not to get killed unlike everyone else

Hope (Breath of the Wild): - NERD ALERT - spends most of her time documenting and rambling - what do you mean shes gotta rule her country she’s found a cool frog she’s gotta take pictures of!!!! - can actually remember her friends and misses them a whole lot :( - HOO GIRL YOU’VE GOT......... A WHOLE LOT TO REBUILD..... WHEW - kept her design mostly as is and gave her the green eyes because nINTENDO ARE SO INCONSISTENT WITH HER EYE COLOUR IS2G - got in a few scrapes after sAVING WILD’S DYING ASS so that’s where the scars are from

Rapier (Hyrule Warriors): - the cool but wildly irresponsible mom - *gives a whole sword to small child* hell yeah kid go fuck those bitches up - also filthy rich even compared to the other Zeldas like look at that ridiculous amount of gold and silver armour it’s not even gonna protect her dumb ass - can absolutely destroy you if she chooses to do so - has a lot of scars because sOMEONE doesn’t know how to gear up properly - knows sign language so that she can communicate with Her Boy

Canvas (A Link Between Worlds): - the biggest sweetheart you’ll ever meet...... like oh my god bapey............ - Big Fan Of Art - has a whole museum of paintings in her castle - is 100% convinced that Albi is Deceased :( spent a lot of resources to find him but kinda gave up on it after a year or two - the lighter patch on her face is the ‘splash’ mark from being turned into a painting which also caused the color in her eyes to change - she actually used to have green eyes

Pebble (The Minish Cap): - OOOO BABEY.......... TODDLER - still really close to Minish they always hang out - Dramatic Little Shit - absolutely a sheltered kid there’s no way Daltus didn’t get a million times more protective of her after she got pETRIFIED??? - despite being completely baby she still manages to be taller than her Link lmao eat shit Minish - the feathers are supposed to resemble Picori feathers, no idea if they are real or not

Ghost (Spirit Tracks): - FUCKING DIES ASDFGHGFGHJ - super energetic and sweet - got all of Tetras attitude but none of the smarts. absolute Buffoon - might be out of mortal danger but still gets in trouble all the damn time - barely has any scars because ghosts don’t get injuries but she does have a big burn/lightning like scar on her chest/stomach from having her sOUL RIPPED OUT OF HER BODY - redesigned the dress a bit so she’d look different from Pebble - also the ribbon in her hair is supposed to be a Tetra’s old bandana!! she got it as a gift from her when she was still Very Small

Tetra (The Wind Waker): - Fuck Yeah Pirate Time - completely Rowdy. Will Stab a Bitch - is more like a robin hood type of outlaw she only steals from Corrupt Rich Asshats like a good pirate should - swears WAY too much. Horrible Influence on Children - is missing like half on her left leg, probably lost it to like a gyorg or some shit - scars are from various battles with other pirates, bokoblins, birds, etc. - busy finding a New Continent

Crystal (A Link To The Past): - tired............... needs a break - Just Wants Link To Stop Dying And Come Back Here For Once!!!!!!! dumbass - real quiet but real calculated - Reads Minds and Talks Inside Peoples Heads - real fond of gardening her own herbs and vegetables -listen i KNOW they’re like her pajamas or some shit but the blue dress just suits her better!!!! also Canvas doesn’t have any alternate costumes soooo

Ribbon (The Legend of Zelda): - ROUND!!!! CHUMBY!!!!!!!!!! - very sweet and very bubbly - will absolutely hug you to death and there’s nothing you can do about it - rebuilt an entire kingdom because uhh that thing kinda fell apart a couple hundred years after ALBW - doesn’t have any scars because she just kinda sat around while Ganon and Link were having a bit of an argument - i changed her dress to be green because of her in game sprite

Dreamer (The Adventure of Link): - HEY GUYS DID YOU KNOW THAT CLASSIC SAVES TWO ZELDAS??? BECAUSE I DIDN’T REALIZE UNTIL NOW - THIS BITCH CAME BEFORE PEBBLE.......... SHE SLEPT FOR /THOUSANDS/ OF YEARS STRAIGHT - is Very confused, doesn’t know what the hell is going on 99% of the time - absolute grandma, doesn’t understand any of this newfangled technology - just real sweet but also completely disoriented - i guess she just kinda helps Ribbon figure out how to get all the old rules and traditions back in place, just a complete big sister for her

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furidojasutin · 6 years ago

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Title: Two hearts beat as one

Pairing: Fraxus (Freed x Laxus)

Universe: Canon

Rating: K+

a/n: A little thing for Valentine’s Day! It’s inspired by both a headcanon of a dear anon friend I answered a few days ago and something that just came to my mind. It’s a little kitschy but hey- it’s happy lmao. Also yea I’m totally writing that n/s/f/w Valentine’s thing version bc now I just cannot not write xD Cough. Anyway! I hope you’ll like it!

Tag Squad: @isbwvyja, @yellingschmetterling, @pleasantflowersheep, @icy-dancer, @myshipsaretruelove, @mdelpin, @juvia-deserved-to-be-a-lesbian, @1-lost-fander

Freed was one with the night. His movements were smooth and powerful all the same as he swung his sword towards an enemy only the rune mage could see before his inner eye, and Laxus watched the play from his spot under one of the nearest trees.

The dragon slayer doubted that Freed had taken note of his approach already. His boyfriend was one of the most observant men he knew but he'd come out here with quiet footsteps and since this was one of their common, undisturbed training places it was pretty safe to assume that nobody else would come here.

Except them.

The slight pit was very close to the apartment they had begun to share a few months ago. It had been exciting to move in together, even if they'd been spending more time together than apart from one another before this change already. Laxus fondly remembered the smile on Freed's face when they laid in the bed of their own home for the first night, and he remembered the happiness in his own heart. It was special. It was something that, once upon a time, he never thought he was going to have some time in the future.

With Freed, so much had changed step by step. His approach, their friendship and now their relationship. They all were steps in a very, very important line of his life.

Laxus leaned against the tree, the crust pressing against his thickly muscular arms but he cared little. A light breeze was rustling through the branches and the grass, and through Freed's long hair. His boyfriend had pulled it up into a pony tail liked he sometimes did and Laxus more than approved of it.

Another small grin came to his face; he loved how this hair style looked on Freed but he also loved to take advantage of the bared skin of his neck. It belonged to the most sensitive parts on the captain's body, he had learned that pretty early, and it was just perfect to give attention to it. Watching Freed like this always made him want to give him those neck kisses. A lot of them.

And then there was Freed's sleeveless shirt. It put his arms on display, muscles flexing with every pose Freed fell into. It was hot, to say it bluntly. Laxus was most likely one of the people who knew best what strength lingered in those arms, too; or perhaps he did know best out of them all.

Casual looked great on his boyfriend, and Laxus was free to admire it every day just like Freed did with him.

Every single aspect of the sight that he witnessed was perfection, and the dragon slayer knew that he could just stand here and do nothing else but watch for a while.

Freed was the dark sky, and he was the lightning. Together they created something intimidating yet mesmerizing. They created a storm so intense that it would take more than much effort to tame them, if it was possible at all, and it was the perfect reflection of what was going on in their hearts.

Their hearts were one, and their feelings were a powerful storm that nobody would ever be able to contain.

Laxus thought that it was a pretty nice metaphor, actually. It was kitschy, very much so, and Laxus Dreyar didn't often allow himself to have kitschy thoughts, but it was true. Although that had changed as well ever since he's become more and more aware of the feelings Freed and him shared.

Huh, love really did some unexpected things to people.

Abandoning this thought for now, Laxus' gaze swerved back to his boyfriend and orange eyes observed attentively.

Freed's face was stern, brows furrowed and teeth seemingly clenched slightly as he brought his sword forward in a straight movement, slashing the air. The rune mage emitted a quiet, rumbling sound when exerting his attack before he went rigid for a moment out of nowhere.

Laxus was about to wonder if something was wrong when suddenly Freed turned exactly towards where he was standing, the tip of his sword pointing into his direction. The swordsman's expression was untamed for only a split-second and the dragon slayer realized that he must have stepped on a branch or made some other kind of noise because it was quite apparent that he had somehow gotten his boyfriend's attention.

“Laxus- it's you.” The sword got lowered, no longer pointing towards the blond man, and Freed dragged the back of his free hand along his forehead. “Did you try to sneak up on me?”

The blond huffed at that. And had he seen Freed's right eye gleam through his bangs for a single heartbeat when he'd spun around in surprise? He really must have caught his boyfriend off guard. “Nah,” Laxus shrugged, then casually pushed himself off the tree he'd been leaning against. It took a moment for him to expand his response. “I was watching you.”

“Watching me?” Freed blinked once. He began walking towards the broader-built man, the statement sinking in. “For how long have you been here?”

It wasn't all too obvious on Freed's face but Laxus had learned to read the little alterations in his expressions. He almost chuckled seeing the tiny little frown that indicated that, probably, the Raijinshuu's captain wasn't really amused that somebody had been able to sneak up on him like that without him noticing for a while. “A couple of minutes.”

“Huh.”

“You were pretty concentrated.”

“I usually am. And that usually doesn't keep me from paying attention to my surroundings.”

“Right.” Laxus gave a small grin, his gaze running over his boyfriend's entire appearance. The darkness made it harder to see any detail but he could still see enough.

Freed raised a brow at that. Laxus wasn't exactly being subtle. “Was it enthralling?”

“Yea,” Laxus replied without hesitation, his grin widening. “Pretty much.”

At that, the rune mage snorted but his lips curved. “And did you plan on revealing yourself anytime soon or would you just have disappeared again?”

Freed had turned away and begun to collect his water bottle mid-sentence, with Laxus following him. It was the blond's turn to blink before he stopped behind Freed and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, well... I knew that you were out training so I headed down here.” He realized that this wasn't exactly answering Freed's question, and he deserved the look of wonder his mate was giving him.

Laxus just hadn't thought that Freed would unintentionally bring his second ulterior motive to the surface so quick. Because there was another explanation than just being interested to watch his boyfriend’s sexy training.

“Is everything alright?” Sword and water bottle in his safe grasp, the rune mage looked at him, taking a step closer. He tilted his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed softly.

And Laxus didn't nod, instead he averted his eyes, suddenly grateful for the dark time of night. “It's a few minutes past midnight now.”

Freed still wasn't catching on it. Laxus couldn't blame him.

So he finally continued, “It's a few minutes past midnight so, uh, Happy Valentine's day, Freed.” He was still not looking at his boyfriend, cheeks heated up softly. It was the first Valentine's day they would be spending as a couple and even though none of them really cared much about such made up event days, Laxus knew that they both wanted it to be special nevertheless.

Oh all the things that changed.

It didn't take long for Freed's puzzled expression to change. Lips would curl into a smile, and the same warmth came to his cheeks as well. “That's... quite cute.”

That just had Laxus pout. And pouting Laxus was amusing and precious at the same time, so Freed's eyes glinted with merriment, lips tugged into a gentle smirk for a single moment before turning back into the previous smile.

But then the rune mage made his point by leaning up so he could press a kiss to the corner of the taller man's mouth and it successfully baited Laxus to turn his head and look at him again.

The words had caught Freed off guard but Laxus saw the smile on his face that was as genuine and loving as it tended to be when he was smiling at him like this, and in the end it educed a similar one from the lightning mage.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Laxus,” the greenet muttered back, just loud enough for the dragon slayer to hear, before Freed sneaked his arms around the blond's waist, sword and bottle still in his hands.

As they stood in the small pit like this, surrounded by trees, they just kept looking into each other's eyes for a moment before almost simulatenously leaning in to turn the peck Freed had given Laxus before into a real kiss.

Lips moved slowly and eyelids naturally fluttered shut as they melted against one another as though it was the easiest thing in the world. Laxus' arms found their way around his boyfriend's frame as well, one hand of his moving through strands of green hair and when Freed tilted his head he responded by tugging him as close as possible, their bodies pressed against one another as the kiss sent warmth through him in slow passion.

The light of the almost full moon shone through some of the tree crowns, being the only source of light in that area right now. It softly illumanted single parts of the pit, spotting the ground; Freed and Laxus weren't part of it, hidden in the shadows of the night with their foreheads briefly resting against each other to catch a brief pause and silent smiles blooming.

But they didn't need the light of the moon to guide them anyway, for they already were darkness and lightning intertwined.

#fraxus #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #valentines day #Long live the Queue #my stuff #Sel writes #freed x laxus #for another valentines thing to come lmao #ft

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tarisilmarwen · 6 years ago

Text

Splinters: Night Terrors

(Am I setting up and foreshadowing for things to come? Maaaaaaaybe. In the meantime enjoy more angst!)

---

Ezra wandered down a long, stark gray corridor. It seemed familiar. Ezra felt like he knew it somehow.

His footsteps echoed hollowly on the immaculately clean floor. There wasn't anyone else there except him. Well, him and—

Ezra stopped walking, his breath catching. Someone was standing in the middle of the hallway. A tall man in white.

With blue skin and glowing red eyes.

Ezra felt ice shoot through him, freezing him to the spot. He was pinned in place with terror, and that was before Thrawn even began to speak.

"It hardly matters whether or not you choose to disclose anything," he was saying, those eerie red eyes trained on him with clinical indifference. "I will glean the answers I seek one way or another."

No no no... This had been up in his office not... not down here...

Ezra could almost see the outlines of the man's desk floating behind him, bisecting the corridor.

"I do prefer not to subject you to more extensive methods..." Thrawn was continuing on, and Ezra heard the clinical monotone take on a threatening edge. The red eyes narrowed. "...but I have accounted for all of your potential attempts at defiance. Do not force me to order your torture, Bridger."

His mouth ran dry and his ears were screaming. With wide eyes Ezra found his paralysis lifting just enough for him to take one step back, then another. He shook his head mutely. Thrawn didn't move but Ezra could still sense the threat rolling off him, ebbing out from his standing form.

Just as he was turning from Thrawn to run he ran smack into someone else.

Ezra bounced off her, startled, dread and fear slamming into him as fingers twisted into his hair and yanked his head back, an iron grip seizing his right wrist.

"Ahh!" he cried out, pain ripping the sound from him.

He recognized it was Governor Pryce without even needing to see her, knew her by the nails digging against his scalp, by her hot breath as it blew on his cheek and neck. She was pulling his wrist back, wrenching his arm behind him.

"Answer the Grand Admiral, Bridger," she hissed.

"No!" he yelled, shriller this time as he struggled in a panic. "Let go! Let GO!"

Her touch burned him like acid. He wanted her off, wanted to scratch off any trace of her. She was squeezing his wrist hard enough to crack bone, keeping his arm pinned painfully to his back. Ezra could barely breathe through the fear racing through him now.

"Very well," decided Thrawn, even though Ezra hadn't said anything. Red eyes flicked up to the woman behind him. "Governor Pryce, if you would please."

She began to push him forward, grip tight on his hair and his arm. Ezra's throat locked up, his breaths coming in short and stilted as he saw the hallway was now the interrogation room. Thrawn had vanished and in his place were Stormtroopers and Imperial technicians, all watching him silently like carved stone pillars.

Ezra dug in his feet, pushed back against Pryce as she forced him towards that hated table. His feet slid, his arm wrenched as she increased the pressure on his wrist. He gasped and his face twisted in pain, even as he fought harder against his unwanted movement towards the table.

"No..." he said hoarsely. "No... no..."

She was about to pin him cheek-first into its cold metal surface now.

With a burst of strength he yanked forward away from her... and her hands disappeared, and the table too, leaving him stumbling, tripping, falling to his hands and knees.

He was in the hanger. There was a loud firefight going on behind him.

He shuddered in relief. He was still in danger, he knew Pryce was still behind him somewhere, but at least now he could steal a ship and escape.

Something tingled on the back of his neck before he could move.

Ezra.

Ezra whipped around in alarm. His eyes searched frantically. Pryce and some Stormtroopers exchanged fire with Rebels on the other side of the room, but the voice calling his name hadn't come from there.

Wait...

His eyes widened. Just off to the side, near the docked TIE fighters, there was a familiar dark figure with distinctive red and black tattoos and burning yellow eyes.

Ezra, Maul said again, even though his mouth didn't move.

Ezra snapped to his feet, stumbling backwards. "Stay away from me!" he shouted.

He turned, looking for the exit. The shuttle... He could take the shuttle.

Something seemed wrong as he moved towards it, aimed for the lowered ramp. His limbs seemed heavier, his movement slow and sluggish. A numbness was moving through his veins.

Like he'd been sedated.

"No no, c'mon..." he whispered, fighting through the sensation. His eyes darted back briefly over his shoulder. Maul hadn't moved, but Pryce was turning away from the firefight, glaring at him venomously. Ezra whipped forward again, reaching for the ramp and the light from inside spilling across it.

His legs were weakening. Ezra felt them giving out on him just as he reached the bottom of the ramp. Ezra gasped, tilting forward, his palms hitting the ramp.

"C'mon c'mon, move... move..." he willed himself.

He was so close...

The strength was leaving his arms too. A dull roar was rushing up in his ears, fading out the sounds of the battle.

A sensation of dread filled him as his vision darkened. He stretched out for the top of the ramp, weakly.

Someone's hand was reaching for him—Maul's or Pryce's, he didn't know and he didn't look.

He covered his neck with both arms, cowering. His head drooped towards the ramp and—

***

His eyes shot open.

Ezra sat bolt upright, biting a knuckle harshly. His finger screamed in protest but the pain helped him focus, helped him remember where he was.

Zeb was snoring softly in the bunk beneath him. It was such a comforting sound Ezra shuddered with his relief.

He pulled his hand out of his mouth, pressing both palms over his eyes.

It was just another nightmare, he told himself. That's all. Just a bad dream. It wasn't really him.

His breath came in a shuddering gasp.

Force he hoped it wasn't. That was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with on top of everything else.

He realized he was shaking. Ezra slowly put his hands down, calling to mind dozens of Kanan's lessons about centering himself, clearing his mind.

His breathing evened out.

Tentatively, fearful of what he might find, Ezra closed his eyes and probed out. He felt the fraying, tattered edges of the bond that had connected him to Maul and...

Nothing.

There was nothing. The bond was still severed.

Ezra opened his eyes again, a little calmer. Maul hadn't been calling out for him. It had just been the dream.

Just the dream.

He shuddered, coming out of the Force, letting his senses dull.

The room was utterly still.

Ezra's legs shifted as he lay back down, nervous pings reverberating through him as he contemplated going back to sleep. Even though the nightmare was fading quickly, the uneasiness that always came after one was still clinging to him.

I'm okay. It wasn't him, he told himself again. Just go back to sleep.

He lay still a long time, but he couldn't shake it off. It settled around his lungs and chest like a heavy, oppressive blanket. His breathing grew tighter. He knew if he couldn't calm down from it, it would just build right back up into panic.

Last night it had been so bad he'd fled to Sabine's room. A few seconds of frantic rapping on her door and she'd opened up, wordlessly letting him in and holding him for an hour while he talked himself down.

"Where are you right now, Ezra?" she'd asked him softly.

"Yavin," he'd whispered. "I'm on the Ghost."

"That's right," she'd encouraged. "And I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You hear me?"

He'd buried his face in her shoulder with a murmur.

Thinking of the memory brought a bit of cool serenity back into his chest. That was right... Sabine was there. She was always someone he could turn to. Or he could wake the snoring Zeb. Or go shake Kanan awake. Or Hera.

He wasn't alone.

Ezra turned on his side. He rubbed his right wrist soberly, feeling phantom pain from Pryce's grip still lingering under his skin.

Zeb's snoring continued below him. Ezra listened for a long while, his anxiety fading.

His eyes slid closed as he drifted off back to sleep.

---

I summon Chapter Notes!

1. Revisiting Ezra's interrogation via flashbacks and nightmares always gives me lovely opportunities to fill in the gaps and the behind the scenes from "Cracks In The Mirror". :) Granted, Ezra's fuzzy memory still messes things up so I won't say Thrawn's lines are things he definitely said but it's along the same general lines.

2. Oh look, now the other major source of his traumas is starting to reappear in his dreams! Lol.

3. I strongly headcanon that Maul is a constant in Ezra's nightmares ever since Malachor so really it was only a matter of time before he showed up.

4. Couldn't resist putting in a little Sabine and Ezra moment. Sue me.

Coming around to the home stretch. Two more chapters in this baby! Just a little setup for things to come and we'll wrap things up here. Thanks for sticking with me this long, readers!

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #grand admiral thrawn #sabezra #fanfiction #prompt fics #protective sabine best sabine

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starfleetdoesntfirefirst · 6 years ago

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Lieutenant Philippa Georgiou!

- [SHORT TREKS SPOILERS]

- okay let’s discuss

- I watched it this morning and my primary emotion is still just !!!!!

- PHILIPPA PILOTING THE SHN-03 SHUTTLE DOWN FROM THE SHENZHOU

- Before I really get into in-universe Philippa meta, I admit my overall out-of-universe feelings on the episode aren’t very good.

- Portraying a colonized people as ‘not questioning the way of things’ and going willingly to be killed by their oppressors reminded me of a lot of deeply awful racist and colonial tropes.

- While it might be possible for Star Trek to create a story that included some of the elements that were used in The Brightest Star and still tell it in a nuanced and respectful way, there wasn’t enough time for much nuance here, nor much effort made to include nuance and respect in the time they had.

- Overall I was not very comfortable with the story, and I think it would require a lot more nuance and care to tell a meaningful and respectful story about colonization and oppression. I won't be able to address those issues with the nuance they deserve this one quick post-ep characterization chatter post, either, but I wanted to at least touch on them.

- SO

- PHILIPPA

- First, what I wasn’t a fan of: Given the above, I really didn’t like the emphasis in Philippa’s lines about Saru being special and different and (though she didn’t put it this way) ‘more advanced’ than the rest of his people; it was gross and played into really awful tropes.

- Moving on to things I did like!

- Philippa piloting (or co-piloting; I’m dying to know whether there was another servicemember in the shuttle with her) a Shenzhou shuttle! <3

- Actual portrayal of the universal translator in use, a la Star Trek Beyond!

- The amount of nuance and emotion that Michelle Yeoh can communicate in any given facial expression, as always, absolutely floored me. There’s so much going on in her face and eyes as she’s first talking to Saru; she starts with a a mix of professionalism/efficiency, sympathy, pain on his behalf, and wonder/delight to be talking with him; then, when she delivers the terrible news, and he turns away to make his decision, there’s a moment of quiet but absolute devastation—I feel like this is a time when it isn’t an assumption to say ‘this good-aligned fictional character clearly does feel terrible for the awful thing they’re participating in’—for a moment before she watches tensely to see what his decision will be. Then, when he chooses, her smile is so genuinely delighted and relieved while also still showing sympathy, solemnity and pain.

- I love the confirmation of the impression I think a lot of us had that Philippa is a principled person working within a flawed organization. The Starfleet we see in Discovery is strongly suggestive of an organization that was quietly at war with itself long before the Klingon war began, with a mixture of the people like Georgiou and Connor and presumably many other personnel like them, who believe in upholding a certain set of Starfleet principles, and then the Section 31 officers we see on the Discovery, admirals who made Burnham a fall girl for a war she didn’t start, supercilious leaders like Admiral Anderson, etc. It lends fascinating weight to Burnham’s assertions at the end of the series about how “this is who we are”—was Starfleet already building toward the kind of reckoning with itself that the war then forced? And it raises so many questions about what Philippa’s Starfleet backstory is like. We already knew she was a war veteran; a soldier and a diplomat who had fought in space battles. Now we have confirmation that she fought diplomatic battles within her own organization as well.

- I love that she fought for Saru—there’s obviously a hell of a story there.

- And that it was Philippa specifically who was the one space IMing with him the whole time!

- Philippa having a science badge was a little ??? to me. Novel canon says she used to be a field medic, and imo, the onscreen lines about her being a diplomat and a soldier at least somewhat suggested that she’d started out as security track or something similar (in addition to the MICHELLE YEOH, PROFESSIONAL BADASS factor).

- (I admit I may be a little biased here since Philippa starting as a security officer is a beloved headcanon of mine, and I’m also always a little salty over the trend within sci-fi of “women = scientists,” rather than pilots, engineers, fighters, etc. (Of course, criticizing those trends can also be a double-edged sword, as it is also not great to imply that women in very (very) slightly more traditionally feminine professions can’t be tough badasses too.) Anyway, it’s certainly not my hill to die on, plus if I’m not a fan of the idea of Georgiou in science division I can always headcanon that she was only wearing a science uniform as part of a step in a convoluted scheme to convince her superiors to let her reach Saru. ;)

- the Entirely New Piece of Canon Information that I found most fascinating was that Philippa was stationed on the Shenzhou before she became captain! It was clearly a very deliberate choice to show a “SHN” shuttle.

- And not only do we now know she served on on the Shenzhou prior to reaching the captaincy, we know she was there for a number of years; when Michael joins the crew seven years before the beginning of DSC, Philippa is captain and Saru is on the bridge crew, and here she’s a Lieutenant and he’s joining Starfleet, so I think we can safely assume this takes place somewhere in the vicinity of 2-10 years before that.

- Also, if she became a captain 2-10 years before she met Michael (and personally I’m erring on the side of ‘this episode takes place longer rather than sooner before he show, so she’s a lieutenant in her late thirties/early forties and becomes a captain not long after that’), and she still comes up in Saru’s space google search of the most decorated captains, that means that either

a) Saru’s space google search terms pulled up the captains who were ‘most successful’ over the course of their careers, and so Philippa was a fucking badass throughout her career before making captain

b) In the space of just 9-17 years as a captain she was so ridiculously badass and heroic that she made the ‘all time best captains’ list

...or both.

- Which DELIGHTS me.

- The parallel between Philippa spreading her arm to invite Saru into the shuttle and into Starfleet and spreading her arm to invite Michael onto the bridge and into Starfleet: poetic cinema

- HER HAIR

- Philippa having an elaborate updo: definitely evidence that was Janeway inspired by the DSC characters and wanted to emulate Captain Georgiou with her own elaborate updo ;)

- I’ve only scratched the surface here and only really touched on meta on stuff we actually saw and barely got into HEADCANONS HEADCANONS HEADCANONS building off of said stuff and I would give anything to hear everyone’s thoughts!

#philippa georgiou #discovery spoilers #star trek discovery spoilers #the brightest star spoilers #short treks spoilers #spoilers #racism #colonialiam #meta

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it-has-the-gay-fanfiction · 7 years ago

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Half of Me Has Gone Away

{I started writing this when the new season came out. I had to get my headcanons out there. At 6,720 words, this is the longest one-shot I have written to date! Hope you enjoy!}

[BIG WARNING: Temporary Major Character Death]

“I found my mom.”

Lance stared at the pixelated version of Keith on his screen in shock. It had been so long since he had seen Keith. It had probably been what… four weeks now? Too long. “Y-your?” Lance started to stutter out.

“Yeah,” Keith smiled softly, “my mom. Lance… I’ve waited so long for this. I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about her.” Keith sighed softly and ran his hand through his hair. Lance’s whole body ached. He wished he was there with Keith or that Keith was here with him. Lance hated that they had to talk through a screen late at night when they were both supposed to be sleeping. Lance hated how lonely he was, how ostracized he had become ever since Keith left, honestly, Lance just hated how half of his team had left him all alone. Sure, he was surrounded by people, but Lance was always alone, always left out. Team Punk and Matt always brushed him off when he wanted to hang out. Allura and Lotor were off practicing their alchemy, so Lance had no use or need to bother them. Coran always tried to rope him into cleaning the cryopods or some other chore, which had started to actually feel like a chore instead of something to look forward to like it had been before Keith had left. And Shiro…. Shiro had been so off. He had yelled at Lance.

“I’m happy for you man.” Lance said instead of everything else he wanted to say, everything he wanted Keith to know. “If you need to talk about it, I’m always here for you.” Lance smiled softly at Keith, who returned the smile a moment later. “You really should come see me- us,” Lance quickly corrected, “come see us soon. Okay?”

Keith laughed softly, fading into a yawn. “Yeah, I’ll come see you soon. Goodnight Lance.”

Lance’s face heated slightly, “Goodnight, Mullet.” Lance tapped the screen to end the call, but missed the hang-up button, not that he noticed. Lance set his tablet down on the bed beside him before curling into a ball, hugging his pillow to his chest. He really hoped Keith meant it. He really hoped they would see each other soon.

The truth was that Lance was always alone and it made his heartache. He felt like he shouldn’t even be in Voltron anymore, felt that he had no purpose. Lance choked back a sob, not wanting to cry alone in the dark of his room again. He tried to calm himself down, but the terrible thoughts kept racing through his head, making him feel even worse. This time he didn’t hold back the sob that ripped itself from his throat. He shook as he tried to muffle his sobs, he didn’t want to wake the important members of the team anyways.

“G-get-get yourself together, L-Lance.” Lance said to himself, trying to get his emotions under control. “Ju-just because n-no one cares about you or ne-eds you, doesn’t mean you g-get to cry about it every- every night.” Lance’s breath hitched as he tried to get himself under control. The tears wouldn’t stop, and it wasn’t long before he cried himself to sleep.

“Oh Lance… I wish I could be there... “ Keith sighed softly as he stared at his tablet. He knew he should have hung up when it was clear that Lance had missed the button, but something compelled him to stay on the line. Now he wasn’t sure if that was the best decision. His whole body ached at the thought that Lance cried himself to sleep, at the thought that Lance was all alone on a ship full of people. Keith didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t just leave to go take care of Lance, not even when his whole body yearned to be wrapped around the lanky Cuban’s. It wasn’t his place. “Next time I see you... “ Keith sighed and his body slumped, “goodnight, Lance. Don’t let them get you down.” Keith ended the call and stared at the ceiling. The Blade needed him… but does Lance need me more?

It had gotten worse for Lance at the Castle of Lions. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Everything Lance did was wrong, every move he made was somehow the worst thing he could have done, and he was getting sick and tired of it. Shiro was constantly on his back about stuff he didn’t do and he couldn’t even stand up for himself without getting yelled at by Shiro. Lance honestly felt like he was going to explode with everything he kept bottling up inside himself.

Lance growled and rolled out of the way of the gladiator’s staff, swinging his sword out in a wide arc as he came out of the roll. Focus, Lance! You need to get better. He shook his limbs out and rushed at the bot. He jumped up and twisted his body around midair to avoid a strike from the gladiator’s staff, using his momentum from the movement to bring his sword down on the bot’s head. Lance dropped to the floor and looked up to see the bot fall apart at his feet. The red paladin pushed himself up and stuck his sword in the ground so that he could lean against it to catch his breath.

Before Lance could call for the next level to start, the alarms went off. He growled under his breath and returned his bayard to its normal form before running towards the control room. Lance burst through the doors, breathing harshly, and just barely stopped himself from flinching when he realized that he was the last one there.

“Lance. You’re late.” Shiro said harshly and glared down at the panting red paladin. Lance flinched a little and clenched his fists.

“S-sorry! I was-” Lance started to say before Shiro cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Lance! You are always the last one here. Can’t you see that you’re dragging the team down?!” Shiro yelled practically in Lance’s face.

Lance narrowed his eyes and pushed a finger into Shiro’s chest, “Shut up, Shiro! You’re not acting like yourself. The old Shiro wouldn’t yell at me every time I make a small mistake or show up late. The old Shiro would at least give me the chance to say that I had been training before this!” Lance growled out. “I don’t know who you are anymore, but you’re not my Shiro.” Lance pushed Shiro out of the way so he could get to his seat. He crossed his arms and stood in front of his seat, looking around the room as if daring the others to disagree.

No one said anything for a minute, not even Shiro, who had a murderous expression on his face. Allura cleared her throat, “Okay paladins… I am choosing to ignore what just happened to brief you on the mission. We received a distress signal from a nearby planet. We need to get to the lions and go down to the planet’s surface to find out why they sent out the distress signal. Since we don’t know what we are walking into, we must be prepared for anything. Let’s get to the lions.” Allura gave them all a look before heading for Blue. The rest of the paladins followed suit, though Lance kept a wary eye on Shiro, waiting for the older paladin to leave first. What is going on with him… I don’t trust him anymore. Lance stepped into the elevator and took it down to Red’s hangar.

Lance rolled and slashed at the legs of a Galra sentry as he ran down the halls of the Galra base they had infiltrated. The plan was to go in, take down the base, and free the planet. Obviously, that hadn’t happened. The Galra had somehow known they were coming, how did they know we were coming?!

Lance ducked around a corner, “Guys, I could use some help over here. I’m a little pinned down right now!”

“Sorry, bud! I’m a little busy at the moment!” Hunk grunted out over the sound of distant gunfire that was also coming over the coms.

“We’re all pinned, Lance.” Pidge huffed into the mic and cut out after that. Lance changed his bayard into its normal rifle form and shot down a few more sentries as he ran down the hall in the direction of the exit.

“I’m headed your direction, Lance.” Shiro’s voice sounded over the coms and even though Lance still didn’t trust this new Shiro, he really needed the backup.

“Thanks…” Lance fired off a shot and ran down the hallway towards Shiro’s blip on his tracker. He had a bad feeling that he couldn’t shake, but Lance didn’t know what to do other than keep moving.

“Lance! Up here.” Shiro yelled from down the hall. Lance looked up and sped down the hall towards the other paladin.

“Shiro! Thank goodness you’re here. I’m sorry about ea-” Lance was cut off with a wheeze as he was slammed roughly against the wall by a hand on his throat. He looked up with wide eyes at the murderous look on Shiro’s face. “Sh-iro?” Lance wheezed out and kicked out at Shiro.

“I’m not Shiro, you idiot paladin, I’m his clone. Though you had your suspicions already didn’t you.” Not-Shiro grinned as his eyes flashed yellow and he started to tighten his grip on Lance’s neck. Lance wheezed and scratched at the hand encasing his throat, but it didn’t seem to faze the clone, even when blood ran down his hand.

“Wh-what are you g-going to do t-o me?” Lance wheezed out and tried to focus on making his bayard back into its sword form.

Not-Shiro laughed maniacally and started to activate his Galra arm, “I’m going to kill you and blame it on these Galra sentries.”

Lance scowled and felt his bayard change, “You forgot one thing,” he gritted out and struggled against the hold.

“Oh yeah what’s that?” Not-Shiro growled out and started to tighten his hold on Lance’s neck.

Lance slammed his bayard up into Not-Shiro’s chest and shoved him back, “I’m a paladin of Voltron and we don’t go down that easy.” Lance rubbed his throat and watched as Shiro’s form melted away, leaving only the black armor from before. Lance dropped to his knees and gasped for breath.

“Lance! What happened?! Where’s Shiro!” Allura yelled over the coms.

“H-he… he’s not here…. That wasn’t Shiro. He tried to kill me. Oh my god… he tried to kill me.” Lance keened and stared ahead, choking on his breath and shaking. He faintly hear someone calling his name over the coms and when they got no response, cursing sounded out. Lance stared down at the pieces of armor laying haphazardly in front of him. He could hardly believe it… and yet. It made perfect sense now that he knew what was going on. The Shiro that they had let into the castle wasn’t Shiro at all… he was a clone, probably sent by that witch Haggar to spy on them or something. Lance gripped the sides of his helmet and made small panicked noises, it was all too much.

Then everything stopped.

Lance gasped and shot up when he heard the Black lion’s roar.

“It is your time, paladin. You saw that there was something wrong within your team even when the others did not, even when I did not.” The Black lion’s voice was nothing like Blue’s flowing cadence or even the fire behind Red’s words. Black’s voice was calm and collected, sounding much older and experienced than either of the lions that Lance had been connected to before.

“B-but… why? Why would you want the team screw up, the goofball, the resident comedic relief?!” Lance yelled out, unaware and uncaring of his surroundings and the fact that the coms were still relaying everything he said to the team. “Nobody wants me! So why do you?” Lance finished brokenly.

Lance felt Black’s presence wrap around his mind, calming his raging thoughts. “Lance. This is where you were always meant to be. I could not take you as my paladin when you first arrived at the castle because you were not ready yet. Blue had to take you as her cub and nurture you, build you up, before Red or I would be able to have you as ours. It was then Red’s turn to cultivate your fighting spirit. Through all of that, you have become stronger and it is finally time for you to take your rightful place as my paladin.”

“But what about Red? Now she won’t have a pilot and we won’t be able to form Voltron!” Lance looked back to the black armor in front of him. He heard the sound of someone running down the hall behind him but paid no attention to it. Black chuffed in his head and Lance took that as her laughing at him.

“It will be taken care of, Lance. She already has a pilot.” Black sounded amused.

“Keith... “ Lance breathed out. “He’s her pilot.” Black sent him a feeling of content and Lance relaxed as he started to gather up the armor. “We’ll get him back here with us. I’ll call him as soon as we get back to the castle.”

“Lance!” Hunk yelled as he ran up to the newly appointed black paladin. “Lance are you okay! What happened?” Lance turned around and gave Hunk a half smile. His vision was red tinted in one eye, must have popped a blood vessel when I got strangled.

“I’m okay.” Lance said softly, his voice worn out from screaming and getting his throat crushed. “I had to kill him… it wasn’t Shiro.” Lance looked down at the armor in his hands.

Hunk looked horrified, “W-where did his body go?” Lance shook his head and sighed.

“It just kind of melted away, buddy. Come on, help me get this stuff back to the black lion, I’ll explain once we get everyone off the base and back to the castle.” Lance sighed again and started walking towards the black lion, expecting Hunk to follow.

“Lance, what’s going on?” Pidge asked, her voice muddied by the coms.

“Everyone get back to your lions, I’ll explain everything when we get back to the castle.” Lance rasped out, his voice starting to give after the abuse it had been through. Allura and Pidge gave affirmative responses and Lance watched as their blips on his tracker headed towards the lions. Lance relaxed a little when Black came into sight. “I’ve got it from here, Hunk.”

“What do you mean ‘you’ve got it from here’?! You’re not even heading to your lion!” Hunk fretted over Lance, worried that his friend had gotten brain damage as a result of whatever Not-Shiro did to him.

“No, Hunk. I’m finally at the right lion.” Lance smirked and turned back to the Black lion who dropped her jaw as he walked to her ramp. “See you back on the castle, buddy.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand over his face, weariness settling in his bones. Lately, it seemed he kept getting put on mission after mission, and since all communications were strictly forbidden while on missions, Keith hadn’t had a chance to get in contact with Lance or the team, and it had probably been months since he last talked with them. He missed it, god did he miss talking to them, especially Lance, he missed him the most out of the whole team. Keith couldn’t explain the pain in his chest that grew every day that he was away, but he tried to ignore it. Even though he couldn’t contact his team, he did have one familiar face, Krolia. After she had revealed to Kolivan their relation, the commander of the Blades started to pair them together on missions. At first, Keith was less than pleased, after all, this woman was the one who abandoned him when he was young. As they spent more time together and started bonding, Keith’s attitude changed and instead of a cold indifference, he regarded his mother with a warm smile and soft words.

Meeting Krolia and bonding with her was one of the greatest things to ever happen to Keith, not just because he had found out more about his past and got a mother as a bonus, no, Krolia was actually helping him unlock his dormant Galra genes. Turns out, Keith was severely malnourished by Galra standards, a fact that had Krolia fuming at the sight of Kolivan who never thought to introduce Keith to a Galra diet and care regimen. After that discovery had been made, Krolia worked on nurturing Keith’s latent Galra genes, making sure he was getting the right nutrients for a growing Galra and explaining all of Keith’s weird habits. For example, Keith could never get comfortable in a bed, he had to have constant pressure, which was why he always used to wear clothes to bed. What Keith actually needed was to be in a nest, made out of pillows and soft blankets, surrounded by his family or his mate. At least, that was how Krolia explained it to him, and he guessed it made sense, especially after he had made a nest of his own, falling asleep almost instantly once inside it. The nesting wasn’t the end of the Galra mannerisms that Krolia told Keith about, though she mainly seemed to be focusing on mating habits.

“When a Galra has found a suitable mate, they will bring them gifts to prove they can provide for their chosen.” Krolia casually said as she flew back towards the main base. Krolia had taken to telling Keith of his heritage and such when they headed back from missions. Now was one of those times, they had just finished up with a small scouting mission and were heading back for their next assignment.

“Mom.” Keith said in an exasperated tone. “Why are you so adamant about telling me all these mating habits? I don’t have a mate.” Keith crossed his arms and paced the length of the ship. “I’m barely Galra anyways.” Keith huffed and stopped beside the pilot’s chair so he could look out the window.

Krolia ruffled his hair and scratched behind his ear, “Keith, you are more Galra than you think. Have you not noticed the changes, my kit?” Keith leaned into her touch and felt a deep rumbling come from his chest.

“I-I… I haven’t really looked into the mirror in a while. I mean… I know my ears have changed. Something like that is kind of hard to miss.” Keith muttered defensively. Krolia laughed at him and tugged at his ear. Keith batted her hand away, “Stop that! That hurts.” Keith growled and flattened his ears. He stopped growling after she got the message to back off a little and let his ears stand back up.

“You did not notice?” Krolia frowned and tilted her head to the side. “How did you not notice the changes, kit.” Krolia cupped Keith’s cheek and turned his head from side to side.

Keith pouted and chewed on his bottom lip, “Like I said, I haven’t looked in a mirror for a while.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, a nervous tick he hadn’t been able to drop, as he looked for a mirror.

Krolia traced something on Keith’s face, “You have my markings.” She smiled fondly, although it looked a little sad. “Do not worry, my kit. All these changes are not bad, they are just signs of your heritage. See for yourself.” She switched the controls over to autopilot and took Keith into the back of the ship where the bathroom was. She turned on the light in the small bathroom and turned Keith to face the mirror.

“Oh… oh my god. Is that really me?” Keith breathed out in shock as he took in his new appearance. His ears had traveled to the top of his head, they were dark purple, fluffy, and distinctly Galra looking. This he knew, well, at least he knew they were on the upper part of his head. He had a mark similar to his mother’s travelling up the right side of his face. His eyes were more feline looking, slanting slightly more than they used to, though Keith was thankful that they weren’t yellow like other part-Galra he had met. Keith grimaced a little and his eyes narrowed in on his teeth. He lifted his top lip, yep those are fangs. He paused when he noticed something else. Am I taller? Keith looked back and forth between him and his mother’s reflections. I am taller! No wonder I can reach the top shelf now!

Krolia met his eyes in the mirror and smiled softly, “Yes, that really is you. Like I have said, do not worry about your looks, your mate will still be happy with you.”

Keith sputtered and whirled around, “My mate?!” Keith’s voice cracked and he felt his skin heat up as a blush covered his face. “I’ve told you I don’t have one!” He felt his ears flatten on the top of his head as a sign of his distress.

“Now that is a lie. I can smell him on you, even though you have been apart for months. Do you not feel it in your chest, that aching need to be by his side, curled around him, and protecting him?” Krolia looked him over and sighed.

“I-I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Keith croaked out and wrapped his arms around himself. He had felt that, every time he thought about Lance his heart skipped a beat and he could feel his soul calling out for the other male. Krolia frowned and turned her back to Keith, heading back to the pilot’s chair. “What are you doing?” Keith asked as he trailed after her.

“I am hailing your team’s ship. You have been away from them for far too long, my kit. You are longing for your team as much as you are longing for your mate.” Krolia looked at Keith as he stepped up beside the pilot’s chair. “You said that you only joined the Blade of Marmora to find out more about your past, correct?” She tilted her head to the side.

“Yes…” Keith said without hesitation and watched as his mother’s eyes softened.

“Then it is settled. You and I are leaving the Blade. There is no reason for us to stay there any longer. Kolivan will understand, especially when we mention that you have been away from your mate for too long. It is not good to let a courtship such as the one you have fizzle out. Your bond is very strong, even with you and your mate not acknowledging it.” Krolia looked away from Keith and inputted the communication code for the Castle of Lions. It only took a few ticks before someone at the castle answered the call.

Keith looked at he screen with concern when it was not Allura or one of the other paladins to answer the call. “Coran? What’s going on? Where is everyone?” Keith questioned, looking around the screen to try to figure out what was happening on the other end of the call.

“Keith! We need you back at the castle. Lance has been trying to reach you for months.” Coran looked over at the screen briefly before focusing back on the battle at hand. “It’s bad, we need Vol-” Coran cut off as the caste shook, jerking him to the side. “Send me your coordinates! Voltron needs you Keith.” Coran gave Keith a frantic look as he readied himself to put in the coordinates.

“Send him the coordinates.” Keith ordered with a grim expression on his face. He hated talking to his mother like that, but the only thing on his mind right then was getting to Lance. Lance needed him, Lance could be HURT! He felt his heart stutter in his chest and his breath came faster.

Krolia placed a hand on his arm, “Calm down, kit. You need to keep your head on straight.” Krolia gave him one last look before she flew through the wormhole that Coran opened for them. Keith let out a long breath and readied himself.

“I can only open the particle barrier for a few ticks, so you must be quick.” Coran said frantically before opening up a small hole near the hangers. “The red lion’s hanger is open, Keith you need to fly the red lion out there and help the other paladins!”

Keith looked a little confused, but readied himself to leave the ship as his mother landed it in the hanger beside the dormant red lion. “Coran… where’s Lance?! Why isn’t he flying Red?” Keith asked frantically after he patched his comms into the castle’s. The ship shook as they took another hit and Keith skidded sideways as he scrambled towards Red.

“There’s no time for that Keith! You need to get out there, we need Voltron!” Coran cut out after that. Keith skidded to a stop in front of Red’s particle barrier and looked up at the sleeping lion.

“Red, please, let me in. I need to help, I need to know what happened to my mate- my Lance.” Keith banged on the barrier and looked up with large indigo eyes at his lion. Red dropped the barrier and Keith rushed up the ramp, hearing a purr of welcome and of urgency in the back of his mind. He dropped down into the seat and grabbed the controls. “Let’s go, Red.” Keith pushed the controls down urging Red out into the battle.

“Wait, the Red Lion just left it’s hanger!” Pidge yelled into the comms.

“Keith…” Lance breathed out, his face popping up on the video feed. Keith felt his breath catch.

“Lance.” Keith croaked out. “I thought… you aren’t in Red!” He looked over the other boy’s face for any sign of distress or injury.

“We have a lot to catch up on, but for now, let’s form Voltron!” Lance grinned and winked at Keith. Keith paused for a moment before shaking his head and flying out to meet the other paladins to join together and form Voltron.

The rest of the battle was a blur of purple lasers and explosions. The brief pain of Voltron being physically ripped apart. Lance could still feel the pain resonating through their bond when they reconnected, not to mention the bruised, maybe even broken, ribs and concussion he was sporting from being thrown around. The battle was over, though, the planet was saved, and Keith was back. Something inside of him was singing out in happiness at seeing the familiar face of Keith, even if he was sporting some new additions to his look. Lance shook his head of his thoughts and landed the Black Lion beside the other lions. He gave her a quick pat as he walked down the ramp to exit the lion.

“Lance!” Keith yelled and Lance looked up just in time to see Keith running full speed for him. Lance’s eyes widened when he was swept up into Keith’s arms and spun around. “I missed you.” Keith said softly into Lance’s hair where he had buried his face.

“You’re taller…?” Lance questioned into Keith’s chest. He felt Keith laugh before the other man took a step back.

“Yeah, I’m almost as tall as my mom now.” Keith grinned, flashing very white teeth and fangs?!

“Wh- you- fangs??” Lance stuttered out, his eyes wide and a small blush covering his cheeks. The blush only deepened when Keith chuckled and took a step back, dropping his arms from Lance’s waist.

“My mom helped to nurture my Galra side and it kind of triggered some of my dormant genes I guess.” Keith shrugged and Lance watched as his ears pressed back a little.

“Are you upset about it?” Lance asked softly, stepping closer to Keith and reached a hand up to trace the mark on Keith’s cheek. “Because I don’t think you should be. You’re still the same Keith to me.” Lance took a deep breath and looked up into Keith’s eyes as he cupped Keith’s cheek. “I still feel the same way I did about you, the same way I’ve always felt about you.” Keith’s eyes widened and his ears perked back up as he leaned into Lance’s hand.

“And how do you feel about me…?” Keith asked softly, aware that the other paladins and his mother were starting to come over to them.

“I think… I think I might be in love with you, Keith.” Lance said just as soft, he could feel his eyes going hazy, reminding him of his injuries, but he really didn’t care at the moment. Keith’s eyes lit up and a rumbling sound that sounded suspiciously like purring came from his chest. He nuzzled into Lance’s hair and wrapped his arms loosely around Lance’s waist.

“I’m so glad. I think I’ve been Galra courting you for months honestly.” Keith said into Lance’s hair, his voice coming out slightly muffled by his purring. Lance’s cheeks flared red and he tipped his head back to look at Keith in the eyes.

“Seriously?” Lance questioned with a tilt of his head. Keith blushed and nodded with a half smile.

“I had no idea until recently honestly. My mom explained it to me more and it makes sense. I always had Galra tendencies, I just never knew what they were.” Keith shrugged. “But now I know, and I can put them to good use.” Keith pulled Lance close again and squeezed him. Lance let out a pained noise and his knees started to give from the pain. Keith let go of his chest and grabbed his hips to hold him up. “Lance?! What’s wrong?” Keith’s eyes were wide with worry. “Did you get hurt! This armor needs to come off right now.” Keith growled and reached for the clasp on the chest piece before he froze. “Black...armor?”

Lance struggled to stay standing. “Mmm fine… my head jus’ feels kinda funny.” Lance slurred out and slumped against Keith again. “Maybe I got hurt more than I thought” was the last thought that ran through Lance’s head before he finally passed out.

Keith whined and held Lance close to his chest, “Lance, Lance! Wake up, wake up!” Keith’s ears were flattened and he was shaking in distress. His mate had just collapsed, he was wearing the wrong armor, and Shiro was nowhere to be seen. His head was definitely not in the right space.

“Keith. We need to get Lance to a pod.” Hunk leaned down into Keith’s view and reached for Lance. Keith growled and flicked his ears back in anger, holding Lance closer to his chest. No one was touching his mate. Hunk withdrew his hand quickly. “Come on, Keith! He needs to go into a pod so we can figure out what’s wrong.” Hunk looked frantic, but Keith couldn’t focus on that.

“Let me take care of this…” Krolia spoke softly to the rest of the team, but due to Keith’s enhanced hearing, he heard her loud and clear.

“And who are you? Are you another Blade member?” Allura asked, her tone none too happy.

“She’s Keith’s mother.” Pidge broke in. “Remember, Lance was telling us that Keith had found her a couple months ago? Plus they have like the same face, so it must be her. You’re Krolia right?” Pidge asked, though Keith’s attention was focused back on the passed out paladin in his arms. He went back to work on quietly and gently removing Lance’s chest piece before he moved onto his arm bracers and finally the leg protectors. He made a small whining noise in the back of his throat and nuzzled into Lance’s hair. Footsteps headed in his direction causing Keith to whip his head up and bare his teeth with a growl. His mother gave him a disapproving look.

“Kit. Your mate is hurt and he needs to go into a healing pod.” Krolia said gently, but her tone was firm. Keith narrowed his eyes and pressed his ears to his skull.

“He’s mine. My mate.” Keith huffed out, seemingly unable to get much more out. He gently ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, brushing it out of his face. Krolia took a few more steps until she was right up in Keith’s space. She put a hand on his shoulder and let out a soothing rumbling noise to calm him down. Keith let out a long breath and visibly relaxed after a few moments.

“I know he is yours, kit. The paladins and I are not trying to take him from you. We want to put him in a pod so he can heal. Do you not want him to heal?” Krolia tipped her head to the side, all the while still letting out the soothing purrs from her chest to keep Keith calm.

Keith whined, “Of course I want him to heal! I will take him there now and afterwards,” Keith paused, flicking his eyes up to the other paladins, “I want answers.” He didn’t wait to see if they would agree before he was up on his feet, Lance tucked safely in his arms. Keith walked briskly to the med bay where Coran had a pod ready.

“Put him in here, Number Four. Though, I may need to rethink my classifications. It seems you have grown since we have last seen you.” Coran smiled at Keith as he opened up a pod for Lance. Keith shrugged and gently placed Lance in the pod, brushing his bangs out of his face, before he stepped back. The glass rose, sealing Lance in the cryopod and starting the healing process.

“How long will he be in there, Coran?” Keith asked without removing his eyes from Lance’s still form suspended in the glowing blue light of the pod.

“Let me take a look.” Coran replied and typed in a command on the console of the cryopod. Keith watched as Coran read over the lines of Altean script on the screen. “He should be out in a few vargas, but he shouldn’t be in there for more than a quintant.” Keith nodded and continued to watch Lance in the cryopod, his ears drooping.

“I wanted to talk to the team about everything that has happened… but I’m not leaving until Lance is out.” Keith said softly to Coran and pressed his forehead against the cryopod. Coran clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder causing Keith to look back at him.

“I will send the team around when Lance gets out. Do not worry so much, my boy, Lance will be okay.” Coran gave Keith a smile and walked out, leaving Keith alone in the room.

“What am I going to do with you…” Keith sighed and stared up at Lance’s still form.

Lance heard a muffled swishing sound before he was suddenly falling forward. His eyes shot open and he flailed for half a second before warm, strong arms stopped his fall. “Wh-what?” Lance croaked out and looked up, meeting Keith’s eyes.

“You passed out… we had to put you in the pods.” Keith said gently, holding Lance closer. “You had two broken ribs and a bad concussion. You had me really worried.” Keith held him tighter and pressed his face into his hair, letting out a small rumbling sound.

“I’m sorry.” Lance pressed his face into Keith’s chest. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” He relaxed a little listening to the rumbling -purring- coming from Keith’s chest. Keith rubbed his hand in circles on Lance’s back.

“Now that I know you’re safe,” Keith pulled Lance back a little to look him in the eyes, “tell me what I missed. Why were you in Black and wearing the black paladin armor? Where’s Shiro?” Keith looked a little frantic.

Lance rubbed his thumb on Keith’s hip, “I’m the new black paladin… no more lion switches. All those switches have been leading up to me becoming the black paladin, at least that’s how Black explained it to me. The Shiro that you brought onto the ship… he wasn’t the actual Shiro. He was some sort of clone controlled by that witch Haggar. He,” Lance paused and ghosted a hand over his own throat, “he tried to kill me.” Keith sucked in a breath and pulled Lance closer, his ears flattening against his skull.

“Where is he? I need to have a word with this clone.” Keith growled out, his fangs bared at the perceived threat to his mate. Lance shook his head and reached a hand up to pet Keith’s ear in hopes of calming him.

“I killed him before he could finish the job.” Lance paused to gauge Keith’s reaction. Sure, he hadn’t killed the real Shiro, but Lance didn’t know how the other would take the news that Lance had been able to kill someone like that.

“Good.” Keith relaxed and tilted his head into Lance’s hand, the purring starting up again. “So what’s the plan, Mr. Black Paladin?” He chuckled a little and smiled down at Lance.

“The plan right now is to look for Shiro as we liberate planets and add them to the Coalition, but…” Lance paused and looked up at Keith with a sly smirk, “I have a feeling you were also wondering about what the plan is for us.”

Keith bit his lip lightly and nodded his head. “I am… Now that we have both acknowledged the courtship a couple things have to happen, otherwise my Galra side will start freaking out.”

“And what are those things?” Lance tilted his head to the side. He knew that he was going to accept Keith’s courtship and agree to be his mate. Contrary to popular belief, Lance did his research, so he knew that Galra mated for life. He was ready for that because he already knew that Keith was everything he would ever want. But… that didn’t mean that Lance couldn’t mess with Keith a little first.

“Well… if you want to be together, you’ll need to verbally accept the mateship and then there’s the physical marking… Also, you need to understand that Galra mate for life… so if you accept, it’ll be like we’re getting married, except if you decide to break it off with me later on…” Keith shivered, “Let’s just say we don’t want to find out what happens.” His eyes traced over Lance’s features, memorizing everything in case he never got this chance again. “So… what do you say?”

Lance feigned like he was thinking, “Well.. I don’t know…” He smirked, “I am a lot to handle… and I know you will be as well. See, I’ve been doing some reading up on Galra habits and I know you’re going to go through some weird stuff.” He watched Keith’s ears droop a little before he reached a hand up to cup Keith’s cheek, “I want you Keith, now and forever.” Lance pushed up on his tiptoes and kissed Keith deeply, catching the half-Galran by surprise. Keith’s grip tightened around Lance’s waist as he pulled Lance closer.

Keith pulled away after a few moments of kissing, “Is that a yes?” He asked breathlessly.

Lance laughed and gave Keith another chaste kiss, “Yes, you big dummy! You’re stuck with me now.”

“I didn’t make such a great leader, but maybe now I can be a great right-hand man and an even better mate. Lance…” Keith breathed out and pressed his forehead to Lance’s, “Lance I love you so so much… I am so glad you said yes.”

Lance smiled softly and rubbed his thumb on Keith’s jaw, “We’re in this together. So, don’t worry, we’ll find Shiro, together, and we’ll finally get our family back in one place.”

“I like the sound of that.” Keith said softly before pulling Lance into another kiss. They may not know where the real Shiro is, but as far as the two of them were concerned, anything was now possible because after all, they do make a great team.

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