#that thing was trained on stolen Ao3 work and you're going to come post it there? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tilltheendwilliwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry.

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face.

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other.

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place.

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet.

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord.

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?"

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him?

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face.

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized.

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee.

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth.

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered.

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing.

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar.

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta."

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy.

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children.

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes.

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled.

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?"

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator.

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage.

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear.

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark.

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from.

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh.

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur.

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well.

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate.

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered.

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him.

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her.

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire.

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end.

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained.

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No."

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

Next Chapter

#Star-Crossed #mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfiction

84 notes · View notes

catradoramma · 6 years ago

Note

You're taking prompts, right? How about this: Post Catra redemption arc she and Adora are friends once more, both in the resistance. Adora is trying to exercise, and Catra keeps getting in the way. She sits on Adora's back during push ups, or hangs on her arms lifting weights, things like that. Finally fed up with the interference she asks Catra why? Catra reluctantly admits that it's just super sexy when Adora flexes and lifts Catra. Cue relationship start.

Dumb Jock

“God, you’re such a dumb jock,” she shook her head. “I’m not jealous of your muscles.”

“Then why are you staring?” Adora rolled her eyes.

“Because they’re sexy as fuck.”

Rated Teen

Read it on ao3 or under the cut.

After Catra had joined the rebellion, she spent most of her time in the training arena. Adora couldn’t blame her much—even though Adora wanted Catra to be spending time with her—the training arena was something Catra knew. Fighting was something Catra knew she was good at. Adora saw it as a way for Catra to make herself more comfortable in this new and polarizing world they both found themselves in.

This is why Adora wasn’t at all surprised to find Catra there during Adora’s regular hours. Catra had been in the middle of some sort of sparring match with one of the royal guards when Adora arrived.

Adora thought this all the time, but Catra really was something to behold while fighting. She was graceful and agile, slipping in and out of places as if her bones were made out of some sort of liquid. And she was gorgeous too, her face lighting up with a smirk as she realized she had the upper hand, or her brows furrowing and her jaw squaring when she realized she lost it. The curve of Catra’s spine as she stalked around her opponent was something that made Adora’s mouth dry up, almost without fail.

It was this last fact that made Adora retreat onto the warm-up mats to begin her stretches.

Facing away from Catra.

Adora had managed to get through about 85% of her warm-up stretches when she heard Catra’s, “Hey Adora.”

Adora stood up from her warm-up lunge to face Catra. Her freckled cheeks were flushed from her earlier sparring session and her usual mane was resembling a rat’s nest.

An affectionate smile rose to Adora’s face. “Hey Catra.”

“I don’t know why you do so many stretches,” Catra took a few steps toward Adora, “It’s not like your enemy is ever gonna let you warm up your muscles before an actual fight.”

Adora rolled her eyes, “Okay, yeah, but in a training scenario, I should be trying to keep my body as healthy as possible.”

Catra rolled her eyes back with a groan. “You’re such a nerd. I would’ve thought the ancient goddess living within you would have made you cooler, but nope.”

Adora let out a little laugh. “Whatever, Catra,” Adora’s belly filled with butterflies at the sound of Catra’s responding laughter. “Let me finish my warm up, I’m almost done.”

Catra let out a long sigh. “Okay, nerd.”

“Punk,” Adora shot back, as she lowered herself onto the ground to begin some pushups. Adora had maybe done five when she felt a weight settle into the middle of her back.

“Catra?” Adora asked, “What’re you doing?”

“Sitting on you,” Catra responded and Adora didn’t really know why that made her face heat up.

“Why?” Adora’s voice came out strained, but not because of the pushups.

“Wanted to see if you could do it,” Catra quipped back. “Protector of all of Etheria should be able to at least lift me.”

“Right,” Adora deadpanned.

“Just trying to make the world a safer place,” Adora could imagine the way Catra’s head tilted and her eyes closed when she said that. Her arms were probably crossed over her chest and she probably had the haughtiest of expressions on her face.

Adora let out a little, winded laugh, “Of course.”

————

It was a few days after the first incident when Adora made her way back into the training arena with the intent to spar. Adora wanted to spar with Catra in particular.

They hadn’t sparred with each other in a while. Maybe it was because the memory of fighting each other for real was still so fresh in their minds, or maybe it was the fact that back in the Fright Zone, Adora had won all of their sparring sessions, and she didn’t want to make Catra feel lesser, or maybe it was the fact that Adora still wasn’t sure where they stood as friends.

It was all very confusing, but Adora was ready to move past whatever awkwardness was between them. Catra always responded better to physical conversations anyway.

However, as Adora reached the training arena, ready to ask Catra to spar with her, she pulled up short. Catra wasn’t there.

She wasn’t on the mats, kicking some royal guard’s ass, she wasn’t climbing up the walls and swinging between rafters like some sort of obstacle course, and she wasn’t even leaning up against a wall, talking shit about Shadow Weaver and Hordak with the few members of the royal guard she’d befriended.

Catra wasn’t there.

With a sigh, Adora decided she could go for some strength training. She had been realizing recently that after a particularly long fight, her arms and back ached like no one’s business, probably because of the huge sword she was now swinging around. Adora decided she needed to build a little more muscle mass in those areas to accommodate for the added weight.

It was with this thought that Adora made her way into the weight room.

Adora was not sulking, by the way.

Adora rushed through her warm-up routine and decided the rowing machine would be the best place to start. Not only would it work her shoulders and arms like she’d been looking for, but it would also work her thighs, which would help her add power to her strikes.

Adora placed a few weights onto the machine, and got to work. Adora had probably done close to 50 reps, then she was nearly startled out of her skin with a trademarked, “Hey Adora,” nearly whispered into her ear.

Adora let go of the machine, the weights clattering together and masking the surprised scream that escaped from Adora.

“Christ, Catra!” Adora spun around, and pulled up short when she saw Catra cackling, clutching her stomach, almost doubled over with laughter. Adora let out a few of her own giggles, then threw a mild punch at Catra’s shoulder, “Asshole.”

“You should have seen your face!” Catra exclaimed, leaning onto the now forgotten machine as she wiped tears off her face.

“You’re such a shit-head,” Adora hissed teasingly as she pushed Catra.

“Hey!” Catra hollered as she leaped onto Adora’s back in a way that, less than a year ago, would have made Adora topple over with the added weight. However, now, Adora stumbled a few steps with a laugh before righting herself and Catra. “No fair! You have inner goddess powers now!”

“Shut up!” Adora laughed as she tried to reach behind her to grab Catra. She slithered out of her reach, pulling on Adora’s ponytail and nicking holes in her clothes with her claws. “Your bones are made of liquid!”

Catra swung up onto a rafter, her cheeks pink and her chest heaving. “I guess we’re even then,” she said, her mouth quirked up.

Adora shrugged and let out a giggle, “Sure, if you get down from there.”

“As if,” Catra smirked, “Come get me,” then darted off to the next rafter.

Adora darted after her.

————

After being thrown off a cliff more times than she’d care to admit, Adora decided pull-ups were a good use of her time today. Catra was swinging between rafters dodging projectiles that a royal guard was throwing at her, when Adora got to the training arena.

It was with a smile that Adora worked through her warm-up and first 45 reps.

“Hey Adora,” Catra said, approaching Adora’s workstation at a leisurely pace. She had two water bottles in her hands and when Adora lowered herself onto her feet, Catra tossed one at her.

“Thanks Catra,” Adora cracked the top and took a swig, not realizing how thirsty she was until she had water.

Catra cleared her throat and took a much smaller sip of her own. “No problem,” she said back as she looked away for a moment.

“You trying something new with some of the guards today?” Adora nodded to the set of rafters that Catra had been darting between earlier.

Catra let a smile grow over her features. “Yeah,” she nodded. “It was actually Hermana’s idea to have someone throw things at me. If I’m honest, though, I’m pretty sure she just wanted an excuse to hit me.”

Adora laughed, Catra following a beat after. “You’re too slick for that, Catra,” Adora rocked forward on her heels. “There’s no way she’d even come close to hitting you.”

Catra rolled her eyes, a small flush blooming over her features. Adora thought it was simply adorable.

“Whatever, Adora,” Catra looked back at Adora. “You should spar with me. You’re way more fun to take down.”

Adora laughed. “Okay, let me just do one more round of pull-ups,” Adora placed the water bottle on the floor, and then reached up to the bar. “After that, I’m all yours.”

“Ugh,” Catra sighed after Adora had managed only 4 reps. “You’re so boring,” Catra hooked her arms around Adora’s shoulders, trying to pull Adora off the bar. Adora, however, managed to maintain her grip and lifted both herself and Catra, with barely a hitch in her rhythm.

“Catra, you’re heavy,” Adora sighed, “Let me finish this, and then we can spar.”

“I’m not heavy, you’re just a baby,” Catra sounded a little winded.

“Catra,” Adora wiggled her shoulders, trying to shake Catra off.

“Adora,” Catra shot back, the movement making her cling tighter.

Adora sighed and dropped off the bar, taking Catra with her. Adora turned in Catra’s hold so they were face-to-face. Catra moved her grip from Adora’s shoulders to the tops of her biceps.

“You’re so needy, I was going to be done in like a minute,” Adora sighed.

“I just wanna spar now,” Catra said, but her eyes were focused on where she was gripping Adora’s arms, her eyes twinkling a little bit.

Adora’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that why you’re staring at my arms?”

Catra’s eyes shot away, looking a little more like she’d stolen the last cookie, than someone who had just been oogling her friend’s arms. “You know, if you did any strength training at all, you could have muscles like this too.”

Catra looked back at Adora, a confused look on her face. It was only there for a second before it melted into something closer to amusement. “God, you’re such a dumb jock,” she shook her head. “I’m not jealous of your muscles.”

“Then why are you staring?” Adora rolled her eyes.

“Because they’re sexy as fuck,” Catra’s smile was predatory, “and it turns me on when you lift me.”

Adora’s heart stopped beating, and her face burst into flames. “Oh.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “yeah, oh.”

Adora swallowed, her eyes tracking over Catra’s face. “You think I’m…sexy?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Catra’s tail flicked behind her, and that was distracting. “Or was my hanging off of you this week not obvious enough?”

Adora thought back to the other training days this week. The pushup incident, the rowing and then the wrestling, now the pull-ups. Adora felt like she was seeing things for the first time.

“There it is,” Catra sing-songed, her hands squeezing Adora’s muscles a little tighter.

“Oh,” Adora focused back on Catra’s face. Or more specifically her lips, before Adora pulled her into a kiss.

#catradora #my writing #fic #Catra (she-ra)#adora/catra #adora (she-ra)#spop #she-ra and the princesses of power #answered #kolimachris

302 notes · View notes

mayonara · 7 years ago

Note

can i ask for Robin!Jay meeting Dick for the first time and having an instantanous crush and maybe trying to impress him but Dick being jerk at first for being the new Robin but then later treats him better? I don't know I was imagining this taking place in Nightwing Year One? (sorry for my english, love your works! '-')

Thanks so much for the prompt *^* So this takes place duringNightwing Year One by Chuck Dixon. Ofc some of the events/things changed a bitto fit the story. And it might have turned out a bit more angsty (at least forDick) than I expected. Because I didn’t like how Bruce treated him (and yes, Iam bitter about that because Dick is such a good boy). Anyways here it is!I hope you like it.

Also posted on AO3

Jason wasn’t expecting torun into the original Robin on his gauntlet run, his first test to being Robin.He actually didn’t realize it was him until a couple minutes in, just thoughthe was some wannabe superhero in blue tights. Only that it turned out that it was him, the first Robin. The one he was replacing.

Needless to say just basedon first impression, Jason was a bit smitten. The man, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Just absolutely gorgeous even in that ridiculous lookingoutfit with a blue so bright, showing every inch of his body, all the curves ofhis muscles, so taut and beautiful. Something that Jason aspired to be when hegrew up.

Just, he couldn’t exactlysee his face clearly with that mask obscuring his eyes, but it was apparentthat he was handsome.

So yeah, Jason was just a tadawed by him, not that he was going to admit it. But he figured since he was thenew Robin, maybe he could surprisehim, show-off and display to him that he’s worthy of his mantle.

Though the first wordsthat slipped from his mouth when he realized he was the first Robin probablywasn’t the most pleasant

“You're old…you're him.“

And the man who he knew asDick Grayson stared at him, appalled.

“You’re what?” He questioned and Jason justsmirked at him as he shot out a line.

“The new Robin,”he said and then swung off the roof.

Apparently, Dick didn’tknow he’d been replaced, and to his surprise, he didn’t reprimand or yell athim like a petty adult to give it back or anything. Though he supposed hewasn’t exactly at fault, hence, he couldn’t be blamed. But when Jason blurtedthat he was on a gauntlet run, Dick seemed a bit freaked and followed afterhim.

“Look! I don’t needyour help,” Jason growled, annoyed. “I can handle this myself. I’mpretty capable,” he said in full confidence, squared his shoulders allproud.

“Sure you can. I betyou’re inexperienced. Where did he find you anyways?” Dick askedskeptically and he sounded a bit condescending.

Okay, so maybe he might bea little angered that he’d been replaced. Anyone would really.

“The streets,”Jason answered and landed on his feet, folded his arms across his chest in fullconfidence, attempting to challenge Dick slightly. “So I already haveexperience,” Jason smirked and Dick just sighed heavily at him.

“Well get overyourself, Robin is not a—” And Jason just ignored him, jumped off thebuilding to land on the other. “Hey!”Dick called and continued chasing after him.

They ended on a high speedchase across the roofs as Jason tried to show off his skills, wanting to earnhis approval, wanting Dick to complement and praise him as he jumped and leaptfrom building across building, revealing that he had what it took to be Robin.

“Robin!” Dickcalled out. “You’re being damn reckless!” He hissed as he was comingup hot behind Jason and then reached out to grab his cape.

“Ugh!” Jasongroaned as the collar around his neck snapped back and he fell onto his butt.“Hey!” he shouted a bit angrily and stared up at the man who waslooking back down at him, lips forlorn and seemed a bit moody. “I’m on atest here! Stop interrupting!” Jason barked back.

Dick all but groaned andpinched the bridge of his nose frustratingly. “Look here—” hestarted, but Jason was suddenly interrupted by a call from Bruce and he soundedrather haggard.

“Batman?” Jasonasked as the man mumbled into his ears, something about Alfred being caught.“What? Abort the mission?” And then his communication piece wasstolen, snatched from his ear.

Dick had taken it as helistened in and blurted, “Then what was the point? To rub my nose in itwith your new brat wonder?” Thetone in his voice was sharp, harsh even and he sounded upset, disappointmentclear in his words.

His brows were pressedtogether into a thin line as he scowled, listening to Bruce. But then suddenly,he’d relax just a smidge as a look of horror swiftly replaced his expression.“Alf is—?” He asked and then nodded his head in agreement tosomething that probably pertained to the butler. He tossed the earphone back atJason carelessly as the teen tried to catch it.

“What’s wrong withAlf?” Jason questioned curiously.

“We got to savehim,” Dick said and rushed off ahead of Jason as the teen squabbled to hisfeet to follow after him.

“Hey wait forme!” Jason called out.

“Go home kid!”Dick shouted back as he unrelentingly moved forth, leaving Jason behind, and didn’teven wait a single second for him to catch up.

That was just rude, Jasonthought and huffed loudly as he struggled to stay on par with the man. He wastoo fast, too agile, jumping across every building with ease. It was a wonderhe hadn’t been able to swiftly catch up to him earlier because right now, Dickwas moving with speed, moving a lot better than Jason and quicker too. The teenwas trailing behind and he cursed himself for doubting his predecessor. Obviouslyhe had the experience and the training while Jason barely had any, just a few months’worth.

He knew that Dick wasangry, could just see it in him now, how he’d been back talking to him, talkinghim down as if he wasn’t worthy of Robin. Treating him like a kid who knewnothing when Jason had lived through so much.Left him behind even though it was hismission, and this was his gauntlet.

Dick probably didn’t evenknow what he was looking for since Jason knew that Alfred was currently playingas a villain. He’d need his help if he wanted to successfully save the butler.

It took him a while buthe’d finally caught up with Dick and dropped beside him onto the rooftop of thewarehouse.

“Surprised you caughtup with me, Robin.”

There was a bit ofirritation in his tone when he’d said his name but Jason brushed it off.“It was easy,” he said even though he was breathing heavily,attempting to catch his breath.

Dick just shook his head atthe teen strode forward, ignoring him as he leaned down to peer into therooftop windows. Jason watched closely, walking up to his side before the manscrunched his nose and turned away. “Not there,” he murmured and thenroughly grabbed Jason by the cape, tugging him along as he went to check outall the other windows.

“Hey thathurts!” Jason argued, attempting to fight back against him and struggledto get free of his hold when suddenly, he was released and tumbled back on hisheels, lost his footing and fell to the ground in an oomph.

Dick didn’t say a word,didn’t even look at Jason as the teen was huddled on the ground, rubbing hissore ass and pressing his palms to the cement floor to stand back up. Instead,he was just minding his own business and observing down below. “There’sour culprit,” Dick whispered into the cold air, and Jason could see awhite puff of air slipping from his lips.

Jason slowly dragged hisfeet towards the man and peered in with him as well, found a body strapped to achair. He squinted his eyes, zooming in on the culprit and found that it wasTwo-Face.

“Ah—” Jason murmured,but was cut off when Dick slapped a hand over his mouth. The man turned to lookat him and brought a finger to his lips, hushing Jason up.

“Let’s go,” hesaid and released his hold as he moved to sneak into the building. Jasonswiftly followed after, climbing in through the window and falling onto thesupport beam. Carefully, he mimicked Dick’s movements and tried to balancehimself well, waiting for the guards to exit the room before they dropped down.

Immediately, Dick went upto the figure, probably expected it to be Alfred, but found someone else.Someone he wasn’t quite a fan of.

“You,” Dick hissed and brought his hand up into a tight fist,ready to land a punch on the man known as Two-Face.

But Jason knew that thiswasn’t who he thought it was and jumped to curl his hands around Dick’s arm,pulling with all his strength as he held the man back, didn’t want him to makethe mistake of punching his dear ol’ butler.

Dick started questioninghim, asking for Alfred, but the villain just smirked and said, “I thoughtI raised you to display better manners, Master Richard,” in that sarcasticBritish accent of his.

“Wha—?“

And then Dick stopped,faltering as a look of confusion filled his face. The strength in his armslackened as he pulled back, probably realizing who this person wasexactly.

"Hey!” Jason called,could hear footsteps in the distance. “They’re coming!”

And swiftly, they ran offto hide in the shadows of the room, waiting for the right moment to pounce asthe men arrived before Alfred. The witty butler said a few lines andimmediately, Dick took charge and jumped out from his hiding space as heattacked one of the men, landing a kick to his face.

Jason followed suitbecause that’s all he seemed to be doing these days and helped assist him inhis fighting, beating up the culprits before Killer Croc arrived in theroom.

“Killer Croc,” Dick snarled and readied himself to battleagainst the human-reptile. He was carrying a bazooka in hand and was beckoningat Alfred, who he thought was Harvey Dent, to come forward and give himself inbut Alf being Alf, revealed himself with his British accent and confused thenew creature.

And he took that as ataunt and fired his bazooka, which Alfred was swift to react and jumped him,caused him to falter back, losing his footing and firing at the ceiling. Crumbsof the building fell from the sky and onto the ground and from the corner ofJason’s eyes, he could see Croc retreating into the back rooms and Nightwingfollowing after him.

Jason left Alfred behind,seeing that the butler could manage his own and was already tying up loose endsand entered the room that Nightwing and Croc had disappeared into.

“Hey,” Jasoncalled and came up right behind Dick. The man just clicked his tongue at himand gestured for him to leave, but Jason didn’t. If he was going to act thisway, hate on him just because he took his mantle, then he was going to doeverything within his power to impress Dick. To make him see that he wasworthy.

So he sucked in a largebreath and shouted loudly into the vicinity of the room. “Hey Gatorbutt!You still here?!” And Dick immediately glared at him from the side.

“You—!”

But then Croc responded,“You should have run,” he growled, voice low and deep as he picked upa stack of crates and tossed them towards the two.

Jason jumped to dodge theattack and successfully landed on his feet without falling over. He pumped afist triumphantly but then was caught off guard as another crate was flung hisway. He quickly dodged it and another was flung at him. It was coming in toofast, too quick for him to escape, but luckily he was saved by Dick as heshoved him off to the side.

“Damn it Robin!”He cursed. “I told you to stay out,” he grumbled and placed a hand athis chest, huddling in front of him as he shielded Jason.

For a guy who he thoughthated him, he was sure being protective. And Jason wasn’t about to allowhimself to be treated like a helpless kid when he’s supposed to be the newRobin, the partner to Batman.

“I can handlethis!” Robin argued and Dick just sighed, frustration evident on his facewith how tight his lips were and the slight wrinkles forming on his forehead.

“Fine,” hemumbled. “Follow me,” he instructed and leapt to attack Croc.

Dick moved like the wind,his body flowing fluidly as he twirled and jumped, tossing kicks and punchesthat resembled a beautiful dance. His moves were flawless and he dealt each hitwith precision, with skill and prowess. He was amazing and his movements were lightas a feather, seeming as if he barely had to put any weight. It was differentthan watching Batman fight, who fought like a brawler with strength and vigorin ever punch.

Dick was different and hewas just so damn beautiful that Jason was star struck, feet rooted to theground as he gazed ashamedly at the man. He didn’t move a single inch untilDick called his name and snapped the teen out of his daze. Jason shook his headand found Croc about to chuck a huge cabinet at them. He lifted a foot forward,ready to bolt out of the way but then suddenly, a motorbike flew into his wayand took Croc to the ground.

“Boys,” a light and feminine voice filtered into the mix andJason caught sight of Batgirl standing off to the side.

Dick just heaved a longsigh and threaded his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. “Nicesave,” he mumbled under his breath and moved to approach her, engaging herin a conversation that was held for just themselves.

As they were busy cleaningup, chaining Croc down so he’d be ready for the police to pick up, Alfredappeared.

“The Master is awakeand request your presence,” he simply spoke and eyed them allindividually. “Everyone,” he added sternly, implying that all thatwere present needed to go.

Dick said nothing, butjust tossed a glance at Alfred and pulled his lips into a small smile, a forcedone. “I’ll ride with Batgirl,” he said and Alfred just shrugged hisshoulders nonchalantly, unsurprised by his question.

“Then I will takeRobin home,” he said and Jason all but threw his hands up in the air andswiftly disappeared. He’d wanted Dick to ride with them, but didn’t see that happeningso he figured he’d steal a car for the ride home.

Jason honestly wasn’texpecting Dick to show up at the manor but he did and that was quite asurprise. Actually more surprised to see him in the flesh and unmasked.

He was as beautiful asJason had expected and he could feel his poor little heart beating rapidly,butterflies floating around in his stomach.

When Dick had arrived, theexpression on his face was dark and Bruce didn’t look any different. He wascovered in bandages, sitting on his chair with his arms crossed, leveling thoseblue eyes of his at Dick as the man kept his distance.

“Everyone out,”Bruce said and looked at all participates, signaling for them to leave. Jasonwas reluctant but he followed Alfred out, only to renter the cave once he wasout of sight. He crawled to the shadows of the cave and hid behind one ofBatman’s souvenirs to keep himself out of sight as he listened in on theconversation.

Well, he was waiting forthem to actually start speaking. There was a heavy silence that filled the air,spreading thin across the atmosphere. It was tense and even made Jason feelnervous. The teen sighed softly, trying to be patient with his emotions. Hewanted to just jump out there and get them to talk already. As if his prayerwas answered, they started.

And the first to speak wasnot Bruce, but Dick.

“I can’t believe youreplaced me Bruce,” his voice sounded strained, almost hurt.

“You left,”Bruce simply stated and Dick all but growled loudly at that remark.

“You fired me,”he kept his tone leveled, was trying his hardest to not burst out at Bruce.

And Jason didn’t know thatDick had been fired. Just assumed he was too old and that Bruce stripped themantle from him and gave it over to Jason. But that was—that wasn’t right.That’s just—

“You were neglectingyour Robin duties.”

“I was—” hehuffed loudly. “I was not Bruce.I was there, but I can’t be there allthe time. I had other duties to uphold.”

"That shouldn’tmatter. You are Batman’s partner and Robin should be your priority.”

“Bruce!” Heshouted, giving into his anger. “That’s not—god damn. We’re having the same conversation as last time.”And then there was a pause as both of them collected themselves. “I—I’m upset,” Dick murmured, finallyletting out his true feelings. “I thought I was your partner.”

“I thought you were mine.”

“I was. Obviously that wasn’t the case because you went and replaced me with some new kid. God damn it Bruce, if youjust wanted a new Robin then fine, you could have told me. But to have me findout this way? That after you fired me, you gave away my mantle? Mine? That I created on my own. That Iused my families colors for?”

And in that moment, Jasonrealized that this wasn’t a conversation he should be listening in on. That itwas far too private for him to hear,that his mentor and his predecessor had a long history together that resultedin a terrible falling out. That Robin wasn’t given to him just because hedeserved it or that Dick wasn’t good anymore. It was because Dick was too busyto be Robin full-time. To be Batman’s Robin full-time.

He sucked in a shakybreath and leaned out to peer at the two, could see Dick’s shoulders shakinguncontrollably, trying to hold in his emotions before he burst any further. Andthe look on Bruce’s face? That look was—wasn’t something Jason had seen before.He almost looked heartbroken, almost torn about his actions.

“Dick—” Bruce called softly and then paused, fingers curlinginto tight fists as he struggled with what he wanted to say. “I—”

And this was somethingthat Jason shouldn’t be hearing. If it was an apology, it wasn’t meant for him,wasn’t meant for his ears. So before Bruce could say anymore, Jason plugged hisears and swiftly left, disappearing from the cave and reentered the manor.

Whatever they had goingbetween them was for them and them only.

Jason was just hanging outin the living room, watching TV as he stuffed his face with popcorn, courtesyof Alfred. He’d had a huge bowl in his lap and a large cup of tea sitting offto the side on the table. He’d actually wanted soda but Alfred had rejectedthat, said it wasn’t healthy for a growing boy and he needed to maintain hisgood and bad calories. Jason frowned at that but accepted it anyways as foodwas a delicacy for him.

As he continued to passthe time, watching some cartoons, he heard soft footsteps approaching him andturned his head to see the newcomer.

It wasn’t who he expectedit to be.

“D-Dick?” He stuttered and almost dropped his popcorn to theground as the bowl slipped from his lap. But Dick was quick and snatched theside as he pushed it back in to settle securely on his thighs.

“Hey…Jasonright?” Dick asked with a soft smile and Jason could see his eyes were abit red-rimmed, slightly glistening with tears. He looked like he’d been cryingand Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he was. The two were in the cave for a long long time and hopefully, they’d had asuccessful talk and resolved their issues. From the looks of it, they mighthave.

“Right, JasonTodd,” Jason replied and nodded his head.

Dick just puffed a breathand took a seat right beside the teen, leaving just a bit of space in betweenthem. He’d settle his attention on Jason, vivid blue eyes slightly glassy andhe sniffled a bit. “Uh—” he started and licked a tongue over his chappedlips. “I wanted to say—” he was having trouble forming his thoughtsinto words, was probably delaying what he wanted to say exactly.

“What?” Jasonprompted, wanted him to just spit it out.

And Dick sucked in a longsigh and breathed out. “Sorry,” Dick said, apologizing to the teenand hung his head in shame.

“Huh?” Jasonarched a brow, confused about his sudden apology.

“I’m sorry,”Dick repeated.

“For what?”

“For…youknow,” he said and made a hand gesture at the teen, like he was supposedto know what he was referring to. He had a feeling but he wasn’t going to say.“For being mean to you. I’m sorry I treated you badly. I was disorientedat the bit of news.”

“You mean mad right?” Jason said, wasn’tgoing to sugarcoat his words since that was the honest truth.

Dick just smiled at him inamusement and moaned softly, scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. I guessI was. I mean, not at you. More at Bruce.”

“I see,” Jasonreplied since he knew that to be the case. “I suppose you have a right tobe mad at him.” He wasn’t about to say why since he wasn’t supposed toknow.

Tears brimmed at thecorner of Dick’s eyes and his face scrunched in agony, almost as if he wantedto cry again. But he drew in a large breath to calm himself down and thenchuckled. “Yeah. I do. He was a jerk,” he murmured under his breathbut the way he said it sounded fond and Jason could tell that there was nolonger any ill-feelings apparent in his expression. It was as if it’d beenwashed away and Jason sure hoped it did. If Bruce hadn’t apologized to him thendamn right he’s an asshole. And Jason would consider doing something just tospite him.

But it seemed to him thatthey had a talk and things had gone well. Dick appeared a bit brighter, morelight-heartened than when he’d first gone into the cave.

“I guess he is a jerkconsidering he put me through so much training,” Jason agreed though hewas quite pumped about that. But the way he’d lecture him after, not so much.

Dick just laughed andbrought a hand to ruffle his hair, messing up the curls that he’d put so mucheffort into taming

“Hey!” he criedand attempted to slap Dick’s hand a way, but didn’t. He actually liked the feelof his long fingers threading through his hair, it felt soft and warm, soothingto the touch.

A rosy pink dusted hischeeks and he could feel heat filtering onto his face.

“Ugh,” hegroaned softly.

“You’re okay Little Wing,” Dick murmured andretracted his hand back to his lap.

Jason’s eyes widened atthe man as he stared at him in confusion while Dick just smiled at him happily.Little Wing? Was that supposed to bea nickname for him? It was—it was a really stupid sounding name and sort ofinsulting to call him little but well, Jason didn’t mind it oddly enough. Hecould feel the heat on his face lighting up once more and scoffed, tried toplay off his embarrassment. Why was he even giving him nicknames in the firstplace?

Jason curled his lips intoa pout and sulked like a child, glaring dangerously at his predecessor. Dickjust laughed at him and pinched his cheek playfully. “You’re alright.Maybe I’ll take you out to train sometime.”

And suddenly, Jason’s eyeslit up like it was Christmas morning, excited about the present he was about toreceive. “Really?”

Dick arched a brow at himin amusement, surprise gracing his expression at Jason’s sudden interest and hesmirked. “Yeah,” he said lightly.

And Jason was just beyond thrilled,could feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body. He wanted to startnow, couldn’t believe that the former Robin was going to train him. But he hadto play it cool, didn’t want to come off as an overly enthusiastic kid so heschooled his expression. “That's—that’s cool,” he said but his facefaltered and he heard his voice crack, cringed at how he’d just embarrassedhimself.

Dick just laughed andrustled his hair once more.

Ugh, this was going to be theend of him.

#jaydick #prompt fill #robin!jay #nightwing year one #dick grayson #jason todd #fanfic #my writing #pre-slash #ask box

94 notes · View notes

butteredonions · 8 years ago

Note

Hihi! You mentioned on AO3 you have no prompts for Ulaz and Shiro right now, so...if you're still taking prompts, would you mind writing one about Ulaz and Shiro - maybe at the Blade headquarters? Thanks!

Ohhhh I do not mind. I do not mind at all.

Technically they aren’t at the Blade headquarters here, but. Um. I’m not sorry.

–

Kolivan is not pleased when Ulaz calls him from halfway across the galaxy.

“There were no other options,” Ulaz repeats, for the third time. Kolivan stares back at him from the communication screen, silent and impassive. His mask is down, but it’s no improvement: Kolivan’s face is nearly as stoic and unreadable as if he had the mask up.

Nearly. Ulaz isn’t fooled. The tick in the corner of Kolivan’s eye and the small flare of his nostrils give him away.

“Be that as it may,” Kolivan says. His tone speaks volumes, too: brusque, blunt, syllables sharper and harsher than usual. ‘Not pleased’ is an understatement. “I cannot permit you to come blindly back to headquarters after such a foolish sacrifice.”

“My actions were not foolish,” Ulaz insists, defensive and heated. The comm unit in the stolen Galra ship is small, made smaller by the tracking devices Ulaz ripped out and dismantled with his bare hands. The ship was intended for short journeys; it was never meant to make the long trek Ulaz faces now. “Against your timing, perhaps, but not foolish. Thace is still on board. He will remain as informant for as long as physically and feasibly possible.”

“The choice was not yours to make.”

“And yet I have made it.”

“At what cost?” Kolivan asks. The comm image blurs for a tick before it steadies, stable. “Your plan has failed. This was your alternative?”

Ulaz casts a glance over his shoulder. Shiro’s asleep, propped up against the far wall - ‘far’ is a generous statement. This ship is too small. Shiro’s tucked his back into a corner, his arm cradled to his chest. He’s sleeping off the drug and what Ulaz is fairly certain is a concussion.

“No,” Ulaz admits, quietly, “This was not part of my plan.”

Kolivan sighs, less an exhale and more the irritated flare of his nostrils again. “Then you have sacrificed your position for nothing.”

“I have sacrificed it so that we might gain,” Ulaz snaps. “To turn the tides, by removing what Haggar hoped to be her greatest weapon and retaining him for our own use. Saving his life. The Champion would not have survived her second experiment. Would you leave another member of an innocent species to die?”

“We cannot save the lives of everyone,” Kolivan reminds him. Ulaz resists the urge to close his own eyes, roll them towards the ceiling in exasperation. Kolivan’s ‘caution’ has saved the Blade of Marmora from discovery innumerable times, but sometimes - sometimes their leader’s ‘caution’ is a frustrating, stupid unwillingness to act.

And he calls me foolish.

Ulaz draws in a careful breath. Lets it out. Patience. Patience will win this fight.

“We must save Shiro’s planet,” Ulaz insists. “Zarkon will go after the Blue Lion now that he knows its location. He will stop at nothing to obtain it. Once he has two Lions, do you really think he will stop until he has all five? How is sitting by and allowing that to occur not worth the risk?”

“Then take him there,” Kolivan says. “Take the Champion to his home. Let him defend them, if he can.”

“He cannot,” Ulaz says. ‘Asleep’ is a generous term; Shiro’s unconscious, more like. The drugs still course through his system, wearing at the concussion, weaning away the pain of the violently broken arm. Shiro does not feel it now, but he will when he awakens. “He was injured during our escape. An accident. I cannot abandon him now.”

Kolivan does not answer. Ulaz resists the urge to fidget and maintains eye contact, steady and immobile. This is right. A surprise, yes, but right.

“You are certain Zarkon knows of the Blue Lion’s location,” Kolivan says, at last.

“Yes,” Ulaz repeats, firm. Shiro sleeps behind him, barely more than two arms’ length away. The stolen ship is small. “I would not have abandoned my post for any other reason.”

Kolivan is silent for so long Ulaz fears the connection has frozen.

“What is your plan, then?” Kolivan asks, at last, and Ulaz fights down a grin.

Patience always wins.

“Send ships to Earth,” Ulaz says. The starmap on his display shows the small planet, out of reach and the wrong direction for Ulaz and Shiro’s little pod. “Stop Zarkon before he reaches the planet. I am bringing Shiro back to headquarters.”

“The ships we can discuss,” Kolivan says. “The rest - ”

“It will be at least a quintent before we arrive,” Ulaz says, cutting Kolivan off. Ulaz was prepared for this, too. “I have disabled all tracking beacons on this ship, and we will switch over to a second one in the Arkelion system. I can plot additional double-backs into our course than what I already have, but cannot tarry too long. Shiro needs aid, quickly, and I have no such supplies on hand.”

“The Champion,” Kolivan begins, but Ulaz isn’t done.

“Furthermore, Zarkon has every reason to believe we are dead. I detonated two explosions to cover our escape. Thace himself will vouch for me. Our escape, while perhaps ‘ill-timed’, could not have been more secure.”

Kolivan is silent. Behind Ulaz Shiro groans, the noise weak and involuntary. Ulaz doesn’t turn. The new hitch in Shiro’s breathing, the slight shift of fabric against the grating of the floor, is enough.

The sound must travel through the speakers. Kolivan’s eyes flicker to the side, over Ulaz’s shoulder.

“He is with you,” Kolivan says. A statement.

“Yes,” Ulaz says, simply. “Shiro needs aid. Would you deny it to him?”

Kolivan doesn’t speak. His gaze remains fixed over Ulaz’s shoulder, face creased in a deeper frown. Immovable, except for that tiny twitch at the corner of his nostril. A widening of his eyes, ever so slight.

The risk is worth it.

“Would you deny yourself the chance to meet the Champion in person?” Ulaz teases. “He defeated Myzak. He survived the Twins of Terror. He even defeated-”

“I will speak with the others,” Kolivan snaps, and closes the comms.

Ulaz chuckles to himself and ends the connection, too.

“Is it true?” a hoarse voice asks, from behind him. Ulaz finishes powering down the communications, taking his time.

“I was not expecting you to awaken for some time,” he admits, turning round. “How are you feeling?”

Shiro blinks blearily up at Ulaz from his position in the corner. He’s only half-awake by the barest of technical definitions.

“ ‘m here,” Shiro says - whatever that might mean. His words are soft and slurred, his eyes half-lidded and straining to focus. The drug remains at work, then. Ulaz had calculated a lower dosage for today intentionally, but his calculations appear to have been off. Does the drug work differently when its recipient receives only part of a dose? Or is this the result when its recipient crashes from an incredible adrenaline spike immediately after? Shiro’s file is unavailable to consult; Ulaz makes a mental note regardless.

“Is that true?” Shiro whispers. He swallows. The motion looks painful. “What you said.”

“Many things are true,” Ulaz answers obliquely. He sets the ship on autopilot and rises from his chair. Shiro shrinks further into the corner, a reflexive action matched with his panicked intake of breath. Ulaz freezes, waiting.

Of course. Shiro scarcely has reason to trust him. Ulaz freed him, yes, but Ulaz also has…they have a history, regrettable as it might be. One action, however gracious, however grand, can barely override that.

Patience. Patience wins the battle.

“You will have to be more specific,” Ulaz prompts, crouching to a lower height. He makes no move to mask his actions or intent. Even crouching Ulaz is still taller than Shiro, but this height should be less intimidating.

If Shiro’s even tracking that train of thought. One of his pupils isn’t dilating correctly, a funny observation and size compared to the other. Ulaz frowns, leaning in a little closer.

“Haggar,” Shiro clarifies. The word’s a struggle to get out of his throat. “Her - experiment. What - what was her plan for me?”

Ulaz considers. Shiro meets his gaze, inasmuch as he can with his eyes struggling to remain open. He is exceptionally vulnerable like this; injured, ill, three feet away from someone who until this morning had been most definitely one of his most frequent tormentors. The smell of his fear and panic in their small space is bitter and sharp. This may not be an arena, but Shiro is fighting his own battle in this ship: a battle he also has no control over, sailing through unknown territory towards an equally uncertain welcome.

Protectiveness clenches at Ulaz’s heart, fierce and bitter in its own way. The force of it surprises him.

Patience. Ulaz cannot change the past, no, but this much he can atone for.

“Haggar wanted your other arm,” Ulaz says.

Shiro flinches violently. The motion hurts him; he cries out in pain. Ulaz lurches forward, stopping himself just in time. Shiro only curls in on himself more, clutching his forearm to his chest.

Ulaz cannot reach Shiro. Not yet. Shiro is so vulnerable, like this. He is so small.

“Is that w-why she broke it?” Shiro gasps. Tears prick at his eyes. His voice is so quiet Ulaz might have missed it if not for his own superior hearing.

“She did not,” Ulaz corrects, frowning. “The injury occurred during our escape. An accident I did not plan for. You twisted at a bad angle and broke your arm after the sentries attacked. The explosion caught you off guard.”

Shiro just stares, wide-eyed and unfocused. A young animal - no. A fellow being, a person, trapped and in pain.

“Oh,” Shiro whispers, at last. He’s shaking somewhat, another involuntary response. His body’s been pushed past its limits. Ulaz wishes again for Shiro’s file.

“And you are not going to remember this conversation either, from the concussion you sustained crashing into the ship itself,” Ulaz says, softly. The amount of gentleness in his words surprises even him. Huh. “Here. Your arm will need a sling if it is to heal properly, and not aggravate further until I can get you to a healing pod. Would you not let me set it?”

Shiro stares at him for so long Ulaz is afraid he, too, has been frozen in communication. Lost in time and mistakes neither of them can amend.

“You saved me,” Shiro whispers. His eyelids flutter, miserable; he’s fighting the concussion and the remnants of that drug desperately. He’s losing.

“I did,” Ulaz agrees, and even permits himself a small smile. “May I help you now, too?”

The surge of protectiveness flares up again, heated and determined. That isn’t the surprise.

The gentle flush of warmth in his chest when Shiro finally nods, and allows Ulaz closer -

Oh.

Well.

That’s new.

#voltron #ulaz #shiro #uliro #basically I can't refuse an uliro prompt #I had to make myself stop #thanks so much for this!#sorry they're not at the headquarters #not yet #but I think this should be fine instead ;)#onion writes #the onion answers #ptw30 #not hunk day #:)#yep should probably just tag this one what it is #whoops #(also you can't tell me kolivan the fanboy is not a thing)#(bring it on)

239 notes · View notes