#also this is typical but it's so fucking dark where are the light source i cannot fucking SEE

[emordnilap-fr]

my mom likes the thing 2011 more than the thing 1982... the betrayal i am feeling is immeasurable

#emord rambles #not fr #not to be an ''ooo old movies are better ooo'' but the newer one really is not good #the camera changes angles faster than cocomelon i swear to god you don't have to flip back and forth every line during a #normal non-plot-important/non-dramatic conversation #also this is typical but it's so fucking dark where are the light source i cannot fucking SEE #AND again again this is me being picky as hell but i considered the fact we never saw the Actual Form Of The Thing as a good thing #revealing it is just one of so many choices i think they shouldn't have made #the biggest choice being: we didn't need a prequel

[valaruakars]

Hi darling, i love you idea so much to celebrate our boy, so here are my numbers 2, 3, 6, 10, 15, 16, 54, 55, 57, 87, 112, 127 Please give me the most Dominant and jealous Viktor ever uwu

Most dominant and jealous Viktor ever, huh? That would be the Machine Herald, then. Picked a few of these lines that fit the best. Double the word count because last one, best one 💖

Also I hear you asking, "What the everloving fuck do you mean by too many teeth?" This, my friends. This.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, MH!Viktor x AFAB Fem!Reader, exhibitionism, public sex, jealousy, possessive behavior, groping, gloved fingering, orgasm denial, Reader has an augmented arm

You hate the Chem-Barons.

Viktor hates the Chem-Barons.

But the Machine Herald? He tolerates them. Meets with them and their lackeys, even. Has to, because the success rate of his augmentations is exponentially higher when Shimmer is involved. He needs the medical grade variety, not what’s bought off the streets where it’s cut with impurities and improperly handled. He needs it from the source, and negotiates accordingly.

It’s none of your business. Typically, you don’t go. But as his notoriety has grown—the metal man on Emberflit Alley that can take away your suffering—safety has become precarious. Just yours. You’re nobody special; just a token from another life, and you don’t have a laser claw. All you have is your wits, your loyalty and a newly fitted arm that doesn’t do anything exciting, but at least you’re alive.

Now he takes you everywhere.

Him and his too many teeth, you can feel his sneer behind the mask when people look at you in the street; when they shape their lips to whistle, but think better of it. Has something to do with a metal whirr behind you that you can hear but not see with your gaze fixed forward, head held high.

He’s different now, this man with your long lost lover’s voice, but the jealousy stayed and he remembers what it felt like to love you. It’s made him possessive.

And, well…

You kind of like it.

It’s kind of fun, even, to see what he’ll do when one of the cronies escorting you in gives you the wrong kind of attention. The kind where their eyes linger in all the wrong places, and their hand trails down your arm when they think Viktor isn’t looking. He is, always. The mask just makes it hard to tell.

Hard to kiss you, too. But in the short time you’re waiting at the long, empty table, sat in his lap without a chair of your own, he lifts it enough to shove his strange tongue into your mouth. As you whimper and try to keep pace, he watches your face, your reactions. You can tell by the yellow light that brightens the darkness behind your closed eyes.

He snaps it down, shuts you out abruptly when a door clicks open and people start to file in—some with old augmentations, some with Viktor’s new ones. You know his work on sight.

He’s not done with you, though.

Low, dark synth in your ear says, “I don’t like people touching what’s mine,” and delight twists into your gut like the shrapnel that nearly missed your liver.

Your permission is a whispered, “Please,” spoken with kiss bitten lips, slick and puffy. The kind of please that says use me; do whatever you want.

Only part way through the meeting does he strike—a vigilance for lecherous eyes that are not his own. You can feel it too, the weight of being watched by someone at the table. The one who licks their split, sickly lips when your eyes pass over them, surely.

The hand that had a vice tight grip on your waist eases, and slips beneath the hem of your shirt. He’s not subtle like he used to be, but who would stop a soulless, metal monolith from doing what he pleases where it concerns his little fucktoy? Who would raise a word against him for reaching up to cup the warm swell of your breast, or acknowledge the apathy with which he claims what’s his?

They’re cowards, the lot of them.

Except for maybe Renata, who is terrifying and paying you no mind.

There’s a violent shift in the atmosphere. Literally. Someone draws a knife and shouting breaks out across the table, but his modulated voice is all you hear.

“Only I get to touch you like this,” he murmurs, tugging down the edge of your bra inside your shirt. He thumbs over your nipple, rolls it harshly between the cold, finely ridged metal of his mechanized hand. Only he can hear your breathing stutter, or feel the way you go ridgid to choke down a whine.

Your composure holds, though—spine straight, eyes fixed out the windows. Indifferent.

Perhaps that’s why he drops his hand out, and slips the other up your skirt instead.

Your eyes flare with a sick, thrilled terror as you clutch the hem down over his hand. He wouldn’t like if anyone truly saw you—your bare, soaked cunt—when he wrenches your panties aside. That’s just for him.

Discreetly, you open your legs just enough for the press of his fingers. It’s his human hand this time, warm through the leather glove with which he hides it. Two grainy fingers slip through your pussy and roughly push inside until his palm sits flush.

It takes everything you have not to make a sound, stretched so suddenly, sweet and burning. Is it mercy or torture that he doesn’t move? Just fills you nice and full so that anyone who looks too closely will see who you belong to. One or two must’ve caught on; they pointedly look the other way.

Viktor catches your quick scan of the room; flexes his fingers to draw your attention back. Whispers in a way that has always, always wrecked you, “Would they touch you the way I touch you? Fuck you the way I fuck you?”

Never.

You shake your stupid, besotted head.

“Mm, no, I didn’t think so,” he all but laughs, wicked thing. Not as soulless as he or anyone else wants to believe.

Perhaps a little heartless, though, the way he plays absently with your clit. Sweeps and rolls with his wet leather thumb until you’re trembling and your lungs are burning—suffocating on all those little noises held back. He has you clenching around him so quickly, clawing uselessly at the metal plates of his shoulder. And the closer you get, the less you care for subtly or dignity or proper conduct of any sort. You only want release. You’ll hide your face against his armored neck, gasping quietly as you can to hide what is obviously happening, if it means you can have it.

There’s just one little problem.

Right on the cusp, and you’re suddenly empty. Instead, his hand comes to rest heavy on your bare thigh, glove glistening. Your slick is like fine, gossamer webbing between his fingers. Only then do you realize the gravity of the situation—that he’s not finished, and you aren’t going to, because he grips you hard and murmurs:

“Only I get to see you come.”

#viktor arcane #mh!viktor #viktor x reader #mdni #arcane x reader #reader insert #my writing #don't mind me just letting my freak flag fly #another one that could've been a whole entire oneshot tbh #this idea has been rattling around in my brain for ages #2022 birthday prompts

[nanistar]

I know you said they arent technically albino eyes(?iirc), but I like that you still draw them accurately! A lot of people just made them pink when they ARE just really pale blue a majority if the time! N the pink is usually blood vessels :3!

WEIRD thing to compliment you on but the genetics of it are fascinating as well as it’s sad to see people think of it as creepy or unrealistic ect ect so its nice to see! <3

thank you!! i put a lot of thought into how their eyes work, cuz speculative biology is fun, and i don't really draw them the way i actually imagine them. (like how i've said before that most of moonclan would be very thin furred with rat tails but i dont want to draw similar looking cats so they have different markings and fur lengths and stuff) i also imagine all of moonclan to have wide, bulging eyes that don't blink often (like Rock from Canon) but i found that hard to emote with, so for the sake of the comic they have my typical style of eyes, except for in webwhisker and rubblekit's case. their eyes are how i wanted Everyones eyes to look. so my canon reason for web and their son being the only ones who have it is just saying that they are the first to evolve it. rather than albinism, my inspiration for how their eyes look is based on three things; russian topaz eyes, the eyes of some cave tetras i used to have, and the way cats eyes reflect in photos with flash. russian topaz is a really unique eye color that sometimes comes with birth defects and high/unique white spotting and can look "normal" blue or more like this:

(via messybeast)

blue with red shine. but if you know tumblr famous cat pangur a la @pangur-and-grim blog, she has russian topaz eyes where they look more purople/blue with more purpleish/red pupils.

^here's a good post of theirs where you can see what i mean.

russian topaz can also show as black irises with red pupils but that, while cool as fuck, was a bit too "dark forest"-y for me.

(the two above graphics are via messybeast, which is a GREAT source for cat genetic info) so anyway, that was my base, and then i wanted the eyes to be inconsistent in exact color because i want the light to reflect off of it more, and make them glint like holographic colors. i had some cave tetras that technically had red eyes, but when they moved their eyes to look around it felt like you could see into the eyes, like the pupils were just sitting on a layer of clear jelly instead of being surrounded by iris if that makes sense? so i wanted the moonclan cats to evolve that sort of light refraction. and i want their wide stares to be a bit unnerving. in the future, moonclan cats would eventually evolve completely blind eyes and then finally no eyes at all, but i think that would be Really far off. (they have only been in the mines for ~100 years or so.) i have... no idea if this would ACTUALLY be genetically realistic, but it's fun to pretend like i know stuff lol

#moonclan #lore #and their culture is fucked up too but we'll get to that #sbc

[jestiamy]

#responding to gloomy; 23 24 #1 #2 #3 #4 for the oc ask game since. oc was not specified I'm going to choose who I answer for what based on how interesting I think the answer will be

23: venera is stupidly loyal. 'how is that a flaw' you ask me. I say she takes it to the point it somehow is, in fact, a genuine character flaw. if she likes you and you say, hey man if I ever start going crazy and killing people you're joining me right? as like a joke or whatever. she goes yeah sure! in that way she says literally everything that kind of makes it hard to tell if she's being serious. only for you to find out several years later she in fact does have a very detailed plan of what she would do in the event you both are going evil, and it mostly goes 'fuck stuff up, vary depending on the brand of evil.' -- I guess if I put her in the linear lmk timeline she'd be an antagonist because of how I'd play with that, actually. / she's pretty honest, actually. well, for the most part. in the somewhat evil antagonist linear lmk au that's probably mostly her 'canon' setting she's probably not very honest most of the time. she's also actually physically really strong, despite shapeshifters not getting 'all' of the power of their source, even a fraction of unknown amount of macaque is like, several times the power of the average demon. she does not look this strong whatsoever, this is really helpful in the event of an actual fight as literally no one expects her to be able to throw even a proper punch (mostly because she can't. she just kicks stuff and hopes that's enough. it usually is.) 24: Makya is actually the only oc I have that had a serious plotline around that, as his father passes away in the summer of 1955 (around there, anyways. sometimes he dies in the winter of 1946 because I give makya a brother but that's a crossover au and so we are pointedly not talking about it) mostly he just kind of walled himself off after. became a bit of a globe trotter. basically dissociated for ten years straight. it's a bit of a ride but he was freshly immortal so he was kind of coming to terms with that too, in normal circumstances he just tends to isolate himself more. 1*: oh yeah sure, like all of them - makya has skulls, light has all consuming darkness (and spiderwebs), v has general fluidity, ch'en has the ouroboros/the circle, hong has, oddly enough, crosses, gongdai has clocks, I could keep going but I occasionally repeat themes a few times over sometimes. *taking motif to mean like, a central part of them and their journey and a representative of that. some being more literal then others 2: none of my characters have voice claims. literally none. except, of course, light, who has a stupidly distorted sans undertale voice beeps that come out whenever they talk. think error sans in underverse. they are the literal only one. I generally struggle with voice claims and don't like having to do it so I typically don't 3: indoor: default for all my ocs. outdoor: karius, makya, hong, jianwei. neutral: light, venera 4: venera has a hobby of watching people. an unfortunate hold over from when she was looking for a base like, several hundred years ago. she didn't really try to kick it. light talks to the voices in their head (the hypothetical tumblr ask blog mentioned in the tags of this post). the voices in their head generally ask stupid things, like wow why are you in this weird creepy void light, why don't you have clothes light, why are we here light, etc. it's not very fun for light, mostly because they don't really have answers. the voices don't need to know that though. jianwei melodramatically stands in the rain and wonders how his life devolved into where it is now in his spare time. makya does not have spare time and he generally prefers it that way.

#I was dreading having to get an answering asks tag actually but the only. response I got was tags so I'm fine for now I think #if I can't think of something funny on the spot I immediately go for something really boring #this is how we end up with the saying stuff tags. #oc things #ask games #maybe in the future I'll have one of those aesthetic blog tag systems but until then stuck with this actually #venera. #saying stuff #proof reading is for losers (it's been fourty minutes and I want to be freed from the chains that bind me ((read: this post))) #voices of the void

[curseofaphrodite]

nothing but blue skies

TASM!PETER PARKER X READER | fem!pronouns, fluff

summary; peter may be a superhero, but in front of his crush, he's reduced to a blubbering mess. especially since you seemed to be more badass than him. | written for @spidervee's april for aus event! note; witch!reader, weather-controlling powers (kind of based off pepa madrigal, our queen 💌)

Peter was slightly limping on his way back home. As much as flexible as he was, even a superhero had their limits. The welcome thoughts of his warm bed clouded his sight as he trodded on, trying not to look too suspicious.

The corner of his jaw was bleeding too, so curious glances were exchanged among the passerbys. Deciding it was wiser to take an empty shortcut, he turned right to the small alleyway. It smelt like leftover lasagne and rat poop.

His hopes of a lone journey evaporated into thin air when he heard the shuffling of feet in the distance. Getting closer, he could now sense 4 or 6 men, as well as smoke filling the air.

He doubted anyone in that dark, small alley at 5 in the morning could be harmless, so he reached for his bag to take out his suit. Before he could pull it out, he paused.

Was there another set of feet, or was he just extra exhausted? Wouldn't he have noticed the sound before? Is he officially an old man now?

"Hello boys," a clear, annoyed voice made way to his ears, making him jump up and follow the source. Hiding behind the nearest trashcan, he peeked into the scene.

He could see the amused looks on men, some looking at you up and down like you were a piece of meat. Definitely a red flag.

"Where are you off to in a hurry?" one of them called, followed by a whistle. "Walk of shame, party of one?"

"Fuck off," you retorted, walking faster. Peter noticed why he didn't hear you before — your footsteps were uncharacteristically light, as if you were walking on a cloud.

"Sweetie you've got to stop using this alley to tempt us," another guy yelled, taking a long drag of smoke. "Or we'd think you want us to be tempted."

You halted, mouth falling open in surprise. Turning, your glare grew deeper. "Excuse me?"

"Let her go," the previous blonde said, in the typical savior of the day voice. "I bet she has more innocent reasons. Maybe she likes one of us."

Words broke out hastily; some gloating that they were the object of your admiration, some just arguing with each other. Such a stupid sight, really.

"C'mon guys, calm now," a man said, sighing dramatically. "We can all take our turns with her."

You snapped.

The morning light was immediately dimmer, clouds hiding the sun as if making sure God doesn't see what you were about to do.

-

Moments later, you looked around to see there wasn't anyone else. When you turned, Peter had properly seen your face. He almost gasped.

He knew you.

-

There were a lot of questions people asked Peter while he was in his red suit. Who are you? How did you get these abilities? Why did you choose to be a vigilante? When's the last time you regret taking this job? When's the last time you were scared?

Sure the questions itched him at times, but he knew if he met a vigilante, he'd ask the same questions too. And as for the last time he was scared? That's now; ordering a latte from the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, who also happens to somehow have the ability to kill him in an instant.

It was an impulsive decision to come here. After that specific morning, he spent hours thinking about you, asking himself the same questions many have often asked him. In the end, he grit his teeth, got his jacket and rushed out before he could change his mind.

If I go there, at least I'd know if it's the same person, he had thought.

Now standing in front of you, he didn't have a doubt.

"Are you going to take it or?" you asked pointedly, nodding towards the paper cup. "I have other customers."

He had initially prepared to talk, but of course he got cold feet.

"Yeah, yes sure," he smiled nervously, taking it from your hand and moving to the closest table. Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Every now and then, he stole a glance at you and tried to be least suspicious about it. Your hair, how you wiped your forehead every ten minutes, how you smiled forcefully at everyone but smiled nonetheless — it was evident you were exhausted.

Peter felt strangely worried for you. He didn't even know your name yet, but he felt like he knew you better than anyone in that cafe. Coming across someone's secret did that. But you didn't know him, so when you finally caught his stares, you were more than a little pissed.

When the skies darkened outside just a little, Peter knew you were coming over. He gulped, remembering what he saw last day.

"What do you want?" you asked, slamming the table slightly. His skin jumped out of his body.

"Uh, I- one more latte?" He looked as if he wouldn't object to having the earth swallow him right there and then.

"Do you know Cal?"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Cal Sebastian," you said slowly, watching his every move.

"No? Yes- I mean I know lots of uhm Cal- Cal, doesn't ring a bell actually."

"Yes or no?"

Something about how you looked cautious made sense to him then.

"Oh! The guy from the alleyway!" he said, connecting the dots.

"Get out," your voice was calm, yet a not-so-subtle thunder rang outside. There were immediate murmurs around the cafe regarding the sudden change of weather, but Peter could only stare at the bullet-like gaze of your eyes.

"I'm not one of his friends," he said quickly. "I only came here to talk to you 'cause I know you."

"I don't know you."

"I- I saw you. Yesterday, with them."

You bit down your lips, wondering the correct way to respond. One part of your brain was scolding yourself for being so reckless, while the other was curious about how exactly he stayed so well hidden.

"You didn't see anything," you finally said, straightening up. "My shift's over. If you actually need that extra latte, ring up Lola."

"Wait!" he called, standing up himself. "I just need to talk—"

You were already across the hall, entering the staff-only room and emerging out with a black bag. As you slid easily through the crowds and opened the front door, Peter was already on your tail.

How how how? you could worry about that later.

"Hold up!" he yelled, slightly pushing people out of the way so he could see where you were going.

"I don't have time right now. Can we talk later?" you asked briskly, not slowing down.

"You don't know my name or phone number!"

"I'm counting on that."

"C'mon, I'm just asking for five minutes," he begged, using his puppy dog eyes. You sighed.

"No," you said simply, and started walking again.

He wanted to give up. If you weren't interested in talking to him, it was the decent thing to not keep persisting. But this was the only person he knew who had powers in the entire city and Peter was lonely. Spiderman was lonely.

In one smart thinking, he got the solution. An eye for an eye. A secret for a secret.

"I'm Spiderman," he said loudly.

That made you stop in your tracks.

(Not anyone else though. Who'd believe the man on the sidewalk yelling about being spiderman? Wasn't that the one thing spiderman would never do?)

You were suspicious. His reflexes and quiet pace immediately concluded to his favor.

"No, no I have enough mess to deal with. Can't add another secret to the pile," you said, groaning. "Why did you tell me that? Gods, okay what about this? You forget you ever saw me and I forget you exist. Deal?"

"OR," Peter cut in. "We talk. Maybe become friends. We're currently the only two people in this city with powers. Shouldn't we stick together? Watch out for each other?"

"I'm not a hero," you said sharply.

"I'm not asking you to be," he shrugged. "All I know is you're not a villain either."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, we can walk together. But once we reach the subway, we're going our separate ways."

"Deal," he agreed, pleased.

The first few moments went awkward as can be, but he bit back his pride and started the enquires.

"How long did you know you have powers?"

"Next question."

"But that one was easy."

"Next question."

"Fine fine, who else knows?" he tried, tilting his head to one side. He kicked a rock as he walked, a carefree gesture that went unnoticed.

"Just you." You paused at the skateboard park, something like excitement going through your face. Peter's face mirrored it.

"You come here often?" he asked, nodding towards the booths.

"No and yes. What about you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I used to," he shrugged. "Now I don't have time with uni and crime-fighting, do I?"

"Hmm...bullshit."

He was taken aback, not by your words, but by the sudden smile on your face.

"Hold my heels," you said, taking them off. He watched you excitedly go inside, pay for the hour, borrow two skateboards from the nearby kids, throw one at him, then without warning, take off in yours.

You whooped as you glid through the curves and loops, wind in your hair and that smile still in place. You had gone from being angry as the devil to as happy as a bee.

Peter hasn't moved. His throat felt dry, maybe that was the effect of having his mouth open for too long.

"C'mon," you pulled his sleeve, but he simply shook his head.

"Can you be my partner?" he asked promptly, without even thinking about it. Oops.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, vigilante partner. I could use one and you're—"

Powerful. Intimidating. Charming. And oh god so beautiful.

"I'm not a hero," you cut him off. "I told you that already. When I first realized I had these powers, my thoughts weren't about protecting the city or the people. I was scared. I couldn't think about anything else for a whole month."

"This conversation needs ice cream," he said, walking over to the nearby cart. "Which flavor do you want? My treat."

"Whatever. Just add a lot of sprinkles on it."

She loves sprinkles, got it.

"Coming right up!"

-

Onlooking the people around the park, you sat down near Peter, who was waiting with the promised ice cream.

"So what do you think?" he asked, almost scared.

"Vanilla's good. Not my favorite—"

"About the other thing. Being my vigilante partner, if that helps your conveniently bad memory?"

You looked away. He waited patiently.

"What if I do the wrong thing at the wrong time and mess up everything?"

"I do that every day," he chuckled. "There's only one job requirement and that's trust."

"And you trust me?" you asked, fighting a genuine smile.

"Like I've known you my whole life."

You smiled anyway.

"What if there are others like us?" Peter asked, changing the topic. "More people with powers who don't wanna wipe out the whole human race?"

"That's unlikely. But, we could start an institution. Spiderman's Home for the Superheroes."

He looked at you like you just discovered gravity.

"I know you're joking but," he leaned in, as if others were listening. "What if we start a group? People like us who want to do good. Wouldn't it be nice to have other superheroes have our backs?"

You laughed. "And I suppose you'll do an ad in the newspaper? Be real."

"Hey, I found you so I can find them too. Besides, you can name the group!"

"You won't agree to anything I say if it's not something cringey like Hope," you said, rolling your eyes again. He shook his head.

"I think it should be something that ties to our identity. Like, what did you say your first thought was? When you realized you had powers?"

"Revenge," you replied without hesitation.

He winced. "Yeah we can work with that. What about Revenge Takers?"

"Too long," you pointed out. "Besides, only villains take revenge."

"Oh? Then about heroes?"

You smirked. "We avenge."

"The Avengers does have a nice ring to it," Peter noted, with a smile of his own.

-

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#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter fluff #andrew!peter x you #andrew!peter imagine #astoria writes #peter 3 x reader #the amazing spiderman #fem!reader #peter parker x fem!reader #andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker x reader

[quinncupine]

May I request Alpha Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki (seperate) always protecting their Omega reader? How would they react if another alpha tried to claim the omega? Likee hmm say for example the two are walking on the street then another alpha just jumps in and talks about like how attractive reader's scent is and stuff! It is alright if youre not comfortable with writing with this many characters, this ABO au, or this idea in general!

Notes: Hi Anon! I’m so sorry this took longer than expected to do! I promise I didn’t forget you! I don’t really know much about the ABO au so I had to do a bit of research first. I’m not really sure if I landed it though, but I did have fun writing it! It’s always fun to try out something new, so I do hope you enjoy it! I also tried to keep it gender-neutral.

Warnings: Language, mild violence, slight blood, possessive behavior, Alpha-Omega au, drinking-drunken behavior

Word Count: ~2.7K

Wanna request something?

...

BAKUGO

Katsuki is the definition of aggressive. It's no surprise he'd be just as aggressive as an Alpha, especially when it came to you. Your mere presence was enough to send him into ultra possessive protective mode.

The two of you were heading back to your shared apartment after one of your weekly date nights. Since he was a pro hero, he didn't often have much free time, so he set aside a specific night each week, just for you. He wasn't the best at showing his love through words, so his actions more than made up for the fact.

A muscled arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked through the deserted street. The ground seemed to be swaying a bit, or that might've just been you. One drink too many could do that. Katsuki warned you not to drink so much, but you didn't listen and as much as he complained that he wouldn't carry you home, he still held most of your body weight up by a single firm hand.

"I love you," you cooed, dropping your head into his shoulder with a smile.

His hand tightened around you and a cocky grin spread across his face. "I know."

With a slight pout, you huffed, "say it back."

The tiniest roll of his eyes before he grabbed your chin with his free hand and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. You were about to question him but his lips silenced you with a deep kiss. "You know I do." He tried to sound annoyed, but you could see straight through it.

He wouldn't be caught dead being this sentimental with you if anyone else was nearby, especially if another Alpha was near. To him, acting like that opened someone up for weakness, and with you on the line, he would never allow that. But since it was just the two of you alone, he allowed himself to show just a slight bit of passion. These little moments were reserved solely for you.

Wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, you let out a heavy sigh with sleepy eyes. The peaceful night air had a bit of a chill to it, but that was nothing compared to the heavenly warmth radiating from his body. That was until you felt his whole person stiffen.

Confused, you looked up. Then the smell hit you. Another Alpha's scent. Even in your hazy state, it smelled overwhelming, intentional…and all-too aggressive. It literally smelled like trouble. You'd had trouble in the past with other Alpha's coming on way too strong, which was one of the reasons why you were so grateful to have found Katsuki. He doesn't put up with any bullshit and isn't afraid to fight others off.

Katsuki's nails dug into your waist, his feet abruptly coming to a stop. Jaw clenched so hard, teeth nearly cracking from the pressure. Ruby-red eyes narrowed into deadly slits. A vicious snarl itching to see some action. It was a sight you were used to seeing from him. Criminals and heroes alike tried to avoid that exact look he was wearing right now.

Plenty of Alpha's had tried to come onto you in the past, but none have been so bold as to outright try to challenge Katsuki, especially in the dead of night on some deserted street. The moment they got a whiff of that dangerous heady scent, dripping with aggression and possessiveness, they immediately backed off. He didn't know the meaning of mercy.

When you turned your head to pinpoint the source of the scent, he twisted around first, swinging you to his back in one easy motion. The street looked empty from where you poked your head around his arm.

"Get lost fuckwad," he growled, "or die."

The shadows shifted and a man clad in loose black clothes that blended into the darkness so well you were having a hard time keeping your eyes on him. It was only when he stepped into the glow of a streetlamp from a block away did you finally see him clearly. He casually crossed his arms behind his head. A way of showing Katsuki that he wasn't threatened in the slightest. Even a full block away the poignant smell of him invaded your nose.

"What a temper on this one," he purred with a sultry charm guised to disarm, a complete contradiction of his hostile scent. "You know babe, you'd be much better off with me."

"Don't fucking talk to them," Katsuki snapped, fingers digging into the fabric covering your arm. "Or I'll kill you."

"It's not worth it," you tugged on his jacket a bit. "Let's just go."

Even as you said it, you knew it was pointless. Katsuki never backs down from a fight. Violence is ingrained in his DNA.

"Gonna take orders from an Omega? At least I know how to keep them in place, like a real Alpha," he smirked, crossing the street. A deep growl rumbled in Katsuki's chest, but the other Alpha ignored it. "Can't you smell it? I could smell their scent three blocks away."

You were on suppressants but alcohol is notorious for diluting their effect and of course, you had to show him up and drink more than him tonight. Was your scent out of control? You didn't think so and Katsuki hadn't said anything about it all night. You couldn't smell it, but if that Alpha had followed you all this way, it must've been strong.

As the Alpha drew closer, you realized just how bulky the man was. He stood taller than Katsuki by almost a foot and that grin stitched into his face was making you nervous. The whole situation was stressing you out so much Katsuki could most likely smell it comes off you in waves. His bright vermillion eyes found yours and he huffed. That instinct to protect was warring with his compulsion for reckless abandon. Before he could say anything, the Alpha made the first move.

With a snap of his teeth, the burly man took off towards Katsuki and Katsuki didn't waste a second. He pushed you back and charged. The two met in a head-on collision. A bright explosion lit up the darkened street with an echoing boom. When the light faded and the smoke cleared, Katsuki stood over his opponent, an angry snarl spilling from his grinning face as he smashed his foot into the Alpha's singed back. What was the phrase? All bark and no bite.

Once he was sure the Alpha was down for the count, he trudged over to you. Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away. After a few minutes, he deemed it far enough and stopped to pull you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

"The nerve of these assholes," he muttered, eyes still glaring at the soft shadows surrounding them. He wouldn't feel better until you were back home, under his watchful eye. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled into his shirt, closing your eyes with a relieved sigh. "I'm always fine when I'm with you."

MIDORIYA

Izuku isn't a typical Alpha. His demeanor is usually quiet and kind so it always surprised most people to find out he was one. Only making sense when he went into battle mode. The sheer ferocity this guy displays while fighting is one of the most intense things anyone will experience. R.I.P any brave soul that decides to challenge him. He gives it his all, especially if it means protecting someone under his care; namely you.

After leaving the theater (yes, Izuku drags you to each new All Might Movie premier, and no, you don't have a choice in the matter) you lean into him, listening to him gush about every detail the movie had gotten right or horribly wrong. This man was a serious fanboy. His voice was soothing to hear to so you could listen to him prattle on forever if you had your way.

The two of you had almost made it to the car when someone stumbled into you. If Izuku hadn't had his arm around your waist, you would've fallen down with the obviously drunk man. He pulled you away from the drunkard and did a quick check to make sure you weren't hurt before turning his attention to the man. "Hey, are you alright buddy?"

"Dammit!" the man groaned as he crawled back to his feet, swaying from side to side once he made it up. "Watch where you're goin'," he slurred out, lips having a hard time forming the words. Then he sniffed and blinked a few times, focusing on you. "Mmm, you smell good."

Izuku stiffened, subtly stepping in front of you, eyes narrowed. "Your drunk, it's time you went home."

"What's a lovely thing like you doing out so late?" he ignored Izuku entirely, puffing out his chest with a sleazy grin. That's when the scent hit you. Strong, mixed with the smell of alcohol. It made your nose wrinkle in disgust. "Come here doll, I can take good care of ya."

A low rumble vibrated deep within Izuku's chest. A warning. A threat. Most sensible Alpha's would've taken the cue, but this guy was far from anything resembling sense. Izuku is, for the most part, a rational Alpha, but when the drunkard stepped closer to touch you, he lost it.

It was so quick, you almost missed it. Izuku snatched the grimy hand, twisted it which in turn forced the man to twist as well, and sent him flying with a powerful kick to the rear. He kicked him so hard the Alpha flew halfway across the parking lot, landing in a small puddle with a loud splash. It took a moment for him to roll over, body still trying to process what just happened before finally falling back into the puddle with a long-winded groan.

Izuku stood rigid, eyes locked on the Alpha who had curled in on himself. He gnashed his teeth a few times trying to even out his huffy breaths. Small sparks of green electricity quietly crackled off his skin.

"Izuku?" you grabbed one of his fisted hands and pulled it close.

He looked down at you, still trying to calm his racing heart. Izuku didn't like to get like this in front of you and that in itself was making him more upset. But a part of him loved the fact that he could protect you so easily and that you took comfort in that fact.

The Alpha, apparently too drunk to remember what just happened, rolled out of the puddle and back to his feet. His back was dripping wet, but he didn't even seem to notice as he staggered off into the night.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, finally turning to you.

You wrapped your arms around his muscly frame, fingertips just barely meeting on his back. "What're you sorry for? You protected me, didn't you?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Pride swelled in his chest. A slight tinge rushed to his cheeks so he tucked his face into your neck, nuzzling his nose deep into the crook. Your scent was always so calming and he stayed like that for a minute until he remembered you were both still standing outside the car. "Let's go home."

TODOROKI

Shoto is a strong silent Alpha. He's probably the calmest of the three, but that doesn't mean he won't hesitate to kick anyone's ass if they dare mess with you. He's mastered the evil eye glare and combined with his natural Alpha aura, most steer clear.

You had decided to take a day trip to the next prefecture over to see your friends and had asked Shoto to pick you up from the train station. So, there he was, standing on the platform, umbrella in hand as the rain came down in a steady, freezing pour.

When the train finally pulled in, he scanned the cars until he saw you step out. Even in the heavy rain, he could pick up your scent and it was screaming distress. It confused him until he saw why…or rather smelled why. Stepping out behind you was a lanky man, mere inches from your back. His grinning face was bent next to yours as he talked with you, well more like at you. Large hands ghosted over your hair, taking in heavy whiffs of you. A grimace stuck on your face as you did everything in your power to ignore him, but trying to ignore an Alpha was like trying to ignore a blowhorn to the face. Loud, obnoxious, and completely overwhelming. The longer you ignored him, the more irritated he grew.

Shoto snapped the umbrella closed so hard he almost broke it. He no longer cared about getting wet and used the tip to wedge himself between the crowd of people. The hair on his neck stood on end. The rain on his right side froze the minute it touched his skin while on his left, it turned to steam. He tried to suppress that ball of rage building in the back of his throat, only for an aggravated growl to escape. Anyone who managed to catch his wrathful gaze quickly jumped out of his warpath.

The Alpha placed his hand on your shoulder and that was the final straw. You turned to swat him off, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you right up against him, dark eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Panic took over as you struggled to free yourself from his too-tight grip.

An umbrella came out of nowhere, whacking the Alpha right in the nose. He let go of your wrist with a startled yelp, stumbling back a few feet.

Shoto suddenly materialized between the two of you. You'd been so distracted that you didn't even realize you could smell Shoto's scent. But now that he was up close, it was all you could smell. Strong, powerful, and…furious.

"What the fu-AAAH!" With a scream, he toppled over. Both legs were frozen together in a thick column of ice. He hit the ground hard, head smacking on the wet concrete.

Shoto towered over him, shooting that perfected evil eye, face masked in shadows. "Next time," he growled, voice low and terrifyingly calm, "I'd advise not to touch people without their permission." Crouching next to his head, he glanced down at his left hand where a small flame erupted, and despite the pouring rain, only seemed to grow brighter. "Or you might get burned."

The man wisely stilled, eyes wide. "I didn't know they already had a mate dude, I swear."

"Regardless, don't ever let me catch you treating someone like that again," he snapped his hand closed, extinguishing the flame. "Is that understood?"

The threat was heard loud and clear but the Alpha glanced at you and Shoto grabbed his chin and pulled his gaze back to him. "Don't ever look at them again."

A nod and Shoto threw his face to the side, standing up. Taking a moment to compose himself again, he turned to you, hunched in on yourself, looking slightly embarrassed. Too many people were staring because Shoto had made a scene. He could care less about what other people thought. Someone had messed with you and he had to make it right.

Holding a hand out, you accepted it and he ushered you away. The both of you were soaking wet but he still opened the umbrella again, shielding you from the rain. Once you were far enough away from the station and other people, he stopped to inspect you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking for any obvious signs or lingering scent marks.

"No, I'm fine." You hugged yourself, not sure if you were shivering from the cold wet or from that creep, possibly both.

With a frown, he pulled you in close. His left side immediately warmed you up and you buried your head as far as you could into his chest, that familiar, safe scent surrounding you. "Thanks, Sho."

That intense anger was slowly ebbing away the longer you held onto him. That need to protect, to comfort taking its place.  You alone were the only thing that seemed to be able to calm him down when he was so worked up. Wrapping his free arm around you, tucking you in as tightly as possible, he kissed the top of your head. "You know I'd do anything for you."

#mha #alpha-omega au #deku #bnha #midoryia izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shoto #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #request

[wizkiddx]

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

#tom x reader #tom holland fic #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #famous!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #harry holland

[epic-sorcerer]

Queer imagery in BBC Merlin

Content warning: kink/fetish, fisting in particular but I show I big image containing a long list of different kinks, homophobia, dom/sub dynamics, sex

Merlin is shown wearing a purple tunic in s4, despite the fact he is a servant and purple(especially with such saturation) was extremely expensive bc purple dye was so hard to make. Gwen also has a light purple dress(or maybe 2? It’s hard to tell). Even though it’s definitely lighter than Merlins tunic, it’s still expensive.

it was illegal for peasants to wear expensive fabrics because of the Sumptuary Law. Basically it makes sure that lower class people are not fashionable. However, BBC Merlin doesn’t seam to care about that law, considering Merlins other bright clothing so take this was a grain of salt.

Basically what I’m trying to say is that there’s no way they could have gotten their hands on these clothes without the help of nobles. Gwen might have, because she works with clothing and could have easily mixed blue and red dye together. Merlin probably not have because he’s never shown to be particularly materialistic or interested much in fashion, despite his bright clothes. Bright Purple would have been much, much harder to get.

It makes the most sense for Merlin and possibly Gwen too to have been gifted such expensive clothing by a noble for being a good servant. I’d imagine Arthur would be the one to give Merlin the tunic and morgana the dresses.

Why does this matter? Lavender(and also purple in general) was considered a queer color starting in the 19th century. Queer men especially were said to possess a “streak of lavender” and a serge of homophobia at the time was often referred to as the “Lavender Scare.” Purple and lavender is still used now to symbolize queerness.

Since Merlin is a modern interpretation of Arthurian myths, it would be perfectly plausible that this symbol was on purpose. Merlin/Arthur and Gwen/Morgana are both extremely popular ships and they are both shown to have a very deep form of trust(Gwen/Morgana being at the beginning of the show). Arthur and Morgana gifting Merlin and Gwen purple clothing could be show them they accept their queerness and/or signaling their own queer attraction to them.

Now, this next symbolism concerns only Merlin/Arthur.

Merlin is shown to have three neckerchiefs.

Navy blue, red, and light grey. Why does this matter? Well, let’s take a look at something called the handkerchief code, also known as the hanky code or “flagging.”

This code has its origins all the way back in time during the Wild West in the USA, but got more popular during the late 20th century in USA and UK gay bars. This code was used mainly by queer men and some nonbinary people to signal to other queers what they wanted sexually. While typically worn in people’s back pockets, a handkerchief could also be worn around one’s neck to show they are a versatile and experienced.

According to this code, Merlin is into;

Red: fisting and getting fisted. This color was hard to get an exact shade from, but the second best option was dark red for double fisting which is honestly so similar I’m not sure if it really matters much.

Light grey: stone topping and getting fucked by a stone top

Navy blue: fucking and being fucked anally

For any one wanting to make their own interpretations of Merlins neckerchief colors(the lighting makes it hard to tell the exact ones) have a look at this handy chart

Not only that, but Arthur is seen wearing a favour on his left arm in s3 ep 4.

What’s a favour? It’s a fabric strip of affection commonly given by maidens to knights before a tournament as a symbol of good luck. It’s often a very important scarf, hankcerchlif , towel, really any bit of cloth that can be tied around someone’s arm. This is also a popular trope in historical media for a female love interest to give a favour to a male one to show chemistry between them.

Regardless of your stance on Merlins gender identity, you have to admit how commonly Merlin is shown to be gender nonconforming(GNC) or otherwise be associated with “womanly” qualities. Especially in a society so heteronormative, the only “pure” option for a knight receiving a romantic gesture would have it be from a woman. If the token was from a queer man, it would also out the noble and cause lots of horrific chaos and destroy both of their reputations.

Even if it was common for women to give knights favours, queer men still existed and with that came romantic gestures—this time hopefully more secret.

Even though the favour on Arthur’s arm doesn’t look exactly like Merlin’s neckerchief, Merlin was the only person to speak with him while preparing for the tournament. Also, the original theorist who I linked in my sources also pointed out that Merlins neckerchief looks lopsided. Almost like Merlin tore off a bit of it and hastily tied it back on.

Although this theory is definitely flawed, it doesn’t matter. Arthur is still wearing a red handkerchief on his left arm. But what does that tell us exactly?

Regardless of wether or not it was Merlin’s, the red is the same shade and also implies Arthur is also into fisting. What about the placement? Sicne it’s on his left, it shows that he is a top/dom, meaning that he prefers to be the one fisting. Since it is worn around his upper arm, it shows that he is simply into the fetish, compared to what other placements mean. In another source, it shows taht upper arm means switch, but because Arthur is wearing it on his left it wouldn’t really make sense for him to signal being a “top-switch” compared to being a top and having the fetish in general.

If you look closely, you can see a different colored stripe on the favour. It’s hard to tell exactly what the color is, it could be yellow, gold, orange, etc. because the color is so dubious, I’ll just leave y’all with a list of color meanings that may apply to Arthur’s favour.

YELLOW: pisser/watersports kink

YELLOW, Pale: spitter/spit kink

MUSTARD: Has 8+ inch dick

GOLD: two looking for one

ORANGE: anything anytime

Also, it’s important to bring up what many in thsi fandom refer to as the “fisting scene.” Where Arthur threatens Merlin by showing him his gloved fist and pulling a bit at the glove.

In the blooper, you can see Merlin’s actor(Colin Morgan) breaking character and giggling as Arthur shows him his fist. Many in the fandom agree that this was a clear innuendo for fisting, and it is very well possible.

Merlin is shown hitting Arthur and saying he was just doing some horse play, but still indirectly convincing Arthur that he needs to teach Merlin a lesson. This is actually a common act in BDSM sex, where the submissive person purposely angers the dominant into punishing them in a way that somehow involves sex or fetish play.

If you look closely, you can see Merlin is wearing at kinky red fisting handkerchief, showing Merlin is perfectly capable of being a submissive fistee. Also, the hanky code also includes other symbols such as latex or rubber gloves that, surprise surprise, also mean fisting. Although it’s more likely Arthur’s gloves where made of leather, it can still further be interpreted as a fisting symbol if you want. Either way, Arthur’s favour still holds water as he is undoubtedly the dom in this situation.

Also, Merlin is very impulsive and a madlad. Tell me he wouldn’t wear his secret fetish symbols infrount of stuck up, Roman Catholics who are none the wiser. He’d probably think it’s hilarious which is probably why he wears them almost everyday. Merlin loves playfully misbehaving(and is also a brat sometimes) so it makes sense for him to have some dangerous fun.

Now, you may be asking. Why does this matter? At the end of the day, it probably wasn’t intentional. Well, there is alwyas room for doupt BUT I do have some ferther proof. One of the co writers of BBC Merlin—Johnny Capps—actually won a Stone Wall Award. You know, an award named after a core part of queer culture?

The award’s website and Wikipedia page say they give the award for art that describes the LGBT experience well. While I am unsure why or what Capps made to be nominated, it still shows he is very much in touch with queer culture. Capp himself even said at an interview about Merlin, “... in the end, deep, deep down it’s about sexuality and things you just can��t tackle head-on.”

Well, what says more about sexuality than the main characters fist fucking each other? That’s a lot of sexuality. While I am unsure of Capp’s age, he does look to be about middle age and it would make sense for him to know about a code popularized in a 70s to 90s. Especially for someone who has made multiple queer oriented stories in his life time.

Sources:

Why is purple considered the color of royalty?

Sumptuary law

How lavender became a symbol of LGBTQ resistance

How Lavender Became a Symbol of LGBTQ Resistance(part 2)

flagging opinicus rampant

Handkerchief code

DO YOU KNOW THE HANKY CODE?

Picspam: The Red Favour (Proof of Arthur Wearing Merlin's Favour in 3x04)

Five medieval love tokens

The Lady's Favour

Hanky codes

Nominees for Stonewall Awards announced

Merlin series 5 spoiler-free launch report

Pls reblog I spent hours on this /np 😭👊

#tw kink mention #tw sex talk #tw eye strain #tw homophobia #tw queerphobia #research essay #long post #Merlin #bbc Merlin #Merlin bbc #merthur #merlin/arthur #gwen/morgana #morgwen

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist

Summary - You’re a player who jumps from server to server, often revisiting several and always trying to find access to new ones. When a victorious game of duos Skywars on Hypixel wins you an invitation to one of the most famous yet exclusive servers in the community, you find a world you never knew existed, allies you’re not certain you can trust, and enemies that may not be just that. Oh, yeah, and an anarchist piglin hybrid.

(c!technoblade/server jumper!reader)

Basic warnings: minor blood, swearing, light threats

A/N - hello! I decided to start this series as a result of a sporadic idea at midnight after quite an odd dream. Some information you might need:

A few select people can jump servers without using portals, and you (the reader) are one of them.

Some servers are public and some require invites. Hypixel and a lot of the other bigger servers are public, while SMPs such as the Dream SMP are private and require an invite.

Jumpers, as they are commonly referred to throughout the series, still require an invite to private servers, though some have figured out loopholes to this process and actively exploit it, earning the title of “Crashers”. You have figured it out but don’t use the ability.

The rating for this series is 14-15+, most likely including minor to graphic descriptions of blood/injuries, violence, swearing, minor manipulation and death.

There are select groups of people who hate Jumpers and actively try to perma-kill them or get them source-banned from servers, leaving them stuck in single player and isolation.

From the author:

This will be in second person.

There will be no use of Y/N or (Y/N) or anything along those lines. I understand some people use them as a descriptor, but in my opinion, it looks a bit messy/choppy.

Feel free to criticize, though don’t be super harsh.

Also gl free to point out spelling mistakes.

I love love LOVE feedback! Gimme it! Please! /lh /gen

Anyway, those are the basics that you need to know! For now, at least… hehe.

Enjoy the first part!

-ura

——

The familiar particles signalling a personal portal opening in the lobby sends a few people scattering, but most just move to the side, though there are a fair few that stay to watch the person step out of the rip in reality.

The person stumbles out, cursing the deities to high heaven, brushing dirt and sweat and even a bug off of their face, certainly looking a bit worse for wear.

This was certainly not what the audience was expecting. They were expecting a prim, proper or at least somewhat distinguished person to step out of the actively sparking spiral, as most Jumpers are that way, even just a bit.

Nope.

“What are you looking at?”

The people step back a bit, noticing the sword the person clutches in their hand.

That person is you.

“Fuck off, would you? You probably see Jumpers on the daily! Fuckin’ annoying.” you grumble, sheathing the sword at your side. “Fuck… is this Hypixel?”

With a cursory sweep of the attire of the people surrounding you and buildings towering over everyone, you determine that yes, it is, in fact, Hypixel.

Of course, that may have also been the big-ass sign in the sky with the server’s name on it. That too.

With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you pull your inventory up. The typical “please place your personal belongings in a safe place before playing a match, otherwise they may be wiped.” message pops up when you do. You huff, wave your fingers to dismiss the text. Not like you’ve been here a hundred thousand times or anything like that.

The Netherite blade at your side, your armor and any sentimental belongings you have on you go straight into your enderchest, categorized in one of the shulker boxes designated specifically for this purpose.

As you walk along, trying to sort your inventory out (fortunately the server provides a free repair and replace to anyone’s clothing, as yours are beaten pretty much beyond self-help), deciding what match you might want to play, the crowd that was surrounding you quickly scurries off with a few screams.

A quick glance upwards catches your gaze on a red and white nametag.

Huh. Don’t see those often.

Whispers of the name you can’t quite see from where you stand rapidly reach your ears, ringing with slight familiarity.

Dream.

Odd. The masked man doesn’t often come onto public servers, mainly sticking to his own private server, named after him. The Dream SMP. How egotistical.

Without another glance towards the fan-people, you select a game idly. The blue text pops up in front of you, confirming your want to play the match.

Skywars Duos.

Before you know it, you’re whisked off to the arena, a bit dizzy from your landing, but fine nonetheless. The timer for the start slowly counts down, ticking slowly as people pop into existence with increasing frequency.

A presence behind you alerts you to your teammate. You nod at them just as the beeping of the final ten seconds counts down.

After a few repeated sessions, most being losses, you decide on one more match before you head to a tavern for the night, preferably one with a view.

This time you’re the second one to arrive. And for once, you take a longer look at your teammate.

He’s the guy everyone was freaking out about a few hours earlier… what was his name again? Dr-something. Or was it a Tr-something? Ah, who knows. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s good. You don’t bother to look at his nametag; he’s probably just some hotshot who thinks he’s all that.

“Not going to freak out?” he asks you. You snort at the question, shaking your head with a glance at the timer.

“Just here to kick ass.”

“Fair enough,” he replies. “You any good?”

A laugh from you echoes as the beeping of the countdown starts.

“We’ll see.”

The barrier below you drops, sending you hurtling to the floating island below. You quickly hit the ground, rolling into a crouch while your teammate raids the chest beside you, tossing a few bits of armor and a stone axe as well as a golden apple, which you catch and nod gratefully.

The hood on his head drops when another player attempts to take him out of the game. He ducks, barely avoiding the glimmer of the enchanted sword, sweeping her legs out from under her. The enemy player narrowly rolls out of the way with her shield being knocked out of her hands into the dark blue void below the floating island.

She curses loudly as his axe lands beside her head, kicking it to the side.

In that moment, you shove her hard off of the crumbling stone, jabbing your axe in her shoulder for final measure. Her falling figure flashes red with the loss of hearts, and eventually, she disintegrates into dust, the announcement of her tag being eliminated in the chat making you smirk.

“Well, you are good.”

You send him a smirk and collect the spoils of your kill, mostly a few potions and the iron blade, tossing a few of the former to your teammate and splashing a speed potion on yourself.

With practiced movements you begin to build to the middle islands, your teammate throwing the occasional snowball at any approaching enemy players, even knocking one off their bridge. The message of their death rings in the chat, being the fifth elimination.

The chests there contain better loot, even a diamond sword and chestplate, a strength II potion and a Power I bow with fifteen arrows. You take the bow and chestplate (with permission from your teammate, who gladly takes the sword and potion) and book it to the center chests, almost laughing at the amount of snowballs and arrows lying there.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you muse.

You hear a yell of your tag, quickly spinning around to block the swing of an enchanted axe, their teammate quickly turning to gang up on you after finishing off another person.

Great. You’re fighting two people now.

Swing, duck, dodge, swipe, duck, swipe, block—shit, you got stabbed! Two hearts disappear from your health bar, sending a flurry of curses flying from your lips.

But luckily, your teammate is fast enough to eliminate the weaker of the two.

The tables turn.

The clash of blades, splash of potions and grunts of pain quickly move to the edge of the center island. It’s two verses one now, and the three of you are the last competitors in the match.

Block the swing, return the blow, duck, block, dodge—

A sudden stab in your shoulder alerts you to an arrow stuck in the skin there, slowly depleting your health.

It’s merely a distraction.

The enemy player barrels into you, sending you stumbling backwards right at the edge of crumbling gravel.

Poison becomes your downfall.

The smack of another half heart.

As one last resort, you grip onto the block with one hand, the other dangling with your bow into the void. Gritting your teeth, you do your damndest to drag yourself up, the poison wreaking havoc through your body and strength.

Shit. I’m not going to survive this, am I?

The one-handed grip on your bow tightens, nocked arrow slipping between your dirt-covered fingers.

You make a decision.

Just as the enemy player comes over, smirking but low on health, you let go of the block, drawing your arrow back as you fall into the void.

The broadhead meets its mark just in time, signalling a victory with a dragon appearing underneath you right before you hit the death line. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; you direct the dragon upwards with a rush of gratefulness soaring through your body. Respawning isn’t a pleasant process.

Twenty or so seconds later, you appear back in the lobby with your teammate at your side. The lobby is nearly empty, only a few people milling around, most having traveled elsewhere or checked into a tavern or hotel.

“You’re good. We could use you on our side.”

“ ‘We’?”

Two other figures appear out of seemingly nowhere, one wearing white-rimmed black sunglasses with a blue hoodie, the other a bandana and a white hoodie with flames on the front of it.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, calling up a portal in your mind, ready to dash through it at the slightest hint of a threat. Sparks form by your palms, their signature color drawing the leader’s attention.

“Calm down. I have no interest in killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retort. “Three versus one isn’t exactly fair y’know.” The sparks grow brighter; though they are primarily used to call up portals, they can deal quite a blow to anyone who forcefully comes into contact with them.

Dream (you now read off his nametag, getting sick of referring to him by random aliases) extends a hand in front of his body. Something hovers in it, glowing a soft white and reading something you can’t quite make out.

“It’s not going to kill you.”

Bandanna laughs at that.

“Reassuring,” you snap, taking a closer look at it.

Invitation: Dream SMP

Active?: Yes

Expires: Never

Taken aback, you sputter out a few jumbled sentences before asking why they’d invite you of all people. Sure, you may be okay at Skywars, but that doesn’t warrant an invitation to literally the most exclusive server in the network.

“Uh—what?”

You take a quick glance at the two others, noting their tags are red and white as well, reading Sapnap and Georgenotfound.

“You don’t have to accept.” Dream steps forward to set the glowing orb in your hands. “Just know that we picked you for a very good reason.

How… interesting.

“Is it ‘cause I’m an inactive Crasher?”

The three stiffen at the moniker used for the infamous Jumpers, the ones who figure out ways around the system, the lines of fate that make up the different servers, finding loopholes that not even the best Mender can. They exploit them, gaining almost god-like abilities on the server only to wreak absolute anarchy on the infrastructure until the admin can step in, if they haven’t been eliminated from the system or perma-killed already.

From what little you know about the Dream SMP, you know the admin is a god of sorts, mostly staying out of the way but occasionally fixing matters that need it. Otherwise they stay… wherever gods stay.

“No,” George pipes up. You note his accent, odd and slightly out of place, but not unpleasant. “You being a Jumper does help, however.”

You’ve heard of elusive servers where Jumpers have access to a lot of power and near-unlimited resources, though no one can quite figure out why. Those servers are typically entirely anarchy.

“Yeah, sure.” But you clutch the invitation closer to your person anyway. It glows a bit brighter at the increased contact.

“Think on it.”

Those words echo through your mind throughout the rest of the night, in your bed, subconsciously in your dreams and into the next morning.

It’s no easy decision. You know you’ll be dragged into all sorts of politics, conflict and battles unlike the Skywars ones you usually find yourself dealing with.

Your hand grips the glowing ball a bit tighter, reading the same three statements engraved on it repeatedly until the words are branded into your mind.

And then it disappears.

“Invitation accepted.”

#mcyt x reader #reader insert #xreader #x reader #mcyt x you #technoblade x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #Trampolinist: Series

[flightlessangelwings]

How You Calm the Comandante

Comandante Veracruz x afab!reader (smut with no pronoun use)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ only), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, rough-ish sex (it’s actually fairly tame for V here lol), cockwarming, Veracruz-typical violence, migraines, fluff

Idea based off of this anon I got that I loved so much I had to write: Veracruz would be a fucking pouty angry man who takes it all out on his subordinates when he is sick/has a headache. They all pray he goes to see his girl cause thry can't take much more of his wrath! But Veracruz grumpily melts into a puddle when she fusses over him.

Gif credit: @ewan-mcgregor​

~

Comandante Veracruz was in a mood. He usually tended to be, but today especially he was extremely short tempered and irritable. He stalked around the compound where he was currently stationed with his men for training exercises with a deep scowl on his face and a don’t-fuck-with-me air about him. It made his men absolutely terrified.

His yells could be heard throughout the complex, and the men cowered in fear and just hoped that Veracruz’s wrath would not be directed at them next. They hid when they could, and did their best to appease him when they couldn’t. Even with how the comandante was on a normal day, this was exceptionally tough for the men.

Veracruz ducked into a shadowed corner and buried his head in his hands. The pain that rang through his skull was almost unbearable and he had never felt anything like this before. His eyes felt like they were on fire in his skull and every sound and light source felt like he was getting stabbed in the temple. No doubt this was a migraine, and a particularly nasty one at that.

With a heavy breath, Veracruz gathered himself again and moved back out to command his men. Today though, “commanding” took on a whole different meaning as he tried to cover his pain with shouts and screams. They ran dills harder than ever before, and Veracruz even pulled his gun on those who did not respond fast enough to his orders.

No doubt they were all terrified, and they had to do something about the comandante’s sour mood. Most of them just did their best and hoped that Veracruz would leave and go see you. He was always in a much better mood after his visits with you, and it did not take a genius to figure out why. The men began to think that some time with you was their only hope.

Veracruz’s lieutenant, his second in command, finally decided to do something. And, acting in the men’s best interest as well as Veracruz’s, he snuck out of the compound and drove to your place. He was the person, other than you, that Veracruz trusted the most. And he was the only one who knew where you lived. Veracruz kept it a secret for your own safety, but he also decided that he needed a backup in case anything ever happened and someone other than himself needed to get to you.

You opened the door with a surprised look on your face. You recognized the lieutenant, but you had no idea why he was here instead of Veracruz, “Is everything alright?” you asked.

He let out a deep exasperated sigh, “Not exactly,” he briefly explained the comandante’s mood and current violent rage, “He even shot one of the new recruits in the foot when he didn’t move fast enough,” the poor guy sounded so tired.

You let out a heavy sigh at that and immediately understood why he was here. With a nod, you agreed to come with him, even though you knew it broke protocol as well as several rules. You figured that since this was within the complex and they were only working on training exercises, it would be ok for you to sneak in to take care of your comandante. Besides, Veracruz had snuck you out into the field before so this was not nearly as risky.

The drive was quiet and the sun had started to set when the lieutenant pulled into the complex with you in the passenger seat. You were quiet in the drive, and you could tell that the man next to you relaxed visibly as he led you toward the comandante. Your overnight bag sat in your lap; you came prepared since you always tended to spend a good amount of time with Veracruz whenever you were together.

After he parked and guided you through the complex, you could see looks of relief on the men’s faces. You had to laugh to yourself; you knew they knew why you were here. Honestly, you felt bad for them, and you hoped that your visit would help. Veracruz may have kept you a secret from his enemies and anyone else, but his men knew exactly who you were.

The lieutenant stopped in front of a door with Comandante Veracruz’s name on it, and gave you a grateful nod and small smile before he turned to leave. You shook your head; all these tough military men and they needed you to calm the rage of their leader. With a half grin, you knocked at the door and you rolled your eyes when you heard his muffled yell on the other side.

When the door swung open forcefully, you were met with Veracruz’s scowl in your face. But, he immediately relaxed and dropped his shoulders when he saw that it was you. A fire still burned in his eyes, and you could tell that he was in a lot of pain, though he tried to hide it. He scanned you over as he breathed your name.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped and immediately winced at the loudness of his own voice.

You weren’t intimidated by his attitude and you didn’t back down; you knew he would never do anything to you so matter what his mood was, “I was told you needed me,” you answered matter-of-factly.

Veracruz growled as he smiled through grit teeth. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into his quarters and slammed the door shut behind him. You were taken aback at how dark the room was, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as the comandante tossed your bag to the corner and slammed you up against the door.

“V, what is it?”

His answer came with a heated kiss as he used his body to keep you in place. Veracruz’s hands ran down your body and bunched your shirt up and lifted it up over your head. You took the opportunity when he broke away to remove your shirt for a deep breath before his lips were on yours again. While his tongue tangled with yours, you clung to his shirt as he worked to unfasten your pants.

Just as the comandante loosened your jeans, you tried to fiddle with his own clothes, but he had other plans. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them up above your head with one of his large, strong hands while his other hand dipped down below your underwear. Veracruz swallowed the moan you let out with his mouth as he pushed two fingers into your cunt.

As much as Veracruz usually loved to hear your moans, his migraine did not allow for loud sounds in the room, so he kept his mouth on yours as he feverishly pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your muffled moans and the wet sounds from between your legs were almost soothing to him and strangely helped with the throbbing pain in his head. However, it created a new problem as Veracruz quickly got hard from the way you writhed and whimpered at his touch. 

You strained against his hand and bucked your hips, desperate for more. Veracruz grinned against your lips and picked up the pace. Your heat around his fingers was more comforting than he thought it would be, and the feeling of your body against his eased the pain he felt. Just as you were about to cum, however, Veracruz pulled away. He laughed darkly at the whimper you let out, and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before he reached out for you again and yanked your pants down. A shiver ran though you at the sudden rush of cool air against your skin, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it as the comandante led you back towards his bunk.

As you let him lead you into the room, you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him in for another desperate kiss. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as he backed you up against his bunk, though you were not as quick or graceful as he was with your own clothing. A small yelp escaped your lips when you felt the back of your legs hit the edge of his bunk and you heard him chuckle softly against your skin. Veracruz let you remain standing so you could strip him of the rest of his clothes.

He watched with darkened eyes as you tenderly pushed his now open shirt off of his shoulders. While your hands worked to undo his belt, his own wandered all over your naked body. You let out a surprised squeal when Veracruz gave your ass a squeeze, and he only grinned at you in response. He always liked to turn things into a game with you, and as needy as he was for you, Veracruz enjoyed when he made things harder for you.

So he distracted you the best way he could: by touching and caressing your body in every place he knew drove you wild, especially with how sensitive you were after being edged once. Veracruz’s hand moved up your sides and he felt you shiver under his touch before he grabbed your breasts firmly. You gasped and leaned forward into his chest as he pinched your nipples and rolled them between his fingers. You moaned softly as you shoved his pants down, but your strength always started to leave your body as he played with you.

Veracruz took pity on you and let you go so that he could push his pants down. The moment he stepped out of them, he pushed you onto the bunk and you landed on your back with a grunt. The comandante crawled on top of you and groaned into your mouth as he kissed you passionately.

You sighed against his lips as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, desperate to have him closer to you. Veracruz kissed his way down your neck and bit down hard at the sensitive spot there, which made you moan loudly. He hissed at the sudden noise, but he was not as bothered by it. As long as it was your moans and cries, Veracruz could deal with the searing pain in his head.

He bucked his hips against you as his hand trailed down your body to your slit and he growled when he felt how wet you were. Perhaps a little too roughly, Veracruz pushed a finger inside you once again and you whimpered for a moment before it turned into moans of pleasure. He broke away from your neck for a moment to watch your face as he added a second finger and pumped them in and out of your body rhythmically. 

When you felt his gaze on you, your eyes fluttered open and you breathed his name in a desperate plea for more. You reached out for his length and began to stroke it slowly. Veracruz groaned as he rocked his hips against your hand before he realized his own movements. As both of you locked eyes with each other, you both found that you slowed your movements and just got lost in each other’s eyes. It was an intimate moment that didn’t happen often with Veracruz, but he came to treasure those moments when they do happen.

Just as the moment started, the comandante ended it as he pulled his fingers out of you and lined himself up at your entrance. In his mind, he thought that he could fuck his migraine away and use your body for his own gain. Of course, however, he would never leave you unsatisfied. Perhaps others liked to think differently, but Veracruz always made sure you had your fill when he fucked you, and he prided himself on his ability to make you scream so loud that you lost your voice for a brief time.

But because of the almost blinding pain in his head, Veracruz entered you much more slowly than he normally would. Regardless, you moaned and bucked your hips against him as he stretched your pussy out with his length. When he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused as collapsed down on top of your body. You felt so good around his cock, and Veracruz was pissed off that the pain in his head didn’t allow him to enjoy the feeling of you fully.

“V? You ok?” you asked in a hushed voice as you wrapped your arms around him.

Not one to be defeated by anything, Veracruz quickly recovered and pushed himself back up with a low groan. His eyes trailed down your figure as he took in the sight of you underneath him in the dim light. Even in the darkness, he could still see the outline of your body and he groaned when his eyes locked on to your pussy with his cock buried deep inside it.

The sight set off something within Veracruz and he planted his hands on either side of you and started to pound relentlessly into you. Immediately, you threw your head back against the firm mattress of the bunk and cried out in pleasure as you clung to his shoulders. 

But the comandante soon changed positions and he brought his arms down and hooked them around the back of your knees. He used the leverage to hike your legs up and folded you in on yourself. The action drove his cock even deeper into your pussy and you both groaned at the action. The comandante stilled himself at the new angle for a moment and just relished the feeling of your cunt and the look of sheer pleasure on your face.

“Mine,” Veracruz spoke in a low growl for the first time as he thrust into you again.

Your cries filled the room, but Veracruz didn’t care. Where others' sounds felt like a stab in his head, your sounds were music to his ears. He wrapped one of his arms around your thigh to reach your clit and rubbed furious circles. You clawed at wherever you could reach as you bucked your hips against his and felt your orgasm build up already.

“Yours…” you whispered as you held onto his knees, “V… I’m close…”

His grip on you tightened at your words as he sped up his thrusts, “Come, cariño.”

That was all it took for your climax to wash over you. Your whole body trembled as you came with his name on your lips. Your inner muscles clenched on his length as your legs shook on either side of his head. And your orgasm triggered Veracruz’s own as he growled your name as spilled his seed deep inside you. The warmth that flooded his body was the welcome relief that he had chased all day. 

Once Vercruz rode out both of your orgasms, he collapsed down on top of you. His cock stayed buried in your pussy as he let all the tension in his body go and just covered you with his body. You let out a surprised grunt, but you immediately caressed his sides to let him know you weren’t hurt. You didn’t want to lose the connection to him just yet.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hands up to stroke his head. Veracruz stayed still on top of you as you ran your hands through his hair a few times before you gently massaged his scalp. You felt him tense for a moment before he just melted into your touch. Normally he hated his hair touched, but you had a feeling this would help ease the pain he felt.

With a smile, you focused on the back of his head first and rubbed circles at the base of his skull. You felt how tight the muscles at the base of his neck were and you were determined to get them to release. His head became heavier on the top of your shoulder as he groaned softly and you knew you achieved the effect you wanted.

Next you ran your hands up the sides of his skull and rubbed small circles on the pressure points there. You found the grooves of his skull and pressed harder there to relieve the pressure that came with a headache. After a few moments, you changed direction and scraped your nails along his scalp in a soothing manner. 

The connection between you and Veracruz was unlike anything else before. He remained still and calm on top of you, his softened cock still inside you while you soothed his aches. It was an intimacy that was unmatched and you would give anything to stay like this forever. This was a first for Veracruz too, and little did you know that he would wish for the same if it were possible.

You stayed comfortable underneath him while you continued to work on his scalp for a long while. His weight on you was a welcome one, and as you rubbed at his scalp more and more he felt heavier and heavier.

“V…?” you whispered against his ear.

His response came with a soft snore, and you realized that he fell asleep at your touch. Between how he wore himself out in the heat of passion with you and your soothing touches afterwards, Veracruz couldn’t stay awake any longer. His face stayed nuzzled against your skin so you couldn’t see that his expression had softened, but you were alright with that. You placed a soft kiss to the side of his head before you shifted yourself slightly underneath him so you could fall asleep as well. 

~

Notes: I hope that anon sees this because I loved that though so much I just had to write it! And honestly, I had a lot more fun writing the non smut part of this lol. As always, taglists are open!

#comandante veracruz x reader #comandante veracruz #veracruz x reader #comandante veracruz x you

[valdemart]

Valdebreed Part 2

Us: *votes for courtier content*

Nyx Hydra: Yeah we’re not gonna actually do that lol

I tried to keep Valdemar as in character as possible but honestly? Fuck cannon. If Nyx Hydra isn’t going to feed us, I am! Come get y’all lunch!

NSFW ValdemarxReader Consentacles, way too much cum, dirty talking Valdemar, breeding kink, ruined furniture, pet names, after care probably a rushed intro but fuck it.

After pulling yourself together and freshening up in a very well-earned bath, you made your way back to your room where Valdemar waited.

The fire place had been lit. It was also the only light in the room. If it hadn’t been your own room, you might have bumped into something as you made your way over to where you could see Valdemar.

When you first moved in, there had been a chair in the library that you had fallen in love with. It was an oversized arm chair, big enough to curl up in, made of burgundy velvet. You sank into it like a spoiled house cat and read for hours at a time. Valdemar had found you napping in it at some point and shortly after you had found it had been moved to your room. That’s where they sat now. Naked.

 Valdemar never disrobed. Ever. Honestly, you had wondered a few times if their clothing wasn’t part of their actual body. This wasn’t their ‘real’ form, after all. You wouldn’t have been totally shocked to learn that their coat was just their true form’s arm or something, molded to look like clothing. Apparently, you were wrong. All of their skin was the same olive hue as their face and hands, the only other skin of theirs you had really seen before. They were a rectangular shape, their waist only dipping in slightly beneath their ribcage before fulling out to their hips. Their ribs were almost all entirely visible, the shadows cast by the firelight highlighting each groove and protuberance. And sitting on those ribs were the tiniest handfuls of breast tissue, with such perfectly symmetrical shape and nipples that they very obviously weren’t ‘human’. You’d only ever known breasts to be perfect mirror images of each other on statues. You could follow their legs up to their lap, but then all you could make out was shadow.

They were breathtakingly and horrifyingly beautiful.

“I think I’m…overdressed,” you said, your voice so thick with anticipation that you had to pause to swallow before you could finish your sentence.

“For now. I thought this particular situation called for some vulnerability on my part. Disrobe, Little Mouse.”

You slid off your robe and let it pool at your feet, leaving you as bare as they were.

“Come to me.”

You were before them in an instant, desperate to be near them. On them. Filled with them.

“Sit.”

You straddled their lap slowly, knowing the extent of their strength, but still slightly put off by the sight of their ribs. Parts of your brain seemed to have mistaken them for human.

You shivered as your chest pressed against theirs and your nipples hardened against their cool skin. You noticed quietly that theirs were still unerect and soft against you. Their hands wrapped around you gently, their fingers somehow sliding perfectly into the spaces between your ribs where they connected to your spine. If they squeezed, they could probably collapse your whole chest cavity. You had seen them crush a femur in their fist like it had been made out of sugar.

“We’re you ready to begin the experiment, Mouseling?”

“Kiss me first?”

Their lips were cold and thin and they felt so good against your heated skin.

There was loud crackling noise, too loud to have been from the fireplace, followed by a grotesque, wet sound. It sounded like someone was butchering a chicken right in front of you and you would have fallen back to the floor in surprise if Valdemar hadn’t been holding you.

You only saw it for a second but, in the firelight, you saw a cleft on Valdemar’s sternum that started to split open further like the skin was being retracted. You yelped and Valdemar reached out to grab your chin and hold your head upright.

“Look at me, Mouseling. Look only at me.”

They released your chin but your eyes never left theirs. You watched the flames behind you flicker in their red eyes as something unimaginably horrible was happening right below you. The sound traveled downward until it stopped where their genitals would be. Then it was quiet again. You could feel the dark energy emanating from just a few inches below you, but your eyes never left Valdemar’s and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or servility.

“Such an obedient little thing,” Valdemar praised as they brushed your hair off your face. You were sweating despite the chill of their skin and your head was swimming. Their magic tended to do that to you. Asra’s magic and your own magic never made you sick, but Valdemar’s always did. You weren’t sure if it was because it came from a different source or because it was too strong for you. Asra said it was a much older, much darker magic, and that even he wasn’t completely sure he understood it. That had upset you at first, and you tried to argue with him that Valdemar wasn’t evil and you were sick of everyone’s constant comments about it, but he merely placed a finger to your lips to silence you and said ‘I said dark energy, not evil energy’. To Asra’s credit, he handled your relationship with the doctor better than most people had.

But what would he think about a baby?

“Allow me to show you just how satisfying that which you fear is.”

Several appendages the width of a finger started to caress your body, making you jerk away against them, but Valdemar held you steady and your eyes never left theirs. They stared at you, unblinking and smiling softly, as their little tendrils fondled your stomach and legs. They were wet and soft like small tongues, and they left trails of moisture wherever they lapped. While they were a little unnerving, the sensation was like nothing you had felt before. Especially when they found your breasts. They flicked against your nipples flatly before wrapping around them to tug lightly. Your clit pulsed desperately with each little caress and your wet hole clenched around nothing, leaving you feeling desperately empty.

You groaned softly and bucked forward, trying to guide even one of those tendrils to where you now needed it most.

“Impatient?” Valdemar asked, knowing damned well the answer to their own question. “We have the rest of eternity.”  

Still, the tendrils descended then. Some softly pulled your lips apart, exposing you, while others tasted you. Two alternated flicks against your clitoris while three or maybe four slid into you at varying depths.

You keened and bucked into Valdemar’s lap, but you knew nothing you could do would change anything they had planned for you.

“Let’s get you nice and prepared to take my seed.”

It didn’t take long for the appendages to lubricate you, perhaps excessively so. Your body was wet now, and it caused you to shiver against the air.

The tendrils working your body withdrew, and you whined pitifully.

“Hush, Pet,” Valdemar said softly, though clearly unannoyed.

There was a singular tendril then, thicker than any of the last ones. A blunt head prodded you gently for a moment before sliding fully inside. Its girth stretched you, but whatever Valdemar had covered you in took away all resistance.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and, for a moment, you were worried they wouldn’t come back. This was so much more than anything Valdemar had ever given you. You doubted Valdemar had an established phallus, especially since they shapeshifted every other part of their physical form. This huge thing inside of you was made specifically because they wanted you helplessly full, pinned from the inside.

“I c-cant…Val…”

You weren’t asking for them to stop. No, this was delicious. You need this. But it was so, so much.

“You can. And you will.”

The phallus withdrew slowly to the tip before sliding back in just as slowly, all while Valdemar didn’t move a muscle. It was so typical of the demon, to wreck you without any indication of physical response on their end. They were going to fuck you and anyone watching would think they had nothing to do with it.

Valdmar’s…cock? For lack of a better comparison in your mind fucked you in the uniform way Valdemar did anything. While it lacked human variation, it was unrelenting in its endeavor to impregnant you.

“I can feel your little cunt milking me. Your body’s as desperate to get pregnant as you are.”

Your head dropped with a heavy moan and Valdemar shifted back, taking your full weight against them. If this dicking didn’t kill you, them talking like that certainly would. The heat inside of you was becoming unbearable. All you needed was a little bit more.

“Can you go faster?” You asked softly as you jerked your hips forward into their thrusting.

“Weren’t you just saying you couldn’t handle things as they were?”

You whined pitifully at their teasing.

“Please? Please? Please?”

With each beg you humped yourself harder. You could feel your climax mounting and all you wanted was to finish with Valdemar this deep inside of you. You weren’t above begging.

“Of course, Duckling. We need your orgasm to move my ejaculate to your womb.”

Their weird medical speak should have been embarrassing, but your walls fluttered around them.

One of their hands found the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist. When Valdemar pushed back into you, it was a sharp, hard thrust and you cried out before you fell forward. You moaned loudly into the fabric of the chair and Valdemar held you against it.

“I have you.”

The tentacle started to piston in and out of you, the speed of the penetration through both of your fluids making the most unholy of sounds, like someone drowning in mud. Your body jiggled and shuddered against Valdemar as they remained perfectly still while they kept you caged to them.

“Val! Val-d-de-mah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

It was right there. You could feel yourself about to snap. Just a little more. Oh, please just a little more. Oh please oh please oh please oh please

A few of the small tendrils from earlier reappeared to lap at your clit and you screamed into the chair. As you contracted around the still thrusting phallus, you could feel it erupt. The fluid coming out of it wasn’t hot or cold, but there was a ridiculous amount of it. It squirted inside of you before you felt it leak out around the two of you, quickly causing a puddle to form in Valdemar’s lap. Despite this, they were still moving in and out of you, fucking their cum back inside of you as it came out.

Too spent to try and wiggle away from the overstimulation, you whimpered for mercy.

“ ‘S too much. Val…”.

“I’m only trying to make sure you’re completely inseminated. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Despite their teasing, their tendril retracted out of you. You shuddered, both thankful for the break and grieving the loss of fullness.  

“Val…That was crazy…”

“Science often is.”

It wasn’t hard for Valdemar to maneuver you onto your back in their lap, despite you being completely dead weight. Hooking one arm under your knees, they elevated your lower body and cradled you.

“You’re being too wasteful with my sperm, Little One. You need to be more grateful.”

Finally able to look at yourself, you saw that you were bathed almost completely in black. It started around your breasts where the tendrils had played with you and you grew darker the further down yourself you looked. Of course, Valdemar came black. You doubted anything viable in terms of offspring would actually come of this, but the closeness, the intimacy, that was what you had really needed. The brain melting orgasm hadn’t hurt either.

“I love you.”

Valdemar hummed in acknowledgement before softly running a finger down your stomach, through the gummy pitch they had covered you in, before tracing small circles around your womb.

Every time the fire flickered, the lighting on their face changed, making them look like they were morphing briefly. You couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re going to have such cute kids.”

#I wanted to spend more time on this but its been months and ill just never be happy with my work so *fart noise* #valdemar x apprentice #consentacles #quaestor valdemar #valdemar the arcana

[infinitewarden]

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of  your  ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

.

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

.

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

.

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

#theus.exe #lore.exe #osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny spoilers #long post

[beskarhearts]

Tension (Javier Peña x reader)

gif credits @bestintheparsec

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: mentions of drinking/prostitution, use of the word whore, canon typical violence (shooting), cursing, SOFFTTT Javi (bc I am a hoe for it)

Word count: over 7.1K

Summary: Your relationship with Javier Peña was complex enough and becoming a source to relieve tension for each in a surprising way made it even harder to navigate.

Notes: SURPRISE SHAWTY! I have never written for someone other than Din so I am pretty nervous about this. I love Javi so so so much but I don't know if I write him well. So please give me your honest opinions, like, reblog, share, etc. It means the world to me!

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You knew who was knocking at your door before you even opened it. You didn’t know how you always knew but something deep down in you could always just tell, almost instinctually - like your gut knew it before your mind even did. It wasn't like the knock always followed the same pattern. No tell-tale melody that echoed into the still walls of your apartment that clearly indicated whose hand was knocking away. It was always sharp and short but never quiet the same. Yet you knew.

You let out a small puff of air as you dragged your legs over to the door, tossing it open and not even sparing a glance at your visitor as you stumbled to the bottle of whiskey on the empty coffee table you had. “I’m trying to drink into complete oblivion. Go away.”

You poured the golden liquid into the cup, giving yourself a more than fair portion which you greedily gulped. You allowed the warmth of it to wash over you, fill your senses if only for a moment. The silence continued to drag on and you thought that maybe, just maybe, he had left until a husky, hoarse voice spoke out. "Care if I join?"

He sounded exhausted, beaten down. You supposed you sounded the same but it seemed to be more impactful when he was. He sometimes tried to seem so cocky and put together in front of you, didn't ever want his tough façade to crack in front of other people. But in the end, you were both fighting the same battle - one that often left you feeling hollow at the end of the day.

You looked around the apartment you had, your eyes dancing across the plain walls and rarely used furniture. It had become a place for you to merely sleep and drink, and thats if you even had time to drag yourself home. It was empty and lonesome and it had none of the warmth or refuge that a home was supposed to offer. It reminded you of yourself - cold and bare and vacant. And you didn't want to be reminded of that. Hence why you were seeking some semblance of something within the alcohol that danced over your tongue.

Maybe he needed the same. Or maybe you were just hoping he could be the something that would make things a little better.

"Knock yourself out, Peña." you finally spoke, your own voice laced with the kind of exhaustion that was so strong that it made it so you couldn't even sleep. Like sleep and rest was a foreign concept meant for people that weren't you. Meant for people more deserving and more normal. You finally turned as the dark-haired man leant forward, his fingers grazing yours as he grabbed at the bottle. You tried to ignore the rush that ran through you at the contact but after all, isn't that why you allowed him to stay?

He brought the bottle directly to his lips, taking a long sip from it as his eyes fluttered slightly. You scoffed as you walked away, dropping your body on the couch you had and looking up at him. "Thanks for drinking out of the bottle, asshole."

You held out your cup as he neared, allowing him to pull it from his lips and pour it into your glass. Once he had done so, he sat down on the couch next to you and leaned back, letting out a long sigh. You couldn't help the way you studied his face. His brows were furrowed, looking almost stuck in the position, as well as the wrinkles on his forehead that were scrunched up. His neck was trickled with sweat from the baring heat of Columbia as his chest rose and fell, his button-up shirt revealing some of the skin of his collarbone. He took another long sip of the whiskey, bringing the bottle to rest at the coffee table. "This whiskey tastes like shit."

"Then go home and drink your own whiskey." you countered, taking a sip before bringing your own glass down to the table, next to the bottle.

His head lolled over to look at you, brown eyes tracing over your own as you settled into the couch more, bringing your legs up. "I don't want to go home."

The words were said so softly and you understood them. The brokenness and the wear and tear of the job. You tried your best to give him a small smile but was afraid your own face was stuck in a scowl of sorts. "Then don't complain about my liquor."

A small chuckle finally left his lips at your joke, warm air that smelled like cigarettes and whiskey fanning over you. You didn't want to bask in it, show you enjoyed it. But for some reason you did. You had hated the stench of cigarettes before. Thought it was absolutely deplorable. But that was before Peña. Before the smell of cigarettes and liquor always made you think of the DEA agent you had come to simultaneously despise in some ways but also admired greatly in others.

You tried to pull yourself from the endless stream of thoughts that ran through your head, all of which consisting of Javier Peña. But you found it difficult to and you didn't know if it was because the effects of the liquor or the intoxicating pull that he somehow had on you. A small gasp almost left your lips as one of his hands reached out to grab at your knee, coarse fingers gently drawing small movements into your skin that felt like they were being etched into the deepest chamber of your mind. These were the small things that he did that stayed with you. Things you would sporadically remember throughout your day and would make your stomach do twists.

"Peña, what are you doing here?" you asked, not pulling away from his movements despite the future wellbeing of your mind begging you to do so.

"Call me Javier."

You froze, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he turned away from you, staring straight into the bottle that sat in front of him. You couldn't remember a time you had ever called him by his first name. When you had first met him, you had called him Agent Peña and he had teased you for doing so ruthlessly. Saying how your experience in D.C. had made you too much of a goody two-shoes for Columbia. You had resented it at first but ultimately let it get to you, instead calling him just Peña. Calling him his last name had just been a natural thing now, something you always did. First names felt too personal, too deep. Like you were stepping over the lines of work and into a darker territory you couldn't make your way through.

But he had asked.

"Javi, what are you doing here?" you repeated, trying to ignore the way the softer nick name had slipped from your lips rather than his full name. You didn't even know where it came from but it felt more natural.

He let out a small hum, bringing his hand up to run over his face and down his strong nose and past his mustache. "I don't know. Needed some company I guess."

"Isn't that what the whore houses are for?" You didn't mean for it to sound so harsh but the inkling of resentment you held deep within you had managed to slip out. Javier's hand slowly left your knee as he rested them on his thighs, fingers spread and clenching. You shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have made things less civil than they were.

"I guess I wanted your company." he admitted, reaching forward for the bottle and taking a big chug. Your gaze wandered over his back and neck, the muscles seeming so tight. He wasn't relaxing at all. He was so full of tension that it seemed to radiate off him.

You would blame the whiskey on it later, though you knew deep down you hadn't had enough to warrant this behavior from yourself. You would never mention it again. But you let your hand settle on his shoulders, making him freeze. You waited for him to push you away or tell you off, but when he didn't you let your fingers just barely dig into the muscle. His shoulders settled back as he seemed to lean into the touch, his eyes falling closed as his head tilted back softly.

You shimmied your way behind him, each knee on either side of his back as he moved forward to give you more room to settle behind him. You dug your hands in deeper, letting them push into the muscle that seemed as hard as a rock. You pushed into it, worried you had been too hard but a small moan left Javi's lips that sounded like blissful heaven to your ears. It seemed to echo throughout the primarily empty apartment, or maybe that was just your mind playing it over and over again like it was scripture.

"Relax, Javi." you whispered as your hands lowered slightly, digging into the muscles of his back.

A groan this time, one that sounded just as beautiful as the first noise. You closed your eyes, soaking in the contact. You wouldn't admit it but you were desperate for it. Simple touches at the office seemed to light you on fire sometimes. A brush of the shoulder, a hand on your back as he made his way past you, a nudge on your side to get your attention. All of it had felt like so much. But this... this was too much in the most addictive way.

Minutes had passed before your hands made their way up to his neck, lightly massaging the skin there as your eyed his hair. It was always so enticing and so soft. Fuck it. You ran your fingers up and into his hair, letting them spread over his head and he definitely leaned into the touch then, a small sigh leaving his lips.

You knew Javier Peña had been touched. His reputation was no secret. But you wondered if he ever got this. Was physical contact limited to a rough fuck in his apartment with some woman he had to pay afterwards? Or did another's fingers dance and dig and knead into his skin like yours was right now? When was the last time someone had softly ran his hands through his hair with the lone goal to just relax him?

"Bebita..." The word drew out of his lips slowly, almost as if in a prayer. He had called you it once before, shortly after you started, and you had scolded him for it. You remembered the way you had jabbed a finger into his chest, ridiculing him for using such a term with you. But it no longer sounded sinister or condescending like it had that time. It was soft and gentle and you wanted to hear it over and over again. Part of you wanted to beg for it, plead for the word to spill from the lips you admired daily, but you couldn't do it.

Your fingers ran through his hair, down his shoulders and back one last time before you slowly pulled them away. You didn't move from the position you were in, allowing his lower body to pin you against the back of the couch and for your legs to anchor into his sides.

A silence flowed through the room but this one didn't seem as lonesome and volatile as it usually felt when you were by yourself. It was filled with the soft breathing of you and Peña, the small shuffle of his leg as he shifted his head to look back at you. Your breath caught in your throat as he turned his body slightly, eyes staring straight into yours. "Thank you."

You nodded dumbly, your hands coming together so you could twiddle them with the nervousness that filled your body. You were usually so strong, so defiant, so loud. But he had melted you like butter and you felt like you could barely breathe with the way he was looking at you.

When he rose from the couch, you let out a small breath in relief. He would leave, maybe go to one of the women who kept him bed warm, and you could pretend this never happened. Not a word would be mentioned of it and you would see him at the office tomorrow like nothing happened, ignoring the phantom traces of his skin that danced across your fingertips and the way cigarette smoke and the scent of whiskey he exuded seemed to wrap your whole body up and soak you in it like some sort of intoxicating bath.

He slowly made his way to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle but pausing at it. He faced away from you and you looked up at him slowly.

"Goodnight, Peña." Confirmation. It was you telling him to go do what he did and to pretend that you hadn't shared that moment with him. Allow yourselves to both dwindle on it independently but never dare delve into what it just might mean because that would come with answers you don't think either of you were prepared to face.

A small sigh left his lips as he opened the door, offering a small "Goodnight" before he closed it behind him.

Your eyes drifted to the bottle of whiskey, the one his lips had been on, and you brought your hands to your face. The aftershave he used filled your senses and became all you could smell. You tore your hands away and rushed to the small kitchen, where you scrubbed at your hands like they had been stained with blood.

_________

"Thank you for... last night."

Your head whipped up as you found Peña at the head of your desk, hands resting on it as he leant forward so he could quietly speak the words to you, avoiding any other ears that might barge in on such a sensitive topic.

You raised an eyebrow. He wasn't supposed to mention it. He was supposed to pretend it never happened. Not walk to your desk while you were working and thank you for it.

"It's fine, Peña." you said back, trying to keep your voice even and clear. Act like you had nothing to hide. That you had felt nothing and that the feeling of him hadn't been seared into your brain all night and made it impossible to sleep.

You could see Murphy's head pop up slightly, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Pena's softened face and your perplexed one. You cleared your throat and dug a file out from under your desk, opening it and pretending to read the words. But the agent still lingered at your desk, so close that you felt like your chest was tightening up. "You need something, Peña, or just enjoying the view?"

Yes. Sarcastic remarks and plain stares were what you needed. What had to happen because if he looked at you like that anymore and you said something, even the smallest thing, everything would spill over. Peña finally straightened up, fingers dragging off your desk as he looked down at you, his face morphing for the same softness he had used last night to his usual scrunched up eyebrows and plain stare. "No, agent."

You tried to ignore the way the words seemed to be said with some grit, some non-discernible layer that was soaked with annoyance or frustration or maybe even...hurt? You didn't dare look at him again as he walked away, leaving only you and Murphy sitting at your desks. Your eyes traced over the same word over and over again as Murphy let out a small noise.

"Did you sleep with Peña?"

Your head whipped up as your glared at Murphy, the blond-haired man looking slightly intimidated by the harshness in your eyes. "Jesus Christ, Murphy! Do I look like one of Peña's whores?"

"Then what was he thanking you for last night for?"

You had hoped Peña had spoken the words quietly enough but Murphy was after all an agent and could read in between the lines well enough to detect a change in the air between you two. You softened your harsh expression, still giving Murphy a critical look but not one that could kill. "He just... came over for a drink. That's all."

Murphy paused, his eyebrows just slightly bunching together as he looked you up and down like he was trying to find the slightest inconsistency so he could piece together something far more exciting than a drink. But hadn't that been it? A drink and sure, a lousy massage. But nothing else. Nothing special. "A drink?"

"Yes. A drink."

"Why?"

You weren't surprised by the question. You and Peña had a relatively complicated relationship. It had started off with a lot of disdain and aggravation. You were a strong woman, new to Columbia, and you weren't about to be swindled around by the man whore of the DEA. You didn't even have to know the rumors to know that was the case. All it took was walking in the room and seeing his sly looks and flirtatious quips he had given you at first, until he realized you weren't going to fall prey to his good looks and charm.

But once he settled down, realized you were going to be his and Murphy's partner and you were serious about the work, your relationship became amicable. You worked well together - more than you had thought possible initially. You couldn't quiet find out why but you were able to read him pretty well, even more than you usually could with your co-workers. Maybe that was why you always knew it was him knocking or knew when he walked into a room before you even saw him. But you two worked together. So for a while you two remained steady partners with a good work flow.

But once the curtain had been pulled back and you realized Javier Peña might be something other than a work-junkie man whore, you started to appreciate him. You admired his determination and work ethic, because while the man could be brash and a little hot-headed, he had good intentions behind what he did at work. You identified and respected the passion. He wanted to nail Escobar just as badly as you did. Hell, maybe even more. And while it wasn't clear upon first glance and it took you a while to see it, he cared. He cared about people. He might not have loved them but he even cared about the girls from the brothels he visited. He cared about Murphy and you think somewhere deep down, he might of given a shit or two about you.

But it wasn't anything obvious. You don't think anyone would point to you two and remark about how great of friends you were or anything of the sort. In the end, you weren't friends - not really. Or maybe you were in some fucked way that made sense for people like you and Peña. You didn't normally question it. And while you had wondered why he had come to your place for a drink last night, it made sense to you. You couldn't explain why but it just did.

You looked back at Murphy, realizing you had gotten lost in thought and hadn't answered his question. You shrugged slightly, trying to appear non-committal and unbothered. "I don't know. Maybe one of his girls was too busy for him last night."

_________

Five nights. In a row.

You would hear the knock at your door and you would answer every single time, knowing who it was and knowing what would happen. If the whiskey bottle wasn't already out, you would grab it from a cabinet and let him sip from it directly and make a sly comment about how bad it was. There were a couple nights he would try to make conversation but he either didn't know what to say or was too exhausted to try to stall the inevitable. Eventually your hands would land on him and knead into his muscles, stripping it of its tension until he walked out of your apartment.

Javier hadn't bothered to say anything at work again. No additional thank you's or asking if it would happen again. You and him both knew it remained better unspoken and unplanned. You both would rather just have him turn up at your door. Even when it was just you two in the cloak of darkness that wrapped around your apartment, he didn't say anything about it.

Tonight was the first time in a few days you didn't think you would make it home but perhaps to your dismay (or maybe your luck), Javier wouldn't be either. Murphy had given up not long ago at all, leaving the office with a loose tie and frazzled state of mind, muttering something about seeing his wife. The rest of the people had been long gone by then meaning once Murphy left, it was just you and Peña sat at desks across from each other, staring into an endless void of paperwork.

You couldn't tell what time it was, not that it would matter anyways with how much reading you had to do. The less glamorous and exciting side of being a DEA agent meant loads of paperwork and reading, something you hated more than you could describe. You finally blinked, realizing you hadn't done so in a while with the way your eyeballs were stinging. You looked around your desk and let out a grunt. Seven paper cups lined the front of it and you raised an eyebrow. Had you really had seven cups of coffee? Papers were strewn all about, so many little letters that seemed to swim in your mind and become muddled symbols to your weary eyes. The room was mostly dark, except for the glow of your lamp and Javier's.

"You okay?"

You jumped slightly, the sound starling you after what had seemed to be hours of silent reading with the occasional rustle of paper work, sips of caffeine, and puffs of Javier's cigarette. You looked up at Javier who looked just as disheveled as you felt. He had long forgotten his jacket, that was now thrown over the back of his chair with an arm dragging over the floor. His tie was on his desk and a couple buttons of his shirt had been undone. His hair was rustled, like he had been running his hands through it (and looking like it usually did when you were done massaging your own fingers through it). His eyes were lidded but he looked over at you intently.

"Yeah." you croaked out, feeling like the sound of your own voice was foreign after not talking for so long. "Just...exhausted."

"You should go home."

"Nah. I'm not going to sleep. Just drink whiskey and-" You froze. What were going to finish that with? And wait for you to show up at my door?

Peña didn't seem to want you to finish your answer, either because he could fill the restnin on his own or because he didn't care. "You look tense."

"Oh, yeah. Just the compliment every woman wants to hear." you joked, leaning back into your chair and giving Peña a sly smile that he returned.

"Well I tried to call you beautiful once and you yelled at me."

You snorted that time, remembering the memory clearly. Peña had called you hermosa once and you had told him to fuck off, thinking he was trying to just get under your skin. "Yeah. I did."

"If it helps, you look-"

"Don't." you said abruptly. You couldn't handle that. Peña was smooth with everyone but you didn't need him doing it with you. You were already twisted up enough.

"I was going to say you look exhausted as well." Peña cheekily said, one end of his lips quirking up into a small grin.

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks."

You looked back down at your desk, grabbing a piece of paper and lamely looking at it. You didn't look up when you heard Javier rise from his seat and his steps echo into the empty room. You assumed he was leaving, having given up on getting any more work done. That was until you felt two hands rest on your shoulders.

You sat straight up, your body becoming stiff as your felt the hands spread over your shoulders. They were so warm, even through your shirt. You let out a soft sigh when you felt his fingers dig into your shoulders, applying a perfect amount of pressure that felt heavenly.

"This okay?" he softly asked.

You nodded your head. "Yeah, Javi."

He continued pressing into your muscles, each one seeming to relax almost instantaneously with his touch. You hadn't even realized how stiff and sore you had been. How much your body was craving something like this.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you leaned into his touch, letting out a groan when he dug deep into a really wound up spot. "Your muscles feel like shit." he said as his hands drifted lower to your upper back.

"You are full of compliments tonight." you softly said.

"Sorry, bebita." You let out a small hum at the nick name, letting a small smile tilt your lips. Javi was close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to smell cigarettes and the aftershave that had seemed to be stuck to your hands for days now.

Javier seemed to pick up on the small noise before you had, ripping his hands away from you right as the door to the room opened. You sat up straight, grabbing at a piece of paper lamely as Javier shuffled behind you.

'God damn, Murphy.' you thought as the taller agent looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow.

"I just forgot something." he quietly said, walking to his desk where he grabbed his wallet. He looked back at you two, raising an eyebrow at the way Peña awkwardly started to walk towards his own desk. "Did I interrupt something?"

You sighed, standing up from your desk and grabbing your jacket. "Nope. I was just about to head out for the night."

"Me too." Peña said, grabbing his own jacket and giving you and Murphy a single nod before marching out of the room.

Steve looked back at you, a single eyebrow raised. "Okay. What happened?"

"Nothing. I was just showing him a paper." you muttered, grabbing a file to bring home, already knowing you wouldn't be sleeping at all with the way your mind was whirring.

"What paper?" Murphy critically asked, following after you as you ushered out of the room.

"DEA stuff." you mumbled, hating how you felt like you were being integrated by one of your own partners.

"That's not vague at all." he teased, a small smile popping up on his face as he saw how you were getting more and more flustered.

"Fuck off, Murphy." you huffed, marching out of the office and leaving him behind.

________

The knock on your door this time was much harsher and louder, still enough for you to know who it was but also enough to know Peña was in no good mood tonight. You had come to look forward to the nightly visits but today had been a field day for you that had gone very awry. You were tired and you felt like you were burnt to pieces, crumbling to ash before everybody’s eyes but nobody could put you back together because the damage had already been done.

You waited a few moments but when the knocking presumed at a much faster rate, you knew there was no hope he would walk away and let you spend this night alone to wallow in the events of the day. You opened the door, this time standing at the entrance where an incredibly disheveled Peña stood across from you. For once, he didn’t look tired like he usually did at night. If anything, he looked like a fire had been lit under him that was consuming him whole, swallowing him until he was the orange burst of flames itself. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top like usual but wrinkled. His hair was all over the place. You couldn’t help the way your heart slightly dropped. He looked like a man who got laid.

You slowly walked away from the door, hearing as Peña walked in and slammed it shut behind him. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Peña. Go fuck another one of your girls or something.”

“What the fuck?” he growled.

The aggressive and frantic tone alarmed you, causing you to turn and face him as he stared at you. Upon better inspection, he didn’t look like a man who got laid. But a man who was pissed.

“What the hell is your problem?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared him back down, not daring to back away from the challenging gleam in his eyes.

“You nearly got shot today!”

Oh, yeah. It’s not like you had forgotten. It had been the main event of the day, the bullet that was meant for your head just barely grazing you instead. Murphy had been there and said something about it being dumb luck. You had tried to say something about how you didn’t believe in luck and it was just your quick nature, but you had barely been able to get the words out with the way your mind was doing somersaults and the way your whole body seemed to shake with an electrifying cocktail of adrenaline and fear. You had been on the brink of coming to a rather unfortunate death and yeah, you were glad you hadn’t died. But you weren’t glad that the mission had led to little of anything. It had been a fruitless effort and that was the worst part.

“Well, I didn’t so whoopie doo.” you sarcastically answered, throwing your hands up rather undramatically as you tried to make your way to the kitchen to fetch the whiskey as normal. But Peña was faster, marching towards you and grabbing an arm to pull you back.

“You could of died.” Peña hissed, locking eyes with you. The fierceness held in his eyes was almost intimidating, so stark and powerful that it seemed to blow the wind out of your lungs almost as much as your graze with death had earlier in the day.

“Okay. But I’m still alive so I did something right.”

“What were you doing on the field today?”

“Umm... doing my job.” you said, your face scrunching in confusion as you looked up at the man before you. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his hairline beaded with droplets of sweat.

“Why didn’t I know? I should of been there.” Peña demanded, his hand still holding your wrist. The touch was hot and poignant. You didn’t know how but the way his calloused hand grabbed onto your wrist seemed to hold such a vast array of emotions you couldn’t even begin to place them.

“I didn’t realize I had to come to you with everything.” you sarcastically quipped back, trying to pull your hand away with no effort. His grip still remained strong as his eyes wandered all over your face. “Peña, what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that you are running around, nearly getting killed.” Javier barked back.

“That’s kind of part of the job!” you yelled back, feeling a frustration grow inside you that felt unfair. You wanted to relax or sleep or get drunk or who knows what. Not have a yelling match with Javier Peña in your shitty apartment.

“You don’t even try to be careful!”

“Well, there are parts of the job that nobody likes but oh well! I don’t like that you nearly get killed or fuck who knows how many women but fuck it, it’s who we are and what we do!” You fired back, feeling your mouth clamp up when you realized the words that were spilling from it freely. The emotions of the day and the heat of the argument was too much and you felt flooded in every which direction. You couldn’t control the onslaught of confessions that tore from your lips and you hadn’t even expected.

Javier hadn’t seemed to either, pulling his hand away from your wrist. He stared back at you, chest still rising dramatically, but his face seemed less enraged and more questioning, curious, and thoughtful. You felt your face warm even more than it had been from the fight, stepping back slowly and nearly stumbling in the process. You were the first to look away, staring down at your hands which were shaking slightly.

“Sit down.”

You looked up at Javier, letting out an awkward chuckle at the bizarreness of his demand. “What?”

“Sit down.” he repeated once again, leaving no room for additional questions and his unwavering stare seemed to demand you to do so. You let out a small sigh and wandered over to your couch. Once your bottom landed on it, you let your body cave forwards, your elbows rested on your knees and hands cradling your face. You didn’t look up even as you heard Peña walking around your apartment, opening cabinets and grabbing glasses. You just kept your face buried within yourself, trying to shield yourself from things you couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps the events of the day or maybe feelings that always seemed to grow within you each time you saw Javier Peña. You couldn’t tell but you had felt like your brain was working at half-capacity, if even that, and you didn’t want to waste it on dwelling over what was plaguing your mind in that moment.

You heard Javier step towards you and you finally brought your hands away from your face, coming up to meet his outstretched hand holding out a cup full of whiskey. He had abandoned his tie he had been wearing when he first entered, his shirt slightly unbuttoned like it always seemed to be. You grabbed the glass from his hand, ignoring the slight tingle that rushed through your fingers at the minimal contact, and took a small sip of the liquid.

“That good?”

You looked up at Javier again, who was still standing in front of you. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Thanks, Peña.”

His gaze softened as his eyes drifted over your face. “Don’t call me that. Not right now.”

You nodded again. “Thanks, Javi.”

He seemed to visibly relax at the use of the nickname for him. It wasn’t like he had never been called it before. Some people at work had called him that. Family members back in Texas definitely had. Even his former late night companions had yelled out the name in throes of passion. But it sounded sweetest slipping off your tongue, like warm honey. It was something he had come to crave in the last few days like he craved his cigarettes. You had only said it for the first time a few days ago but it had become addicting, sending this sense of calmness through Javier that nothing else seemed to - not even his typical vices he used in abundance.

“Sit on the floor, bebita.” you didn’t bother this time to send him a curious glance, instead just slipping off the couch and plopping your bottom down on the carpeted floor. You felt the couch shuffle behind you as he carefully sat down, one leg swinging over so one leg was framing each side of your body. You leaned back softly, your head meeting his upper body and you let out a soft hum, bringing the glass to your lips to take another sip. Your eyes fluttered closed when you felt calloused fingers meet your neck, rubbing it up and down in a way that was slightly ticklish, but not in a bothersome way. They were warm and rough but also soft. They knew what to do to put you at ease, something you can’t remember ever finding in a person. Touch had never been your love language, instead oftentimes making you uncomfortable. But Javiers touch had always done something to you that you couldn’t explain. Maybe a thrill, maybe a need. You didn’t know but did it really matter when no matter what it always felt so good?

“You mind if I take this out?” Peña whispered, his hands trialing up to the hair tie that held your hair back into what was now a rather messy ponytail. You didn’t speak, only slowly nodding your head. He gently began to pull the tie down, letting your hair slip out from its confines and cascade down. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair, occasionally getting stuck in tangled that he gently worked through for what seemed to be hours. You let him do so, the gentle touches and silence making a warm peace fill you. Eventually his finger tips moved upwards, reaching your scalp and lightly moving slow patterns through it. “You are so beautiful, bebita.”

You were so relaxed that you didn’t allow anxiety or confusion to run through you from him compliment. You just let out a small hum, opening your eyes and tilting your head far back to make eye contact with Javier. He looked straight down at you, brown eyes full of so much warmth and admiration that it seemed to take your breath away. You didn’t want to but you managed to somehow pull your eyes away, looking back down so he could continue massaging your scalp. “I need you to be more careful.”

“If it helps, it freaked me out too.” you gently offered, trying not to read too much into his request.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” I will be if you stay.

“I just want you to be okay.”

The softness with which the words were spoken were so new, so vulnerable. It was a new side to Javier. He had always seemed to keep an eye out for you but you assumed it to be because you were partners and that’s what you should do. But this wasn’t just two partners watching each other’s backs. This was personal and raw and meaningful. So much so that you couldn’t try to deny it or brush it off as some meaningless, odd occurrence. At least you prayed to God you couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” you asked, slowly bringing a hand up to rest at one of his knees. It was an awkward angle but you just wanted to hold him in some way. Part of you yearned to bring your fingers to your head and intertwine them with his but you didn’t want to step over a boundary and ruin the haven that seemed to encompass you both.

“I’m okay when I’m with you.” Javier confessed. “If anything happened to you...”

His voice drifted off but you didn’t need him to fill in the blanks. You had voiced those same concerns to yourself in the middle of the night and before missions. What if? It was such a terrifying, earth shattering question. More than it should be for two people who were just ‘partners’.

“I’m here, Javi. And you are here. We are okay.” you soothed, your hand rubbing his knee slowly. You slowly turned your head, causing his fingers to slip away from it as you adjusted your body to face him. You looked up at him. “Can I do something?”

“Anything.”

You slowly rose from your spot on the ground, pulling yourself up slowly as you slipped one leg on each side of Javier. You slowly lowered yourself, not breaking eye contact as you sat onto his lap slowly, moving at a snails pace. His hands seemed to instinctually reach out, wrapping around your back to shimmy you closer to him. You lowered yourself into him, sinking into his warm embrace and allowing your face to cradle into the nook of his neck. One of his hands moved back up to your hair, running down it. You took a deep breath, taking in the scent of him: the aftershave and the cigarettes and the smell that was so inherently Javier. You reached your hands up to wrap around his neck, pulling him into you like your life depended on it. “Javi?”

“Yes, hermosa?”

“What is happening?” you mumbled into his neck, your warm breath fanning into his skin.

“What do you mean?” He knew what you meant but he needed you to say it. He couldn’t because this was one of the few things in life he was genuinely scared of.

“This isn’t just massages, is it? This is...more.” You didn’t mean to sound so needy or pleading, like your well-being depended on the answer. You weren’t that type of woman normally. But you needed him to say something now, something that wouldn’t break your heart into two.

“It’s not just massages.” Javi said, stilling his moments. You slowly pulled back, now facing him. You brought your hands down to his shoulders, rubbing them softly with a nervous smile on your face.

“What is it then?”

Javi took several moments to respond, simply staring back into your timid eyes. You were nervous but you found shelter in the way his breathing seemed to pick up and his eyes had a nerve-wracking glimmer in them.

“I’m not good at this.” He confessed.

"Me either." A small smile finally broke out as you said the words, causing Peña to give you a small, lopsided grin. He brought a hand to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Javi finally let a long sigh pull from his lips, his gaze not wavering as he spoke. "I just know that I want you."

"I want you, too." you barely whispered out.

"I don't know how to do this." he whispered, shrugging slightly.

You leaned into him, giving him a hug as you furrowed yourself into the shape of his body, allowing yourself to meld into one. You had once thought that if a moment like this ever happened, your heart would race and you would panic. But in the moment, everything, for once in your life, seemed to fall in place. "Me either. But I wanna do it with you."

You felt Javier nod against you, relaxing further as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in even deeper. "Me too, bebita."

You had never felt this feeling before but somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew everything would be okay.

#narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña one shot #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena one shot #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier peña x you #Javier Peña #pedro pascal x reader

[digital-turtle101]

I got this request a while ago but— yes!! I’d love to write this :D! I wrote this one about Tommy specifically, but who knows, maybe I’ll do some more parts with other people?

People: TommyInnit

Type: Hangout/Cute

Fandom: Dream SMP

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Knives

AU: This is all meant to be completely platonic best friend activities <3

TommyInnit - Best Friends

Whether you like it or not, you somehow managed to become best friends with TommyInnit, aka the most chaotic and reckless person ever. He was unpredictable most of the time, yet no matter what you always found yourself tagging along on the various adventures he put himself through.

It wasn’t often the two of you did one on one activities like this, but they did happen here and there. You were chilling at your house for a while, not expecting any company, when suddenly someone knocked on the door. You got up and trotted over to the door, opening it.

“Tommy?” You spoke curiously, tilting your head. Usually he came bursting into your house blabbering about whatever his plans were that day, so it was odd of him to be knocking. “What’s up?” You asked curiously, leaning against the doorway.

“Y/n, clear your plans for the night!” The blond announced, pushing past you and straight into your home. Just when you thought he was acting like a polite normal person. He went straight to your kitchen, searching for any kind of jars or plastic containers. “What are you doing?” You inquired curiously, following the somewhat taller boy into the kitchen. “It’s a surprise.” The boy hummed under his breath, collecting as many jars and plastic containers he could.

He pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket. “You don’t use these for anything, right?” He questioned, glancing your way. “Uh, yeah? I use them to-” You began, but he quickly cut you off. “Blah blah blah- I’ll just get you new ones.” Tommy grumbled, beginning to poke small holes in the top of the plastic lids of the jars and containers with the edge of his knife. You watched him curiously. What on earth was he doing?

After he had a couple jars and containers with holes in the top, he put his knife and the rest of the containers away. “Here, put some of these in your bag.” The blond remarked, pointing to your faded backpack that was sitting on the couch. You shoveled a few into the bag, Tommy putting the rest of them in his. “Well, come on! We don’t have all day!” Tommy insisted, waiting by the door. Unknowing of what the two of you were going to do you simply threw on some shoes and a light flannel before following him outside.

The two of you joked side by side as you walked seemingly further and further away from the main buildings of the Dream SMP. “Where are we going?” You asked curiously, kicking small rocks as you walked. “That’ll ruin the surprise!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. He was obviously excited for whatever he was planning on showing you. Eventually the two of you arrived at a forest that just seemingly got deeper and deeper. It was also starting to get dark outside, so you were a bit worried. Just as the sun went out of view Tommy and you arrived in a small secluded area in the forest. He set down his bag in the middle of the area as he took out a large picnic blanket and laid it across the dirt covered ground. “What is this?” You murmured, and Tommy looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“A picnic, you idiot.” The blond responded in a sarcastic tone, sitting himself down on the picnic blanket. “If this is a picnic, why’d you cut a bunch of holes in all my jars and containers?” You spoke as you sat down across from him. “You’ll see.” He answered as he pulled out two sandwiches in plastic bags. “Awe, how kind of you.” You poked fun at the boy, giggling. “I’m not kind, I’m a big strong man.” Tommy defended himself, quickly taking his sandwich out of his bag and taking a bite of it . It wasn’t too long before the boy began playing quiet music from his phone.

“One day, I know that you will be there,

One day, I’ll focus on the future, maybe

One day, oh baby isn’t life so fucking inconsistent?”

The lyrics quietly echoed through the forest. It wasn’t long before stars filled the sky. Just as you thought all other light was gone, you noticed a small source of light in the corner of your eye. You snapped your head to look at the light, noticing it was a very small firefly silently flying through the forest. “Ah, here they come.” Tommy spoke, sitting up and staring at the small bug. You looked at him with a confused face. “Yeah, we’re gonna catch some fireflies. They love this little area, I bet you there’ll be at least 50 around us in a couple minutes.” Tommy mumbled. You nodded in response, you couldn’t help but smile. He was right. Within just a couple minutes, you were surrounded by tons of fireflies, producing soft light.

Tommy opened up your bag and took out one of the small jars, taking off the plastic top he had previously cut holes in. He grabbed another jar and handed it to you. “It’s pretty easy, you just.. Swing your jar around trying to catch 'em, but be careful. Don’t hurt the little guys.” Tommy explained, and you nodded. The two of you stood up, and just a couple moments later, you could hear Tommy let out an excited giggle. “I got one!” He hummed happily, quickly putting the plastic lid on the jar. He looked at the firefly in the jar for a little while, before letting it go.

“Scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstlye

Scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle

I’m a scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle”

Songs continued to cycle through a familiar playlist the two of you typically listened to while hanging out. After catching fireflies for a while, you and Tommy had laid back down on the picnic blanket as the two of you stared up at the stars in the sky.

“This is rather nice, innit?” The blond hummed quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #TommyInnit #TommyInnit platonic #TommyInnit x Reader #dream smp x reader #best friends #TommyInnit Friend #TommyInnit best friend #TommyInnit Mcyt #dream smp Tommy #Tommy #dreamsmp #dream smp best friend #cute

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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★Masterlist★

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#bargaining with beskar #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #there you go i can't imagine any other way you would decide was necessary to tag this #perhaps now that i have thrown this up i can #something #i don't know how i was going to finish that sentence #shut up lady