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sunflower-lilac42 · 6 months

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✧ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 | nico hischier ♔

summary: after seeing nico's interview, y/n freaks out at her new follower. then, they meet unexpectedly.

warnings: awkward/trashy/horrible writing, and y/n and nico being somewhat awkward

notes: ahh finally here is part 2 to fangirl. i kind of like it... a little? i'm not sure but let me know if i should make this a series of blurbs and stuff.

part one (fangirl) | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Y/n didn’t know what to expect from the postgame interview with Nico. She had fallen asleep, tired after performing and hosting SNL so she wasn’t able to watch the game nor was she able to watch any of the interviews. However, when she woke up to her friends texting her and her social media notifications all over the place, it was the first thing she watched.

She laid in bed as she watched it, entranced with the Swiss man and then that was when she heard her name. Bolting upright, her eyes widened as she focused on her phone. “Yeah, well you know, I haven’t actually met her so I can’t say I like her but I do think she’s cute and that’s all I’m going to say about this.”

Nico Hischier. Like the Nico Hischier thinks she is cute like Nico Hischier of the New Jersey Devils. She was going insane. This wasn’t real.

She went onto Twitter to see her fans going crazy about the interviewer. She was sure none of her fans watched hockey, let alone knew who Nico was until she mentioned him in that interview. She thought she was 100% dreaming until she clicked on Instagram and saw the + follower symbol come up.

nicohischier followed you

She could die happy right there, her crush (her celebrity crush mind the fact) followed her on Instagram. Yep, this was her happy ending.

✧༺✎༻∞

Y/n has lived in New Jersey since she was born, always being somewhat of a hockey fan, learning things here and there from her father. So even when she became a famous singer, she still chose to live in New Jersey because it was home to her.

She didn’t really piece together the fact that she could potentially run into Nico Hischier and some point in time in her life. I mean the odds of her and him being even in the same state were low, but them actually running into each other, was even lower. New Jersey was the fifth smallest state in the US but there was still a high chance of them not meeting, like ever.

So when she was at a coffee shop near East Rutherford, planning to meet up with one of her friends who lived out this way, she didn’t expect the Captain of her favorite hockey team to be standing there, clad in a New Jersey Devil sweatshirt and some sweatpants. It was an off day for them in between homestands, so she could’ve only assumed that they were either done with practice or would have practice later in the day.

It was like her whole world stopped when she looked up from her phone. His following her on Instagram was enough to make her day, but she thinks this might have just been what made her year, maybe her whole entire life.

She stared at him for at least five minutes before his eyes looked up from his phone and locked onto hers. Her eyes widened at the eye contact and quickly diverted their gaze to whatever she was doing on her phone. Oh, that was not helpful.

On her phone were pictures of Nico, because, well she didn’t have a reason, but did she need one anyway?

She heard the screeching of the chair in front of her and hoped Lila was finally here so they could leave this place and escape her bubble of embarrassment. Looking up she saw the man looking back at her and he waved once she finally looked up.

She panicked and closed out whatever app she was on (photos, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, who cares? There were still pictures of the man in front of her on her screen.), and slammed her phone down on the table.

He waved at her and her cheeks reddened, “You’re- You’re Nico Hischier?” Her voice came out as more of a question than a statement, which wasn’t what she was intending to do.

“Yep, and you’re y/n y/l/n.” His voice was on the cockier side and she stared at him “You know who I am?”

“I’m pretty sure a lot of people know who you are. And what kind of person would I be if I didn’t know about the girl who publicly acclaimed her love for me?”

She stumbled over her words as she tried to talk and Nico cut her off, “It’s okay, I’ve seen and heard worse from fans.”

“That I can believe.” The two chuckled and looked at each other, not knowing what to say or do next.

“Look this might be a stretch but since I embarrassed myself, very publicly I might add, and might as well be doing it again, I should get a favor in return, right?”

Nico raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Depends on what this ‘favor’ is?” He lifted his coffee mug and took a sip of the liquid inside.

“Can I get your number? I know it’s really forward and all and it might be a little creepy but-”

She was cut off by a hand that touched hers, “That’s not really much of a favor. It’s more like common sense.”

Nico wordlessly took her phone from in front of her and turned it over, “Were you looking at pictures of me?”

His lips turned upwards into a smirk and she squeezed her eyes shut, “Maybe?”

“Don’t worry, I think it’s kind of adorable.” Just as her cheeks returned to a normal color again, they flushed a deep shade of pink once more.

Nico effortlessly typed his phone number into her contacts and texted himself so he’d have hers. They each had the same thing in mind when they pulled up their cameras and went to take a picture of each other. Y/n giggled as she saw Nico’s phone pointed at her, “I guess great minds think alike.”

After setting their contact phones, they talked for a brief couple of minutes when Lila barged in, “Y/n! I am so sorry I’m late, I feel horrible. But you’ll never guess what I found out- holy shit, that’s-”

“Hi, I’m Nico.”

“Yeah, yeah you are. When did- When did you two meet?”

“Like five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay cool.”

“Listen if you two are supposed to hang out, I can leave-”

“No. no, you stay. I’ll leave. Have fun you two, but not too much!” Lila said calling after the two, exiting the coffee shop.

“We’ll she’s… interesting. In the nicest way possible.”

“I’m sorry about her, honestly.”

The two continued to talk for about an hour or two before Nico had to leave, “I’m so sorry my teammate, well friend, just texted me. Apparently, he and his brother are having an ‘emergency’. And by emergency, I’m pretty sure he just means they found a spider in their apartment.”

Y/n, not even bothering to conceal her knowledge of the team or the fact that she took time to put the dots together, blurted out, “Jack and Luke are afraid of spiders?”

Nico’s eyes widened, “You know them?”

“Yeah, I’m a huge Devils fan. Have been since I was born but also none of your other teammates are brothers…”

“Oh, right. Well, I hate to leave you alone, but when duty calls as captain.”

“Go, do your captain duties.” Y/n waved goodbye to Nico as he ran out of the coffee shop and smiled, she had just met Nico Hischier.

✧༺✎༻∞

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Nico and y/n had hung out whenever possible. Whenever he had an off day they would hang out, he would invite her to lunch on game days if possible, he texted her when he and the team got back from their road trip and invited her over to his house.

They were, to put it in simple turns, obsessed with each other. They finally went on a proper date to one of y/n’s favorite restaurants. This pattern continued through multiple occasions and everyone could see the differences in their faces and lives.

Whenever y/n would hang out with her friends or go to an interview or something along those lines, you could see her glowing as she talked or just sat there. Nico’s teammates would eye him weirdly when he’d smile at his phone or was happier during morning skates. His smile was bigger and brighter whenever they won and even when they lost he still had a bit of a glow to him, much like y/n did.

On their fifth date, Nico finally asked the question, “Well we’ve known each other for about, how long has it been? Two months?”

Y/n nodded her head as she took a drink of the water that sat on the table in front of her. They were at Nico’s house and it was an off day once again for him. She waited for him to continue speaking, her nerves bundling up inside of her, “Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to make it official you know?”

Her eyes widened, not ever in a million years did she meet Nico Hischier, let alone him ask her to be his girlfriend, “What are you saying, Neeks?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Y/n nodded and hugged him tightly, you would have thought the two just got engaged. After talking for a bit they decided to quote-unquote soft launch. Her friends were begging for details about her glowiness, much like Nico’s teammates. They didn’t have to reveal it all just yet, right?

✧༺✎༻∞

yourusername

liked by nicohischier, yourbff, lhughes_06, and 213,039 others

youruserame i guess you were in need of a life update?

tagged nicohischier

*comments on this post have been limited*

yourbff do my eyes deceive me or is this a hard launch??

nicohischier 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername @/nicohischier 🫶🏻

lhughes_06 mom!

✧༺✎༻∞

nicohischier

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nicohischier life recently

tagged yourusername, jackhughes

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yourusername ❤️🖤

⤷ nicohischier @/yourusername 🖤❤️

tmeier96 cap 🫡

vitacz15 @/yourusername it was so great to meet you

⤷ yourusername @/vitacz15 ahh i love you vitek!

yourusername awe, my boyfriend and his boyfriend!

⤷ jackhughes @/yourusername hey he was mine first

⤷ nicohischier @/yourusername @/jackhughes i have no idea what either of you are talking about

⤷ user07 even y/n knows

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #new jersey #new jersey devils #nj devils #devils

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wornoutmouse · 4 years

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Bakugou x black reader

Quirk accident

Pussy and cunny are such a funny words...i hate it

Getting hit with a lust quirk was not on the top of your to do list when you graduated from U.A. Getting hit with said quirk while partnered with your childhood nemisis, LoRd ExPlOsIoN mUrDeR himself was most definitely not on your list.

You were this close to defeating the villan without any complications. Until you miscalculated your final kick. That was all it took for the Villian to get the jump on you and effectivity activate their quirk.

"Take him to jail boys but watch the hands." You say as you hand the culprit off. He was one of six vigilantes that were pulling morbid slapstick pranks on people. It was awful, anything from a love quirk making a wife cheat on her husband, to a man having feet for hands and hands for feet.

The last straw however was when one member made an office building vibrate. It was a small one and barely an earthquake level tremor. But it was able to do a lot of damage due to the fact the building was so old.

"Are you sure that's all the people inside?" You call out to Bakugo who only glared at you. "I think I was pretty thorough." Sighing at his superiority, you walk to the front of the building, "Just in case, let's double check."

As you walk through the many levels of the building, you feel the quirk slowly take into effect. It's a gradual climb before you notice. First you're out of breath after 1 flight of steps. Then you find yourself sweating excessively even though there were many windows that had bursted in the altercation.

Your condition forced you to notice certain things as well. Like the way Bakugou's arms flexed randomly most likely due to his clenched fists. How his back was solid and strong. His sharp eyes made you shiver at the thought of them looking down at you. His teeth were so pearly white but all you could think of was the thought of those teeth sinking into your supple flesh.

By the time you and Bakugo got to the last floor, your brown complexion was flushed so much you could see it, and your legs shook as you walked. The ever growing feeling of want and need throbbing in your lower regions pushed you over the edge and you collapsed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" You raise your hand waving him off, "It's fine I.... I just need to catch my breath and go home." Bakugo stared at you for a while before sighing. "That bastard hit you with his quirk didn't he? Wasn't he the one with the lust quirk?"

You nod seeing no use in denying the truth as you unzipped your shirt trying to promote some form of circulation. It was silent before Bakugou sighed, "Look, I'm going to go to the bathroom, then I am going to rob a snack machine. That should give you enough time to grind out your problem." He said looking away as his face slowly became pink.

You barely waited for Katsuki to leave before you were sliding your hands into your pants. Your chest heaved as you gently graze your fingers against your clit, crying out from the sudden pleasure that was almost too much.

The throbbing sensation was painful and it seemed that your current menstruations were only making it worse. You push your fingers pass your folds and you're soon hit with a dull orgasm. There was no elevation of the pain and it only made you more frustrated as warm tears flowed down your face.

You thrust your fingers within yourself, trying to find some way to destroy the feeling. Bringing your hands up to play with your chest as the bud hardens in the cool air, as your skin contrasted perfectly with your furnace like body heat.

With a long whine you find yourself on your hands and knees forcing your fingers inside yourself. Your legs shake from the force of your fingers abusing your g-spot. It was as if you were moving forward to release but at the same time moving back to pain. "Fuck, please, please it hurts!" You cried out as you received another painfully dull orgasm. "Bakugou." You mumble repeatedly wishing you had the courage to call out to him.

"Y/n?!" You freeze at the sound of Bakugo standing over you. Removing your fingers from your hole with a loud plop, you cry at the immediate pain you felt from being empty. "S-Sorry, I got carried away, I'm f-fine now." You say, standing up so fast that you became dizzy.

You weren't fine, hell anyone who looked at you could tell. You were hardly keeping your eyes open and the rapid dilation of them made it a miracle you could even see. Below your previous place were noticeable puddles of sweat that had long since drenched your hero costume.

As you came back to your senses, Bakugo pushes a finger against your shoulder making you swat a little more than necessary.

"Don't lie to me, you are barely standing. Jerkin off didn't work huh?" You closed your eyes and tried to take in deep breaths to calm the multiple heartbeats you felt throughout your body. "I'm fine, I-I'll just go home and-" "And what? Obviously doing it yourself doesn't work?!"

You glared at Bakugou, "It's none of your concern anyways so why do you care!?" Bakugo pulled at his hair annoyed. "I'm not trying to wake up to a headline of H/N dead cause she couldn't bust a nut."

You lean against the wall and sigh from the comforting coolness of it. "I don't know Katsuki, maybe I'll call a hooker, why does it even matter?"

You could tell you were getting on Bakugou's nerves as his temple vein started to twitch. "And what will you do if the public find out their favorite neighborhood hero is socializing with prostitutes" Your head was throbbing from the loudness of Bakugou's voice and you didn't think you had the strength to remain conscious.

Behind your closed eyes, you could hear loud shuffling and annoyed grunts. It wasn't until you heard the familiar jingling of a belt that you opened your eyes. "W-What the hell are you doing?!"

Bakugo had fully stripped down from the waist up and was now working on the next task. Now you weren't saying you didn't appreciate the view, hell you were salivating at the sight. The only problem was that this was presenting a line that no one can simply hop over and come back.

"I'm going to help you dumbass." He responded, dropping his pants on the floor and walking towards you naked as the day he was born.

You hold your hand up as if trying to stop him but really it was because you didn't have the strength to retreat. "You don't have to do this, I'll be fine."

"I know I don't have to do this, I want to." Bakugo smirked before realizing what he said, "I want to help you that is. Look, you can barely walk much less take care of yourself once you get home so this needs to happen now."

Bakugo trails off as he studies your body with his eyes, drinking in every curve, every dip, and every detail. "You ass got bigger than when we were in school huh?" That comment sobered you up quickly as you forcefully walked past Bakugo. "I'm not going to stand here and deal with your shit right now dude."

You take a few shaky steps before you find yourself pressed up against a wall with a warm calloused hand down your pants, cupping your vagina. All anger leaves your mind as lust takes over. You buck your hips pathetically in his hand trying to get relif but instead he takes his time teasing you.

He slowly takes your clit between his fingers delivering small pinches to it before sliding a finger down your labia. "You're really sensitive now huh?" Bakugo whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Taking his other hand, he gently pulls down your pants while he leaves a trail of kisses on your shoulder. "Just let go and let me take care of you." Your eyes widened just as Bakugo smoothly slips a finger inside of you. "Oh, you got tighter. Did you like that? You want me to take care of you Y/N?" You almost gagged from the pride oozing off of Bakugou as he pressed his hot body against yours.

"T-To much, I feel b-better now." You try to offer as a way to make this embarrassment end, moaning loudly as Bakugo taps your g-spot. His fingers, while longer, were also much thicker. So while yours did fine touching yourself, it felt as if Bakugo was touching everywhere at all times.

"You say that but all it would take to get you on your knees would be for me to touch this magical place right here."

As if having a need to prove his words, Bakugo delivers three light touches to your clit and g-spot at the same time, effectively making your legs weak as you spray clear liquid down his arm. You slide down the wall in pleasurable defeat as you feel the lust continue to grow stronger than before.

Bakugo watches you with pity as you violently trembled on the floor, just as turned on as before.

"Y/N you know what we have to do." You nod absentmindedly too focused on trying to alleviate the pressure on your clit. Bakugo sighs as he positions you to stand up against the wall. "Jump." You look at him confused and he rolled his eyes, not wanting to repeat himself.

You yelp as strong arms reach out and lift you in the air, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. "Put me down!"

You hold onto Bakugou's neck, though there really wasn't a need from how firmly he was holding you. "I don't like being picked up." Bakugo leaned towards you and you stiffen as you feel something hot and heavy rub between your pussy lips. "And I don't like brats that are too prideful to take some dick when offered."

At that, Bakugo thrusts completely inside of you without resistance. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel the true difference between the mock pleasure fingers gave, and that undeniable euphoria Bakugou's cock was delivering.

Bakugo looks at where your bodies connected, and almost came on the spot. You were greedily sucking him in with every thrust as though you were made for him. He sped up, watching your features change as sweat drenched your pretty face and lewd moans left your pretty lips. "Oh God, please Baku-Please!"

Bakugo takes hold of your ass as he pushes away from the wall, making you completely rely on him to stay upright as he forces your hips to slam down on his cock.

"Fuck, I'm going to make you feel so much better." How he held up your weight while keeping the same momentum is beyond you as you peered through your slitted eyes.

His red eyes were concentrated on what would make you come as choked moans left you the deeper he went. "Please Daddy make me cum!" You accidently cried out, feeling closer than you had all night. Bakugo stopped eyes wide and for a moment you thought you did something wrong as he set you down on your back.

"I'm sorry I-I shouldn't have said anything, please don't stop." You whined as the pain of emptiness came back tenfold. You hiccup as Bakugo raises your legs to your chest effectively pulling you into a mating press.

"Say it again."

You furrow your brows, "Huh?" in one thrust Bakugo was back inside of you, unapologetically hitting your guts. His thrust were now more powerful and animalistic leaving no room for rebuttal as he pistons out of your weeping hole. "I said, say it again!"

Your loud moans could be heard throughout the building as Bakugo ravaged you. His kisses were rough and unforgiving, mostly involving teeth as he marked your shoulder with love bites. "Say my name!"

Covering your eyes embarrassed, you give him what he wanted, "Daddy, please, I'm so fucking close!" Your moans were ragged and throat raw.

Bakugo grabbed your wrists and held them above you. "Don't hide from me. Look at the man that's making you feel this good. No one else can ever touch you like this!" You nod getting even more turned on by the dominance as you felt your walls being destroyed. "No one can touch me l-like y-yo-fuck!"

You weren't exactly lying either. Maybe it was the quirk, maybe it was truly Bakugou's dicking down. What you do know is that the fiery bastard may have ruined you for sex for the rest of your life.

"Fuck, you're so damn beautiful." You whine in response, unable to speak anything even remotely inteligible.

Bakugo groans as you gradually tighten around him and slow his thrusts. Finally after a few precise bumps over your clit, the cord keeping you from your release snaps making your world go dark with a loud yell.

"Fucking hell." Bakugo curses as he pulls out of your tight grip and jerks himself off the rest of the way.

It was a long while till you two spoke. The air was cool and the silence was needed. "That was great." You giggle, delirious from your orgasm. Bakugo wearily watches you wiggle your toes from afar as he puts his hero costume back on. "Are you okay?"

"Broski I'm more than okay." You try and stand only to fall right back on your ass but that only served as comedy to you in your blissful state.

If you were truly conscious, you'd be freaking out from what had just transpired. Even more so was the fact that Bakugou Katsuki himself had called you beautiful.

But alas you had the attention span of a 4 year old and was unable to compute as Bakugou carried you home and gently laid you on your bed before taking his leave, looking back at your sleeping form with with sad eyes.

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #mha #bnha #bnha x black reader #mha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x black reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x poc #bnha bakugou #bakugou smut

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earliebirb · 4 years

Note

I'm feeling very exhausted and sleepy and I thought what if someone wrote a small something about Steve being very exhausted after a mission and he basically face plants himself onto Tony who is at movie night with the team with full gear on and filthy from the fights, thank you already ❤

Hi there! I know you sent me this prompt forever ago and you must’ve thought that I forgot about it. I’m so sorry for only finishing the fic now, a century later. I hope you enjoy the fic anyway!

bring back my bonnie to me

steve/tony, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1611 words

It is halfway through Alien—Clint’s choice—when a heavy weight falls onto Tony’s back and the bowl of popcorn in his lap nearly goes flying. He freezes for a few seconds before registering the soft tufts of blond hair tickling his cheek. Tony didn’t even hear him approach. Perhaps he had been more immersed in the movie than he previously thought.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I thought you weren’t going to be home until next week.”

Steve gives a noncommittal hum that does absolutely nothing to explain his unexpected arrival, pressing his face into the side of Tony’s neck. His arms loop around Tony’s shoulders from where he is standing behind the couch, body hunched forward with his chest resting against Tony’s back as if he couldn’t be bothered to stand upright.

Fresh off his latest mission, Steve is still clad in his uniform, sans cowl. The two-week-turned-one-week-mission is the reason they have pushed back Toy Story to the following week—the man has made it clear that he has been dying to watch the animated movie ever since Tony first showed him a snippet of it on his phone. Technically, this week is Steve’s turn to pick a movie, but he isn’t supposed to be home for a few more days.

Not that Tony is complaining, of course. Tony is definitely not complaining. The shorter Steve’s missions are, the sooner he comes back home to Tony, allowing him to ascertain with his own two eyes that his boyfriend is safe and sound.

The team lets out soft murmurs of greetings upon seeing Steve, but for the most part their eyes remain glued to the movie playing on the TV screen.

Tony has seen this particular movie more times than what is probably healthy, so he focuses on Steve instead, reaching up to ruffle Steve’s hair and smiling at the pleased groan he lets out. Besides, if he is being completely honest, no movie is going to be interesting enough to fully pull his attention off of his boyfriend.

A flake of popcorn hits Tony’s cheek.

“Keep it PG-13 or get a room, lovebirds,” Clint says. Tony turns towards him to express his indignation, but Clint’s eyes are still focused on the screen. Tony doesn’t think he will ever stop being creeped out by the eerie accuracy of his aim.

“You want to join us?” Tony asks, fingers still scratching Steve’s scalp lightly.

Steve shakes his head.

“You want to go to bed?”

“I’ll just sleep here,” Steve mumbles tiredly.

“You can’t sleep here, sweetheart.” Tony chuckles, patting one of the arms Steve has around his shoulders. The material of the uniform feels rough against the skin of his palm. With his current position, the edge of the couch must be digging into Steve’s stomach in an unpleasant way. “Let’s get you cleaned up and head straight to bed.”

“Here’s fine. Don’t need a bed.” Steve’s words are muffled against Tony’s shirt, speech becoming increasingly incoherent. “Just need you.”

Tony huffs, a fond smile on his lips. Another flake of popcorn hits him, bouncing off his stomach and landing on his thigh. This time, Tony doesn’t even bother gracing Clint with a glance.

“No can do, Sir.” Tony squeezes Steve’s wrist decisively. “Come on, up you go. Up, soldier.”

Steve lets out a displeased sigh, but eventually he straightens up groggily. Tony stands up and rounds the couch to actually get a good look at him.

Steve’s face is grimed with dirt. There is a cut on his right cheek that Tony knows is going to heal completely come morning.

He reaches up anyway, cupping Steve’s cheek and tracing the line of the wound with the side of his thumb. Steve blinks down at him, slow and languid. He is already struggling to keep his eyes open, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

“Just a cut,” Steve whispers, leaning into Tony’s touch. When Tony’s worried frown stays in place, Steve turns and plants a soft kiss in the center of his palm.

Taking Steve’s hand, Tony turns to address the rest of the room. “Sorry folks, looks like you’re going to have to finish the movie without us.”

After exchanging their good night’s with the team, Tony leads Steve up to the penthouse.

Steve tries to make for the bed the second they enter the bedroom, but Tony redirects his path swiftly to the en-suite bathroom, much to his disappointment. Steve proceeds to make his disapproval clear in the form of a frown and a pair of grumpy eyebrows creasing together.

“You’re filthy, baby.” Chuckling in amusement, Tony squishes Steve’s cheeks together with one hand. Steve whines petulantly. “You have germs, mister. Germs. Do you want me to die of germs?”

Steve glowers at Tony. Tony grins up at him. With the hand still squishing Steve’s cheeks, he moves Steve’s head from side to side.

“No, Tony. I don’t want you to die of germs, because I love you,” Tony says, his voice an octave lower than usual. It’s a hilariously poor attempt at mimicking Steve’s voice, but it’s worth it for the way Steve’s eyes wane into happy crescents, for the way his lips twitch with the effort of holding back a smile.

“Come on, darling. All you need to do is just stand there. I’ll do all the work, okay?”

Eventually, Steve succumbs to his wiles. Tony strips Steve out of his many layers of combat uniform before undressing himself. Together, they step into the wide space of Tony’s glass shower stall, which houses a multi-jet shower system with a total of eight body sprays in addition to the rainfall showerhead that is mounted on the ceiling. Tony makes sure the water is at a sufficiently warm temperature—warm enough to become hot after a while, because Steve likes it that way—and sets the body sprays’ water pressure to a pulsating massage.

When the water hits his skin, Steve groans audibly. Tony runs his hands soothingly up and down Steve’s sides.

Doing exactly what he promised, he lets Steve stand still while he lathers soap all over Steve’s body, mentally cataloguing all the bruises and cuts he manages to find. He also works shampoo into Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp with the gentle press of his fingers.

He turns the water back on afterwards, letting the soap suds disintegrate. Even after their bodies are rinsed clean of soap and grime, they continue to stand there in the middle of the shower stall, indulging in the pleasant pressure of warm water against sore muscles. Tony rests his forehead on Steve’s sternum, arms holding him close.

After a while, when their fingers have become wrinkled prunes, Tony reaches over and shuts the water off. The bathroom is thrown into abrupt silence. It is broken only by the sound of water circling down the drain and the sound of their breathing, which echoes in the enclosed space.

He plants his chin on Steve’s chest and looks up at him. Steve’s eyes are still closed. He looks unfairly breathtaking even when soaking wet, water droplets hanging precariously from the tips of his eyelashes.

Tony lets the hands he has on Steve’s waist slide up to his shoulders, thumbs caressing the jut of Steve’s collarbones.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Slowly, Steve’s eyelids flutter open. His eyes hold Tony’s gaze for a long moment before dropping down to his lips. Tony’s eyes track the bob of Steve’s Adam’s apple as he swallows.

“What?” Tony whispers, meeting his eyes again. Steve’s arms are warm around him, pulling him closer as if they weren’t already pressed skin to skin.

One of the corners of Steve’s mouth hitches up in a lopsided smile that Tony has grown incredibly fond of. Amazement swims in his baby blues.

“Just wondering where I’d be without you.”

Tony hums with his eyes turned to the ceiling, pretending to ponder the answer.

“Slumped over the back of a couch, probably. Asleep. Sweaty, bloody, and filthy.”

Steve laughs softly, not bothering to disagree. He leans down to capture Tony’s mouth in a kiss, ardent and saccharine sweet, his lips caressing Tony’s in a way that makes it abundantly clear just how much Steve has missed him.

Eventually, Tony pulls back for air. He cradles Steve’s face in his hands, staring straight into his eyes.

“Thank you for coming home safely,” he whispers, solemn with sincere gratitude.

At that, Steve’s eyes soften. “I missed you. So much.”

Steve reaches for the ball chain hanging from Tony’s neck, twisting it around his fingers. He has an endearing habit of touching the chain of the dog tags Tony never takes off—the feel of it against his fingers a reassuring reminder of where Tony’s affections lie. He has always taken pleasure in the sight of Tony wearing something that belongs to him, whether it’s his dog tags or one of his shirts.

Tony seems to have also cultivated the same habit. On nights where he misses Steve like a lost limb and the man is somewhere out of reach, touching the dog tags brings him a ridiculous amount of comfort.

It makes him wonder if that is what it would feel like to wear a ring from Steve—if Tony would be able to fool him enough to actually make him do something as insane as marrying Tony.

“Right back at you, mister.” If Steve notices the way Tony’s voice has gone thick with emotion, he doesn’t comment on it. Tony pats his cheeks lightly. “Come on, let’s dry up and go to bed.”

When Steve releases the chain, the dog tags clang against the edge of the arc reactor.

“After you, sweetheart.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: onlyangellgbt

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dindooku · 3 years

Text

Ao3 - loulou1810

what you think might be your blessing may well be your curse... you hope it isn’t the latter

follow the story as you (reader) embark on a new life with the mandalorian.

will you find peace with yourself or will this be the spark to ignite your downfall?

tw - violence, suggestive themes

word count: 3,057

———

The overzealous grin dropped from your face as soon as the cell door slid shut, the air-tight lock hissing; twisting the dagger into your hopes of escape. Normally you were confident in situations like this, too confident. But now you knew, there was no way out from this.

The cold metal pinched at the skin on your wrist as you writhed and contorted in an effort to gain some leverage, some space, some hope. It was no good. You were stuck, indefinitely. They knew that if you had your hands you’d make an easy case of escaping, but to your dismay, they’d clocked this, and so you were the only prisoner on the correctional transport vessel with stun cuffs. Great. Slowly you pulled yourself from the ground to right yourself from where you were laying after being thrown in, doing as best you could with the cuffs binding your wrist’s behind your back. Now slumped, knees bent and in a kneeling position facing away from the door, you began to take in your surroundings.

The cell which you were housed in was cold and dark, despite the bright white light that illuminated the small box, mirroring your feelings to a T, ‘ironic’. Four pristine white walls boxed you in, almost making you feel claustrophobic despite the room. To the left of you, there was a small ledge built into the wall, you assumed this was to be your bed. It was plain and flat, no markings, no sharp edges as to minimise the risk of injury. ‘ Who needs a back anyway?’ You mentally chuckle to yourself, trying to make light of an already bleak situation.

What you think to be hours pass meticulously slowly, but you’ve worked yourself into a state of false meditation, daydreaming almost. It was your minds automatic repose to trauma, taking you away from the present your body found itself in and disconnecting, taking you somewhere else, anywhere else. Somewhere where you didn’t have to run and hide because of who you were.

Trying to calm your racking nerves, you took a deep sigh, ’might as well get used to it, you’re here for the lo-‘.

Footsteps. But not droid… human? Turning your head slightly, still kneeling and eyes still closed you honed in on the noise signature, trying to make out the conversation.

“…Gotta choose soon Twi, that destroyer’s gonna be here in 15…”. ‘ Destroyer?’ You thought to yourself, what use is a destroyer out here? This correctional transporter did carry high threat individuals, but this was a max security metal box, no one could get in or out… so you thought.

“Patience... Lady knows best”. You could feel the blatant seduction in their voice, obviously using their words to gain an advantage over who they were talking to. If it weren’t for the destroyer comment you’d have thought they were just two workers looking for a quick fix someplace private. But the destroyer? ‘ What did they mea-‘

A heavy voice interrupts your monologue. “Just hurry up and cage him, or I'm gonna break tiny”. Focusing your mind more, you listened deeper, soon realising that two sets of footsteps were looming, louder and louder. Shit, they’re in the corridor..what in the maker is going on? Now only mere feet from you, the second voice speaks again. “Perfect…”. The T was exaggerated, almost with a hiss as it sounded like they were cut off from their monologue. Lighter, more agile footsteps made their way into the scene you’d pictured in your head. You imagined what sounded like two males and a female stood together on the other side of your cell. The quieter footsteps louder now, a modulated voice broke the whispering tension. “What's here, we’ve already got Qin, I thought it was only one?”. You found it hard to make out any emotion from this voice, in part the modulator but also, weirdly, the aura that was being given off also barred your mental vision.

“An eye for an eye, Mando” came from a new, vindictive voice, and before you could react, your cell door opened, the clattering of metal of what you assumed was a body chucked in. This caught you off guard, but you quickly opened your eyes and pushed from your knees, rolling on your side to right yourself into a crouching, defensive pose just in from the back wall of your cell, now facing forwards towards the commotion. Almost as soon as it had opened, the cell door shut, cutting your chances of escape. ' Damn it’

“You deserve this!” Echoed from the corridor as the four bodies made haste.

Quickly you darted your eyes to the new presence in your cell. The room now soaked red. Your interrogation was met with a harsh, brutal T visor. You were offset by the blank tint that blatantly stared back at you. You felt judged despite not being able to see their eyes, their gaze almost reading your mind and soul. Did they have eyes, were they human? What would they do to you, were they friend or foe… You quickly chased that thought away, not wanting to start a fight that didn’t need to happen, but you couldn’t help the defensive feeling that had made your hairs stand on end. You loved a bit of drama, but this was all too real, being stuck on a max security ship for something you couldn’t help, now with someone, something, you didn’t know was going to eat or kill you. This had all got a bit too out of hand; either way, you weren’t going to drop your guard now, no more stupid mistakes.

Both of you stared for a second too long, waiting for fo the other to make the first move.

“I need to get out of this cell” came the modulated voice as they slowly pushed themselves off their front, now revealing the heavy, Beskar chest plate. Wow this guy must really be pulling the big numbers to afford Beskar… makes sense for them to be jumping a max security prison, or was jumping at least until they landed indignantly in your cell.

“No shit.” You chime back, almost laughing at the plainly obvious remark that they’d made. Duh. They centred himself, now standing a few feet from you; still not cutting the weighted gaze between you two.

“Give me a hand getting out and I’ll help you get off this ship”. Now that was tempting, but if they hadn’t already noticed your wrists were bound so the gesture fell short.

“If you hadn’t noticed my hands are already tied, would if I could.” You chide, your day couldn’t get any worse. Being offered a way out by this mysterious armoured being, almost given it on a silver spoon and plate, only for it to be out of arms reach, literally. Slowly lifting yourself up, you turned to go and sit on the bed sticking out from the wall. Before you could sit, the walking shield had walked up over to you, haste in his movements. He went to grab your wrist’s from the side. Alarm bells ringing, you quickly ducked and rolled to the cell door at the front, just avoiding his grasp. No way they were going to take your denied offer out on you. You were smaller than them, yes, but also ( you didn’t like to admit) highly trained. You stood at a 45 to them, knees bent and ready to defend yourself the best you could despite your restrictions.

They turned harshly, squaring up to you. “Let me remove the cuffs”. This stopped you dead in your tracks. They were gonna help you? Why? What use could you be to them? You slowly stood up, turning towards the door now, exposing your back. This went against everything you’d ever learnt, Lori would murder you if they knew you were doing this, but something in the other’s demeanour made you trust them like you were in a trance, something you didn’t know as to why, but your gut was usually correct. And it was. The sound of cuffs hitting the floor made you flinch. You weren’t dead, phew . Turning around hastily, you met the gaze again, but this time it was less threatening, still scary, yes, but trustworthy.

They walked up next to you, peering out of the cell into the corridor, You notice your morphed reflection in the shiny Beskar pauldron. Breaking you from your gaze, they pushed you back, urging you to get down to the side of the door, head-turning and placing an upright finger in front of the visor, mimicking a ‘shh’. You got the hint.

Body tense you crouched, back against the wall. Gazing down at your wrists you clocked the dried crimson lines etched into your skin. You must’ve really been pulling on those cuffs, enough to draw blood.

Quietly they lifted their left hand in between the bars of the door, their helmet just off the side, tracking something. The menacing glare was evident even from behind the mask, you could feel the urgency prickling off of them. You stiffened, remaining quiet, you could sense that this person knew what they were doing.

Suddenly they were struggling against the door, turning their back then yanking their arm down only to them grab a security void with their other hand from behind the door. The droid let off a blaster shot, the projectile pinging off the inside of the room, eventually discharging when it hit the armour of the masked assailant next to you. Unfazed, undamaged. damn, that stuff’s hard .

The arm comes unhinged and the wine of the droid almost pulls a heartstring, until you remember that's the whole reason as to why you're here... droids. The masked accomplice lifts the blaster, making quick work of the droid.

They drop the blaster, taking the arm they just pillaged and placing it vertically to the locking key of the door. With a subtle twist, the unlocking key slides out from the droid's arm, to then be placed into the key and used to unlock the door.

The door slides open. You can’t believe it, everything that's happened in the last 24 hours has been a blur, but this, you couldn’t have pictured it even if you tried.

You look up again into the steely gaze. “Follow me, behind me” came the voice. Damn, they weren’t one with words, either that or this was just routine to them. Standing back up, you nod slightly at them. You guess you aren’t one for words either, especially now. You’d always figured it’s best to keep your mouth shut unless you have to talk, and even then, in- tense situations like this, you had to be sure that what you were saying was thought out and logical; you had no time for mistakes. Plus, you weren’t going to give yourself away straight away, you didn’t even know who you were escaping with, they could be more trouble than you could handle. Hushing that thought away you reasoned, it can’t get much worse than this, trust yourself to make it out alive .

Following behind them, jogging with light footsteps through the hallway, silent, red lights flashing, the place plunged in an atmospheric, dangerous glow.

You gazed upon the controls, wondering why they’d brought you to the control room. There are no escape pods here, surely just getting back to however they got on this ship would be the smartest idea? Breaking your line of thought, they point to the security screens, showing four bodies running down a hallway. Two Twi’leks, a Devaronian and a Human. The conversation from earlier now started to make sense.

“I'll take the Devaronian and the human, you take the Twi’lek. The female has knives.” The voice sounding stern and logical, you trusted this voice, even through the vocoder. They knew what they were doing, at least it looked that way. “We have 13 minutes to leave. Make it quick.” Jeez ok, I’ll do my best, how do they even know I know how to fight? Before you could ask anymore internal questions, they were out the door, pacing down the hallway to the left. Taking this as your cue, you followed, branching in the other direction. She has knives, right, close combat, you’ve done this before, you can do - you will do it again. Focus. After a quick few turns here and there you hear the closing of a door just around the corner from you, up the hallway to your left, accompanied by the grumble and hiss of a female voice. You lean back against the wall, closing your eyes you chant to yourself, That must be her. Now, breathe… Easy pickings. Striding from the corner you were leaning against, mind focused, you face the Twi’.

“Spose' you could call it bad luck, others fortune.” You say smoothly, calmly. The Twi shifts, pivoting to face you from the other end of the hallway.

“I guess you two are working together now? Hmm? Yes,… did he charm you? Don’t take it personally honey but he’s not your type, his tastes aren’t in the defenceless.” She remarks, the S rolling off of her tongue in a hiss; her eyes glaring daggers into yours, trying to force the focus out of you. Seen it, done that , you thought to yourself.

“And you’d know?” You retort back, still holding the battle-trained composure in your voice.

“Oh honey you really have a lot to learn…” she strides slowly like she’s hunting her prey. Yeah, ‘cause I’m the prey in this situation. You internally smirked, you almost felt bad for the pain you know you could cause, but shouldn’t. That’s not the Way. “I know exactly what makes him tick, done it myself. You’ll get bored, he never removes it . Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not any different.” Who even said I had an interest, didn’t even know they were a He. Guess this one wasn’t a clean breakup. You chimed to yourself, her position now about 4 metres away. You could sense it, she thought this was easy, that she had this. Sure she does.

Then, you feel it. Tensing you duck to the right, balancing on all fours as a dagger shoots past your left shoulder, your eyes still pinned to hers, a small smirk gracing your lips. You’d missed this, the adrenaline, the game of prediction, feeling . This was where you felt most alive, doing what you were made to do. The gift you had was a double-edged knife. Yes, it got you in this situation, but without it, you’d have been dead long before your years.

She strode forwards, you lunging low to the ground, effortlessly covering ground. You were now only a couple feet from each other. She crouched, attempting to mirror your battle style. The Twi’ goes to throw another dagger as you rolled to her left side. You’d sensed it before her hand even left the blade. Quickly standing to her side, you turned your head and looked into her eyes; they’re now wide, the confidence stripped bare, beneath the realisation that she’d maybe have bit off more than she could chew.

With this you dropped, kicking a leg to trip her from behind. Falling, she grabbed your collar, pulling you with her. Now falling atop, you righted yourself by bracing to the side, scrambling up into your stance. She went to lunge but paused. Glancing down she saw her belt was gone, confusion, then realisation swept her face to meet you gripping it, your right hand through a tightened loop and the other pulling it taunt.

I love that trick .

Grabbing another dagger she bound towards you, holding it outright in her right hand. You twisted to the side, wrapping her wrist in her own belt. She shifted, throwing a punch to your right cheek. No stupid mistakes. The anger at your mistake now bubbling you wrap her other hand in the belt as its retreating, her wrists now bound with yours. She hisses a snarl at you, “Bitch.” The smirk on your face grows a little wider now, the true fun only just beginning.

You shifted your weight harshly to the left, throwing her in a 180 to disorient and gain momentum. Dropping to your knees and twisting you bring your entwined wrists above your head and then yank over your right shoulder, bringing her down onto her back, head now facing you and her body strewn away from your core. You quickly unwind her wrists, forcing the belt down over her neck to strangle. You stretched out your left leg reaching for the knife that had dropped from her pouch with your toes, sliding it back to you with a kick. The knife now secured in your left hand, you edge it to her neck, only now looking back into her eyes. “A-lot to learn huh? Ironic.” The satisfaction in your voice over the play on words was clear, and so was the fear in her eyes. Oh, you loved proving people wrong, especially when they pretty much do it for you.

That's when you felt it, the temptation, the greed to end her now. Do it. You’ve done it before, yes, you can do it again, do it.

No. You’re not giving yourself up like that again. You barely made it back to yourself last time, don’t push your luck now, you’ve learnt since then. You’re a better person now, you think… killing like this. This is not the Way.

The smirk now leaving your face, you twist her round, knife now held to the back of her neck. Using the belt to secure her wrists you pull her up. Eyeing the empty cell on the other side of the hallway you walk her over. She’s protesting but stops as soon as you edge the tip of her own blade into the skin on the back of her neck. She tenses, but follows your directions to the cell, stepping in and turning to face you from within the room.

“Coward” She whispered, eyes attached to yours through the fury of defeat, her fake smile taunting you.

Oh, the temptation.

“Don't flatter yourself, Honey”.

Her smile drops along with the security door

———

Ok, so I just finished editing this chapter. It’s my first fic and i’m just writing for enjoyment. I’ve finished chapter 4 and will obvs post more if ppl like this! Its tame rn but will get more spicy as time goes on ;) hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. best wishes, dindooku xx

i just read this back after 3 months and realised how bad my writing is lmao -> this was my first ever fic/writing and it tells lol, pls forgive me.

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littlesparklight · 3 years

Text

(11) - Just keep swimming

For all that Paris kept shifting about so Hektor could never quite fall asleep, it was still about as comfortable a way to spend the last two hours of the night as could have been asked for. Hektor hadn't indulged in leaning back onto Paris the other night, though not out of any resentment of Paris' part in the war, or in, honestly, the reason why they were here, tied up as they were.

He'd offered support and comfort to his younger siblings - to Paris, specifically, often enough - for as long as he could remember, and that was how it should be. That was both part of his responsibility as the oldest sibling and something that greatly pleased Hektor. To be able to still tears, ease fears, bring back smiles and laughter, even if he might not always understand why one sibling or another was upset. That Paris was somewhat uncomfortably good at spotting when Hektor might need the same wasn't something Hektor liked to think of. His little brother might not always hit on the right method immediately, but he was also never that far off. Andromache was easier to be vulnerable to, but it'd taken time.

So while Hektor was, admittedly, taking great comfort in the reassurance of Paris' solid body leaning into his, there and as unharmed as he could be - was going to get, from this ordeal, Hektor silently vowed - he didn't admit to that. He knew very well Paris would take comfort and pleasure from him leaning into his little brother, so that, then, was what Hektor told himself was the reason he was doing it.

He moved, to Paris' groaning protest, before the first Achaean stirred.

"Stay," he muttered to Paris, who might maybe be more amenable to actually sleeping now that other people, even if they didn't actually care about Hektor's well-being, might be around to, by their simple moving around and talking, keep him awake. His little brother, of course, didn't comply.

"Look at me," Paris demanded quietly as he straightened up, biting down on a yawn, and he wouldn't stop staring at the side of Hektor's head until Hektor turned to meet his gaze. "Looks... a little better, I think? You're focusing."

There was no reason to feel as if he'd been hung out dry and naked for those quiet words, or for the light touch of fingertips to his jaw, but Hektor flushed anyway and scowled. At least it didn't bring his headache back to the heights it'd been before, when so much as twitching a facial muscle had been like being stabbed.

"As I said, I'm fine. It was just a concussion. And I'm not the one who hides away in my rooms, which are draped enough one could think it's to protect from the smallest of accidental bruises, at even the suggestion of labour." That wasn't fair, really, but that was why Hektor had chosen labour and not fighting, because Paris' knew labour probably more than all of the rest of Priam's sons combined. Paris huffed, light in his eyes instead of guarded tension and quiet acceptance of well-worn rebukes.

"Whatever you say, Hek--- Hektor?" Paris' amusement choked off into confusion as Hektor hauled himself upright with only the slightest bit of wavering, staring at the Achaean who was approaching, two bowls in hand.

"I will take those," Hektor said firmly, which might be ridiculous except they had at least been tied in such a manner that awkwardly taking a bowl and scooping up its insides wasn't impossible.

Just because Paris had assured him nothing had happened after he'd lost consciousness didn't mean Hektor was going to take any chances. The man, average and wavering under Hektor's commanding stare, almost handed the bowls over.

"What's this, then?" Eteocles said as he swaggered over, looking between his fellow soldier, to Hektor, down to Paris and then up again. Eyebrows arching and planting his hands on his hips when Hektor shifted to stand straight in front of Paris, who was by now hissing pleading and warnings for Hektor to stop that and other things he wasn't even going to bother registering.

He could do very little. But if he could offer up distraction and a physical barrier that looked like too much of an effort to breach, maybe the Achaeans would stay distracted and that 'not yet' would be 'not at all'.

"Offering to take the bowls of food we're being so generously provided," Hektor bit out, too tired and grumpy to scrape up what dregs of sarcasm he sometimes was capable of - that was more Deiphobos' and Kebriones' purview.

Eteocles stared at him, and Hektor, taller enough he could lean on that as well as his princely command even if he wasn't feeling very princely with a dull ache still haunting the back of his head and his vision threatening to start burring again the longer he stood up, met that stare squarely. Paris' hand clamped on his calf wasn't only reminder but confirmation for the reason he was doing this.

"It seems," Eteocles said genially, smiling with far too many teeth, "it's time to make something clear."

#trojan war #hector of troy #paris of troy #lightart #day eleven of whumptober!

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ganymedesclock · 6 years

Note

So basically, Keith (and possibly Acxa if they're related) has some kind of internal magic-sensing radar?? Or quintessence-sensitivity? Or something supernatural going on, anyway. I'm really curious what the implications of that ability may be in the long run.

Let’s talk about Keith’s energy sense and how it works! (I’ll also talk about Acxa here)

So far, what we know for sure is that Keith sometimes exhibits a heightened ability to perceive certain elements in his surroundings. In s1e1, major examples of this are when he felt “called” first to the shack, and then felt a kind of ‘field’ around the Blue Lion that he was able to triangulate.

This map and “triangulate” would suggest that Keith can tell when he’s near certain things, and by turning in place he can identify which way will get him closer to it- the three ‘x’es are places he went to, and, from there, identified which way the energy was. By going to three different places, he was able to pin down the energy to a very specific location, which he marked in the smaller circle, and probably found the bigger circle by similar means.

So Keith’s “energy sense”, as I prefer to call it, is a pretty fine-tuned and reliable instrument. It’s not a power that comes and goes, but something very predictable. It operates similarly to Hunk’s Voltron detector, and what they later upgrade to track the comet and thus Lotor- only for Keith, who had no idea what Hunk was talking about with the Fraunhofer line, he has this piece of equipment functionally built into his head.

While we don’t have explicit confirmation, my personal hypothesis is that in s1e10, and parts of s3, this “sense” of Keith’s was also what guided him to focus heavily on the druid and on Lotor.

This would suggest that, rather than Hunk’s tracker, which operates on the specific material of the trans-reality comets, Keith is able to track large volumes of quintessence. Voltron is a perpetual motion machine that radiates vast amounts of energy- so what Keith is picking up here, is simply the large amounts of energy that Blue gives off, rather than a connection between him and the Blue Lion.

But when it comes to the Lion he is connected with, Keith is able to simply sense Red’s position once he gets close enough- while the others require equipment and glowing carvings to guide them to the spot, Keith simply takes a deep breath and experiences a vision of Red’s position.

In s1e10, he focuses first, intently, on the glowing canisters, and then becomes determined to follow them. This draws him to follow the druid, and discover the room full of quintessence. He also tries to take some of it with him, though he doesn’t explain why. He also lasers in on Lotor- when in s4e3, Haggar remarks that Lotor has an unusual energy around him, presumably Sincline itself, though Keith focuses on Lotor before that time.

Also, in s4e6, while he has other reasons to be suspicious, Keith becomes suddenly, incredibly tense about Haggar’s ship and actually says, “I don’t know why, but we have to attack that ship.” At a point in which Haggar is gathering a massive volume of magical energy to destroy Naxzela.

This is the first portion of Keith’s ability, and the most well-documented.

But I suspect there’s another element to this- Keith functionally has a kind of spidey sense.

Allura states that Red requires a pilot that “relies more on instinct than skill alone.” This raises something interesting when we consider Lance is not shown to be a bad pilot- he takes to flying Blue easily, and by s3e1, before he switches to Red, he’s shown to pull off some very complicated maneuvers and be a powerful dogfighter.

And yet he runs into not just problems with Red, but a very specific problem: he’s never able to react in time because Red moves too quickly.

A problem Keith has never had, even though Red would be leagues faster than anything Keith has ever flown.

On several occasions, in combat, Keith can be observed to preemptively orient himself to face an enemy he has no way of knowing is there. Most obviously, this happens in s1e10, fighting the druid, and also in s3e3, fighting Lotor. In the former case, the druid keeps teleporting around him, soundlessly, and attacking from blind angles. Each time, Keith pauses, sometimes appears to glance around his surroundings, and then looks at, or turns to face, his attacking enemy.

In s3e3, Keith, despite being explicitly on a planet that destroys all conventional sensors without specific adjustments- where Black is functionally blindfolded- finds Lotor repeatedly, at one point verbatim says, “He’s around here somewhere, I know he is,” and on another occasion, suddenly snaps his head upright to look above him- and seconds later Lotor dives the team from exactly where Keith was looking.

This is where I’m gonna mention Acxa, because Acxa herself seems to do this! Most noticeably on s3e2, when the generals first arrive on Puig, Acxa is disseminating orders, facing her left. A Puigian rebel shoots a laser at the back of her head, standing in the opposite direction from which she’s looking- the laser makes no sound until it crosses in front of the screen. However, Acxa dodges it by pulling her head back. Which casts suspicion overall on her incredible aim, and that she rarely properly steadies herself while shooting- if anything, she’s prone to shooting rapidly while tumbling or flipping through the air, which makes her actual marksmanship unusual- especially when the other sharpshooter in our cast, Lance, is shown to take time, aim carefully, and/or use a scope or sighting along the barrel to make his shots precisely.

(though, admittedly, he’s also made some downright amazing shots that we haven’t seen Acxa- precise distance shots are more his area while Acxa’s more impressive for her ability to shoot while moving)

Other scenes that become suspect in this would include s1e6, when Rolo leads the Lions into an asteroid field to escape them- Keith, and Red, go inside, and navigate the field of moving and colliding rocks with little difficulty.

This also becomes suspicious with the strong emphasis on instinct for the Red Lion- because “instinct” refers to intuition, having a ‘gut feeling’ about things, or processing information minutely on a subconscious level. Consider Alfor, Keith’s predecessor, in s3e7, and how he’s the conduit for understanding Voltron- its name, its capabilities, how it operates, and what must be done. He does not obtain this information by conventional means.

Red also forms a set with Green, who is all about conventional means of gathering information- technology, science, investigation, communication. As both of the legs are tasked with supporting and protecting the team, it makes sense the arms also share a task- and the task of the arms is gathering intelligence to return it to the head.

Alfor also responds with great animosity and discomfort to the rift creature when he first sees it, before it ever turns aggressive, and in contrast with his nature before then, where he’s established as almost brash to a fault.

As an aside, it’s also worth noting that Keith has some very stereotypically oracular traits. Out of the team, he’s the only one with a particular striking, unusual eye color- his distinctive indigo irises. He also is first encountered living in seclusion in the desert, focusing on a subtle, but insistent “calling” that he can’t explain and is unfamiliar with the science that validates his bizarrely potent gut feeling. Something Lance calls “Mumbo-jumbo”

There appears to be another side to this ability- something Keith hasn’t exhibited much on his own but someone else before him seems to have in Blue’s cavern.

That being clairvoyance. The ability to predict events before they actually happen, or that happened far away from you.

Keith tells us that someone wrote down, in the carvings and paintings around the Blue Lion, about “some kind of arrival happening last night. Then you showed up.”

So, at some point, before Keith found the carvings, someone knew Shiro would arrive, on a specific day, and marked it down.

One of the big things about s2e8 and the Trial of Marmora, while this was explicitly bequeathed by the suit, is that visions are a big deal to Keith, especially when it comes to his history, and his family. What he’s seeing, what’s real, and what’s born of his fears. Because sometimes Keith is able to pull genuine information from a nebulous source- as I’ve listed before- but other times, like his dream in s2e6, is completely inaccurate, and the trial is explicitly tinted by his fears and not what’s really there.

So I have to wonder if this is an exercise in character development for Keith- that maybe his murky nightmares contain valuable information or warnings, but he has yet to refine that ability as much as it could- to the level of whoever left the warning for him in the cave.

Perhaps another mysterious figure who seems to be linked to that area and has purple eyes just like Keith does... and who would have a connection to both Keith and Acxa if the theory of them being siblings is true.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Keith #Acxa #readmore #Anonymous

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