mumble mumble. today's not my day. paid bills which good! good! okay, thats good! paid! and might have new job, emphasis on might. i dont know if ill get it. feel like shit. idk. yeah that's normal week. might make a comm post as much as the idea stresses me out, like i understand its important and what people do, and i genuinely understand others who do, because why the hell wouldnt they, it just feels so weird on my part. yk. idk idk idk idk, my brain is weird. if it's fine for other people, if not awesome, same goes for me? i think? so why am i so panicked. im a hypocrite who's bad at this. after i finish this twist character sheet and the comm from my friend gonna make a public commissions post i think. or try to

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break.   The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all.   5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch?   5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you   5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls   You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants.    5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read   5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me   5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209   You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him.   Now’s the perfect opportunity.   “Tempering chocolate?”   “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.”   Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.”   “Do you want to help me or not?”   “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?”   “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.”   “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?”   “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!”    At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately.   “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?”   He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise.    Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day.   “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot.   “Which is easier?”   “They’re all the same,” he deadpans.   Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves.   “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too.   “I know.”   “Do you want me to help or not?”   “When I ask for it.”   Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?”   “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—”   He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?”   Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!”   “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!”   “Fine, fine.”   You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement.   But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.”   “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?”    You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.”   “How do you know that?!”   “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?”   “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.”   “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.”   Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.”   “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!”   “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.”   “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!”   “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs.   Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!”   “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!”   It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever.   The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees.    A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t.   “What the hell…?”   Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!”   He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.”   The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now.   The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again….    But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.”   The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?”   “I don’t know. We have to test it.”   The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull.    “Mother fuc—”   “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder.   It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone.   You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch.   “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look.   “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.”   “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?”   “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.”   One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap.   Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.”    It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry.   You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious?   “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.”   “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.”   “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.”   “That’s helpful.”   “Hey, I’m trying.”   Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he.   “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.”   The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.”   “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?”   “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge.   “Let’s bet on it then!”   “Fine. How much?”   You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.”   He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.”   //   It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest.   You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered.   “You want me to make this?”   Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?”   He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.”   “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.”   Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge.    While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes.   Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat.   You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.   He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards.   But he sighs after a moment, hands halting.   It’s your turn to smirk.   “Not so easy, is it?”   His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.”   You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too.   After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two.   “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.”   “I’m fully aware.”   “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.”   Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either.   “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?”   Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?”   “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.”   “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions.   “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.”   “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again.   “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too.   Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster.   You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now.   You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates.   “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.”   “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.”   “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.”   You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands.    You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?”   The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware.    Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle.   You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease.   You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.”   “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind.   “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.”   Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now.   You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it.   You know you don’t hate him so much anymore.   “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment.   Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did.   But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered.   “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.”   You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his.    Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?”   “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.”   “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.”   It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control.    You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is.   “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.”   Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered.    All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided.   “I—”   “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.”   “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?”   “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.”   “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums.   “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.”   You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming.   “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.”   Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?”   “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.”   “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed.   Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower.   Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…”   “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly.   “It was a stroke of luck.”   “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.”   “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.”   “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort.   But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.”   “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.”   “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!”   The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will.   As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls.   “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.”   “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.”   Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

asks :)

y’all are killing me, but like in the best possible way 😭

rhi,,, i have been FED. i am so GRATEFUL for the MEAL. 😤 it never ceases to amaze me how talented you are 😭💞 seijoh supremecy reigns!!! and let me tell you,,, makki... just.... ✨makki “stronger than he looks, makki”✨ i frothed,,, we love our underappreciated strawberry on this blog!!!

all i want is for makki to pin me down and fuck me until i’m sobbing. and timeskip makki?? i love him so much 🥺 

and thank you, bby!! 

Rhi. First of all holy shit??? I had to take a deep breath because holy fuck that was just 🥵🥵🥵. I rarely read Mattsun or Makki fics but ugh, I really looked forward to this and holy hell you did not disappoint! Damn. Because you mentioned that this was supposed to be another Seijoh 4 fic, I'd like to consider this as an alternate version of your Manager au and ugh the biggest question! Who did Makki send the pics to? Oikawa and Iwa to tell them what they're missing out? Or to the mystery boyfriend because they finally staked their claim on reader-chan?

Hmmm seeing that the Jackals are the ones in Osaka, I feel like it's any of the four? Omg what if it was Hinata???? But I'll probably feel sad if it was Meian cuz I love him 😭😭😭

sdfghjjhgfhjkl thank you!!!!! i was like ‘okay, you’re not gonna make this about all four of them’ and then my brain ignored all of that entirely and decided just to sprinkle in some hints. i like to think that a lot of things that probably crossed a line happened back in their last year at highschool between all five of them that the reader either rationalises or brushed off, so it is kind of intended as an alternate manager au i guess.

and yeah, makki sent the pics to both iwa, oikawa and your (soon to be ex) boyfriend :)

Hot damn! Baby it’s cold outside is phenomenal!!! I loved the buildup. Am I wrong to assume that iwa and oikawa had some idea of what was going to happen?

oh no, they absolutely knew 👀 and thank you!!

wait omg did makki send those pics to himself or to your boyfriend (perhaps iwa and oikawa?) but wow amazing work as always!! 💕

one set to your boyfriend, another to their captain 😌

Sooo, Oikawa and Iwa were in on it, but why didn't they want to take part?

it’s not so much that they didn’t want to, more that they didn’t want to overwhelm you all once - but dw, they haven’t gone far 👀

The funny thing about timezones is that I often read your fics a few minutes after I wake up at 5am and lol, I end up thinking about them the whole day. They're basically my breakfast at this point lol

timezones are a bitch and i would fight them bare fisted if i could. no but that’s probably the best way to read them, still half asleep 😂 thank you tho!! i’m glad you like them so much!

i love ur soulmate aus 😭 sometimes i wish i could read outrunning fate for the first time again

this is so sweet, thank you, bby!!

out of all your oikawa’s, which one is your fave 😌

but i love them all so much?? unpopular opinion i think, but maybe home! oikawa

kuroo calling you “kitten/sweetheart” and oikawa calling you “his pretty girl/cutie” makes me 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

this makes me so happy because i am an absolute whore for pet-names so they inevitably find their way into my fics - glad i’m not the only one who like them haha

i hesrd soulmate dabihawks and my brain malfunctioned in a good way we can never be sick of soulmate aus

i think i promised to write something for dabi & hawks waaaay back when i started this blog and i still haven’t so maybe now’s the perfect time 👀

ahhhhh im literally gonna go beserk when u open comms i got a whole note in my notes app titled 'bbydoll comms' n like its just a list of comm ideas im so fucking excited

wait, really?? omfg you’re gonna make me melt!!

you're my favourite writer!! each one of your fics is always so well written and interesting and i just--- omg. i have reread practically all your work i literally always go back to it <3

thank you so much, you’re so nice i hope you’re having a good day, bby!

saw dark content slander “ur sick bastards, get help” I AM BEYOND FUCKING PISSEd who the hell are y’all to tell us what to do and what to like. wtf. i’ve been seeing so much shit and it’s like “ok, and??” mind ur own fucking business, block. no one needs to hear ur opinion about it lmao. they be acting like they’re content makes them a better person. what u condone irl and what u condone in fiction is very very different. anyways thanks for listening to my rant, i’m sure u get a lot of shit from random people about dc haha

it’s frustrating, but at the end of the day it’s better just to ignore it and keep enjoying the content you want to - that’s not hurting anybody. you’re never going to change their minds and they’re not interested in that - so long as the content is appropriately tagged it shouldn’t be an issue, but i get where the frustration comes into play

and honestly compared to a lot of dark content writers i think i get off pretty lightly with hate, thank god

Yo blue im on a super duper important quest to find really good lance centric fics, you know, that high quality top shelf kinda stuff. ive already read ur fic but im lookin for more. Got any recs????????

hey there, friend, you came to the right place! sorry this took so long, I made this whole post and then my computer was being difficult and I lost the whole thing, so this is the second time I’m making it! thank you so much for reading when I dream it happens in blue. I’ve got some great new content on the way, but in the meantime, here are some great reads to hold you over!

>

7 Times They Noticed by @em-the-cliche

Lance was alright. He was happy. He was fine. Except when he wasn’t.

“Listen. Are you alright?”“Uh…are you alright?”“Are you okay buddy?”“Are…are you in good health, paladin?“Are…are you okay, paladin?”“Hey. You okay?”

His team mates, his second family - they noticed.

A Commutual Contract by @skaylanphear​

After a terrifying experience during which Lance, seemingly, dies, Keith is haunted by horrible nightmares of holding his comrade in his arms while he took his final breath. To the point where he can’t sleep unless he knows for absolute certain that Lance is alive.

And while the attention is surprising, Lance doesn’t really have a problem with Keith checking up on him. Or the fact that Keith only seems totally comforted when he can cuddle Lance close and hear his heart beat. After all, there’s nothing wrong with two bros cuddling. It doesn’t MEAN anything. Or, at least, that’s what Lance keeps telling himself.

At Rest (Five Miles Behind the Front) by @thisgirlhastales

Shiro is no longer the Black Paladin. He is no longer the commander of Team Voltron. He is a soldier without a purpose and a leader without a legion at his back.

Lance is a seventh wheel. He is not fit to be a leader, and perhaps not even fit to be a Paladin.

Or, in which two Paladins of Voltron learn their true worth, and finally, there is well-earned rest.

Beautiful Minds by PotatoBender

Lance used to be proud of his mental abilities. A pilot. A Paladin. Someone experienced with delving and controlling his mind. But after being captured, and enduring just a single encounter with Haggar, his castle was reduced to rubble.

Rescuing Lance was the easy part - healing him is much, much harder.

Blast Zone by bubblebucky

In the middle of a mission, a bomb going off leaves Lance unable to hear. Still, while he’s deaf, the rest of his team are the ones that won’t listen.

Boom Crash the Sound of My Ship by @maychorian​

After a Galra attack splits Voltron, the blue lion is damaged and falls toward the jungle planet below. Shiro follows, and now he and Lance are stranded in hostile territory, fighting to survive. Lance is injured, Shiro is having flashbacks, and help is far away. And the Galra just…keep coming.

Brain storm by @trickstersgambit

Lance managed for years without too many obvious issues. Those who needed to know, knew. Until it became a problem he thought he buried in his awkward early teen years.

calling me to come back by @apvrrish

Keith is a witch who owns a shop where he breaks curses on both magical items and people under spells. Love spells, family curses passed down generations, cursed heirlooms lurking the attic – he can handle them all. But one day a boy named Lance walks into his shop, and his curse is darker and more difficult to break than anything Keith has ever seen before: the curse is draining his magic, and without his magic, Lance will die. 

This is a new favorite of mine!

Dark Blue by @thunder-dor

Lance has a bad habit of comparing himself to his teammates. Lotor needs a Paladin with a weakness.

Or

Lance gets kidnapped and Keith will do anything to get him back.

This is a great fic and Jessie is a writing goddess!!!

Fighting the Surface by @tomminowrites

“Humans have shown quite the impressive drive for survival,” the Galra commander grins. “I want to see you fight against that. The druids claim drowning is quite the painful way to go.“ He tips Lance backward over the water, as Keith and Shiro struggle against their bonds. “If you surface, they die.”

Lance’s eyes widen and he’s pushed backward with a splash.

______

Keith, Shiro, and Lance are taken captive during a mission planet-side. The commander decides he only needs two paladins for interrogation, and decides to have a little fun while they wait for extraction. Lance is thrown into the deep with the threat that if he swims up for air, one of the other two will be shot. Obviously Lance would rather die than allow that.

Later chapters will, of course, deal with Keith and Shiro losing their damn minds thinking Lance just drowned himself for them.

I helped beta this one! It’s good!

Ghost of the Future & Shadow of the Past by @zizzani & @wittyy-name

When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.

This Lance is faster, stronger, and markedly more mature. Not only that, but he’s distinctly more intuitive about his teammates and A LOT more touchy with Keith.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. Things only get more complicated when the Future Lance can’t seem to remember where he was when the switch happened, and he refuses to reveal anything about his own time for fear of influencing the team’s decisions.

Mirror fic to “Shadow of the Past” by wittyy_name

&

When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.

He finds his team to be remarkably familiar, yet distinctly different. They have more scars, a better grip on the whole saving the universe thing, and over a year’s worth of teamwork to bind them together. But the weirdest part? Keith seems to be a lot more touchy with him. Not that he’s complaining… much.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. But despite the fact that they’re still his friends, Lance can’t help but feel a little out of place among a team that’s been through so much with a Lance that just isn’t him. And it doesn’t help that the team is on edge around him, refusing to tell him anything for fear of influencing and changing the past. Things get even more complicated when they have to rely on the team in the past to complete the switch, leaving Lance to little more than sit, wait, and attempt to fill in his future self’s shoes.___________

Mirror fic to “Ghost of the Future” by Zizzani

give out to give in by @mlp-michaeljones

So typical. So fucking typical, that Lance is the youngest and worst of his siblings, and then the kids come along and he isn’t even the cutest anymore, and he only made fighter pilot because perfect fucking Keith dropped out and even when he piloted a lion he didn’t have a thing like the others, and now he can’t even have Blue. Maybe he was the one to suggest it, but he was barrelling towards this point all along; rock fucking bottom.

When it becomes clear that Allura is a better pilot than him, Lance steps down as the Blue Paladin. It is, after all, the obvious decision. Lance is, and has always been, the afterthought.

But who needs an afterthought?

He Don’t Fuckin Care by ya_ya_rose

Lance knows how to hold his own. But he isn’t indestructible. 

Huddling for Warmth: The Movie by @maychorian

The paladins are heading back to the Castle of Lions after another successful mission when Shiro suddenly realizes that something is wrong. Lance isn’t responding on the comms.

Love and Other Questions by @squirenonny

One week after news of the Kerberos disaster broke, Pidge receives a new Mark–proof that Matt is still alive. She breaks into the Garrison to find him, only to find herself caught up in the fight for the fate of the universe.

Keith keeps his arms covered so he doesn’t have to watch Shiro’s scars compounding on his skin–but doing so means cutting off contact with his romantic soulmate, who greets him each morning with a new (and terrible) pickup line.

Shiro and Matt thought they were the luckiest people alive when they found out they were going to Kerberos together. But Shiro hasn’t seen Matt’s untidy scrawl on his arm in almost a year, and he has no idea if his soulmate is even still alive.

[Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)]

Perihelion by @eclecticinkling

After growing up in the shadow of war, Prince Lance of Altea would give almost anything to bring peace back to his people. So when a Galran ambassador arrives with an offer to make that a reality, Lance knows he can’t refuse. Even if it means binding himself to his enemy’s prince for as long as they both shall live.

say you’re gonna break my fall by @apvrrish

Keith tries to deal with being the leader, and also tries to deal with his feelings about Lance. It’s a process.

Keith looks up and sees Lance staring at him, head tilted at an angle. His eyes are just barely visible through the visor, but his mouth is twisted into a puzzled curve.

“Sorry,” Keith says, flushing. “Lost in thought.”

“You okay?” Lance asks, falling into step alongside him as they follow the others out of the ship.

so much more than space dust by @ad-asterism

When a cryopod malfunctions, Lance is left with amnesia. As he struggles to figure out where he fits in the new formation of the team, the rest of Voltron is racing against the clock to figure out where Lotor will strike next- and their only clue is hidden somewhere in Lance’s lost memories. Lance will have to find a way to remember what he’s missing- or come to terms with what he’s forgotten.

Taking One For The Team by YukiSetsu

A mission gone wrong lands Lance and Pidge in a dangerous situation. When communication with the rest of the team is compromised, they have to take drastic measures to escape. Pidge can only hope that they get out before things get worse and one of them breaks. Especially Lance.

The Reluctant Soldier by @banditywrites

Lance is badly injured on a mission and struggles with his role as sharpshooter.

Thirty-One Days by SidneyJean

Lance experiences loss, in all its ugly faces, for the first time after beginning his journey as a Paladin and discovers just how that changes a person over time. It…doesn’t happen the way he expected. The people around him begin to change, and so does he.

Trembling Lips by @newtsckamander

Lance is an emotional person who cries easily (and does the trembly-lip thing a lot) but tries to stay strong in front of the team.

OR

Five times Lance stopped himself from crying in front of his teammates, and the one time he couldn’t hold it back.

Universal Fates by @celty-me

Alfor, Zarkon, Trigel, Gyrgan, and Blaytz set off on missions across the galaxy to gather pieces of an artifact so Alfor can complete Voltron.

Zarkon encounters a human boy with a missing arm fighting as a gladiator.Trigel encounters an enslaved young human girl whose genius is being exploited.Gyrgan encounters a human boy who disabled a pirate ship he and his people had been chasing.King Alfor encounters a young half-galra boy who aids the king and Coran when they are cornered by bandits.Blaytz encounters an Altean boy enslaved on a slave trading planet.

Each ally feels compelled to rescue and adopt the orphans they encounter, setting the wheels of fate into motion.

While each child carries the scars of their past, they form bonds too strong to ever be broken. They will find friendship and family with each other, and maybe love, even as events threaten everything they know and care for.

wanna be known by you by @bluewriters​

Sometimes Lance feels like he’s been stained blue, the colour of his lion seeping through his skin as he chokes on cold stardust, and he is drowning in waves of blue, blue ocean. Lance has never been afraid of the ocean before.

He rolls over and turns off the lights. He doesn’t sleep.

Watching You Fall by @emerald-ashes

Shiro couldn’t find Lance. He knew he was in danger after his communications ended abruptly. But he certainly wasn’t prepared to find Lance dying on the floor of a Galra base during one their missions.

Words Fail by EagleInFlight

A mind-melding exercise goes wrong, and the five Paladins are now trapped in Lance’s mind. To escape, they must delve through Lance’s memories. Lance learns that in order to save his friends, he has to stop running. But to stop running means to face the worst of himself.