#something quick and easy for filling in content for y’all

[tialiea]

𝒯𝐼𝐿 𝒟𝐸𝒜𝒯𝐻 𝒟𝒪 𝒰𝒮 𝒫𝒜𝑅𝒯

Pairing | Bo Chow x fem reader

𖣁 Summary : After your father's passing, you and your mother moved from South Carolina to Mississippi to be closer to family. You temporarily stayed with your aunt, Annie's mother. During a trip into town, you met the love of your life, Bo Chow.𖣁

Word count | 5.6k +

Warnings : Mature content | cursing, use of the n-slur, spitting ( very quick ), unprotected sex, finger-sucking, cunnilingus.

Authors note : This was originally going to be all fluff, but my friend pulled my arm. It's my first time writing smut in years, by the way. (This is pretty self-indulgent; the reader's background is based on me a little. :) ) You, Bo, Stack, Smoke, and Annie are all around the same age.

I’m not very familiar with how weddings work, so I tried my best. I even looked up wedding scripts and movie scenes, so if it’s a bit out of order, give me some grace, please.

The air is crisp and warm on this early spring day. Freshly bloomed flowers and green grass fill the scene, and the sound of last-minute adjustments to ties and hairdos fills the silence.

“Bo, calm down before you pass out,” could be heard by passersby in one of the church's changing rooms.

“I’m fine, Smoke,” Bo said, about to light a cigarette.

“Man, you can't be smokin' in no damn church,” uttered Stack, taking the cigarette from Bo’s trembling fingers.

“Look, you’s marrying y/n, not a stranger. When she walks down that aisle, I bet you'll forget about all them nerves you got,” Smoke said, patting Bo on the back.

Bo, Stack, and Smoke were always close to one another, lending a hand to each other when things got tough.

When Bo’s family immigrated to the United States seeking stability in Mississippi, he quickly formed a bond with the twins and the people who made up the small community of Clarksdale. Here, his parents built a business, a small one, but one that was a necessity, one that was an opportunity to better this town even a little bit.

Here is where he met you, due to Smoke, of course. You are Annie's cousin from South Carolina. Your pa passed, leaving your mother widowed with barely anything to lean back on. She decided to pack up her stuff, along with 19-year-old you, and move to Mississippi with her sister and brother-in-law.

Residing with your aunt was something to get used to, but her daughter Annie was like the sister you’ve never had. Always attentive, loving, and easy to talk to. Quickly, you found out she was talking to this Smoke boy. Talks of him and that twin of his were easy to overhear in this town.

“Annie, let me meet this boy you’re head over heels in love with,” you pouted, sighing when Annie ignored you, tending to her herbs.

Annie playfully rolled her eyes at your comment. “y/n, I'm not in love with him. We’re just talking, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Girl, please,” you uttered, shaking your head. “That boy got you walking like you’re on clouds. He's good for ya.”

Annie lets out a defeated sigh. “Well, he’s stopping by later to see me, and I'm sending him to the store in town for a few things.”

Just then, the engine of a car could be heard from afar.

You squint your eyes to see the two figures better. “Looks like he came early,” you said with a knowing grin towards Annie.

Smoke and Stack approached with an air of casual confidence, their footsteps echoing in the dirt.

“Annie, I hope you don't mind we came by early,” Smoke said smoothly as he made his way to Annie and gently kissed her hand. “Me and Stack got some important tasks needing to get done.”

“And who’s this beauty right here?” Stack interjected, nodding toward you.

You smiled softly, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "I'm y/n, Annie's cousin," you replied.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Stack and that’s my brother Smoke,” he introduced himself, a friendly grin spreading across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Oh, I know who y’all are,” you said, a smile breaking across your face. “I be hearin' y’alls names damn near everywhere I go.”

“Is that so?” Stack muttered in amusement. “Where you from?” Stack asked, getting a cig out of his pants pocket.

“South Carolina,” you responded, taking a moment to glance around.

“Hmm, interesting. What makes you come up to good ol’ Mississippi?” Stack inquired, lighting the cigarette and exhaling a thin plume of smoke.

“Momma decided it was best to come up here, to be closer to family,” you said.

At that moment, Smoke shot a look over at the two of you. “Stack, leave that girl alone,” he interjected, a teasing warning in his voice.

“Damn, a nigga can't make conversation?” Stack said, taking yet another puff from his cigarette.

You let out a laugh. “He’s fine,” you assured, glancing affectionately at Annie and Smoke. “I'm glad I can meet the boy my dear cousin is so smitten by.”

“Well, me and Stack are headin' into town to get a few things for Annie. You want to come with us?” Smoke asked.

"Hell yeah, let me grab my handbag," you said with an enthusiastic nod as you turned toward the porch.

“ Nah, that ain't necessary. We got you.” Smoke replied, making his way to the car, not before kissing Annie on the cheek.

Before you could respond, Annie interjected, her tone playful yet assertive. “She got her own money, Smoke,” she said with a knowing side glance.

“ I know, but what’s the harm in paying for family?” Smoke replied to Annie with a grin spreading across his face as he shrugged casually, unbothered.

Just then, Stack honked the car horn.

“Nigga, hurry up! It smells like it's about to rain,” he yelled from the driver's seat.

Smoke swiftly ignored Stack before shifting his focus back to you and Annie. “Come on, baby, just this once I promise. Cross my heart.”

Annie sighed in defeat. “Fine, but you better watch her,” she said with a slight pout.

“ She’s in good hands, I promise.” Smoke said, placing one last kiss on Annie’s lips.

You squeal before hugging Annie. “Thank you, I’ll stay close to them and won't run their pockets, promise.”

You ran toward the car, waving to Annie with a wide smile as Stack opened the door for you.

Smoke smiled slightly, walking backward toward the car, and blowing Annie a kiss.

“Bye baby, see you soon.”

The car ride to town wasn't as long as you thought it would be. Conversation with Smoke and Stack came easily. You didn't even notice when the three of you made it to town.

“Alright, little lady, we here,” Stack said, stepping out of the car and once again opening the door for you.

“Damn, Stack, you weren't lying; it smells like it's about to start pouring down any minute.”

Smoke looked toward the both of you judgmentally. “What the fuck is wrong with y’all? I swear y’all are the only niggas who smell that shit.”

The store bell rings as the three of you walk in. “Smoke, it must be your nose then, ‘cause a normal person would be able to smell it,” you say, smiling as you take in your surroundings.

Before Smoke could retort, the back room door could be heard opening.

“Aye Bo, just the man I was looking for,” Stack uttered.

Adverting your attention from Smoke, you made eye contact with the man called Bo.

Your eyebrows went up in interest unknowingly.

Breaking eye contact, Bo replied to Stack,

“Yeah, what do you need me for?” he said, placing a pencil behind his ears.

“I need some ginger, lavender, and ink,” Stack said, taking a lollipop from the counter.

Bo made a face. Before he could speak, Smoke interrupted, “It's for Annie.”

Bo nodded in understanding before heading toward the front of the store.

“And who’s the pretty girl you’re with?” Bo said, pointing toward you with a soft smile.

“I'm Annie’s cousin,” you declared, sizing him up from head to toe. Your eyes swept over the crisp, white dress shirt that clung to his form, long sleeves rolled up displaying his forearms, apron accentuating his waist.

Bo chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eye. “Is that right?” he replied leaning in with curiosity.“And does Annie’s cousin have a name?” He raised a brow taking a moment to truly observe you. His gaze swept over the way your brown eyes shimmered in the warm glow of the store's lighting, your tight curls pinned up framing your face, bright yellow sundress dancing lightly around your figure, complementing your complexion.

You half-smiled in amusement. “It's y/n,” you uttered as Bo softly took your hand in his. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

"Sir, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were flirtin' with me,” you replied to him with a soft tilt of your head.

Bo let out a hearty laugh. “And is that a bad thing, darlin’?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. You took in a breath, your heart racing as you fluttered your eyelashes playfully. “Never said it was,” you replied, a teasing smile dancing on your lips.

Before Bo could retort back, Smoke interrupted. “I don't mean to intrude on this lovely meeting, but we’re on a time crunch,” he said, tapping one of the worn shelves next to him.

You playfully rolled your eyes before turning to the twins. Stack met your eyes with a knowing smirk. “Well, let me grab a little something since y’all are payin’,” you said with a purse of your lips, walking toward the box of Cracker Jacks you had your eyes on.

You grabbed the box of Cracker Jacks, swiftly making your way back up front as the three men waited on you. You set the box down on the counter along with Annie’s things.

While Bo began to add the items up, you couldn't help but stare at him longingly. Stack noticed and nudged you teasingly. Bo packaged the items before turning toward the three of you. “Anything else?” he said to Smoke. Smoke shook his head, grabbing the items as Bo came from the back of the front counter, making his way over to you.

“Hope you come visit again soon, darlin’,” Bo said, bringing an arm from his back, holding one single lily. You smiled in amusement before taking the flower and bringing it to your nose.

“We’ll see, Mr. Bo,” you said with a sultry whisper, making your way to the twins.

You were seated in the bridal room, Annie behind you putting on your pearl necklace.

You let out a breath. “Do you think Bo is as nervous as I am?” you said, fanning yourself.

“He can't be as nervous as you. If you keep all that stressin', you’ll sweat through your gown,” Annie teased, clasping your necklace.

“Momma and Auntie are already in the sanctuary sitting in the front row.” You giggled to yourself before raising your hand to your chest. “I just wish Daddy was here to walk me down the aisle.”

Annie looked at you with understanding in her eyes. “He’s here; he’s always here, y/n.”

You nodded. “I know,” you replied with a slight smile. You felt the knot develop in your throat and began to sniffle.

Annie quickly grabbed a handkerchief. “Oh y/n, don't start all that cryin' now; you ain't even walked down the aisle yet,” Annie said, rubbing your shoulders.

“I know, I know,” you chuckled, taking the handkerchief to dab the corners of your eyes. Just then, a firm knock on the door echoed throughout the bridal room. Annie left her spot from behind you, opening the door to reveal both Stack and Smoke dressed in striking black tuxedos.

“How’s Mrs. Chow?” Stack uttered, hugging Annie and then moving toward you.

You got up from the vanity with a smile. “I ain't Mrs. Chow yet,” you laughed, hugging Stack.

“Bighead, you know I was jokin’. Your groom's about to piss his pants though. ” He let out a soft chuckle, before gently loosening his hold on you.

He then took the time to take you in. “You look beautiful, really,” he smiled, the grills that adorned his teeth glistening. He then sighed dramatically. “Bighead, growin' up on me.” He shook his head, grasping his chest.

Annie and Smoke both chuckled by the door.Smoke nudged Stack aside, making room as he turned his attention to you. “How you doin', y/n?” Smoke asked you softly, wrapping his arms around you for a hug.

“Like my heart's about to jump outta my chest,” you replied, separating from Smoke.

Annie then interjected. “She been worryin' all mornin';” she said, resting an arm on Smoke.

“Bo's been the same, but worse,” Stack smiled from the other side of you and shook his head. Just as he spoke there was yet another knock on the door. Annie glanced toward the door, her brow furrowed in curiosity, as she moved to answer it, before she could reach it, Smoke stepped forward and swung it open.

Standing in the doorway was Cornbread. his expression a mix of enthusiasm and determination.

"Alright, it's go time, y'all," he declared, as he scanned the four of you with an encouraging grin.

You inhaled deeply,.With careful hands, you picked up your bouquet from the nearby chair. You then took the time to look over yourself in the vanity one final time. Turning to Stack, you reached out to take his arm, “You ready?” he said, smiling and raising an eyebrow. “Ready as I'll ever be,” you replied, clutching your bouquet tighter.

Smoke, with Annie linked across his arm, glanced back at you both, "Here we go, y'all," he announced.

The sound of the piano could be heard from where you and Stack were. Annie and Smoke made their way down the aisle together. The rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen followed suit. The ring bearer made his way down the aisle, not before almost tripping on his feet. Affectionate laughter could be heard throughout the sanctuary. You and Stack moved closer to the entryway, closely watching as the little flower girl spread white rose petals down the aisle.

You looked up at Stack, but before you could say anything, he whispered with a smile, "Girl, don't be passin' out now." You exhaled with relief when you both reached the entryway. Your guests began to stand, turning their attention toward you. Time seemed to slow when you saw Bo standing at the altar.

Both you and Smoke started walking down the aisle slowly. You couldn’t help but tear up as you saw all the people who had come to support you and Bo. This overwhelming feeling of community filled your heart.

Bo fell in love with you all over again as he watched you walk down the aisle with Stack. Your gown flowed beautifully as you walked, the intricate design of the dress accentuating your figure. Your hair cascaded down your neck, thanks to the roller treatment you had the day before, and your eyes sparkled just like they did when he first met you. You cradled a bouquet of baby’s breath in your hands.

Before Bo realized it, a tear rolled down his cheek, and that’s when you finally stood before him. He felt your palm gently touch his face, wiping away his tear.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, smiling at Bo. “Hey, darlin’,” Bo replied, his voice shaky. You took both of his hands and turned to the pastor.

The pastor requested that everyone take a seat before he began. "Welcome, family and friends. We are here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Y/n and Bo Chow. This marks the next chapter in their lives together. They have spent years getting to know each other, and today we see how their relationship has grown. They will formally and publicly affirm their bond."

Bo and Y/n will celebrate their love today, but they will also celebrate the love from all of us especially from their parents, siblings, extended family, and best friends. Without that love, today would not be as joyful."

“ Now the couple would like to say their heartfelt words with one another," the pastor announced.

You took a deep breath, as you removed the small folded paper from your bouquet, As you lifted your gaze to meet Bo's expectant eyes.

“I love you with all my heart. I promise to love you, trust you, encourage you, and respect you. I will work with you to build a fair and caring relationship, knowing that together we can create a better life than we could alone. Today, I accept you as you are and offer myself to you in return. I will care for you, stand by you, and share all of life’s challenges and joys from this day forward and for the rest of my life. “

After you finished speaking you didn't notice the tears welling in you eyes. Bo gently caressed your hands before reciting his words to you.

“I fall in love with you every single day. Baby, with you, I have discovered a love that is steady, unwavering, and filled with a kind of magic I never knew existed. I vow to love you in every way you need, on the days when life feels effortless and on those when it feels heavy. I promise to stand by your side, to believe in you, and to remind you every day just how deeply you are loved. You are my safe place, my greatest adventure, my forever. For all the days of my life, I choose you, over and over again, in every moment, in every lifetime, always.”

Bo finished speaking, taking a moment to express his feelings to you through his eyes. Your mother could be heard sobbing from the pew closest to you. The pastor then began to speak again, saying, “Ring bearer, please bring the rings.” The cute little boy made his way to stand in front of you and Bo.

The pastor continued, “A ring is an unbroken circle with ends that have been joined together, and it represents your union. It is a symbol of infinity and of your infinite love. When you look at these rings on your hands, be reminded of this moment, your commitment, and the love you now feel for each other.

Bo, place the ring on y/n’s finger and repeat after me: ‘Y/n, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love with the pledge: to love you today, tomorrow, always, and forever.’”

Bo does as he is told, placing the ring on your finger, his hands trembling lightly.

“And now, Y/n, place the ring on Bo’s finger and repeat after me.” You recite after the pastor, placing the ring on Bo’s finger as you gaze up at him once again.

“Do you, Bo Chow, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Bo replied quickly, a smile spreading across his face.

“Do you, Y/n, take Bo Chow to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” you squealed, smiling with delight.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Mississippi, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride!” Exclaimed the pastor.

Bo didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Come here, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and inviting, sending a thrill through the air. His heart raced like a wild drumbeat in his chest as he leaned in closer. With a gentle urgency, his soft lips captured yours. The warmth of his mouth enveloped you as your tongues danced together, intertwining in a tender exploration that deepened the connection between you.

As you both moved away from each other, cheers could be heard throughout the sanctuary. Your mother rose from her seat, a warm smile lighting up her face as she places the intricately decorated broom in front of you and Bo. “I love you, sugar. “ she said, before making her way back to her seat.

The pastor stood at the front, his voice resonating sincerity. “Ladies and Gentlemen, brothers and sisters, I present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Bo Chow!” His words were met with joyful cheers and applause that filled the air,

You turned to Annie, your maid of honor, and tenderly handed her your bouquet. As you turned back to Bo, your fingers intertwined with his, you felt a rush of excitement. “Are you ready, baby?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a playful grin, you replied, “You know I am.” Both prepared to leap over the beautifully adorned broom placed before you.

The crowd erupted into enthusiastic chants, “1... 2... 3...” as you and Bo tightened your grip on each other’s hands. In that moment, you could feel the love surrounding you, uniting everyone in celebration. With a shared breath and a leap of faith, you both jumped over the broom, solidifying your vows in a joyful culmination of laughter and cheers from your family and friends.

While cutting the cake, you lifted a piece to Bo's mouth. Before he could take a bite, you smashed your hand in his face, spreading the vanilla cream over his lips.

Smoke’s loud-ass laughing could be heard in the background. “Big head got you good,” he shouted from the table closest to the both of you.

Bo chuckled softly, as he reached for a napkin . He glanced up at you, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile. Your giggles began to subside, fading into soft, laughter. “Aww baby, you know I had to,” you said playfully, your fingers gently caressing his cheek while you puffed out your lips in a mock pout.

Bo remained silent, but his gaze was unwavering.

You stopped giggling and asked, "Why you lookin' at me like that, Bo?"

Bo didn’t answer; instead, he moved closer to you and softly grabbed your face to whisper in your ear.

"You makin it really hard to be a gentleman," Bo said, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

You then pursed your lips and replied, "And what do you mean by that, Mr. Chow?"

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get back home, Mrs. Chow, that’s what I mean “ He replied planting a kiss on your jawline before turning to get another slice of cake. “ Can't be actin unclassy in front of everybody “. He stated softly, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the table with your mother and the others.

Bo pulls out your seat when Smoke begins to talk to him. “Bo, you’s a married man now; how it feel?” Smoke said, taking a drink of the beer he had nestled in his hands.

Bo sits down before responding, finding your hands under the table. “I’m feelin' amazing. It don’t feel real, man.” He chuckles, glancing at you.

Stack then chimed in, “Mhm, I bet. Is the store gonna be open during y’all's little honeymoon?” He remarked, a subtle grin playing at the corners of his lips.

You playfully roll your eyes. Bo’s grin widened. “I’m sure the town gon' be alright for two days.” He chuckles, tracing your hand with his thumb under the table.

Annie turned to face you and Bo, her smile warm and genuine. “I’m truly happy for both of you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “I hope you enjoy every moment of yall’s honeymoon while you can.”

You gently slide your hand to Bo’s thigh beneath the table, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his dress pants. “Oh, we will,” you replied in softly.

Bo escorts you to the porch, bringing you to the front door. Taking out his keys and opening the door. Before you can step forward, Bo stops you. “Aht, Aht, darlin', I gotta carry you over the threshold,” Bo said, beginning to lift you up.

You squeal, “Bo!” You giggle.

He picks you up bridal style with ease, walking across the threshold and closing the front door with his foot.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Chow,” he says, walking you both into your home.

“Bo, you can put me down now,” you say with affection.

“Not yet, sugar. We ain't made it to the bedroom,” he said, biting his lips and grinning.

As you cross the threshold of the bedroom, you take in your surroundings and gasp.

“Baby, no you didn't! When did you even get the time to do all this?” you say, looking at the peonies spread across the bed.

“Don't worry 'bout it,” Bo replied, setting you down softly.

You sigh, “Fuck, I'm so tired,” you said, putting off your veil.

Bo looks at you with sympathy. “Oh my poor darlin’,” he says, cupping your face, caressing it softly, and moving closer to you. Your heart begins to flutter as he breathes lightly, his mouth close to yours.

“Want me to take your heels off?” He says teasingly.

You move back, annoyed. “Nigga, fuck you, you playin’ too much,” You exhaled deeply.

Bo smirks before replying to you, “We gettin’ to that. Be patient, baby.”

You move to playfully kick him, but he catches your foot, getting on his knees in front of you.

“I'm sorry, darlin’,” he pouts. He gently removes one of your heels and starts to rub your foot softly. You let out a soft moan as the tension in your feet begins to fade. Looking down at Bo, you find his brown eyes meeting yours just before he begins to kiss your ankle.

“You forgive me?” he asks. You purse your lips, pretending to think. “Hmm, I don’t know. I need more convincing.”

“Bàituō, bǎobèi” {please, baby}

He says desperately, kissing your ankles and moving up to your calves. Reaching the white garter you wore, he opens his mouth, latching his teeth onto the lace and pulling it down slowly until it reaches the bottom of your foot.

“What would you…” he pauses, looking up at you on his knees, eyes wide and filled with desperation. “Like me to do, Y/N? Beg? Fuck, I will, please…”

You smile. “I could never be mad at you” you say to him reaching down to stroke his his hair.

You bring your finger to your lip before saying “ You could taste me, though “ you pout.

Bo smirks. “put your leg over my shoulder then” he said eyes shining with want.

He pushes the bottom of your gown up, until he’s faced with the wet spot in your panties.

He outwardly shudders, opening his mouth to lick against your clothed cunt, sucking the fabric, groaning at the taste.

You let out a soft whine, Bo hears it and chuckles briefly moving from your clothed pussy.

“You like that baby?"   He asks, and sees the column of your throat bob as you nod, biting your lip with your eyebrows pursed.

Bo makes a face of mock disappointment toward you. “I need ya to say it, darlin,” he says, rubbing your thighs.

You whimpered feeling your folds clench around nothing before responding to Bo. “ I like it baby “ you say in a stuttered breath.

Bo shakes his head not satisfied “ Say it like you mean it” Bo says tracing kisses your thighs.

“ Baby, I Iove it please don't stop.” you whine out.

Bo says nothing as he’s faced with your clothed cunt once again. He moves both of his hands to take off your panties. When they're off he’s faced with your pretty pussy soaked for him.

He kisses your clit softly before you feel his tongue lick into your folds. He closes his eyes moaning at your taste.

Your chest heaved as you moved your legs. Bo grunted bringing one of his hands to pin your legs down.

You could feel him moving his tongue to lick your clit, making circles as he begins to move his head up and down.

You couldn't suppress a deep, throaty moan that escaped your lips, a sound filled with pure pleasure. As you closed your eyes, warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace, and vivid sensations danced through your body, heightening each moment into an exquisite experience.

“Nuh-uh, don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me.” Bo said to you, briefly moving away from your pussy eyes sharp with lust.

He moves back to your cunt, putting your little bud into his mouth, eyes watching your face buried into the sheets.

You could feel yourself steering closer to the edge. Your head thrown back, mouth hanging open, letting out those melodic moans Bo strived to hear.

Bo began to move faster, knowing that you were close. You moved your hands to his head once again, raking your nails through his hair. Bo then let out a stuttered breath, feeding off of you.

You close your eyes, feeling fire pooling low in your abdomen, time slowing.

“ Oh, fuck Bo “ you scream out gripping his hair harder your vision fading to white, your orgasm coming in shockwaves.

Bo moves away from your pussy, planting a soft kiss on your throbbing clit. Your body still coming down from your high.

You feel Bo’s body hover over yours; he brings his hand to your chin, looking at your soft face, pretty eyes glistening, small amounts of sweat lining your forehead.

“ My poor darlin already fucked out huh?” He purred moving his hand to your neck.

You don't respond, but instead, move your head up to meet his. Bo then moves his hand to stroke your hair before brushing your lips together.

His lips slowly meeting yours, tongues merging together in unison. Bo’s hand finds its place on your neck once more. He begins to suck on your tongue, causing a gargled moan to erupt from your throat. Bo slowly moves from your mouth, saliva connecting the both of you.

“Open your mouth, sugar,” he whispered.

You do as such, sticking your tongue out.

Bo then cooed, before pursing his lips, spit dribbling onto your awaiting tongue.

“Don't swallow,” Bo husked, moving one of his hands to your mouth. You take his digits in your mouth, sucking slowly and gathering spit. You can feel the coldness of Bo’s wedding band against your lips.

Bo groans. “ That’s it baby” He practically whines. You begin gurgling around his fingers eyes watering. Bo then removes his soaked hands from your mouth, moving them to your

cunt rubbing slowly. You let out a soft mewl; Bo pouts.

“ I know baby, I know “. He cooed, Bo then stopped, rubbing your clit. Hands moving up your body again.

“Turn around, darlin ,” he groaned . You begin to turn around on the sheets, your back facing him. Bo sighs lovingly as he begins to unzip your dress, moving it down slowly until it reaches your legs. He then moves over you once more, turning you to face him. You smile up at him as he leans down to peck your lips.

You then proceed to remove his suit jacket. The rest of his clothing follows suit. Bo then moves up further in the bed, his back hitting the headboard.

You move your body above his, caressing his chest, placing love bites across his neck.

You slowly move up to cup his face, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, feeling dizzy from the wave of arousal that hits you.

You move your hand down to his leg reaching his hardened cock and stroking it, you then took your other hand bringing it to your mouth sucking on your fingers. Bo lets out a hoarse whimper at the sight.

Your soaked hand replaced the one softly stroking his cock. You move to straddle him, pussy already clenching. Bo looks at you, with a dazed look in his eyes.

“ Come on pretty, ride it like it belongs to ya.”He says as your hands splay across his chest.

The both of you moaning as you sink down on his cock.

Bo holds your hips, guiding you aimlessly, as you set your preferred pace. Your hips roll sensually against Bo. Head reeling back in pleasure as you engulf his length.

Bo, arched his back, his breath quivering. His eyes began to be fixed on you, eyeing as your breasts bounced as you moved. Bo trailed his hands down to softly knead your ass as you continue to grind on him.

Tears begin to line your eyes; overtaken by unadulterated ecstasy. Bo lets out a sinful whine as he pushes his hips up to meet yours.

“ Oh, shit” he shakingly cries out.

You could feel your second orgasm growing closer. “ Baby I'm bout to cum” you moan breathless, your walls clenching around Bo’s cock.

Bo then moves to put two fingers in his mouth moistening them, his hands reach toward your clit, beginning to stimulate you.

Bo could feel his own orgasm rushing in quick, blood buzzing in his ears. He begins to rut his hips against yours erratically. You move to grasp his hand, holding it, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing against one another.

With one more thrust of his hips, you felt intoxicated by pleasure, babbling as you saw white. Panting as you look into Bo’s eyes.

The moment your eyes met Bo’s, his breath hitches, bringing your body closer to his. Hips moving up against yours frantically one final time, before letting out an animalistic growl, his cum painting your walls. Your shared bedroom filled with wet noises as your cunt squelched against his cock. He lazily moved against you, orgasm rippling through him.

Your heart stutters against your chest reeling from your high. Spent, both of you left flushed. The air was thick with the smell of sex, Bo purring against you, letting your breath tickle his ears as you collapsed against him.

Bo let out a soft chuckle, his breaths coming in uneven bursts. "I think we could use a good cleanin up after that," he murmured, gently pushing the damp curls away from your forehead. His voice was roughened, a low rasp that sent a thrill down your spine.

You cup his cheeks pecking his lips softly, purring.

“I wanna go again." you breathlessly giggle.

Taglist : @yummi3 , @pinkpantheris, @forsakenkrakendynamo,

Font / symbol credit : @sseraffin

[prettyrealm]

i love ur blog fr… one of my least favorite things about the tarot community (not just kpop) is how some people alter or water down their readings (or just aren’t perceptive enough) so that their content is more positive and validating for consumability… and the people who choose to be honest and direct get ate up 😭 divination can be harsh. idk why people are here expecting validation or only positive things. most of these idols are not nice!!

if you want a romantic story and enjoy living in denial, go to ao3!! wattpad or something?? y’all are looking for fanfiction. there are soooo many writing blogs on this site.

and i also have soooo much beef with like, pop culture tarot readings on youtube and tiktok that are clearlyyyyyy not too good in quality, but people eat it up blindly because it tells them things that they like to hear and never anything critical. i have a theory about that being one of the reasons why people assume honest readers have bad intentions or are hating on people. i don’t think people realize just how common it is to read on someone and get the vibe that they’re shitty in some capacity, or not even having to rely on intuition and to be directly told that there is something off about someone. idols aren’t usually any better than the average person, and the average person usually has bad traits. period. some are worse than the average person.

also… i have a problem with how it’s seen as perfectly fine to share the positive traits we’re able to pick up on through tarot, but sharing the negatives is seen as invasive?? like girl either it’s all invasive or none of it lmaooo. you’re okay consuming content that makes you feel like you’d be attractive to someone or reading about what their personality is like, but it’s too much when that same person says that they’d potentially be a bigot or have issues with stuff like anger? that’s when it’s too much??? 😭😭

Thank you so much for stopping by to show love!! I really appreciate your perspective and agree with pretty much everything you’ve said. 🩷

People were shocked by @dreamofmetoday and l’s ideal type readings being so specific and descriptive and we didn’t get why until we tapped in with other peoples readings and realized most are just saying very vague things or just things that EVERYONE is looking for in a partner (for example, kind, sympathetic, loyal) or just things that make it easy to self-insert in general. I think the self-insert aspect is a main reason people put such an emphasis on only focusing on the positive.

I also get asks demanding I tell them how I get such specific and detailed answers when it comes to things like homophobia/race/misogyny whatever, and it’s like, that’s just how it works? Makes me wish more people would get into tarot themselves so they could see.

The “romantic love story” crossover stuff that you mentioned is why I think you’ll often come across readings, and even PACs, on here that are like a wattpad story. like you said, many readers know there’s a large audience for this. For example when it comes to PACs, 3 pile PACs are a very quick and easy way to get followers and likes, but overall don’t exert a lot of energy and limit the amount of people who can actually connect with the PAC but then each pile will be filled with nuance, details and specifics and the reader is able to just say, “take what resonates and leave what doesn’t” to get away with it. How is someone even supposed to know what truly resonates and what doesn’t for a future spouse reading anyway? Not to mention, how can these readers suddenly get so much detail for a random pac and then not in their other readings or personal readings? There’s just a lot of predatory behavior in the tarot community unfortunately (thank you to melody’s anon for helping us label this finally too), and in turn, it creates a huge misunderstanding of what to expect from readings when you know nothing about tarot.

Not saying all 3 pile PACs are bad of course btw, because that would be ridiculous. There are of course situations where the 3 pile format makes sense, but a lot of them on here are just baiting.

In regards to positives being welcomed with open arms and negatives being considered invasive, it’s literally just nonsensical and honestly, a little weird (often the result of fetishization or idolization etc. so to say this under the pretense of high morals is odd… to say the least). I’ve seen people say things like “who are readers to decide what’s a negative?” when that’s literally not the case, it’s not a case of the reader “deciding” anything, I’m literally asking specifically about the negative traits. It makes me wonder what questions other readers are actually asking in the first place to even come to the conclusion that we would assigning these traits ourselves. Or the argument that “humans are multifaceted so we shouldn’t assign them blah blah blah” like… yeah… duh they’re multifaceted, which is why there’s literally a positives section? It just seems like they reach for excuses to defend their main point that the negatives of these men’s personalities just shouldn’t be acknowledged. It almost makes me feel like some people make these blogs to even improve their idols overall image on a smaller scale or have more control of the perception of it.

I really LOVE how you said “it’s either all invasive or none of it is” because that’s something Melody and I talk about together all the time. Their love lives and “kinks” aren’t invasive topics, but everything that could ruin someone’s fantasy about an idol is. In the end, you’re only allowed to post readings that let you daydream about being their best friend, boyfriend or girlfriend with no complications or obstacles I guess lol. Thanks again for sending this ask! It was really cool to unpack this and see that there’s a reader/follower on the same page. 🩷

[dekusleftsock]

MHA - How to break a trope

Why tropes are a good and bad thing

Something I was personally taught in the artist world is the phrase “you need to learn the rules before you break them”, and that should honestly be applied to any form of art. Writing, photography, drawing, animation, music, and even singing. Art is an abstract concept yes, but we as human beings are able to separate and break down things into patterns that we can understand and become better at doing. It’s not linear, but it’s also not completely abstract.

What is a trope?

Well, as Wikipedia puts it, “A literary trope is the use of figurative language, via word, phrase or an image, for artistic effect such as using a figure of speech. Keith and Lundburg describe a trope as, ‘a substitution of a word or phrase by a less literal word or phrase.”

However, in urban dictionary it defines it as, “An overused, nearly meaningless word worn out by pretentious twits, much like paradigm. See hackneyed and vacuous.”

Even though a trope is by definition is just an artistic affect, we generally perceive it as something overused within language. Usually, in literary language when we talk about common metaphors like, “she was as delicate as a daisy”, we call it a trope because of how common the phrase actually is. It can also be used for character tropes, like “the first girl” which just means that whatever love interest that was introduced in a love triangle first is going to be the end game. Or even the “manic pixy dream girl” trope which is commonly used in anime where a girl is super upbeat and the boy is not and she is actively trying to make him happier. It’s not necessarily that these are actually bad, rather just common. These are tropes and not rules though, which is why instead of learning how to break a trope, we have to learn what they are and why they’re so common.

Are tropes a good or bad thing?

Well, that kind of depends on the context.

Tropes are fun and a lot of times easier to write. They’re great for letting young writers make stories and have a lot of wiggle room with how you choose to use them.

But, as stated by the urban dictionary definition, they can be pretty boring to watch over and over again. Sometimes it’s hard to find good media that uses its tropes in a new or interesting way.

Something that we have to think about is that, even though tropes are common, they are tropes for a reason. Popular things are popular USUALLY because they’re good. There’s a reason why so many writers use them, and that’s because they can all be used in different and unique ways, but at what point does a trope start being an archetype?

Archetypes vs tropes

Lets get this out of the way; every character you have ever scene fits into an archetype. Hawaii.edu says that it’s, “Generally, the original model from which something is developed or made; in literary criticism, those images, figures, character types, settings, and story patterns that, according to the Swiss analytical psychologist, Carl Gustav Jung, are universally shared by people across cultures.”

There are 12 main archetypes, The Innocent, Everyman, Hero, Outlaw, Explorer, Creator, Ruler, Magician, Lover, Caregiver, Jester, and Sage. I could individually give a definition for each of these, but thankfully, because you are able to read this you also have access to Google. I recommend (especially if you wanna understand writing better and/or wanna be better at writing) to look into these individually and what they mean. It’s very insightful.

Besides that, a trope becomes an archetype when you take away the specifics. A love interest like “the first girl” could be any of these archetypes. A trope will always have an archetype but an archetype will not always have a trope.

How to make a trope interesting

My advice here is to mix and match. Try to not follow a formula, and combining tropes with other tropes, or even twisting something on its head (like turning the first girl trope into the two love interests get together and/or making it non monogamous in some way) will make your tropes more interesting than others.

But also? Knowing when and when not to break a trope is just as important.

Take MHA, DOES ochako fit “the first girl” trope with toga? Because I don’t think she does. If that were the case Horikoshi wouldn’t have made toga be in love with ochako too.

Katsuki definitely fits quite a few tropes. Childhood friends, tsundere, and maybe even the first girl trope.

My point here is that tropes are a way to talk to the audience and relay information. Whether that be through communicating that this will be the next thing happening (like bkdk being canon in some way) or tricking you into thinking it will be something else. (Like 342 being about how ochako wants to save toga rather than a genuine izu//ocha moment)

We have to think critically about how a story chooses to present itself, because a good writer will know EXACTLY WHY they made each and every decision in their story. There is importance and meaning in so much more of storytelling than we initially think.

[sinners4ever]

Long Live the King

[Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Twin!Fem Reader]

[Content/Warning(s): !!18 PLUS!!, Incest, Angst, Tension, Forced Marriage, Violence]

[Word Count: 2,437]

[Author’s Notes: This is something new that I’m writing and it’s going to be a bit different from the majority of my works. I’m honestly scared you all won’t like it, but I hope you do. There is still going to be smut involved, but not for the the next two chapters so forgive me in advance. I hope y’all enjoy the read.]

“Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it."—Lady Macbeth, William Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Chapter One

The sound of metal striking pierced the air as you and your brother Aemond sparred. This was your favorite pastime; besting your brother. He smiled at you with that mischievous grin while you kept up your defense waiting for him to strike. He lunged forward with his sword pointed at you and you ducked under his arm spinning so now your backs were against one another. You enjoyed this time with him, he often said that you were the only person other than Ser Criston that could keep up with him.

He pushed back against you making you fly forward. He quickly turned to you and swept your feet from underneath you and you landed on your ass wincing at the harsh feeling of the ground hitting your tail bone. He laughed in his triumph and held his hand out to you. “Better luck next time, dear sister.” You smacked his hand out of your face standing to your feet on your own. Ser Criston clicked his tongue, “Princess, there is no need to be a sore loser.”

You rolled your eyes putting your weapon away and grabbing a goblet before a servant ran to fill your cup. “It is quite alright, Ser Criston my brother has finally managed to beat me after five rounds of me knocking him on his ass. I guess it is only right that I let him win at least once.” You snickered and looked back at him and he was more than annoyed with you. You sauntered off making your way to your chambers and Aemond was close behind you.

You heard his quick footsteps catching up and you slowed your pace so he could. Without warning he yanked you by the arm and pushed you against the stone wall. “Ao va moriot mazverdagon nyke se mittys, jorrāelagon mandia.” (“You always make me the fool, dear sister.”) You smiled letting a finger trace over his jawline. “Iksan vaoreznuni, lēkia. Yn ao mazverdagon ziry sīr easy.” (“I am sorry, brother. But you make it so easy.”)

You knew how to push his buttons even slightly and he loved that about you. You lit a fire within his belly and it made him even with his eye gone and the deep scar that was etched within his skin he felt like the most confident man in King’s Landing. The two of you were inseparable and the love you shared for one another was as strong as Valyrian steel. It was bond that could never be broken and the two of you would make sure that it was never severed. Even though it was obvious the two of you longed for one another, but neither of you took the liberty of making it known.

Tonight was the night their sister Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards were coming to visit King’s Landing. Your father was incoherent and you wondered why they continued to keep him alive when he clearly was suffering. Honestly you believed he was holding out for his first born child and you wished he held the same love for you as he did her, but you knew that was never to be. Your brothers were bitter and cold behind it Helaena didn’t pay it any mind she was too busy within her own world and spitting out riddled prophecies and you were just indifferent. You held resentment for Rhaenyra your father loved her with his very being and he would do all he could do to protect her.

You figured it was the guilt for deciding his first wife’s fate. It was brutal and you could understand his stance. Nonetheless you still wished he could’ve been that father for you. Now your nephews…you despised them for maiming your brother. You were there to help him in the fight, but things just went too far. You heard of their arrival and you did not wish to greet them. You were in the training yard watching your brother train while you read a book about Old Valyria before The Doom.

You all knew about Lord Vaemond’s plans to fight for Driftmark. You and your brother found it quite amusing and you both made it a point to be very present at this meeting. Before, the main event was to happen Ser Criston Cole interrupted your brothers training and your reading time. “My Prince and Princess you mother and Grandsire wish to speak with you.” Upon entering your mothers private chambers Alicent looked to you with a smile that was meant to be warm, but you had a sickening feeling within your belly.

Aemond seemed a little worried watching your grandfather emerge from the shadows and Aegon was seated a few mere feet away; drunk as usual. He was so disgusting you thought, but your intrusive thoughts were quickly interrupted when your mothers voice broke through. “Y/N this is to be a marvelous day, dearest. You are betrothed.” Your face lit up had they finally decided to marry you and Aemond? You looked to him and he was in shock, but he seemed proud. But that joy was to be very short lived. “Really mother? To whom?”

“To Aegon, my love.” Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach. The first face you looked for was your twin’s. He looked mortified his expression depicted all you were feeling and thinking at once. “You’re going to make me marry that cunt?” You quickly became infuriated…knowing all to well who and what Aegon was. He was a beast of a man. Callous, uncaring, and worst of all he took advantage of women. “This is who you want me to marry? A man who treats women like nothing, but mere objects he can fuck whenever he feels like it whether they want him or not. This is to be my life?”

“Y/N he will be a great husband to you…” Otto placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you and you shrugged away shaking your head in disbelief. “I would’ve rather spend the rest of my life with one of Rhaenyra’s bastards then to spend one minute with this pig!” You were breaking and the tears welled within your eyes threatening to fall. Aegon laughed at your outcry and Aemond stood silent seething trying to keep his composure. “Dear sister, I promise you don’t have to worry about me trying to bed you…I don’t think I could stomach it.” He laughed loudly and that sent Aemond into a rage. How dare he speak of you as if you weren’t the goddess that you are.

He sprang forward and his fist hit him square in the face. Aegon had been knocked out in his seat. His head completely leaned back and his mouth agape. “Don’t you dare speak of her in that way, you fucking craven!” He hissed with anger and you were too distraught to say another word. You ran into the hall going to The Dragonpit to see your dragon Fyrefly. It was as if a dam had broken ad your tears just began to fall. It was if Fyrefly could sense your distress and she quickly came when you called. “Fyrefly, māzigon naejot nyke.” (“Fyrefly, come to me.”) A growl bellowed within her stomach and you smiled feeling the warmth of her iridescent scales warmed your hand. “Lykiri…” (“Calm down.”) Fyrefly lowered herself anxious for you to mount her. You obliged and rubbed the side of her neck feeling her breathing.

“Sōvēs.” (“Fly.”) Fyrefly ran forward and spread her wings lifting you into the air. You felt the wind hitting your face and in your hair and The Red Keep was beginning to become smaller and smaller. You stretched out your arms as the beast flew higher into the clouds and you felt…free. You always felt something soothing when you were riding on dragonback. Fyrefly was one of the fastest dragon known in King’s Landing and one of the most beautiful. Her scales were the color of coral and her scales gave off a pearlescent sheen. When the sun shined on her it was quite a site to see. Much time had passed and you realized you had missed Lord Vaemond’s council with your Grandfather. It was time to go home.

Arriving back your were greeted by Aemond who was upset with your sudden escape. He pulled you in for a hug and whispered in your ear. “I will not let him have you…you are mine.” He looked into your eyes and you his. So much passion within it how did you not see it before. You were a few mere inches away from each others lips. His hand cupping your face, you leaned into its warmth. His breathing became heavy, but you were quickly interrupted by a dragon-keeper passing by. Aemond cleared his throat and you realized he was dressed in a green tunic ready for dinner. “Wait, what happened with Vaemond and Driftmark?” He chuckled at the thought and took your hand to fill you in while you both made your way to dinner with your “family”.

“What!?…Daemon cut off his head!? And I missed it..” You and Aemond were laughing and seemed to have forgotten about what happened earlier, but the two of you were quickly interrupted by the sounds of your father talking at dinner. You took your seats and a servant came to fill your cups with wine. At first things were rather hostile for you with your problems and the problems your family had with Rhaenyra and her house. But, Alicent and your sister pretended to try and get along for the sake of the King. It was disheartening to see him in such decay. You all laughed and seemed to be enjoying each others company, but Viserys began to groan in pain and he was quickly taken away. Once he was gone the chaos ensued.

You could feel the shift and you knew your brother was up to no good when it came to Jacaerys and Lucerys when a roasted pig on a platter came in the room and they began to laugh. Your brother stood to toast to your nephews and you looked to them in distain. They thought what they did to him was still all fun and games, but you knew all too well the grudge he held for them after all these years. “Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong.” Your mother hissed his name to silence him in which he turned to her with a disgusted glare. “Come… let us drain our cups to these three…Strong boys.”

Jacaerys stood to his feet if looks could kill he would’ve burned a hole into your brothers head. “I dare you to say it again.” You knew it had gone to far and Aemond needed someone to take all of his frustration out on and you were not about to let him go off the deep end. “Aemond…please.” You whispered taking his hand in your his eye darted to you, but his pride became much larger than his affections for you at this very moment. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Jacaerys sprang forth from where he stood punching Aemond in the face and you stood up knocking him back and Aegon followed taking the youngest Strong pushing his face into the table. While your mother and sister tried wrangling all of you in. Rhaenyra sent them away and Daemon stopped Aemond in his track as he attempted to follow behind them. You took his hand and looked into his eye letting him know it was now over at-least for now. “Aemond…Come now…” The two of you went back to your chambers so that he could blow off steam.

He paced back and forth mumbling to himself in fury. You had never seen him like this so blood thirsty. You didn’t know if you liked seeing this side of him or if you terrified. Honestly it was a mix of both. You approached him turned him to face you. You placed your hands on his face and he melted into them. Forgetting about everything that plagued his mind. “Brother…I will follow you to ends of the realm…truly you must know this. You cannot provoke them this way…believe me I know of your anger. I see it every day but we will have our day with them. That I promise you.”

“We need to find a way to ruin this wedding. You know what he will do to me..Aemond.” Aemond embraced you burying his face into her silver tresses inhaling your scent. “I told you he will not have you and that is a promise. And I think I know a way. But, it is a rather treacherous act…” You looked to him with curiosity in your eyes. “What do you mean, my love?” He thumb followed you jawline and he kissed your forehead. “I will not tell you right away, Y/N. I need to plan it out and I will let you know. I have to leave you I’m sure our Grandsire and our mother will be having my head tonight.”

You knew what he meant…when he said treacherous. At times the two of you often jested about it. Killing Aegon…it was always laughable..sometimes you often wondered if your brother was being serious. He did have many reasons and your undying loyalty to Aemond would let him lead you into a dark abyss if that is what he wished. You thought Aemond would make a most excellent king…you knew of Otto’s plans to put Aegon on the throne, but he was undeserving and followed his animalistic appetites too often, for him to be noble and levelheaded.

He was going to be a plague on King’s Landing and even though your brother said he would figure it out, you were the most cunning of the two and he was trying to keep you out of the loop, but you would not lay and wait for him to do what needed to be done. You stayed up most of the night pacing back and forth in your dark room unable to sleep. And finally it came to you. You knew exactly how to isolate him and get him right where you wanted him. You made your way to Aemond’s room from the secret passageway and you hopped on top of him to wake him.

You could say you looked psychotic or for better words unhinged with that sinister smile on your face. “I know how we are to kill our brother…”

To be continued…

[mercurygguk]

a gift of love | jjk

➵ summary; It’s Jihoon’s birthday, so you bring him a present. Much to Jungkook’s surprise.

pairing; dad!jungkook x f. reader

rating; G

word count; 1,587

content; fluff, jihoon’s bday is here !! our lil baby is turning 4

warnings; none :)

a/n; a cute lil drabble for y’all <3 nothing wild but it’s absolutely fluffy i might puke – let me know what you think!!

↳ ‘the dilf installments’ masterlist · the ‘tdi’ tag

Jihoon’s 4th birthday is coming up.

Jungkook has been talking about it for the past two months, unable to believe that his son is growing older. Turning 4 years old doesn’t seem like an awful lot but as a parent, you can imagine that it feels like a lot.

The only thing difficult about this whole situation is finding a birthday present for your boyfriend’s son.

“What do you even give a 4-year-old?” Mina asks, looking rather uninterested as she looks through the children’s clothes. You’re looking through the rack on the opposite wall, letting out a soft sigh at her question.

“I have no idea.”

Mina clicks her tongue and moves on to the shoe section, doing a quick look over before turning back around to face you as nothing caught her eye.

“What is this kid into?” She then asks. “Disney? Superheroes?”

You shrug, “he really likes dinosaurs and uh… Lego.”

“Of course, he does,” Mina chuckles in fake amusement.

You purse your lips, trying to think of something to give Jihoon. You glance around the children’s clothing store you’re in right now and sigh. Sure, you could buy him a shirt with dinosaurs on it but you feel like it’s too basic and too easy. You’ve known Jihoon for quite a while at this point, so you want to give him a gift that shows just how much you enjoy being a part of his life.

The LEGO section of the toy store across from the clothing store catches your eye. A small smile spreads across your face as you spot a Lego box from afar that would be the perfect gift for Jihoon.

“What are you looking at?” Mina tries to look in the same direction as you, confusion written all over her face when she doesn’t spot the thing you could possibly be looking at. All she sees is a store filled with toys.

You point to it, “let’s go there.”

Three days later you’re making your way towards Jungkook’s front door, excited and slightly anxious about visiting on Jihoon’s birthday, even though it won’t be a long visit. Jungkook told you he and Jihoon are going to Minji’s place later to celebrate with their families which you don’t want to hold them back from, so you’ll only stop by and give Jihoon his gift before heading out again. 

You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop in front of Jungkook’s front door, the bag with the nicely wrapped Lego box dangles from your tightly clenched hand, nerves bouncing off you. There’s always a chance the person you’re gifting something won’t like what you got them.

Hopefully today won’t be one of those days.

Half a minute after you’ve knocked on the door, it opens. You expected to see Jungkook but he’s nowhere to be seen. Instead there’s an excited, grinning little boy staring up at you with twinkling doe eyes.

“____!”

The excitement rattling off Jihoon causes your heart to flutter, a feeling of something unfamiliar spreading through your entire body. You match his grin, equal excitement filling your face as you greet him.

“Hi, sweetie! Happy birthday!”

Jihoon lets out the cutest laugh you’ve ever heard, clapping his hands together, “thanks!”

“Can I come in?” You ask sweetly, before holding up the bag in your hand, “I have a birthday present for you.”

The tiny human in front of you nods excitingly before running off towards the living room, a loud ‘daddy! daddy! ____ is here! She has a present for me!’ leaving his small mouth in a hurry. You laugh softly to yourself, stepping inside and getting rid of your coat and shoes before following in the same direction as Jihoon.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook’s voice fills the room just as you turn the corner to the living room, a soft grin on his face when his eyes meet yours. Before Jihoon can run towards you to grab the present you’re holding, Jungkook holds onto him and whispers something in his ear. There’s a glint in his eyes as he glances at you for a short second before he lets go of Jihoon again.

“Thank you, ____,” Jihoon shyly says as you hand the gift to him.

“You’re welcome, sweetie” you smile, sitting down next to Jungkook on the couch. His hand immediately wanders to rest on your thigh, giving it a squeeze as he watches his son struggling to handle the slightly big present you’ve brought. Eventually he manages to unpack it, an exciting shriek of laughter leaving his lips, his doe eyes so wide you’d think they were about to pop out of his head.

However, Jungkook stares at the Lego box, lips slightly parted.

You grimace at his reaction, not sure how to interpret it. Hesitation and possibly a slight bit of regret rests within you, the words on the tip of your tongue falling from your lips as soon as he looks at you.

“I know it’s a bit much but I had no idea what to gift him and I saw this Lego box and it just had his name on it, you know? I know he loves dinosaurs and I know he loves Lego so I thought it’d be the perfect present and I- what?“

There’s a look you can’t quite read on your boyfriend’s face, the hints of a smile yet a distant look in his eyes as he stares at you.

He shakes his head softly, giving your thigh another affectionate squeeze, “you’re amazing.”

Despite the simplicity of his words, you feel your cheeks heating up, “well, I don’t know, I just-“

Jungkook slides his hand into yours, fingers intertwining as he brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. The sound of cardboard being ripped fills the air around you, the rustling of Lego bricks and plastic following right after. Jungkook glances at his son, noticing the happy grin on his face as he plays with the Lego he just received for his birthday.

A strong feeling of happiness fills Jungkook’s body at the sight.

“You didn’t have to buy him anything,” he says, looking at you again.

“I couldn’t visit without a present,” you shrug.

“You could’ve,” Jungkook says pointedly. He’s right – you could’ve. You’ve known Jihoon for less than a year and yet here you are, spending money on him like you’ve known him his whole life. “But you didn’t.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to give him a present for his birthday.”

Jungkook flashes you a soft grin just as Jihoon gasps excitingly, dumping all of his new Lego onto the floor. You watch with a smile as he grabs the instruction folder and starts building the T-Rex Lego model. The box says it’s for 7+ years old children but it looks like it’s a piece of cake for Jihoon.

Pride wells up in Jungkook’s chest and he can’t help but give your hand a squeeze before kissing the back of it again. Your heart skips a beat every time he does that and the small smile on his face as he looks at his son is worth every penny you spent on that Lego box. Jihoon’s quiet, happy humming as he builds the T-Rex does something to your heart as well and before you can stop yourself, you’re letting your head rest on Jungkook’s shoulder, a smile matching Jungkook’s spreading on your lips.

A couple of hours later, after helping Jihoon finish building the T-Rex and playing with it, you and Jungkook cuddle up against each other on the couch. Jihoon is passed out in the bean bag in the corner of Jungkook's living room, his soft snores reaching the two of you every once in a while.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Jungkook says softly, hand running over your thigh and giving it a squeeze. His dark brown eyes meet yours, gratitude evident in them as he looks at you. “And for bringing him a present.”

You sigh and wave a dismissive hand, one Jungkook swiftly catches with his own. Your stomach flips as he intertwines your fingers, his thumb caressing the back of it in soft strokes.

“It’s the least I can do,” you admit, “I’ve been taking up a lot of his dad’s attention lately. I feel bad.”

The small smirk that spreads across Jungkook’s makes your heart tingle in a funny way, heat and giddiness filling your entire body. Spending time with Jungkook is everything and so much more. When you first met him at that restaurant-turned-bar, you had no idea you’d end up here; legs thrown over his lap, hands intertwined and gazes of affection aimed at each other while his son takes a nap not too far away in his beloved bean bag.

“Don’t,” Jungkook brings you back from your own thoughts. “I want you here. Jihoon wants you here. You’re not taking up our time, you’re adding to it.”

There’s something in Jungkook’s eyes, a glint or spark that affects you more than you would think. And as you sit here, cuddled up against him you realize that it’s comfort, gratitude, happiness… Love.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words as if Jihoon isn’t allowed to hear you say it. But really, you know Jungkook doesn’t mind. It’s just that those three words are for him and him only – between you and him. And Jungkook understands because he smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“I love you too, baby.”

[sevikas-whistle]

Ours Part Three: All I Need

Quick authors note:

🔞 plus only, NSFW content towards the end, Bond sex, drinking, xenophobia and classism. We’re world building arcane here y’all. I wanted to make this longer but Tumblr ate my edited draft and I just didn’t have the strength to go on longer than I did. Luckily I start writing this series in my notes app before I copy paste it to tumblr so there was still a good portion there. As always constructive criticism is always appreciated!!

Ours Pt 3

Absentmindedly, you reached for the silver cuff on your bedside, placing it on your marked wrist and hastily throwing on a pair of shorts before making your way out of the privacy of your room. Passing Marina and Chani, who were still attempting to block out the obnoxious knocking.

“I’m coming! One moment!” You called out again, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Quickly unlocking and opening your door before your neighbors had a valid cause for filing a noise complaint.

A blur of white made way past you, making themselves at home in your cute little apartment. It took all of two seconds to piece together who the person was. A tinge of surprise and annoyance making its way through you.

“Placements are out” she said simply, flipping her hair in the process of getting more comfortable in the last seat available in your living room. As if that was reason enough for her to be demanding entry into your home at such a gods foresaken hour.

“Good morning to you too, Staisha.” You tried keeping the sigh out of your voice as you closed the door behind you.

The woman with perfectly styled waves smiled, clutching the four large envelopes to her chest. How she even got everyone’s letters was another uncomfortable surprise. You didn’t want to think about who she had to bribe, and how much was offered to get not only her letter this early, but the other three in her hand. You made your way towards her, reaching a hand out for yours to which she obliged. Quickly handing Chani and Marinas theirs after. It was well known at this point that Staishas family had a history of being politically active in Piltover. She had made it a point to anyone who would listen that one of the available Senate chairs was pretty much hers.

You stared at the envelope that held your letter, it’s contents dictating what your future held. It suddenly felt entirely too heavy.

“No matter what, we have to promise here and now to be happy for each other.” Staisha said. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve missed her supercilious tone. Easy for her to say. If she didn’t get the position she applied for, she could easily rely on her parents money. And that’s without the pull her Uncle has as a sitting council member.

“Open on three” Chani stated, suddenly bright eyed and ready

“One..two..thr-“

The envelopes were ripped open befor the last syllable was uttered.

.

.

.

“I got it.” You whispered

Filled with elation, you read that you had been granted a highly coveted Senate seat. You were officially the first ever zaunite to be a sitting member of the Piltover senate. Reporting directly to the High Council itself on and in behalf of the citizens of piltover….especially for the constituents residing in the lanes. Before this point, senators were exclusively chosen from piltovers elite families. There had only been three seats available..

And you were chosen out of dozens of other candidates

A stupid grin made its home across your face. Only interrupted by the sound of balled up papers. Glancing up, you quickly found the source of the noise.

Staisha

A look of disbelief quickly morphed into fury and she made eye contact with you.

“Y-you got it, didn’t you?”

“..I did.”

She let out a spiteful laugh

“This has to be a mistake. My family has held a senate chair for generations. There’s no way a fissure folk street rat-“

A laugh bubbles out from your lips before you could stop it. Clearly making the situation worse for Staisha. It wasn’t the first time a topsider was pissed at you for “taking” something that “belonged to them by breed or creed” and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time, either.

Despite this, their reactions were quiet priceless.

“Staisha, let me get this straight,” Marina started. That stupid grin from before Staishas outburst was returning in full force.

“You come barging into Y/N’s apartment, uninvited at the ass crack of dawn I might add, To open our letters, which is traditionally done in the presence of family, friends, and other well wishers; all because some DEEP part of you must have known that there was a damn good chance you wouldn’t be receiving that chair, the chair that Y/N earned-“

“My Uncle!-

“Your arguments must have been weak as fuck for your uncle, a sitting council member, to not have enough pull to save his own niece a seat at the table. If I were you, I would take what’s left of your dignity and leave. Y/N might not be in a position to beat your pathetic ass, but I sure can.” Marina growled. Her perfectly manicured hands gripping her own letter too tightly.

Staishas jaw dropped. As if she was surprised that Marina of all people would call her out on her true intentions and lack of capability. In her defense, it was probably the first time anyone has read her so thoroughly and to her face. The look of disbelief on said face resembled that of the dead fish in the morning markets. Looking at Chani for help and finding none, she stormed out of the apartment without another word, slamming the door on her way out.

*****Sevika’s POV*****

“And what’s got you smiling this early, dearest?” Silco hummed. Eyes wavering back to the reports in his hand. “Surely not waking up from your little power nap.”

“…Good dreams”

This caught your partners attention. Having spent seven years together, he’s well aware of the fact that “Good Dreams” actually translated to: relations in the “other realm”

The briefest of smiles ghosted his lips,

“Show me”

The slow burn of curiosity and longing coursed through the bond, and he didn’t even bother hiding it. Getting up from his desk, reports be damned, he grabbed his drink and made his way towards the couch. Motioning for me to make space. He gracefully sat down, patting his lap for me to rest my head back down.

“She’s fucking beautiful.” I moaned, getting comfortable.

Knowing Silco would want every detail since he didn’t have the pleasure of meeting our destined partner, I started with the first image I had of her; leaving The Last Drop with what must have been two friends of hers. The look of shock on her face as I called out for her adorable now.

I felt the mental screen shot Silco made of her before continuing on. Sending him the alley chase, how we briefly lost her, and then how I found her. Panting in that damned prehistoric materials trolly. There are much more exciting ways to get her panting and bothered, and I look forward to enacting these methods.

‘She’s resourceful’ Silco hummed appreciatively; taking a thoroughly different train of thought to the situation that played in our heads.

I recalled nearly loosing my arm, again, and her immediate reaction and desire to help me. Silco made a noteworthy sound at that. His fingers ran through my hair tenderly as I showed him our kiss, which solidified our part of the bond, and the kisses after that in the “other realm”

A small pang of jealously ebbed into the bond before Silco finished the rest of his drink.

“Forgive me, my love.”

Nodding in understanding, we sat in peaceful silence as he processed.

“She’s perfect. I sincerely cannot wait to meet her.” He whispered finally.

“I already arranged that. We’re meeting her tonight at 7:00 at the library across from the capital building.” Silco raised a brow at that

“She already seemed skittish. Figured it would be best for you to meet her in a place she’s more comfortable in.”

We both replayed the scene of her running from me in the alley

Silco smiled at that, “Smart girl”

Grunting in response I nuzzed into Silcos lap before I felt it. Something that wasn’t coming from Silco or myself.

Elation, and it was coming from Y/N

Her joy made me smile in turn. The eye of Zaun looked down at me, raising an inquisitive brow before lighting a cigar. Taking a deep inhale, he waited for me to explain.

“She’s happy. Elated actually.” I explained, rubbing a hand over my heart, “it’s almost uncomfortable. We’ll have to be diligent in showing her how to have more control of her side of the bond.”

It had taken Silco and I years to manage that. I sent the elated energy to him so he could not only take the edge off from me, but to bask in it as well.

He closed his eyes and leaned back contently

Seven o’ clock couldn’t come fast enough

*********

Chani and Marina left shortly after Staisha made her abrupt and welcomed exit. Their letters and clothes from the night before in hand.

Their absence gave you time to tidy up as you let your mind wander on the huge changes happening in your life right now. A life long Senate position and all that entailed…your newly found soulmates.

Big changes for sure.

You would have to make a trip to see your parents to inform them on your new role in Piltover society. Show them the proof of what their sacrifices led to for their daughter. You were still on the fence about bringing up the fact that you met one of your soulmates when they seemed pretty damn adamant on you not doing that very thing.

Whelp, couldn’t be helped now.

As your mind lingered to Sevika, you couldn’t help the blush that made its way through your body. Just the mere thought of her, her voice, her lips…Its alarming how much you craved her in such a short span of time. And this was only one of your soulmates. Imagine the damage when you’re fully bonded to both of them.. gods, you’ll never want to stop fucking them if what you experienced in the “other realm” was just a taste of what it would be like in real life. Just the thought of your time with Sevika made your core throb with want. You’ve had a handful of flings in the past few years. But nothing measured to what you were experiencing now. Maybe you should rub one out before meeting with them…make sure at least one of us was level headed tonight.

Would it be so awful to explore each other’s bodies on the first time meeting? It wasn’t unheard of by any means..

You felt wetness gather in your hastily thrown on sleep shorts.

“I can’t think in these conditions” you moaned at yourself, making your way towards your bedroom, kicking the shorts off on the walk there. Throwing them in a basket, you flopped onto the bed, getting comfortable. You laid back into your pillows, legs spreading widely before slowly dipping your fingers down where you needed them most. Teasing yourself you felt the wetness at your entrance and spread it, imagining it was Sevika’s strong fingers instead of yours. You whimpered at that thought alone.

‘Couldn’t wait for me for a few more hours Y/N?’ Sevika asked via bond, throughly amused at the situation.

A surprised sequel left you as your hand froze in place and you closed your legs around your wrist. Making an attempt to hide, feeling as if she physically caught you in the act of pleasuring yourself while thinking of her. Unfortunately for you, feeling her presence only made your pussy spasm, knowing she was your current unintentional audience.

‘Don’t stop now sweetheart. Show me how you want me to finger fuck you.’ She said bluntly, her own hunger seeping through the bond

Removing your wet fingers from your core, you tried offering a mortified apology;

‘Sevika, I am so sorry-‘

‘I said, “Show me” Y/N.’ She growled

An excited thrill coursed through you as your two fingers dipped back into your core, proud of your own slick, you pushed in as deep as you could.

‘Add another finger’ Sevika demanded

A whine escaped you as you did just that, curling them inside you, increasing speed. The palm of your hand rocked along your over sensitive clit with your movements. Despite the pleasure you were experiencing, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have Sevika’s mouth on you instead. Her tongue, her lips forming a suction on your clit as her thick fingers fucked you senselessly. You imagined her prosthetic arm pinning you down as you wrapped your long legs around her head. Clamping down around her head.

Sevika hummed in approval at the mental image, sending you one in return. The intensity of it made you cry out loud

She picked up where you left off, her mouth devouring you until this version of yourself was crying and begging for more. You accepted demise under her touch. She mercilessly continued until you finally came, hard. Licking her lips, she lifted her head from your core. Beautiful piercing eyes watching your trembling body with a smug look of satisfaction.

Slowly crawling up your body, “Ready for more baby?” She asked

Suddenly very aware of the thick strap she wore, she lined it up with your entrance. Your hands settled on her full chest, groping her there as she hummed appreciatively.

Kissing you intently, she purposefully thrust fully into you, swallowing your gasp of pleasure. She gave you a moment to adjust as she kissed you with a passion that left you truly breathless, again. You wiggled your hips, wordlessly attempting to get her to move, and you felt her wicked smirk as she graciously did just that.

Lifting your legs over her shoulders, she dove into you like her life depended on it. Her own thrusts matching the rhythm and speed of your desperate hand movements.

“Sevika please” you begged

“Oh are you going to come sweet girl? You gonna come for mommy?” The unexpected title made you jolt and she made a mental note of it.

Pulling your fingers out of your sopping core, you focused solely on your throbbing clit. Head moving to the side as you tried to breathe

‘Come on, come for me sweet girl. Give it to me.’ Her sultry demand made you cry out, the mental image of her fucking into you ruthlessly continued on, pushing you that much closer to the edge

‘Look at you, so pathetic for me. I haven’t even touched you there yet, and that pussy already belongs to me.’

“Fuck!” You cried out

The territorial growl doing you in, your muscles spasmed around nothing as your cramping hand swirled around your wet clit one more time

‘Good fucking girl’ she moaned hungrily

It took a few minutes to recover from the intensity of your orgasm. Yet you felt Sevika’s comforting presence linger, a gift in itself. If this is what it was like through the bond, you truly might not be able to help yourselves when you’re all together.

Sevika’s chuckle rang through the bond, “Silco and I couldn’t keep our hands off of each other for a good 12-13 months before it became manageable. Something about trine bonds being more intense.’

She paused before adding thoughtfully, ‘I’ve also heard that the longer you go without completing the soul bond, after your marking day…it could become overwhelming, if not handled properly.’

You nodded in response, not capable of words quite yet.

Sevika’s laugh rang through your mind.

‘Get some rest, we’ll see you tonight.’

And with that, her presence ebbed from your mind. Allowing you to fall into a guilt free, and much needed nap.

If your instincts served you well, you had a feeling you would need your strength for later.

************************************************

*** y’all I swear silco will be in the next chapter. Imma be real honest I’m having a lot of fun with Sevika but I had every intention on having them meet in this chapter but it wasn’t meant to be. Thank you for your patience!

[forbidden-forest-witch]

Destiné à Être: A Remus Lupin story

Chapter Six: Confessions 

***Buckle up, y’all, because this is a long one. It’s all about developing character relationships. I promise there’s Remus content scattered throughout, and we’ll be focusing on his and Brigitte’s dynamic a lot more in the following chapters.  This is a slow burn, but it depicts my favorite version of Remus: shy and set on keeping people at a distance. He’s only human though, and he can’t ignore his feelings forever.... 

(Warnings:Smoking, drinking, language, sexual themes. 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.8k 

...

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic." -Oscar Wilde 

Brigitte pats the head of the giant feathered creature knelt before her. Buckbeak nuzzles into her side, making her laugh. It's been two chaotic days since she's moved in-- filled with getting familiar with her neighborhood and meeting all the Weasleys--and Brigitte is finally paying him a visit before leaving for her first assignment. 

"I'm so happy to meet you too, Beaky. Hagrid will be thrilled", she giggles “I promise I’ll be back”. After Sirius detailed how he came to have possession of the creature, Brigitte realized that this was the exact Hippogriff that Hagrid had mentioned to her nearly ten months ago. 

Back in her room she puts on her worn combat boots, grabs her wand from the dresser, and is out the door. Coincidentally, Remus is also exiting the bathroom at the same moment, and Brigitte collides right into his chest. He reflexively grabs her arm to prevent her from falling.

"I'm so sorry!", she winces. She peaks up at Remus, standing there with a lopsided smirk as he dries his hair with a small towel. Merlin, that smile. He faintly squeezes her arm before putting his hand in his jumper pocket. Brigitte gulps when she sees the beads of water dripping from his long hair, down his neck and dampening his shirt.

"I'm fine, really. Are you okay?", Remus asks. Brigitte simply nods, looking like a deer in headlights. He had been so easy to talk to since the moment they met, and that's what makes her nervous. 

"Good. Moody'll kill me if I injure you before your first mission".  

"Promise I won't tell", she says cheekily. "But I must go, or I might have to tell him you made me late. I hope to see you later. Have a nice day!".

Brigitte proceeds to the front door before Remus can respond. If she had turned around, she would have seen him watching to make sure she doesn't have another collision on her way out. On the front stoop, Brigitte concentrates on the address Alastor Moody sent her the previous night via floo mail. She Disapparates and lands in the disclosed alleyway, groaning at the way her stomach churns.

A large shadow appears from behind the dumpsters.

"You're late", Moody grumbles, taking his wand to create a silencing charm around them. Nymphadora Tonks steps out from behind the old auror and gives her new friend a quick hug.

"No she's not, Mad-Eye. We're obnoxiously early", Tonks mocks as she steps beside Brigitte.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!", he pounds his walking stick on the ground, making both girls jump. "Be early next time".

"Yeah, yeah, yeah", Tonks waves her hand dismissively.

"So, I hear we got a little prodigy on our hands?", Moody says, eyeing Brigitte. She feels small under the intense gaze of that magical eye. "Yeah... Dumbledore said somethin' about elements. Show me what you can do...".

Brigitte looks at him puzzled, but Tonks gives her an assuring nod. Brigitte takes a step back, looking down the long alleyway. The wind picks up, fanning their hair, paper on the ground, and then so strong they have to dig their feet into the ground. Then it stops and Brigitte looks at Moody's walking stick. The tip of it ignites into a flame, and the wood underneath glows red-hot. An orb of water appears mid-air above it and splashes it out, and small twigs sprout from the polished cane.

"You can do all that without a wand?", Moody asks, and Brigitte thinks she hears a hint of intrigue.

"It's not much. I needed my wand when I helped Dumbledore make the tournament maze. I've never had formal practice, or even thought about weaponizing it", Brigitte says apologetically.

"We can work with that", Moody says. "Later. Now, we're starting with no map. So, that means we have to find our own starting points. Today, we'll be going down the street to see if anyone of interest visits the Carrow family apartment".

"We should walk, that magic so close to their property could give us away", Tonks suggests. Moody agrees, and the three are inconspicuous as they strut down the sidewalk with the Muggles. When they get to the small courtyard park across the street, Moody puts a concealment charm around them so no one notices them.

"So... how's living at Headquarters?", Tonks asks Brigitte under her breath. They whisper back and forth, with Tonks trying hard to keep the topic on Auguste. "... We've been on three dates. I'd count them as dates, I think".

"You met four days ago!"

"SHHHHH... we're going in", Moody's hiss is so loud that Muggle passersby look around startled.

"What? Moody, you heard what Dumbledore said about missions with Britt--"

"She's gotta take the same risk we all do. Y' got a problem with that, Ms. Moreau?".

"Not at all. Just tell me what to do".

"Follow me and keep quiet. We're going to see if there's anything we can use against them. Snape attending those meetings ain't enough. Voldemort's talking to these people everyday while he's busy prepping for the new school year, and he already ordered Snape stay at the school-- near Harry-- unless otherwise directed".

The young women look at one another and shudder at the idea of being closely monitored by Snape, regardless if it's for protection. They follow after Moody. He leads them to the house and unlocks the front door after breaking the Carrows' protective spells; officially entering their fight against Voldemort's rise. 

─── .˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

The first week goes by in the blink of an eye. Brigitte goes on more missions breaking into Voldemort supporters' homes; she responds to the worried letters sent by her mother and former workplace; she lets Tonks show her around Diagon Alley and visits her brother; and helps the Weasley clan get 12 Grimmauld Place shiny and new again.

Odd charms are scattered around the house, tiny critters jump out of hiding spots that are getting cleaned out, and every piece of furniture needs repairing. Kreacher clearly hasn't done any upkeep since his previous Masters died; and with Brigitte and Molly being the only ones allowed to use magic, they have a long way to go. Remus is gone day in and day out, and Sirius doesn't come out of his room until the sun begins to set.

"Evening, Sirius", Brigitte jests. "You're down just in time. The Weasleys have left for the weekend".

"Hmph. Seen Moony?". He sits on the dusty sofa and lights a cigarette. It looks like he's hardly slept, but still monumentally better than the mugshot everyone is familiar with.

"Remus? No, he's not been around for days, not that I've noticed", Brigitte mumbles as she flings open the wall-lengths drapes. The drawing room is the next space to tackle, now that the bedrooms are all taken care of. The area is coated in cobwebs, the furniture is decaying, and the windows are so grime-covered it blocks all sunlight.

"Remus takes a while to warm up to new groups of people, likes to focus on his missions and whatnot". Sirius tries to explain.

"It makes me feel pretty useless. I'm not doing missions that last all day and night", she says, beating the dust out of the heavy fabric.

"You're telling me", Sirius chortles, cigarette smoke coming out of his nostrils.

"Oops, my bad", Brigitte cringes.

"No worries, Poppet", Sirius winks.

"You English, I'll never understand the slang". Brigitte twirls around her fingers, gathering all the floating dust into a long spiral, resembling a tornado. She guides it across the room, collecting all the dust and dirt in its path, until it spins into the fireplace and lands on the pile of ash.

"I'll admit that was impressive... and imagine if it was Death Eaters instead of dust bunnies", Sirius clicks his tongue. However, the commotion of the dust devil upset something living under the couches, and a bunch of small, winged creatures fly around the room before making a beeline for the piano.

"What the hell was that?", Brigitte gasps, ducking in case one aims for her.

"Looked like doxies, but that's more Remus' realm", Sirius says, staring uneasily at the piano, which is making a humming sound from the doxies flapping their wings against the strings.

"I hope Molly knows how to get rid of those", Brigitte groans, joining Sirius on the couch. They kick their feet kicked up on the couch in case more doxies make an appearance, and spend the evening doing Sirius' two hobbies: listening to Classic Rock and drinking. After all that time in Azkaban, it seems to be only thing to liven the man if Remus isn't around.

The more Sirius has to drink, the more he reminisces about the days before everything went to Hell. Brigitte loves hearing his stories, but the amount of alcohol the wizard consumes will almost always turn the mood from silly to sorrow.

" ... Bowie, any day of the week. James even named his broomstick 'Ziggy Stardust'", Sirius cackles.

"I'm not sure if 'broomstick' is a euphemism for something else...", Brigitte quirks an eyebrow. It's way past sunset now, and the glasses have been refilled more than once.

"HA! You're pretty alright, Britt", Sirius laughs, spilling whiskey on the couch.

"Just alright?".

"You birds... Ah, shit. Actually, this is one of the last things we did-- dance to Bowie", Sirius recalls as a new song starts. "Lily and James were in hiding, and they insisted on throwing me an early Birthday party. I was due for a long mission, but just a couple days later it happened...".

Brigitte watches the man's face turn to stone. He stares off distantly and drags his short fingernails back and forth on his thigh.

"They needed a secret keeper, like how Dumbledore is here", Sirius continues. ", Naturally, it was decided I'd do it. I'd never tell. But there are ways. No one trusted anybody. There was a spy. I got in my head ... so I suggested Peter. James agreed; no one knew we switched and it'd keep them all that much safer. Well, was supposed to...", he laments.

"It's alright, Sirius. We don't have to–"

"No– no... I'm sorry. I need to finish this. For our new case, right? I've faced fucking Death Eaters and dementors, I can do this", he says, mostly to himself. He takes a few deeps breaths and continues the story: how Hagrid told him James and Lily were killed and Harry was going with Dumbledore, the helpless gutted feeling, the blind rage when he went after Peter, and how the traitor blew up the street and sliced his own finger off. Then of course, Peter transformed into a rat and Sirius was the only one left at the scene.  

Without another word, Sirius leaves the drawing room and stays hidden for two days.

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

Brigitte takes the initiative to possibly gather more information regarding Sirius, now that she knows exactly how he was framed. After another morning with Moody, Brigitte marches into The Ministry to attain Sirius' legal documents from the last decade. Not surprisingly, she is met with hostility and incompliance for merely mentioning the infamous man's name.

The crude witch scowls and rises from her seat, towering over Brigitte.

"And why on earth do you need information about Sirius Black?! Do you know where he's hiding? That'd be aiding a fugitive, ya know...".

"No, Madame, I'm only interested for research purposes. To see how the laws in this country work".

"You can go to the library if you want to research, girl. What is your name again?".

"Uh, you're absolutely right. Off to the library, have a nice day!". Brigitte gets out of there as quickly as she can. She will have to tread lightly with this. The last thing they want is drawing attention to The Order, and that's exactly what she will do if she shows too much interest in the most wanted criminal in the country. Brigitte makes it back safely to Grimmauld Place without any followers, and she is greeted with the typical roaring of Walburga Black's portrait and laughing Weasley children whizzing by.

"Vermin! Traitors! Scum in my house!".

"Fred! George! Stop running on the ground floor!", Remus whisper shouts as he comes out the kitchen. He pauses for split a second, shocked to see Brigitte, who has a surprised smile on her face. She watches him shut the curtains around the screaming painting, admiring the way his scars crease when he concentrates.

'How'd he get those? Could he be a werewolf? Not everyone with scars is. Papa has no scars on his face. There are plenty of ways he could've got those, especially as someone who's fought in war ... So brave ..." Britt ponders.

"Much better, those kids have been driving her crazy all day", Remus scoffs, turning his head to offer Brigitte a knee-weakening smirk. "Nice to see you, Britt. Settling in, I hope?", he whispers, hiding his scarred hands in his pockets.

"The first weeks in a new place are always tumultuous, but I think I'm figuring things out", Brigitte says with a hypnotic smile. "How's things here? Enjoying the cleaning?".

"Well, Molly woke up Sirius not too long ago, so you can imagine how productive we've been", Remus mutters sarcastically. He opens the door and steps aside for Brigitte to enter the kitchen. Sirius is in there, half-asleep and eating beans on toast. He's slumped forward, holding his head up with his fist.

"Sounds like you need a break, and possibly a coffee?". Brigitte flicks her wand, and the coffee brews itself.

"How French of you", Remus chortles.

"I've always needed something stronger than tea", Brigitte shrugs, lining up the mugs.

"I think 'strong' is exactly what Sirius needs", Remus jokes, watching his friend fight the sleep that threatens to pull his eyelids closed.  

"Double espresso, please", Sirius groans. Brigitte slides a steamy mug over his way, then hands another to Remus. His fingers rest on her hand for a few seconds before he takes the mug, causing the witch to quickly averts her eyes and curse her warm cheeks. She tops off her café au lait with a hefty amount of milk, and then sits with Remus.

"Y'know, it may be a mess around here but surely there are more cups", Remus remarks, looking at the bowl in Brigitte's small hands.

"Don't tease me", she giggles. "This is how we drink it at home. It used to turn my mother crazy, the mess my Papa and I made". She takes a sip and sets it on the table.

"Do try not to make a mess all over the table I just cleaned!", Sirius shrills.

"Calm down, Padfoot ... It's the only thing he's ever cleaned. He's quite proud of the work", Remus chuckles before blowing the steam from his drink. His lips pucker into a small 'o' under his mustache.

"I can see it wore him out completely", Brigitte snickers.  

"The faster we clean, the faster I can get back to sleeping in! So tell us, Britt, how'd the Ministry go?".

"Could have been better, but really, how can I expect them to react when a random person asks for Sirius Black's file?".

"You didn't?", Remus scoffs amusedly.

"Bold move!", Sirius hoots.

"Have to get their attention some way, no? I have the magical visa thing to work here and they know I work with, erm, high-risk cases. What lawyer wouldn't be interested in reading more about Black? But you should've seen the woman's face-- I thought I wasn't getting out the building. Mon Dieu, I cannot imagine how my drafts for the anti-werewolf laws will go. I really have my work cut out for me here...", Brigitte rambles on, missing the weary looks between the two Marauders.

As if on cue, Ginny interrupts, running into the room with Molly rushing behind her and a very apologetic George.

"I'm sorry, Fred was supposed to pick up that book! I'm real sorry, Gin".

"Everything alright, Molly?", Remus asks, straightening up in the chair. Oh, yes, thank you Remus.  And I'll deal with you in a minute, George! Rinse up in the sink, sweetie", Molly turns on the faucet for her daughter. Getting a better look one can see bubbling, purple slime coating Ginny's hands. She holds them over the sink while Molly pours a potion. The girl winces, but seconds later and she pulls her fingers apart as the goop disappears.

Molly slowly turns to the lone twin. Everyone in the room stiffens at her expression.

"WHY! Can't you! Stop with the jokes for two seconds!", she scolds him, slapping his bicep with a handkerchief.

"Geez Mum, I said I'm sorry! Fred and I are testing new produ–"

"Enough! Enough with your inventions, you're going to hurt someone! Now, go upstairs and tell your brother I don't want to see another trace of your 'products' the rest of the summer!", she fumes.

"That's two months!", George argues.

"GEORGE FABIEN WEASLEY".

"Yes, ma'am", he groans. George spins on his heel, noticing Brigitte in the room for the first time. His face blanches and he hurries out the room to warn his twin.

"Whoa. Has it been like this all da–", Brigitte turns to the seat Remus was in to see it now unoccupied. He must have slipped out when she was watching the Weasleys. She doesn't notice Sirius looking her way, seeing her amused smile becomes crestfallen. Brigitte really enjoyed the easy conversations they had her first night, and this is the most they spoken since.

"Man, that look on George's face when he saw you", Ginny chortles.

"I think he was a little embarrassed there was an audience just now".

"Ha, sure. What's that?", Ginny asks, pointing to the bowl of coffee.

"Cafe au lait. Try it".

Ginny flashes an appreciative smile and carefully lifts the bowl, gasping aloud when she tastes the rich flavor.

"It's brilliant! How about another?".

Brigitte giggles and twirls her fingers, conjuring up a duplicate of the treat. Ginny sits down where Remus was priorly, and the girls leisurely sips their drinks. They chat about trouble-making brothers, and how much more fun the summer would be if they were sunbathing on the beach.

"I wanna fly my broom above the ocean", Ginny daydreams.

"Ahh, to witness a sunset from that spot. You could follow it forever on a broom!".

It reminds Brigitte of being with Fleur or Francesca; and a sisterly bond quickly forms between the two. They spend the rest of the day hopped up on caffeine and rearranging the furniture in Brigitte's bedroom.  

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

Friday night, two weeks since Brigitte has moved into 12 Grimmauld Place. The house is calm, homier. So far they've gotten fresh sheets on all the beds, waxed the floors, tended the drawing room, and organized the kitchen. The light fixtures are no longer dusty, and the torn furniture has been repaired, but the place is cluttered and the chirping noises coming from underneath the sofas persist.

In the drawing room, 70's Pop hits blare on the record player at full volume. It echoes throughout the entire townhouse. Brigitte is in the shower, singing her heart out as she shampoos her long locks.

Sirius can hear her clearly even with a ceiling dividing them. He laughs mirthfully thinking about what his mother would say; and he happily sings along with Brigitte and Freddie Mercury as he feeds the Buckbeak in Mrs. Black's old bedroom.

When Sirius returns to the kitchen he stops in his tracks, struck wide-eyed as Remus Lupin leans against the counter and eats from a Chinese takeout container.

"Merlin's Beard! He's back", Sirius gasps.

"Hello to you too, Padfoot", Remus mumbles with a mouth full of chicken.

"Hey mate, I was beginning to think you were a vampire too, avoiding us during the daylight hours". Sirius takes an egg roll and tears into it with his teeth, causing cabbage to litter across the floor. "Shit!".

"I got it", Remus lazily flicks his wand to clean the mess, "and I haven't been avoiding anything. I've been busy, Padfoot".

"Free this weekend? It's just Britt and me here. Weasleys are staying home and Gus is busy with Tonks, can you believe that? C'mon, don't make us imbibe with Kreacher!", Sirius bemoans.

"I guess", Remus glances out of the corner of his eye. "Something may come up... and you should be careful about how much you imbibe".

Sirius crosses his arms, leaning against one of the the heavy dining chairs and staring down the beloved lycanthrope.

"Y'know ... almost fiveteen years apart and I can still tell when you're hiding something".

"I am no–"

"You're avoiding her aren't you? Cuz your furry, little problem? Really Remus ... How long can you pull that off? And why would ya?!", Sirius questions.

"Because people avoid me like the plague when they find out".

"You may not have been around as much as I'd like", Sirius guilts him, "but I know you've heard enough from that girl's mouth to know she wouldn't do that".

Remus keeps his gaze on the greasy food, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "It's not the same, Pads. I'm a bloody werewolf sleeping in the next room, not some feeble victim she only knows on paper. Some bandaged up bloke in hospital, or unemployed and desperate. I don't want that pitied look. Or worse ... the absolute and utter revulsion, the pure hatred I typically get".

"Nooo mate-- I think at worst she'll light your head on fire", Sirius jokes to lighten the mood, "Look, everyone else knows and it hasn't been an issue. I spent time with Britt this week and I can tell you she's a sweetheart. It'll only get worse the longer you wait".

"I know that-- all that", Remus sighs, staring down at his hands and determining whether or not his mouth can form the words to confess to her his most dreaded secret. Over the years, he's learned to never assume how people will react.

Letting his friend sulk in it for a minute, Sirius picks up the Daily Prophet to look for any articles mentioning his name; and only a moment later they are startled by the loud record player upstairs coming to a scratching stop.

⋆˚☽˚⋆

With damp hair and a poetry book tucked under her arm, Brigitte shuffles to the drawing room to unwind for the night. She turns off the music and browses through her vinyl collection that is on piled on the floor, next to the fireplace. She finds the new Pink Floyd record, The Division Bell; it was a birthday gift from her Papa that laid forgotten in her trunk until now. She lays on her tummy and kicks her sock-clad feet to the music while doodling in the margins of the book. The fire and fresh sound warm her.

♫ ♪ ♫   Lost in thought and lost in time While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted ♫ ♪ ♫

Brigitte gets lost in the angelic vocals of David Gilmour and her drawing, until the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the solitude.

"Belle soirée, chérie", Sirius says singsongy at the doorway.

"Come to disturb my peace, Black?", Brigitte teases with her eyes glued to the paper.

"You see what I've had to deal with this week?", Sirius scoffs, but Remus ignores him and simply smiles fondly at the way she bites her lip in concentration.

"You have my pity... Hi, Britt, I've come to give you respite from this one", Remus cocks his head at Sirius.

Brigitte's face lights up when she brings her eyes up from the paper, seeing Remus with his suit jacket discarded and old tie loose around his neck.

"Bonjour, Remus! That's very kind of you, but I must commend his good behavior so far".

Sirius collapses onto the couch, feigning offense. "What's that supposed to mean?! I'm an absolute treasure".

"I lived with you long enough to know all about your 'treasures', Padfoot", Remus guffaws.

"Oh chérie, all the teasing is out of love", Brigitte insists. "I lived with plenty of high maintenance girls at Beauxbâtons, you're easy!".

"Nope, I am NOT speaking to either of you", Sirius closes his eyes and sips on his Firewhiskey.

Remus meanders over to Brigitte and leans on the mantle. "You've got an impressive collection", he says glancing over the album covers, surprised to recognize most of them.

"I better, only been working on it my whole life! The rest are at my parent's house. I'd say at least, hmm, 200 total?", she says, sitting up to lean against the sofa that sits opposite of Sirius. She tucks her bare legs into her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

"Merlin... quite the little connoisseur".

"I don't know about that. I just like what I like", she smiles shyly.

Remus kneels down to look through the stacks of records, totally forgetting his prior conversation with Sirius. Brigitte's aura does something to him, it makes him feel so calm and safe, euphoric if he allowed himself to enjoy it long enough.

"Fortunately I recognize a lot of these, so I say you've got excellent taste. How'd you get into collecting?".

"My father owns a music and bookstore. It's in Strasbourg, nothing big. He sells mostly le non magique, or uh, muggle stuff. He's muggle-born and prefers the music ... He may have passed down his obsession", she looks at Remus with a beaming smile, feeling giddy from the praise.  

"Ahh, two things that feed the soul: books and music, yeah? Sounds like a delightful way to grow up. You play any instruments?".

"The piano. I fell in love the first time I heard 'Moonlight Sonata'", Brigitte sighs, thinking about the melancholic sound.

"You should play sometime". Remus looks towards the piano in the back of the room. Brigitte scoffs and vehemently shakes her head; her wild strawberry tendrils bouncing back and forth.

"Not a chance! I never said I play for other people, did I?", she laughs nervously.

"That'd be embarrassing for me and the piano". Remus hums unconvinced and turns back to her collection, and there's a distant crashing sound from above.

"Probably fucking Kreacher in the attic", Sirius mumbles, startling Remus and Brigitte who forget he was there. He clumsily stands up with an empty liquor bottle in his hand. "I'm going to see what that was. I told him 'never be in the same room as me' but he still finds a way to be a pain in my arse". He closes the French doors behind him with no intention of returning.

"Feel free to change the music. I put them out so we can share. It gets too quiet in this big house", Brigitte says as she props the poetry book on her bony knee and resumes decorating the margins, secretly peeking up to look at the handsome, older wizard.

Remus tries to straighten up the wonky stacks of records, occasionally glancing to see the gold light from the fire dance on Brigitte's slick legs.

"Do you get to enjoy your weekend or are you working?", she questions mindlessly.

Enjoy. That word suddenly reminds Remus of what he was feeling earlier: Dread... a total deprivation of enjoyment in telling her what he's to become in under a fortnight. He tries to not let his relaxed demeanor falter.

"N-no... no work, thank Merlin. Wh-what about you? Any legal work?", he stutters.

She looks up from her book. "I'm free as a bird. My 'work' has had a glacial slow start. I'm going to read and draw and relish in the freedom!", she says hyperbolically.

"Well, um ... speaking of your work. Not Sirius but lycanthropy, werewolves to be exact...", Remus rubs the back of his neck and tries to ignore the tingling in his extremities, "you should know... I should p-probably tell you since were both staying here that, uh, I have it. Lycanthropy... I'm- I'm a werewolf", he mumbles, trailing off at the end.

It confirms her suspicions. Those scars, how else could he have acquired them? Thinking about that hurts Brigitte's heart. How much pain has he endured over the years? She watches Remus drop his head in shame. Brigitte gently places her hand on his arm and leans over to look him in the eye. He reluctantly peeks through his eyelashes to see a small smile upon her lips.

"It's okay Remus, honest. I mean, I kinda assumed", she gestures to his scars,"... I'm sorry that the world is unforgiving, and it makes telling people so difficult. But... I'm not worried so please stop making that face", she says sweetly.

Brigitte puts her hand back in her lap, feeling her skin heating up from the prolonged contact. Remus let's out a breath he had been holding in.

"I know living with one and working with one is a completely different and I'm sorry you didn't find out until after you moved in. I just...".

"Oh, Remus. Didn't I say I don't scare easily? I assume you have a plan for the full moons, so what's the issue? You have a place to go to, right? What about the wolfsbane? I can get you some", Brigitte asks, her big blue eyes flooded with concern.

Remus looks at her dumbfounded. Her reaction isn't anger or fright, but to ask him about his well-being. No one's ever asked him that. Sure, Sirius and James cared, but they were silly boys who thought it was cool their friend could devore the Slytherin House. He doesn't know what to feel now.

"I do, thank you...".

"Well good. If anything changes let me know— seriously. My Maman makes it for my papa and brother and she always makes extra in case I need it for work. I might have dry ingredients with me here if we need to make it", she says casually.

"Wait- what? I'm sorry ... What? For your dad and brother? What does ... They have?... I-I had no idea", Remus shakes his head, looking thoughtfully at the floor between them.

"It happened years before I was born. So truly, when I say it's no problem living here, I mean it. I grew up with them plus two more brothers. You've met them!", she says light-heartedly, "It was my normal growing up— something I don't really consider relevant to someone's character. You're more than the lycanthropy".

"You sure you're not just trying to save us from an awkward conversation?", Remus asks hesitantly.

"I understand why you had to tell me, but I promise it won't change anything, Remus", Brigitte affirms.

He finally raises his head. He sees only comfort and honesty in her eyes, not a hint of pity.

'Why are her eyes so beautiful', Remus thinks, 'and why in Merlin's name does she have to say my name like that...'.

"I don't know what to say, Britt...". The burning anxiety in his stomach fizzles since she hasn't run away screaming.

"Don't say anything, but I will help if you need it... Like a job, besides what you do for The Order of the Phoenix?", she asks.]

"My career options have always been limited, but I was publicly exposed when I left Hogwarts a year ago. People would rather hire Sirius". While he admires her tenacity, the last thing Remus will ever allow is him becoming her charity case.

"Very well. If anything changes you know where to find me". (He nods his head appreciatively). "And now that the secret is out, will you stop avoiding me?", Brigitte boldly jokes, catching him off-guard.

"Uh, wh-what? ... Damn. that obvious huh? I'm sorry about that", he smiles crookedly at her. He turns his gaze to the flickering flames. The light reflects in his copper eyes. They look dark as night in the shadow, but sparks of amber and honey dance in his irises when the light hits.

"Would you like to hear a poem?", Brigitte asks.

"I'd love to".

"This is my favorite American Muggle poet, Robert Frost", Brigitte clears her throat.

"One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom.    I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.    I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear.    They would not find me changed from him they knew— Only more sure of all I thought was true."

She brings her gaze up to Remus, whose eyes are closed as her melodic voice dances in his ears,

"That was beautiful. Gothic and sublime, but romantic... not unlike 'Moonlight Sonata'".

Brigitte smiles in agreement, "The most beautiful things are a little unusual or else they'd be tragically ordinary ... And it speaks to me. Like Monsieur Frost, I'm eager to see where the breeze takes me".

Remus admires the intensity in her eyes, "I admit I appreciate your fervor, Brigitte. It's not a common quality in the Order, we need that".

She smiles bashfully while holding the book up to hide the blush growing across her cheeks. This attraction and draw she feels towards Remus is unfamiliar and overwhelming. Which is ironic, considering the predicament she has put herself in by joining the Order. This moment has her more flustered than showing off her magic for Alastair Moody. Brigitte doesn't quite understand it, but it's crushing to think that the older wizard in front of her cannot feel it too.

"Thank you, Remus... Well, it's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow?", Brigitte asks, standing up and awkwardly shifting back and forth.

"You will, I think Sirius will hex me if I don't beguile him this weekend.  Sleep well, Britt".

"Bonne nuit, Remus".

She scampers up the stairs to her room, making Remus' heart palpitate; he felt that pull too, and they both go to bed that night knowing things between them will be different from here on out.  

Masterlist

Baby taglist: @dontjudgemyobsessionpls

[fels-fantasy-hoard]

Do y’all know if there is an organized discord server or something that helps players find gms and gms find players?

I’m thinking of making one where players and gms can fill out like… applications for what they are looking for in a game and compiling them in an easy to access place so people can look at each other’s applications to see if they would be a good fit

I’d probably compile them into a google drive folder for gms looking for players and players looking for gms. Idk lemme know your thoughts if that would be of interest to you and what you would be looking for on an application for a player or gm

More detail for what could be on these “applications” below the cut.

Player application.

Basic introduction. Time zone, ttrpg system experience and preference (dnd, pathfinder, fate, etc), times you would be willing/able to play, type of game if you have a preference (light hearted and fun or gritty and dark, etc), length of campaigns you prefer (one shots, mini campaigns, long campaigns, etc)

Content you want to see: setting (fantasy, steampunk, modern, etc), game play (combat, role playing, politics, puzzles, etc), themes and conflicts

Content you don’t want to see: setting, game play, themes and conflicts (racism, queerphobia, assault, etc)

Gm application

Basic introduction. Time zone, ttrpg systems you use/will be running, times you would be willing/able to play

Gm style: number of players at your table you prefer, how you physically run your games (in person, roll20, dnd beyond, discord, etc), rough percentage of role playing vs combat, length of campaigns you prefer (one shots, mini campaigns, long campaigns, etc), setting you prefer, if you prefer premade modules or homebrewing everything, what extra tidbits you provide during a session (pictures of settings and npc’s, music, voices/accents, lighting, etc)

What you are looking for in players: if you have specific requests for a player base for what ever reason

Game(s) you want to run: a quick paragraph or so synopsis of the campaign you wish to run. Any trigger or content warnings that might apply to said campaign’s story or world.

Any house rules you use and how fast and loose you play with your given system’s rules.

[emile-hides]

H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice 

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

[myherowritings]

Borrowed Sweaters, Stolen Kisses

— In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into your crush’s dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the hoodie you snatched was Shinsou’s favorite sweater.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x reader word count: 2,204 genre: fluff, aged up au (class 3a) warnings: 16+, suggestive content

a/n: this used to be a harry potter fic i wrote on my hp account but i rewrote it for shinsou bc it just seemed fitting fhgjdhsfg. shinsou is in class 1a in this fic or 3a since they’re aged up and at least 18 years old u.u i hope y’all enjoy!! xx 

“No way.” You shook your head, kicking your legs out in front of you as you ignored Hagakure’s poking and prodding.

It was a relatively relaxed Friday night, and you and your friends decided to spend it in your dorm with a bottle of whisky and a game of Truth or Dare. The truths ranged from anything to, “Fuck, marry, kill: Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari” to, “Who was the last person you sent a nude to?” And the dares weren’t any better. Ashido practically vomiting in the corner served as a great reminder of that.

You were just grateful the dares you received were rather mundane. 

That was, until now.

“Y/N, you have to do it!” said Hagakure.

“Can’t I just forfeit this round and take a shot?”

“Nope, that’s only allowed for truths,” she quipped. 

You glanced over at Jirou, a pleading look on your face, but you were met with a nonchalant shrug. 

“Rules are rules,” Jirou sang, taking a swig of whisky before passing you the handle.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Mina’s fierce glare caused your words to die in your throat.

“If I had to chug that hot sauce concoction you guys made and then eat the mystery sushi until I felt sick, you can go to Shinsou’s room and steal a hoodie or something-- Sounds like a cakewalk compared to my dare.”

As she leaned her back against the bed, hand over her stomach as beads of sweat trailing down her forehead, you figured Mina was right. You’ve been in his dorm plenty of times before, anyway-- You two were friends and, at times, you supposed you enjoyed his company. What was the worst that could happen?

“You’re right.”

“I know.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and slipped some fuzzy socks on, ignoring the cheers coming from your tipsy roommates. When you reached the door, your friends watching fervently as you wandered off to your ill-fated trek, you paused at the handle. 

You looked back at them, heaving a sigh. “If his dorm turns out to be booby trapped and I get caught, just know I will haunt you from the grave after I die of embarrassment.” 

“We expect nothing less,” was Tsuyu’s smart reply. 

Soon enough, you found yourself climbing up the boys’ side of Heights Alliance, feeling like you were doing a reverse walk of shame. It was a quarter past three o’clock in the morning and the odds of any of them being awake were slim to none, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach. 

You made your way to the front of Shinsou’s dorm room and cautiously placed your hand on the door handle. With a small grumble you fished the key card Hagakure stole from Hitoshi earlier (which made you wonder just how long your friends were planning this whole escapade out…) out of the pocket of your sweatpants. 

For the most part, it looked just like your dormitory. Only neater. His desk was fairly organized and, aside from balls of yarn and different sizes of knitting needles, was clear enough to work on. Scarves and hoodies were piled onto the back of the chair and foot of the bed--which meant your dare should be easy enough to complete--and a dim light was left twinkling.

Everything seemed cozy and lived in. Normal.

Except for the fact that Shinsou Hitoshi was not in his bed. 

“What on earth?” you murmured under your breath, finding it a bit strange the room was completely empty at this hour. But knowing him, you reckoned he was out training at any hour he could--something that worried you about him--or playing with a cat off campus grounds. It wasn’t unlikely. 

Still, with your feet planted at the foot of his dormitory, you wanted to get out of there before you were caught. Because you knew there was no way in hell for your drunken ass to smooth talk your way out of this mess if he were to find you.

Your hand hovered over the article of clothing nearest to you, which was a sweater draped over the back of a chair, and you took a deep breath, saying, “It’s just a dare. You can do it.” 

Before you lost all your nerve, you snatched the jumper with one hand and slipped out of the dorm. As you rushed down the stairs, you could’ve sworn you heard some shuffling coming from the empty room. But you didn’t care.

Part one of your dare was successfully completed.

Now for the hard part: Wearing it around the next day.

- - - - -

“How do I look?” 

You posed in front of your roommate, trying not to laugh at how the borrowed jumper engulfed your frame. Walking down the center of your dorm, you gave a little twirl.

“Sexy,” Mina teased from her spot on her bed. “Shinsou’s sweater looks nice on you.” 

Sticking your tongue out at her, you made a face. “I’m not sure what you mean. It’s pretty gross to me. I would never want to wear any of Shinsou’s clothes.”

“Then why did you put the hood over your head and bury your face in the collar?” 

Slowly, you peered up at her with your view obstructed by the fabric. You sniffled haughtily, trying to ignore the soothing aroma of lavender and smoked wood that filled your sense. 

Mina smirked, catching the small sigh of contentment that left your mouth as you basked in the scent of Shinsou’s hoodie. “Gross, huh?” 

“Mention this to no one,” you mumbled with a nonthreatening glare, pulling the hood off your head and folding your fabric-covered hands over your chest.

Laughing, she tossed you your bookbag from across as she waited by the door, the rest of your friends back in their own rooms to get ready for class. “Come on, lovebug. You can see him during math in a few minutes.”

“I won’t be looking forward to it.”

You grumbled protests as the both of you made your way down the stairs of Heights Alliance and toward the main campus of U.A. High, but Ashido paid them no mind. Soon enough, you reached the room and spotted Jirou and Hagakure in their usual seats. 

“Hey,” you quickly whispered, sliding into the seat next to Tooru before Ectoplasm sauntered over to the front of the class.

“Nice jumper,” she said simply, voice going an octave higher in amusement. “I knew you’d go through with it.” 

Reminded of your rather bold choice of clothing (that was horribly out of dress code), you subconsciously tugged at the sleeves. You sent a quick plead to the gods above that you didn’t look as foolish as you thought you did. 

While Ectoplasm introduced antiderivatives and indefinite integrals to the class, Hagakure nudged you on the side, sliding you a ripped piece of her parchment paper.

You looked at her curiously as Mina peered over your shoulder to catch sight of the writing.

DO NOT LOOK NOW!!! But I’m 100% certain Shinsou has been staring at you since the start of math class.

Of course, the first thing both you and Ashido did after reading the note was turn your heads at the same time towards the back of the class where Hitoshi and his friends were sitting. And, as your luck would have had it, you made directly eye contact with an amused-looking Shinsou.

Both you and Mina turned around to face the front so fast you were sure at least one of you received whiplash. 

Wide-eyed and flushed, you exchanged glances with her, both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

“I told you not to look,” Hagakure whispered, a small giggle escaping from her lips, sending you three into fits of laughter you tried to muffle with your hands. 

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, causing the three of you to straighten up in an instant. 

“Something amusing you, ladies?” 

“No, sir,” you quipped.

“Sorry, Ectoplasm-sensei,” remarked Tooru.

“We’ll shut up now,” promised Mina.

With a stern look on his face but a slight tilt of his smile, Ectoplasm nodded and returned to his lesson. “I trust you three will be experts of the integral calculus by the next lesson and I won’t have to catch you making doe eyes at a certain someone?”

Though he asked all three of you the question, his gaze was pointed at you and the class knew it. Your cheeks heated up as slouched into your chair. Perhaps if you tried hard enough, you could turn into the seat. 

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring the stifled laughter from Ashido and an apologetic, but amused, look from Hagakure. 

And as he continued the lesson, you could’ve sworn you felt a certain pair of eyes on the back of your head until the end of it.

When class finally concluded and Ectoplasm dismissed the lot of you, you rushed out of the classroom as fast as you could.

But not fast enough.

“Nice sweater, Y/N,” you heard a deep voice call, stopping you in your footsteps. “Looks familiar.”

You swallowed, slowly turning around to face Shinsou--lazy smirk and all. There was nothing you wanted to do more than dash back to your dormitory and hide, but instead you straightened your spine and braved a look of nonchalance.

“Does it now?”

“Yeah,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. “I’d have to say it does.”

Peering up through your lashed, you looked at him with faux innocence. “I can’t say I know why.”

Slowly, he walked closer towards you as you moved back against the wall. He took the excess fabric of your sleeve into his hands, stroking them between his fingers.

“You know-- It even feels familiar.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Just like my sweater I happened to lose last night.”

By now, the halls had begun to clear up, the traitors you called friends having left you with a thumbs up right as Shinsou approached you. 

You coughed as you repeated, “I wonder why.”

He was so close you could catch a whiff of his lavender and woodsy scent.

“If you wanted my clothes on you, Y/N, you could’ve just asked.”

You pointedly eyed the way he was toying with the hem of your--or rather, his--sweater, lifting it slightly. “Well, if you wanted my clothes off this badly, you could’ve just asked.” 

Shinsou raised his eyebrows in surprise at your suggestion, hand frozen on the fabric. The intensity of his gaze melted your steely disposition, embarrassment creeping up to your neck.

“I’m only kidding,” you murmured, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.

“That’s a shame, then.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” 

Biting the inside of your lip, you toyed with the bottom of your sweater.

“That’s my favorite jumper, you know?” mused Shinsou, looking fondly at the U.A. hoodie. “Aizawa got it for me when I entered the hero course.” 

A horrified look crossed your face. You stole his favorite sweater that Eraserhead gifted him himself? Good going. 

“Oh, shit,” you swore, reaching for the hem of the hoodie. “I’m sorry, Shinsou! I didn’t know.”

Chuckling, Shinsou placed his hand on top yours to stop you from removing it. “No-- You can keep it on.” You paused. “I’d say I quite like how it looks on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat when his hand that was still on your ran down the length of your fingers. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you interlaced them with his own, causing him to send a shocked but pleased look your way. You smiled.

He ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, gently drawing you closer to him. “If I were to kiss you right now, would you be upset?”

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. “Upset is the last thing I’d be.”

“Well, then I suppose--”

“What are the two of you doing?” you heard Aizawa exclaim as he rounded the corner, catching sight of the two of you against the hallway. He pulled Shinsou away from you by the collar, your cheeks flooding with embarrassment. 

Shinsou, however, looked unperturbed.

“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” he said sincerely, “but what I was about to do just then-- I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

He chuckled at the shocked look on your face, giving you a wink as Aizawa released his shirt. Shinsou made his way back over to you across the hall.

“How cute you looked in my sweater was only the catalyst,” said Shinsou before placing both hands on either side of your hips, pulling you towards him in a brief but deep kiss.

“Shinsou! Y/L/N!”

“Sorry, sir.” This time, Shinsou didn’t sound so sincere as he ignored the appalled look on Aizawa’s face. “I just couldn’t wait until we got to the dorms to do that. Don’t worry though, Y/N-- I swear there will be far better kisses that’ll take place there as well.”

And though the two of you may have been sentenced to detention and cleaning duty for the next three weekends, you would have to say the kiss was definitely worth it.

[nightwingshero]

WIP Day, Yay!!!

I was tagged by the ever amazing @xbaebsae to post a WIP! Thank you, lovely!!!

Tagging: @euryalex @chazz-anova @cousingregstan @sstewyhosseini @water-writings @pen-in-hand @simonxriley @playstationmademe @geronimo-11 @fadedjacket @minilev @beemot @chyrstis @strafethesesinners @cobb-vanthss @ziorre @smithandrogers @hoesephseed @foofygoldfish 

Have some of Randy’s oneshot I’ve been working on for way too long and it definitely needs work and uhhhh, you know, to be finished.

Merle twisted his face as I walked back to the office. “You kiddin’ me? Now you listen here, Miller. Those two boys ain’t worth my fuckin’ time. Weirdos, they are. You hear about that Adelaide Drubman? Word is she’s got her claws on some young college kid now. Him and a few friends stopped in for spring break or some shit, looked at her, and decided to stay a bit longer for the experience, if you catch my drift.”

“I don’t need to fuckin’ know that, Merle.” My tone was a little clipped when I turned to look back at him. He threw his hands up in the air in defense.

“Alright, alright. I hear yah, buddy. Loud and clear. I’m just sayin’ that a titty bar would be fun and we ain’t got one here. A bunch of the guys are goin’.”

Scoffing under my breath, I shake my head. I was almost curious to see what the roster for that had turned out to be, but I spared myself the fucking nightmare. I find the Jeep paperwork, filling out the invoice to reflect the work that was done. New brakes and tire rotation and alignment with a quick oil change. Easy enough.

“I’m sure y’all will have fun, mate. I got shit to do and I ain’t interested.” I mumbled as I rubbed my beard, no longer paying much attention.

Aaaaaand here’s some of my Haikyuu vampire au because apparently we’re dragging myself today. Don’t look at me. I REPEAT, DO NOT LOOK AT ME.

“I already died, what does it matter?” The words were barely more than a rasp and my throat erupted in invisible flames from the effort, but it doesn’t dull the harsh tone. I didn’t think it through, the words left before I even realized I was replying. I wasn’t even sure what my intention was at this point. But whatever mark I had aimed at, the words struck true and for the first time since I had met him, Kuroo bared his fangs at me in pure fury. Whatever semblance of a heart I had in my chest had stilled, my breath catching as his demeanor changed. He quickly shot the glass back, draining the contents before turning and reaching for the bag on the table. I was confused—and a bit terrified—as I watched him, unsure how to navigate whatever shift had happened. I had seen him angry, seen him vicious and cold, but it was always with a gently but firm arm around my waist or shoulders, a hand sometimes resting against my lower back. It was always aimed at someone else, never me. For a moment, I worried that perhaps he would finish me off. But he brought the bag to his mouth and used his teeth to rip into the plastic before pouring a healthy amount into the glass. After tossing the bag back where it laid before, blood pooling on the wooden table, he paused for a moment, as if waiting for something—giving me a chance to move or do something. But I didn’t. So he shot back another glassful, his mouth full as red liquid seeped through his lips just a bit. He didn’t swallow, however. He just held it in his mouth.

And took a step forward.

My eyes widened, and for the first time since being placed in here, I felt fully awake. Enough to realize just how bad I had truly gotten. “No…no.” The words were nothing but a rasp, but I knew he could hear me—could understand me. That didn’t make him stop in his approach, however, and I began to scramble to put more distance between us. Before, I probably would have put up a better fight, even if he would have found it amusing—like he usually did—I would have been able to at least try. But my body was too weak from just laying in bed, refusing to feed to maintain any sort of health by their standards. My arms shook as I tried to prop myself up, as I tried to move away, and I just collapsed against the mattress as my attempts to scoot closer to the other side became futile. Kuroo moved swiftly, gracefully climbing on the bed and sliding up close. Tears swam in my eyes as he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close as he gently held me, almost cradling me against his chest as he laid on his side beside me. It was enough to stun me, but not enough to keep my hands from trying to shove him away—no matter how pathetic the attempt—as I continue to try to tell him to go away. It caused something in his hazel eyes to flicker as he used his free hand to gently caress my cheek.

If I hadn’t known better, I would have said it was sorrow.

It was gone in a second. His gentle caress—his thumb tracing my cheekbone delicately—quickly transformed into a firm grip on my jaw. I gasped from shock as panic filled my chest, but it gave him the perfect opportunity to squeeze, forcing to keep my mouth open as he quickly ducked down, crashing his lips hard against mine. An opened mouth kiss that would have been obscene to witness allowed the dark liquid to pour into my mouth as my nails dug into his shoulder. I tried hard to spit it back as I kept my throat closed, trails of red warmth escaping from the kiss and meeting his fingers

[the-iceni-bitch]

Haven

Paralian: 2/9(or maybe more?)

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!reader

Words: ~2.5k

Summary: You and the Winter Soldier find comfort in each other at your seaside home. But the Soviet threat still looms.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex), minor medical procedure, fluff, angst with the threat of even more angst to come (I’m so sorry), SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Well, here is fucking is, part two of Paralian. This series is going to break my damn heart, so I hope y’all are happy. I’ve got a whole, depressing arc planned so strap in.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

It had been surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a comfortable rhythm.

You couldn’t exactly keep things a secret from him, not when one of the first things you had to do was search him for a tracking device. His gaze on you was exceptionally soft as you ran your hands over his body, starting at his flesh forearm as you searched for any abnormalities.

“They typically embed them pretty shallow, I’m hoping I won’t have to dig into the fascia at all if I find anything.” You explained, pressing your fingers into his bicep with a look of concentration. “Nothings coming back to you?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He swallowed thickly while he watched you, mesmerized by the movements of your hands over his skin. “I still can’t remember.”

“Honey, you don’t need to apologize.” Your hands moved to his shoulder. “I’m gonna need to call you something, though. You got any names floating around in there?”

He just smiled sadly and shook his head at you, taking a deep breath when you leaned closer to him. There was nothing weird in his shoulder so you moved to his neck, freezing suddenly when you felt a small divot in his scalenes.

“Fuck.” You hissed, pinching the abnormality between your fingers and considering your options. “Good news is it’s not in the muscle, but there’s some pretty important blood vessels here I really don’t want to nick.”

“I can hold still.” He said, gazing at you through his lashes while you chewed on your lip.

“I’d be slicing into your neck, I don’t think you can hold that still.” You stood up and leaned back on your heel, your breath catching when he grabbed your hand to keep you close.

“I trust you.” He said in a low voice, winding his fingers through yours before bringing your palm to his face and pressing it to his lips.

You took a deep breath and nodded at him, moving to grab some supplies and ordering him to remove his shirt. He did as you asked, releasing you reluctantly and never taking his eyes off you. It didn’t make any sense that he felt so safe with you in such a short time, but every time you were near him he could feel himself relax.

“Bite down on this.” You handed him a belt and draped a towel over his shoulder before running a flame over the knife you had brought with you. “Hopefully I won’t have to stitch you up. Ready?”

He gave you a brief nod when you soaked the area with betadine, finding the small divot again and gripping it tightly. You pressed the tip of your knife to his skin and made a quick cut, ignoring his pained breath and grabbing the forceps. Fortunately, you didn’t have to search long, finding the small metal chip almost immediately and pulling it out of him with a satisfied grunt.

“Keep biting.” You told him, dropping the chip on the table and pressing the towel to the cut. “I’m gonna stitch it for my own peace of mind.”

You picked out the sutures from your kit and held them out for him to open for you before you grabbed the needle drivers and set to work. Since the cut was so short you only needed to place three stitches, giving a small smile when you were finished.

“All done.” You told him, plucking the belt out of his mouth. “You are a great patient, sweetie.”

He gave you another one of those heartbreaking smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you towards him. You pressed your lips to his hair gently, letting him nuzzle into your stomach as you eyed the chip. 

“What’re you gonna do with it?” He asked, breathing in your scent until he felt the tension seep from his body.

“Wedge it in some debris and push it into the ocean.” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. “Come give me a hand?”

He stood up to follow you, pulling his shirt back over his head. The two of you moved out of your small house to the beach, picking your way through the debris as you moved closer to the water. You frowned as you looked at the wreckage, wondering how you were supposed to get the tracker to stay attached to one of these pieces of metal. He must have read your mind, grabbing the chip from you and folding a corner of debris around it with his metal fist.

“Huh, that thing is handy.” You huffed, reaching out to stop him when he started to heft the piece of debris. “No, don’t throw it! Just push it into the water so the tide can take it.”

“Why?” He asked, dragging the giant piece of debris after him as he edged towards the water. 

“So it looks like your body got washed back out to sea after the wreck.” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself when a sudden biting breeze blew in from the gulf.

“I’m dead in this scenario, then?” He shoved the metal into the water and started to walk back towards you.

“Yeah, that’s safest.” You said, kicking a loose pebble with your toe as you looked over the beach. “We should clean the rest of this shit up. I feel like it’ll go a lot faster with you here.”

It definitely did, that titanium arm of his making cleanup take just a few hours, rather than the several days it would have taken if you were by yourself. He wouldn’t let you touch any of the bigger pieces, not even breaking a sweat as he developed a very impressive pile of wreckage.

You moved back to the cabin when you were finished, heading to your radio to reach out to your contact in Helsinki to arrange for them to pick up the wreckage and bring you some more supplies. Your new housemate was going to need something aside from your leggings to wear with how cold some of the nights could get.

“You’re sure it’s safe?” He asked, following after you like a lost puppy while you moved to the kitchen. 

“They’re smugglers, as long as you stay out of sight it should be fine.” You set the kettle on the stove and sighed when he wrapped himself around you from behind. “Shit.”

“Please.” He buried his face in your hair and whined, the scent of you filling his lungs until he was panting with need. “God, I need you.”

You dropped your head against his shoulder as his hands moved to your breasts under your sweater, his mouth tracing over the curve of your neck as he murmured soft pleas in your ear. This could not keep happening, you were a professional, not a horny teenager. Yeah you were touch starved but that didn’t mean you were going to just let this man fuck you indiscriminately. 

But then you turned around and saw those damn puppy eyes and all your reservations flew right out of your head. What had they done to him to make him look so broken and lost?

He cupped your jaw with his titanium hand and tilted your head back to press his lips to yours and that was it. You could feel him relax when your breath mingled, his low groan vibrating against your chest as his flesh hand curled over your hip and drove you into him.

“Fuck, honey.” You purred, sighing when he started trailing his lips down your throat and pressed himself even further into you. “Take what you need. It’s going to be ok.”

His breath left him in a deep sigh as he took a beat to gaze at you, his eyes soft when he moved his face back to yours and breathed deeply. Your own hands skimmed up his sides until you could frame his face, skimming your fingertips through his hair and smiling softly as you curled your legs around him. 

Air cooled the wetness between your thighs when he tore your leggings open, his flesh hand dipping between your legs and cupping your throbbing core as he covered your lips with his own. The tip of his cock teased against your clit and he swallowed your sharp gasp, smiling softly and letting out a low whine when he slowly shoved his hips forward until he was fully sheathed in your warmth.

You could tell he was holding back when he started grinding against you at an agonizing pace, relishing the feel of your soft walls clenching around him as he nipped gently at your lips. He screwed his eyes closed when you gripped his hair by the roots and started moving your hips against his, trying to keep himself from going completely feral.

“Baby, hey, look at me.” You cooed, peppering soft kisses all over his face until he dragged his eyelids open and met your gaze. “It’s ok. I want this. You can move.”

“Promise me.” He pleaded, and you could’ve sworn you could see tears brimming in his eyes. 

“Oh, honey.” You probably shouldn’t make any guarantees, but the way he was looking at you made you ache. “I promise.”

He covered your lips with his and let out a low growl, dragging out of you almost fully before slamming forward and making you cry into his mouth when his swollen tip kissed your cervix. The pace he was setting was making it hard for you to stay focused, his pelvis grinding against your clit with each violent shove until your eyes were rolling back in your skull. 

Pleasure started gathering in the pit of your stomach when you collapsed back against your counter, mugs and dishes sliding to the floor and breaking as he fucked into you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. A low moan left your lips when he ripped your sweater open and curled his body over yours, his mouth immediately finding your nipple and latching on while your back arched you further into him.

He completely lost himself in you. The way your body was responding to him was everything he didn’t know he needed. Every soft whimper and desperate mewl that fell from your lips flooded his veins with warmth until you were the only thing that existed, the soft curves of your body welcoming him like home.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped and you wailed, your body trying to curl back on itself as your vision completely whited out with pleasure. You felt him groan against your chest as you fluttered wildly around him, your body trying to draw him even deeper while you came violently. Then you were flooded with warmth when he filled you with his seed, spilling it deep within your soft walls and collapsing on top of you with a contented sigh as your hands ran through his hair.

He tilted his head up and rested his chin between your breasts, gazing at you lovingly through his lashes as the two of you came down. That look was going to be the death of you, you just knew it. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He sighed, straightening up and pulling your face up to meet his in a soft kiss.

“And you’re dangerous.” You took the edge off your words with a warm smile, opening yourself up to him and letting him stroke your tongue with his until you were whining for him. 

God, you were a stupid woman, but how could you care when he was looking at you like that?

It had been three months of pure bliss. The two of you lost yourselves in each other completely, barely leaving your tiny cabin except for when you would let him hold you as you watched the sun set over the sea. 

You had managed to settle on the name Jamie for him after trying to delve into the recesses of his mind and coming up with nothing. But he liked when you mentioned the name James, and for some reason hearing you call him Jamie always made him smile.

The radio had been extremely quiet ever since the storm. You still had to do your regular check-ins with the SHIELD base in Helsinki, but it was surprisingly easy to keep them off your backs. You’d been doing it for the past three years after all.

And there was nothing from the Soviets. Maybe you should have been a little more concerned, you were playing house with their most valuable asset. But how could you think about that when Jamie was spending most of his time buried between your thighs and taking you apart like it was his job?

Right now he was laying with his head in your lap after you two had spent the whole stormy afternoon tangled together, smiling up at you and letting his eyes drift closed as you read The Hobbit to him. It was his favorite, and you were pretty sure this was that tenth time the two of you had read through it.

You were narrating Bilbo and the dwarves’ adventures in the Mirkwood when you heard your radio crackle to life. You ignored it, that happened sometimes and it was usually just a shipping freighter that had bled into one of your channels.

“Тоска.”

That was a little weird, but you still ignored it, running your fingers through his hair as you continued reading.

“Ржавый.”

Jamie went still for a beat and you barely registered it, continuing your narration as you tucked your legs under you.

“Семнадцать.”

Pain radiated through your arm when he grabbed your wrist suddenly, the bones grinding together and making you hiss when you looked down to see blind panic taking over his face.

“Turn it off.” He gasped, his eyes pleading with you desperately.

“What?”

“Рассвет.”

“The radio, turn it off!” His body jolted off the couch like he had been shot, and you dove towards the radio with a muttered curse as he cried out like he was in pain.

“Печь.”

You scrambled across the cabin, tripping over your feet but managing to reach it and shut it off before any more words could come through. He was panting on the floor when you turned back to him, and you rushed back to curl your body around his. It was everything you could do to keep from crying when he buried his face in your neck and started sobbing, his arms pulling you to him desperately as he tried to calm down.

“Jamie, honey, talk to me.” You ran your hands over his spine in an attempt to soothe him. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” He was panicking, the only anchor he had right now was you and he was holding onto you like he would never let you go. “I felt like I was losing myself.”

“Shit.” That sounded like a fucking trigger phrase. 

“They know I’m alive.” He tilted his face up to yours and gazed desperately into your eyes. “They’ll come for me.”

A/N: It’s gonna get so bad you guys, but you all asked for this so don’t come for me!

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[bittersweetmorality]

Relationship HC’s: Satoru Gojo ! <3 [x gender neutral reader]

A/N: hello :> the final part coming at you. we have god himself, in the flesh, gojo satoru. yes. the songs i included for him are all over the place, just like him oopz. you get, sexy, chaotic, and just pure romantic songs (just like you would when you’re dating him :>) enjoy bbs!

Warnings: swearing, very very slight suggestive themes

W/C: approx. 1,400

Satoru Gojo

(song: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys , Man on the Moon by Zella Day , Dance with Me by beabadoobee , Filter by Jimin of BTS , Un Anno D’Amore by Mina)

- this mf

- now, a relationship with itadori is just being in love and enjoying life because he’s just so fun

- and with megumi it’s passionate and deep love, right?

- mr. gojo satoru is just a TEASE

- he knows he’s an ethereal being, and while he doesn’t throw it in your face, he... he knows

- basically he knows he can tease you all he wants and you’ll remain putty in his hands

- but obviously, not in a bad way!! it’s all in good fun

- with him, it’s 70% teasing, 15% serious romantic aspects, 10% pure CHAOS

- let’s go through the details shall we

- he’s the type to kiss you everywhere but where you really want it

- like kiss you on the nose, cheeks, eyes, everywhere but your lips

- no matter how much you huff about it

- he’ll kiss you on the lips when he wants to

- heehee

- but when he does it’s clear how much he cares about you, even if he’s in a playful mood

- his hand can always be found guiding you from your chin or resting on the back of your head

- he’d place a single finger under your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his before kissing you

- if you grab him with two hands and pull him in to kiss you by the cheeks he’ll malfunction

- seriously, he’ll melt on the spot

- but, anyway your moments with him are... extreme (if that’s the right word to use)

- let me explain

- if he’s teasing, gosh he’s really going at it

- if he’s romantic you’ll feel like you’re on the moon (hint hint wink wink the song)

- and when it’s chaos.... yeah you definitely broke some laws

- speaking of breaking laws

- he does not know how to drive 😀

- he tells you every time “i have enough outside experience to figure out how to operate a fucking car, okay?”

- no he does not

- he never crashes or hurts anyone inside the vehicle, but man you cannot say the same to the property OUTSIDE the car

- whether or not he caused millions of dollars in city repairs, you’ll always end up at a fast food drive-thru for your midnight snack dates

- but please someone tell him that he will hurt someone unless he fully gets his license

- and before you ask him, yeah he’s gotten multiple tickets

- he didn’t even get out of them, he’s sure that if he ever gets stopped by the police again they’d definitely recognize him

- BUT ANYWAY !

- back to the dates

- dates with gojo are so spontaneous, you hardly plan any

- you’ve probably planned only one, and it was an anniversary

- but it’s not like it went according to plan anyway

- sometimes you and him stay up all night on accident, both of you thrumming with energy the entire evening when you realized the light of the early sun poking from the curtain

- “oh shit, it’s morning? what time is it?”

- “5:54 am”

- “holy shit... do you wanna go watch the sunrise?”

- “hell yeah”

- just as he can go from 0 to 10000, he goes from 10000 to 0 real quick on very rare occasions though

- only when he’s super tired, like drop dead

- he’ll just burn out, falling face first into the covers of your bed before adjusting himself into a comfortable position, extending his arms and giving you the “grabby hands” gesture

- this ALWAYS means he wants to cuddle

- speaking of cuddling

- gojo said BIG SPOON !

- we all know he’s amazing at literally everything on god’s green earth but

- damn... when he cuddles....

- .......damn..........

- just like in any aspect of your relationship, your cuddles can be chaotic, teasing or just purely romantic and loving

- during chaotic cuddles he just laughs at EVERYTHING

- seriously, you could say “doodoo fart ass” and he snorts for the first time in front of you

- literally just an idiot with no more than two braincells in his head

- now, teasing cuddles usually lead to.... 😐😐........ yeah

- i mean, what else are you supposed to do when his lips linger too far?

- when it comes to romantic cuddles, he’s either talking your ear off about how amazing and perfect you are, or it’s just complete silence

- simply enjoying that fact the he gets to hold you

- he could honestly die like this

- honestly, although he’s a ball of pure energy, he loves dates at home with you

- but i feel like i should mention that one date y’all had

- you two were at the mall, and suddenly he dragged you into Victoria’s Secret, claiming he just needed to show you this one pair of lingerie that would look stunning on you

- jokes on you because he tricked you, only to pick up the ugliest, lime-green granny panties and said the loudest he possibly could,

- “babe, i feel like these would suit you really well for tonight, yaknow, our special night~”

- good thing he lets you beat him up sometimes

- anyway back to lazy dates

- he says a lot of things when he’s lazily nuzzled into you; sweet nothings

- “yaknow, you looked really pretty during that one date we had that one time.”

- “which one are you talking about?”

- “yeah, that one.”

- you practically feel the smirk on his face after he said that

- he also tells you how much he loves you during these times

- and how could you not believe him when his bright blue eyes are staring into yours as he says it

- it’s just very obvious how sincere he’s being

- but anyway

- he LOOOVES movie dates

- but, in-home movie dates

- because he’s the type of guy to pause the movie, his hand smacked over his mouth in disbelief commenting about what just happened

- “DID Y- DID YOU SEE THAT? HOLY SHIT!”

- “gojo i’m sitting right next to you.”

- “YEAH BUT HE JU-“

- he’s actively commentating throughout the entire thing, i hope you’re ready

- but of course, how could i not mention the way sweets play into y’all’s relationship

- surprisingly but unsurprisingly, it’s very easy to bribe him

- threaten to take away his sweets and, oh lord he is on his knees for you

- also he frequently shares lollipops with you, i take no criticism on this one

- but anyway, basically everything with him is just constant fun, and he’s the only guy who actually knows what to do in a relationship

- it’s never awkward with him, never a dull moment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“gojo!!! hurry up i wanna press play!” you whined from the couch.

“hold ooooooon, i’m coming i’m coming, just grabbing the snacks.” he called back, even in this context, somehow having a teasing lilt to his tone.

you see him waddle back over in the corner of your eye, arms filled to the brim with candies and snacks. he fumbles slightly as he lets all of the bags cascade out of his grasp.

“damn.” was all you could think of saying in the moment, staring at the ginormous pile in front of you.

“‘damn’ is absolutely right. now i’m ready to watch.” he smiles, settling into the couch with a lollipop in his mouth and extending his arms to do the grabby-hands motion.

you understood his invitation, and gladly took it as you pressed play. his arms wrapped around your torso, wiggling his body slightly in attempt to nestle you as deep as he could into his chest.

the movie began to play, several minutes passing before gojo let out a contented sigh.

“what if we stayed like this forever? d’you think you’d ever get sick of me?” he asks. his gaze averted away from the screen, something a bit unusual for him.

you tsked in mock annoyance. “honey, gojo, i’m already sick and tired of you.”

your sarcastic remark was followed by a kiss on the back of his hand. obviously you didn’t mean it; he knew that. he didn’t need the reassurance, but he never complained, as he planted a kiss on the top of your head.

[stubbychaos]

A Guilty Conscience

Chapter 10 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While you get used to your new role in the tribe, you make it your mission to meet the ones who are to be your family. While befriending some unlikely members of the tribe, Paz later surprises you with something that he thinks will make you happy, though it ends up having the opposite effect.

Rating: T

Word Count: 14,000 *Y’all idk how this happened, I’m so sorry lol*

Warnings: Some unresolved sexual tension, minor injuries and reader still dealing with a bunch of past trauma. Other than that, this chapter is pretty harmless!

Just a quick mention: Thank you as always to @datmando for inspiring me and giving me so many amazing ideas for this story!! You’ve helped me so much with this story and getting through writer’s block and I freaking love you <3 Thank you as well to @aerynwrites @hdlynnslibrary and @maybege for all being wonderful and I love you all for motivating me to write more Paz!!

Also thank you to @coredrive​ for the beautiful gifs you made!! If anyone wants quality gifs for their stories, masterlists, etc... please go to Kat because she was so freaking lovely and sweet!!

“Would you like one of my shirts, ner cyare?”

You turn around, coming face to face with an unarmored Paz who is sitting on the foot of the bed, his forearms lazily resting on top of his thighs as he observes the way you hopelessly shift the torn, silky fabric in your hands. You turn to face the culprit who is currently curled up in a white rocky ball close to the furnace in the main area of Paz’s private quarters, seeming completely unbothered and not regretful that she had used your only sleep attire as a chewing toy while you were in the shower and Paz was talking to the armorer.

“That would be nice, thank you,” You murmur softly, watching with a smile as he promptly stands and makes his way over to the dresser near his bed while you discard the torn, silky fabric.

Though a few days have passed since the fight without incident--much to your appreciation--you notice Paz acting differently around you and while it’s not in a bad way by any means, it still has your curiosity growing. You notice how he almost seems worried about letting you stray too far from him, though you’re certain it’s not because he’s concerned one of his own will hurt you again, but perhaps he has the same fears you hold in your very own heart. While you’ve only been with the tribe for three days, you find yourself getting less sleep with every passing day, afraid that when you wake up, you’ll be right back at the village infirmary with your estranged father.

Perhaps he’s anxious that if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll randomly decide to leave without a word or trace.

The thought amuses you and also fills your heart with grief, wondering how the Mandalorian could possibly conjure the thought of you even thinking about leaving the place that had quickly become your safe haven.

“I’m going to shower, if you want to change,” Paz gruffly voices as he approaches you with a thick, black garment and you perk up a little upon feeling how warm it is--how warm it will keep you.

Once the Mandalorian is in the refresher, you’re quick to strip your clothes, smiling softly as you neatly fold the emerald, long-sleeved dress that Ima had found for you in a designated stack of clothes that wasn’t being worn by anyone in the tribe. Once you are only in your shorts, you grab Paz’s black shirt that he must wear over all his padding and sheepishly tug it over your head, instantly relishing in how it smells just like him--all woodsy and spicy and just like the soap he uses. The material is incredibly thick, though it’s not stiff and doesn’t make it feel like you’re suffocating; it feels soft and comforting against your bare skin, engulfing you so warmly just like one of his embraces, though you still long for the intense pressure of his arms around you. The sleeves that usually come to an end just above his elbows now fall just a few inches above your wrists and the hem skims the middle of your thighs.

As you sit on the edge of the bed and get to work on tending to your braids and all the tangles from the hair you had chosen to leave down, you think of how surreal everything still feels and how all the horrors you had ever dreamed about running away from are currently above you in the village. You try your hardest not to think about it, and instead, your mind wanders to the tribe and its intimidating, rambunctious warriors that you’ve been interacting with in the covert for the past few days.

It’s been… an interesting experience, to say the least.

For people who you used to be terrified of until recently, you think it’s somewhat surprising as well as amusing that Paz had been correct when he mentioned them being quite mischievous when it came to you, though you’re certain most of it comes from you being an outsider and not understanding their language. It had already happened a couple times where you would be exploring the enclave, trying to memorize the tunnels and where different ones led, and you would run into a small group of Mandos speaking in their native tongue as you shyly approached them to introduce yourself.

Most of the time they would simply peer down at you while informing you that they already knew who you were--that they had seen you standing your ground against Paz, which apparently nobody in the tribe had ever really done before. It was quite interesting seeing everyone’s perspective towards their heavy-infantry warrior, how they knew him to be one of the strongest in the tribe and how they respected him for it. However, it was also slightly amusing that they seemed to have no problem making jokes at his expense--talking about how they were glad you were at the covert so he would stop being grouchy and angry all the time.

Ima, you found, was the exact same way, although she had no qualms about berating the man she called her uncle to his face.

Seeing the way the teenager and your blue warrior interacted with one another felt like some sort of special phenomenon that you had never really witnessed before--a relationship stronger than that between a sister and a brother, but not quite as profound as one between a daughter and father. You thought uncle and niece was a good way to describe it and though you’re curious as to why Ima doesn’t call anyone else in the tribe ‘brother’ or ‘sister’, you decide it’s better not to ask for the sake of accidentally bringing up a sad memory.

You’re too deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice a hulking figure emerge from the refresher minutes later, a few water droplets dripping down his shoulders and back as he mindlessly observes you combing through your hair with your fingers.

A small cough startles you and you turn your head to gaze at Paz, his helmet slightly tilted to the side as he stares at you through the guise of that unforgiving visor. Your fingers are still threaded in your damp hair, your bare legs dangling off the side of his bed with your sock-clad toes barely skimming the stone floor as you blink owlishly at him, still not used to seeing him expose so much of his skin.

He’s not saying anything and it has you slightly worried--have you done something wrong? 

“Paz, are you okay?”

His bare, broad shoulders tense upwards when you shift on the bed, finally working through a stubborn tangle as you tilt your head at him; you find yourself doing that a lot more lately and you think being surrounded by so many Mandalorians has their little mannerisms rubbing off on you.

You move to get up when he doesn't say anything, now worried that you really have done something wrong, but Paz shakes his head and squashes your worries immediately.

"No--I mean, yes," He huffs and shakes his helmet a little harder when you stand up next to the bed to pull the thick fur away from the pillows it's tucked under while he moves to turn off the lights, "I'm fine, just a little tired, cyare."

You nod your understanding, feeling your own exhaustion creeping up on you, though today had been a relatively easy day in regards to treating scrapes and bruises. You’ve come to find that some of the younger, less trained Mandalorians aren’t exactly the most graceful on their feet, some tripping over their own capes while descending staircases, while others who are less skilled with blades or blasters manage to slip up and injure themselves. It’s definitely not the kind of injuries you’re used to tending--minor ones--but you find it much more pleasant and rewarding than your job in the village, especially when everyone here has treated you politely, for the most part.

You know that even while you had been accepted into the tribe, it doesn’t quite make you part of the family to some, especially to those who still felt as though you should swear the creed to be fully accepted. It was a big detail you had worried about quite a bit, whether or not you would have to swear the creed and wear a helmet just as the rest of them, but you think that perhaps it is a topic you should speak to the armorer about.

You slide underneath the heavy fur and exhale a content sigh, reminding yourself that such worries could wait until morning.

A yawn leaves you just as you hear the quiet hiss of Paz’s helmet being removed before he places it on his nightstand and a tired smile stretches your lips when you feel the mattress dip underneath the weight of the warrior’s body.

Before you can even turn to face him, his huge arm is wrapped around your waist and he’s carefully moving you closer to him; an intense warmth spreads throughout your cheeks when he holds you close, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wastes no time in placing a kiss to the top of your damp hair. You can feel the heat from his bare chest already spreading throughout your entire body and you curl your legs back to press your feet against his bare ankles.

He lets out a small huff as he curls his fingers into the soft material of his shirt covering your abdomen and leans down to press a tender kiss to your cheek, “You are lucky I love you, or else I would not let you wear socks in our bed.”

The ‘our bed’ comment definitely doesn’t go over your head and you hold back a giggle when he sighs against your warm skin, his thumb stroking firm circles near your belly button, “I cannot help it that my feet are always cold.”

His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he settles behind you, his hand moving a little lower to your hip, just underneath where your cauterized wound is still healing, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, “I told you that you’d do nothing to warm our bed up, mesh’la, I knew I was right. You’re always freezing.”

“If I recall correctly, you told me that you would not mind keeping me warm,” You remind him of what he had said the night he had told you his name, your cheeks growing hot when you feel his lips against the outer shell of your ear, “And you are doing no such thing, ori kebiin.”

“You are a funny woman,” Paz is still trying not to laugh as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, long fingers splayed widely against your burning cheeks, “You feel plenty warm to me, sweetheart.”

Realizing that there’s no way of beating the Mandalorian at his own game, you give up and simply shuffle your curled toes between his calves, making him grunt a little when he feels the blocks of ice that are your sock-clad feet through the material of his sleep pants. He cups your jaw and urges your head to the side a little, using his thumb that’s pressed to the corner of your lips to seek them out with his own.

This close intimacy is certainly another thing you’ve noticed since you forgave him after the fight--him wanting to kiss and touch you whenever it’s just the two of you. It’s definitely something you don’t mind, you realize as his tongue firmly swipes across your bottom lip, and you find yourself growing more comfortable and relaxed when it comes to accepting little touches from him. You can tell that it’s something he’s nervous about when you two are just laying in his bed, wide awake when sleep refuses to wrap itself around the two of you--that he’s worried something he does will set you off.

He always tries to keep his touches to your thighs and hips feather-light after politely asking if it’s okay for him to touch you there and a part of you wonders if he’s already concluded that you’re simply not used to people asking you for consent when it comes to certain things.

Even if it’s not the reason why, you’re still grateful he always asks and his consideration fills your heart with warmth whenever he seems so hellbent on making sure you’re comfortable when you two find yourself in these sort of intimate settings. It doesn’t necessarily feel like it’s him testing your boundaries, but more so him seeing what you like and what gets certain noises out of you, though you find your skin quite sensitive to every nip and lick he inflicts on you.

A part of you is grateful that he usually lies on his back when the two of you are holding one another, as the thought of being pinned underneath anyone again, even your blue warrior, lingers like a storm cloud in the back of your mind.

Currently, however, you focus on the way his fingers tentatively curl around your thigh, just below the hem of the shirt he had given you and your lashes flutter as he guides your head back a little so he has more access to your throat. He seems a little more eager tonight, you think, and as his fingers curl into the thick fabric at your thighs while he dutifully presses tender kisses to your sensitive skin, you start to slowly put the pieces together.

“Paz?” His name comes out in the form of a breathy whisper as he settles back to press a kiss into your damp hair.

He still seems slightly dazed as he brings his arm back to curl tightly around your waist, “Hm?”

“Earlier, when you were staring at me when you came out of the shower,” You grin a little when you feel the way his arms tense around your middle, “Was it… is it because I’m wearing your shirt?”

Paz huffs an amused noise and you’re certain you’ve left him flustered for once as he slowly shifts his body until he’s able to rest his chin against the slope of your neck, “I like the way you look in anything, cyare, but something about seeing you wearing my clothes--it does things to me. I can’t say that I am upset that your vulptex tore up your nightgown, not with how beautiful you look right now.”

“You can’t even see me right now, silly man.”

“I don’t need to,” He mumbles, his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he lazily tends to all the little marks he left behind with his lips and teeth the previous night, “I remember everything about you, ner cyare, like how your eyes always get big whenever you see me taking off my armor and my clothes. Perhaps my sweet little nurse isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

You nearly let out with a whimper when you feel his tongue on your skin, your cheeks burning furiously as his hand cautiously grazes up your thigh, “Is this okay?”

His tepid breath fanning along the column of your throat makes you shiver a little and your voice cracks a little when you speak, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He repeats with a soft sigh, his hand moving past the little shorts you typically wear to bed and up to your bare hip, just underneath where your blaster wound is still tender, though not nearly causing you as much pain, “Stars, your skin is so damn soft and your hair smells good--just like those flowers you’re always wearing.”

You let your eyes close as he continues to explore your stomach with feather-like strokes, seeming content to simply warm you with his large hand and you feel your thighs clench together firmly when he rubs a sensitive spot just underneath your belly button. His hands are leaving a scorching blaze in their wake and you feel a deep shudder wrack your body upon feeling the wet, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving just underneath your earlobe. 

Despite the ache between your thighs, you jump when his fingertips barely graze just above the hem of your shorts and he immediately freezes upon feeling the tension in your body.

“I’m sorry,” Your ears grow hot with shame and you think he must be frustrated with you for not feeling ready to be intimate on this kind of level yet, “I just--”

“Hey, don’t you dare ever apologize for knowing when you’re not ready,” He whispers, moving his lips away from your jaw and removing his hand from underneath the shirt he let you borrow, “I shouldn’t have done that--I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay,” You weakly reassure him, smiling softly when he politely fixes your shirt, dragging the hem back down your thighs, “I... I want to be with you like that and I thought I was ready but I... I don’t know.”

“You do not owe me an explanation. I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” Paz promises in a rushed tone as he moves to unlatch his arm from around you, though you are quick to stop him, “I am sorry if I was too forward, cyare. I want you to only ever feel comfortable around me and if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like, please tell me, okay? I’ll never be mad at you.”

“I love you, Paz.”

He relaxes against you and presses another tender kiss into the hair above the tip of your ear, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare.”

You smile into the darkness at the warmth his words bring you, though you can’t help but to feel doubt towards yourself and you turn your head a little over your shoulder until his warm breath fans across the plane of your cheek. Even though you can’t see him in the slightest, you like to imagine his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully--curiously--and you hear him let out an inquisitive hum when you murmur his name.

“I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple of days,” You admit softly, placing your hand on top of the much larger one that’s resting just under your sternum, “I’m scared that every night here is going to be my last one--that someone isn’t going to want me here because I haven’t sworn to the creed and that I don’t wear a helmet or armor.”

Paz exhales softly and you close your eyes when his minty breath tickles your nostrils, “Our alor already knows that you were to be brought to the tribe to be our nurse, not a fighter. I made it clear to everyone that you would not have to wear our armor and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me or the armorer. You’re not going anywhere… not if you don’t want to.”

You detect the way his voice lowers into a much more sheepish, subdued tone upon whispering the last part and your suspicions from earlier are proved correct.

He’s afraid that you’re going to change your mind about staying with the tribe.

In an attempt to squash his own fears and insecurities, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and urge his arm up past your chest until you are able to lean your head down a little and kiss his calloused knuckles tenderly. He lets out a content sigh as you let him splay his fingers out widely against the swell of your breast, your heart pounding frantically against his palm while his thumb studies your firm pulse at the base of your neck.

“I just want to be wherever you are, Paz,” You murmur, your lips stretching into a smile when he tenderly kisses your cheek again.

“I feel the same way about you,” He sighs, finally relaxing completely as you keep his hand cradled to your chest, “Anything else you’re losing sleep over, cyare?”

For a moment it sounds like he’s teasing you, but something about the rawness and sincerity of his voice makes you think differently and you swallow the lump in your throat as you think of the little boy from the nursery--the one that had clung onto your leg and hugged you. Though a part of you wants to ask Paz more about how he was found and what happened to his parents, you think it best not to ask and shake your head a little bit.

It is none of your business.

“Try to get some rest,” Paz murmurs against your cheek, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, “I’ll make sure to wake you up if you have any nightmares.”

You murmur a tired ‘thank you’ and let your eyes slip shut, feeling reassured by his words and the feathery press of his lips against the tail of your brow, along with the way his thumb continues to rest atop your pulse point at the bottom of your neck.

For once, you sleep restfully--not necessarily dreaming of much, but not really having any nightmares either. You’re stuck in a strange limbo for the rest of the night and at one point, you feel Paz stroking your brow in an effort to calm you down upon feeling your body jolt when you wake from a strange dream that has you crying out.

As you fall back asleep underneath the comforting guidance of his hands and sweet whispers against the shell of your ear, you briefly wonder if the heavy-infantry warrior ever sleeps.

The next morning when you wake up and tiredly crack your eyes open, Paz is already fumbling around the little kitchenette, his helmet and underclothes now on and you prop yourself up on an elbow as you watch him set a wooden bowl down in front of your excited vulptex. The dish is filled with colorful fruit and chunks of meat and you think it must be the best meal she’s had since she was born, what with her dramatic reaction. She lets out long, happy little squeaks between bites and you think you hear something reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle from Paz’s vocoder when he reaches out to graze a bare hand along her rocky spine.

“And here I thought you hated her,” You murmur with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head before gracelessly rolling out of bed, the room dimly lit as you make your way over to your beloved companions, “You and everyone else are always calling her a runt.”

Paz snorts and shakes his head a little, tilting his head a little as he hands you a bowl of fruit that has some yogurt underneath, “She is a runt, saviin--doesn’t mean I hate her for it. Besides, she tried to bite Djarin in the leg yesterday, so I guess she’s starting to grow on me.”

You huff a little at that as you savor the fresh berries, your taste buds still not used to such sweet food, and you shake your head at your Mandalorian, “You better not be training my sweet vulptex to attack others, Paz.”

“I would do no such thing,” Paz still sounds a little smug as he begins to put on all of his thick padding and heavy armor, “I’d only train her how to attack the bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he puts his armor on piece by piece, the same way he’s done it every morning for the last couple of days he’s been here. It must be a routine for him, you think as you watch him clip his pauldrons in place and work his way down his body; you find the whole process to be mesmerizing and you wonder if he’s been doing this every single day for nearly his entire life.

“I can feel you staring at me, cyare.”

You feel your cheeks warm up when you promptly turn your attention to the breakfast that Paz had kindly made for you, though you had insisted the previous mornings that you didn’t expect him to do this for you. Your heart warms when you remember how he had admitted that it made him happy to see you enjoy little basic necessities that you had been robbed of nearly your entire life and you stopped arguing after that.

Though it was only yogurt and fruit, you still felt like the most spoiled woman in the galaxy.

After completing your usual morning routine, along with braiding the top half of your hair around the crown of your head, you pick out your clothes for the day and scoop your needy little vulptex into the crook of your elbow, her favorite resting place, it seems.

“What am I going to do when she gets too big and I can’t carry her like this?”

Paz snorts as you wait for him to snap his gauntlets into place around his black, leather gloves, “If you didn’t spoil her so much and carry her around all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem, cyare.”

You pout a little at that, struggling not to smile when he gives your earlobe a playful tug once he’s finished with his big gauntlets, “Her leg is still sore--would you really be so heartless to make her walk around the covert?”

“She seemed to have no problem limping around until you showed up and started carrying her all over the place.”

Not having a solid rebuttal to the playful words, you simply shake your head and watch as he checks all the big pouches attached to his utility belt. Your eyes immediately land on the vibroblade sheathed at his hip and you let out a shaky sigh when you remember the Trandoshan, though Paz seems to notice the change in your attitude and shields that side of his body from you.

“C’mon cyare, we have a long day.”

Following close behind Paz, the two of you make your way out of his private quarters and down the tunnels where others are starting to trickle out of their rooms as well. You’ve come to find that with the exception of a few Mandos, the tribe tends to stick to a pretty strict routine of going to bed at a certain time and waking up earlier, though you find this to work out quite nicely for you. Whereas once you were getting two or three hours of sleep a night, along with maybe a thirty minute nap on your break, you now have the entire night to rest, even if you don’t always get the best sleep.

Perhaps he’s worried that you’ll get lost, even though you memorized the directions to your little office on the second day of being at the covert, but you allow Paz to guide you there anyways, grateful for his company when you know you won’t see him until tonight. Though you feel slightly sad upon making it to your destination, you’re somewhat anxious and eager to see what today brings you and who you might meet.

With a gentle kiss of his Beskar forehead against yours, you and the heavy-infantry warrior part ways for the day and you contentedly enter the little office that you had managed to clean up pretty well since your arrival. As you enter the little alcove, something feels off and you quickly detect the sounds of soft hums and discontented grunts. 

You freeze upon finding out that you are not the only one occupying the room and your brows shoot up at the strange spectacle taking place in front of you.

In front of your desk, where you had placed a small pot of violets that you’d taken from the room Paz and Ima had decorated for you, is an unarmored Mandalorian who’s currently inspecting something you wrote down on a little notepad the previous day. Though the Mando is wearing a light grey helmet with chipped away emeral trimmings around the visor and cheeks, you think they must be one of the elders in the tribe, what with their hunched over form, wavering hands, and the long staff they wield.

You don’t miss the sharp, pointed tip of the walking stick that is made from what you’re certain is Beskar and you make sure to approach slowly, not wanting to frighten the Mandalorian, though the thought of you startling a warrior is slightly amusing to you.

They’re humming something that you can barely make out through their modulator and your lips instantly stretch into a faint grin when you realize they’re reading the little list you had started of all the Mandalorians you had met in the tribe so far, along with the colors of their armor and their names to help you memorize the people who are supposed to be your new family. You watch with curiosity as the unarmored Mandalorian grabs one of your pens from the little cup next to your notepad, leaning down to try to scribble something down, though they seem to grow frustrated with how shaky their hands are.

You decide to step in when you hear a disgruntled voice uttering curse words under their breath that you’ve never even heard Paz say before and your cheeks grow warm.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Immediately, the Mandalorian whips around with a small gasp, making you jump as well and you hastily take a few steps backwards when they turn around to face you, their hand pressed tight to where their heart must be frantically pounding, just like yours currently is. Your eyes are wide, hands nervously clutched together as the Mandalorian tilts their faded, scuffed up helmet to the side while observing you closely. Though you think they must be elderly, they stand about only one or two inches taller than you and you’re finally grateful to meet someone who isn’t terrifyingly large or as tiny as one of the younglings.

“You cannot sneak up on me like that!” He lightly admonishes in a deep, gruff voice, still holding his bare, wrinkled hand over his heart, “I am not nearly as alert as I used to be, but it doesn’t mean I can’t deal out some damage still.”

He lifts the staff to show you the pointed, steel bottom of it and you immediately nod your understanding, bowing your head a little, “Of course, I am so sorry! I wasn’t sure if you were hurt or not and I just thought…”

You bite your bottom lip nervously--what were you even thinking?

“Ah, I see,” He seems to relax then, pulling out the chair in front of your desk and sinking down into it with a pained grunt while you continue to wring your fingers together in an anxious manner, “So you must be my replacement--the nurse Paz insisted on bringing to the tribe.”

Maker, did your Mandalorian actually tell the entire damn tribe about you?

Your leg bounces as soon as you take a seat at the end of the medical cot and you brush a few unruly hairs from your forehead before speaking to the elderly man, “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a replacement, sir. I’m sure I could never be as good of a medic as you are for your people. I’m just here to help out as much as I can.”

He chuckles and shakes his helmet at your humbled statement, propping his steel cane against his thigh and you feel a twinge of sadness deep within your soul as he stares down at his trembling hands. You notice his right hand is trembling more than the left and you think that must be his dominant hand--the one he would typically use for certain medical procedures--and you remember what Paz had mentioned about the tribe’s medic growing too ill and shaky to actually help others.

‘No wonder why the office was so dusty and everything was unused,’ you think to yourself sorrowfully, your eyes taking in all the big dents and scuff marks on his gray and crimson helmet.

“Hey, don’t give me those sad eyes, little one,” He admonishes you again and though you don’t remember having any kind of grandparent in your life, you think being scolded by this man must be what it feels like to have one, “I was told by Paz that you are a tough one--a warrior, just like us.”

You offer him a wry smile, “I suppose he didn’t tell you that I tend to cry quite a bit as well?”

“Oh, he definitely mentioned that,” The Mandalorian chortles and you can’t help but to grin at that, immediately feeling better at how playful he sounds, “I was hoping he was messing around with me--our people aren’t exactly the best with tears and emotions, but I suppose it is not a bad thing. During times like these, the tribe could use a little more happiness and vulnerability.”

You contemplate his words deeply, thinking of the few times Paz had informed you that because of the Empire, his people were nearly extinct and you wonder how this stranger could so easily accept you into the tribe without really knowing you. Seeing how worn out and damaged his dented helmet is, you can’t help but to wonder what he’s been through and though he seems to be more of an eccentric member of the tribe, you’re certain he’s been through hell and back.

“If you do not mind me asking--” You offer him a fond gaze, your smile growing when he tilts his helmet dramatically to the side, his Beskar cheek nearly touching his shoulder, “May I have your name? I am trying to learn who everyone is, but the visors are all the same and sometimes the color of armor is similar and--”

“I get it,” The older man sounds like he’s amused and you briefly wonder if he was once an outsider like you, though you find it rude to ask, “I was about to write it in your little notebook, but I fear my hands are too unsteady for you to understand my writing, little one.”

You perk up and quickly stand up, making your way over to where he’s sitting before you crouch down in front of your desk and grab one of the several pens in the little cup near your notebook. The Mandalorian makes a funny noise as you give him an inquisitive glance, wordlessly asking for his name with a quirk of your brow and though he wears a typical Mandalorian helmet, you think he must be grinning underneath his Beskar guise.

“Ezir Ralas.”

You somehow manage to write down his name as fast as he spells it out for you and you grin at how demanding he sounds upon spelling every single letter out and how he describes the exact colors of his faded helmet. There’s something about his lighthearted tone that makes you think he’s not as intimidating as every other warrior you’ve encountered since being brought to the covert.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, sir,” You beam at him as you make your way back to the medical cot to sit on while you wait for your first patient of the day, “Have you been the tribe’s nurse for very long?”

He chuckles again, long fingers curling against his knees, “Oh yes, I’ve been with the tribe since we were forced into hiding years ago. Before all of this, however, I was a field medic for my people on Mandalore, back during our civil war.”

“Oh, I um, I had no idea there was a civil war,” You frown at this new information, briefly wondering if Paz knows about this, though you think he must, “That must have been so scary to be out there on a battlefield, trying to save your own people.”

He lets out a small grunt as he leans forward to rest his forearms atop his thighs, “Even though I am a medic, I was also born and raised a fighter, little one. Though the things I have seen haunt me at night when I cannot sleep, I would not so willingly admit that I was ever afraid.”

You slowly nod and gaze down at the steel pendant that hangs between his collarbones and you recognize it as the one you often see around the covert, or in the morning when Paz tucks his own into the collar of his tunic. Seeming to recognize your curiosity towards the skull sigil, he unties the knot at his nape and holds out the necklace for you to inspect up close.

With great eagerness, you reach forward to accept the kind gesture, “Is it rude of me to ask what this is?”

“It is not rude,” Ezir sounds amused by your curiosity and your cheeks grow warm as you trace over the sharp horns protruding from the cheeks of the skull with your thumbs, “It is the skull of a beast that was once native to Mandalore--the mythosaur. They were these enormous monsters with teeth and horns sharper than a sword made of Beskar and when they tried to attack my ancestors, we either slayed them or conquered them and rode them as transportation.”

“How big were they?”

“Massive,” He flippantly waves a hand in the air, appearing far too nonchalant while speaking of terrifying beasts, “Well, I would imagine they’re the size of the village currently above us, little one.”

Your eyes grow wide and a chuckle escapes past his modulator at how incredulous you sound, “And you’re ancestors fought them?”

“Without hesitation,” He informs you and though the image of a monster so fearsome and enormous terrifies you, it also fills you with feelings of reverence and awe, “After the beasts went extinct, the mythosaur skull became a symbol of our people and all that we had overcome; it is a symbol of our history and culture.”

You hum quietly, barely noticing the way his tilted visor is trained on the way you tenderly trace all the curves and divots of the pendant with admiration, a smile tugging at your lips as you think of the symbolism behind the sigil. Suddenly, you understand why people have always murmured terrifying rumors of the Beskar-clad enigmas and you think it must be true that they’re the strongest warriors in the galaxy. You wonder what it must feel like to exude such power to the point where people fear you without even knowing who you are and though you still regret feeling so much terror upon initially meeting Paz, you’re suddenly grateful that you’d eventually let him into your heart.

“Perhaps one day, you will have one of your own,” Ezir concedes and your head snaps up to peer at him with shock; you hand the pendant back out for him to take, feeling undeserving to be holding something so precious to his people, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You may not wear our helmet or armor, but once I teach you some Mando’a and get a weapon in your hand, you’ll be a fearsome warrior.”

You think of what Paz had mentioned about the others in the tribe teaching you Mando’a, and while you’ve only known him for a few minutes, he seems to be a respectful man, albeit a little quirky.

“What does riduur mean?” You blurt out, your skin instantly growing warm when you see Ezir’s shoulders shaking as he laughs at the innocent question; suddenly, you fear that everyone has been saying something demeaning about you, “I just... everyone in the tribe keeps calling me ‘Paz’s riduur’ and I--it’s not an insult, right? They’re always laughing when they say it.”

He shakes his head as his laughter eventually ceases, “No, little one, it is quite the opposite of an insult, but rather a term of endearment. I do not think it is my place to tell you what it means and I am not sure if Paz has the guts to actually tell you, but I can say that I am certain you will find out for yourself one day when he calls you that himself.”

Your leg bounces anxiously as you watch him situate his mythosaur pendant between his collarbones and as you think of all the meanings that the word possibly possesses, one stands out to you the most.

“Is it something I would be allowed to say to him as well in the future?”

“Yes,” He reaches down to pet your vulptex that’s awkwardly making her way towards his boots, sounding utterly entertained by your inquiry, “Though I cannot promise you that his brain wouldn’t combust if he heard you call him that.”

“Then perhaps I would call him that as payback for all the times he’s teased me about certain things.”

Ezir guffaws at that, remaining diligent in petting the lazy vulptex that’s headbutting his calf in a needy manner, “I like you, little one. I almost didn’t believe Ima when she told me you had stopped the fight between Din and Paz, let alone when she informed me that you had stood up for yourself and the bounty hunter.”

You watch as the older man awkwardly scoops the little vulptex into his arms and you’re grateful that not many seem to mind her presence in the covert, as you’re not sure what you would have done had you been forced to get rid of her.

“I have been belittled by men all my life,” You shyly admit, staring at the little creature that’s reaching up in an attempt to bite his pendant, though Ezir doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest as you continue, “And for the longest time, I just learned to keep my mouth shut and deal with it because that’s just the way I was raised, I suppose. These last couple of days have taught me that it does not make me a bad person for only wanting to be treated with respect and my only regret is that I did not realize this sooner in life. Perhaps I’d be a stronger woman if I had realized my worth at a younger age.”

No longer is Ezir petting the vulptex, but instead, he now has his visor trained on you and in return, you offer him a small smile. He remains deathly silent for at least a minute before giving you a curt nod, as though he approves of either you or just your declaration in general.

“In our language, we have a word that I think perfectly describes you, little one,” His gruff, filtered voice drops to something softer as he watches you perk up with curiosity, “Ramikadyc--it means that you have the tenacity and determination of a Mandalorian, that you have our mindset.”

Your heart instantly swells with gratitude and you shyly cross your ankles together as you wring your fingers together on top of your lap, “I would hardly compare myself to your people. I do not think I would have the tenacity or determination to fight against one of those mythosaurs that your ancestors slayed.”

“Something tells me you and I are not too different,” Ezir informs you with what you think is mirth laced within his deep voice, “I do not think you would hesitate to put yourself in harm’s way if it meant protecting someone you care for or someone you do not wish to see to get hurt.”

You smile softly and give him a slight nod as you think of the bounty hunter that you had stood up for, despite him not deserving it, or even your little vulptex that you had taken a blaster shot for. If Ezir truly thinks that you have the heart of a warrior, then he must be saying it for a good reason and his words, along with Ima’s and Paz’s confidence in you, fills you with a little more hope in regards to your future with the tribe.

“Will you tell me more about you?”

“I am afraid my stories might bore you to the point of insanity,” Ezir chuckles, shifting in his seat a little so he can hold your vulptex in a more comfortable position, “But since you seem so curious, what is it you wish to know, little one?”

“Can you tell me more about Mandalore and the civil--?”

Before you can finish, a deep baritone from the entrance of your office interrupts your inquiry and both you and Ezir immediately turn around to find your blue Mandalorian standing tall behind another unarmored Mando, though this one is still taller than you and Ezir. The smaller Mando is holding their wrist protectively against their chest and it takes a few seconds for you to recognize the warrior as one of the younger ones that seems to have a knack for constantly getting hurt during training.

“Saviin’ika,” Paz greets politely with a slight nod, cocking his helmet to the side upon noticing who’s been keeping you company in the short amount of time you two have been apart, “Ezir.”

You raise your brows at the way your warrior tenses up a little upon seeing the elderly man, though you manage to get in a word before any of the Mandalorians can say anything, your attention focused on the injured boy.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

The unarmored Mando peers up at Paz with what you think must be a wary expression through his visor--something that your warrior immediately picks up on. With absolutely no hesitation, the heavy-infantry warrior murmurs something to the younger Mando in his native tongue and you raise your head with anticipation and a kind smile. As though that’s all the confirmation of the young teenager--Vhan--needs, he nods a little and you slide off the end of the cot so your first patient of the day can sit down.

You give the boy a small, encouraging smile as he takes his glove off and pushes up his sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist, “What happened?”

“It was my fault,” Paz says immediately, making you raise your brows in surprise at the thought of him somehow hurting someone so young, “He was sparring with his brother and I looked away for a minute. He fell and landed right on his wrist.”

You frown a little at the guilt in his voice, though judging by the exasperated sigh that wafts past Vhan’s modulator, you think this must be a common occurrence amongst the younger ones who get hurt on Paz’s watch.

“Well, it’s hard to tell for sure without x-rays,” You manage to rotate Vhan’s wrist in the slightest, a gesture that seems to cause minimal pain to the boy, “But it looks like it’s just a minor sprain, since there seems to be no crooked bones and you can still move it around a little. Nothing too serious and nothing to feel bad about.”

Paz lets out a relieved huff at the news, though you know your blue warrior enough to know he’s not going to let the guilt down so easily, especially not when it pertains to one of the younger members of the tribe. A knowing grin stretches your lips when Vhan groans, and now you’re certain this isn’t the first time Paz has been worried like a mother hen over the clumsy teen. Though the blue warrior has quite the reputation among all the adults in the covert, it seems he also has a completely different persona when he’s with the younger ones.

“See? I told you it’s fine. Can I go back to training now?” Vhan insists, moving to hop off of the cot, though you are quicker to stop him by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Uh uh,” You shake your head, earning another groan from the teen and what you’re sure are surprised expressions from the two other men occupying the room, “Just because it’s a sprain doesn’t mean you can go running off just to damage it even further. You should at least rest it for forty-eight hours and put some ice on it every thirty minutes for two hours until the pain goes away. Also try to keep it elevated as much as possible.”

“That’s so much work for a little sprain though!” Vhan argues and you let out a soft sigh as you begin to compress his wrist with a thick bandage, “Can’t I just--”

“Hey!” Ezir suddenly sounds annoyed, and you’re surprised when the boy tenses up a little, just as Paz had earlier, and something about their reactions has you growing even more curious to what kind of reputation the elder has among his family, “Listen to the nurse, di’kut. She only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yes sir,” Vhan mumbles, though you can tell he’s still not happy about it when he turns his visor to you, “S-Sorry, Saviin’ika.”

You blink your surprise at him calling you the familiar nickname, but eventually you give him a kind smile and stand up to retrieve your roll of ice wraps, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure it must be difficult for you to miss out on training, but it really is for your own good. I don’t have the resources here to fix your wrist if it was seriously broken, so it’s detrimental to make sure that the sprain heals properly before doing any serious training again. Perhaps there is… um, maybe something else you can do in the meantime that’s not too strenuous?”

He perks up a little and hope instantly flares in your chest as he gives you an eager nod before turning to look at Paz, “You told me the other day that you would show me how to take apart an assault rifle and put it back together--would that be okay?”

Paz glances at you and the boy’s eager tone makes it hard for you to say no, so you give your warrior a reluctant nod as you finish tying the ice wrap around his swollen wrist, “Just as long as you make sure to not move your wrist around too much and keep the ice wrap on, okay?”

“Alright!” He’s instantly hopping off the cot and you chuckle at his newfound excitement, “Thanks vod’ika!”

You huff a little, opening your mouth to stubbornly remind him that you’re far older than him, though he cuts you off with a quick headbutt to your forehead; while it’s not too harsh of a harsh gesture, it’s certainly not as gentle as all the times Paz has performed the same action. You rub your tender forehead as Paz turns to the side a little so Vhan can make his way, presumably, to the armory. Paz shakes his helmet in an exasperated manner as he steps toward you, most likely to get a look at your forehead, but Ezir’s small grunts as he slowly stands up has your full attention.

Instinctively, you move to help the elder up from your office chair, noticing his slight struggle to stand and you force yourself not to cringe at the numerous pops and cracks coming from his knees and back. After a lifetime of fighting and being a medic, you’re certain it’s taken a toll on him, though he simply chuckles a little and pats your back as you both make your way over to Paz.

“I suppose I should take this as my sign to leave you to your duties for the day, verd’ika,” You beam at the new nickname as he carefully grabs onto your elbow for better balance while you lead him to the entrance where Paz is still standing with a cocked helmet, “I’ll have to look for my old medical books and datapads for you to read.”

“Oh, thank you!” Happiness and warmth instantly blankets your heart at his consideration, gratitude filling your soul when you realize that he seems to approve of you being the tribe’s new nurse, “I would love that very much, if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Of course not,” He gives your hand a little pat before latching onto a grumpy Paz’s elbow instead, “I’ll just make this one help me later since he can reach the higher shelves.”

“I have other things to--”

Jutting a thumb out in your direction over his shoulder, Ezir sends a rough little whack! of his walking stick to Paz’s armored shin, “It is good she is here with the tribe now--perhaps she can teach you and everyone else some manners, you big brute.”

“Yeah, ori kebiin,” You giggle in a teasing manner, earning a small grunt from the blue warrior, “Would it really kill you to learn a few manners?”

Ezir lets out a loud laugh that has Paz shaking his helmet at you, and though you know you’ll soon regret it, you think it’s worth the delightful torment he’ll inflict on you later when the two of you are alone. Without another word, Paz reaches out to give your nape a tender squeeze before leaving you alone to your thoughts in your little office, though you think that seeing Ezir and helping Vhan has already given you a bright start to your day.

With a faint smile stretched along your lips, you add a few comments to your little notepad and take inventory of the supplies you have and what you need for the next time Paz goes on a supply run. For the most part, the day goes by slowly and uneventfully--something you are actually grateful for, what with being so used to the chaos that came as a result of working in a village full of crime and those with cruel hearts.

Needless to say, you don’t mind a calm day in the slightest and when Ima passes your office hours later to politely inform you that training and sparring lessons are done for the day, you’re grateful that no serious injuries were sustained. Packing up your things and making sure your office is in order, you turn off the lights and exit your office, eager to explore the covert a little more and go to the room that Paz and Ima had decorated for you.

After conversing with a few of the Mandalorians you had befriended in the short amount of time you’ve been at the covert, you happily make your way down the stairs that you know leads to everyone’s private quarters, as well as the nursery and your little flower alcove.

You hum a mindless tune to yourself as you stroll down the long tunnel, smiling when the atmosphere gets a little warmer when you pass the shielded alcove that leads into the nursery; your walking slows a little and you’re half tempted to go inside and say hi to the little ones, though you don’t want to cause any chaos again, especially so late in the day. Reluctantly, you continue past the nursery and make your way to the little room Paz and Ima had decorated with your flowers, your vulptex resting comfortably in your arms as you two seek out relaxation.

“I need to think of a name for you, little one,” You murmur, earning a soft gaze from her, crimson eyes slowly blinking up at you, “Maybe I should ask one of the younglings to come up with one. They must be far more creative than me.”

She simply answers you with a dramatic huff as you continue down the path that Paz had already taken you down a few times.

You’re completely oblivious to the little footsteps following you far behind.

Finally, you make it to your beloved sanctuary and let out a relieved sigh upon seeing all your growing flowers and the lights that hang above them. Placing your little vulptex on the center of the desk where you had placed a little pillow for her, you dutifully water the plants and flowers that look like they need it the most. It’s comforting to have a little place of your own, especially after dealing with so many of the boisterous warriors all day and while you feel as though you’re slowly getting used to their antics, you realize you truly had no idea what you were getting yourself into upon agreeing to be the tribe’s nurse.

A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips as you feel the tiniest ache in your temple where the younger Mandalorian had headbutted his gratitude a little too roughly earlier, though warmth fills your heart when you remember how he had referred to you as his sister.

You’re in the middle of checking on your little violets when your vulptex raises her head in a jolting manner; immediately, you turn around, expecting Paz or perhaps Ima needing you to tend to someone’s wound.

It is neither one of them, you realize with surprise.

You let out a little gasp upon seeing a pair of wide, fearful eyes poking from the tiny crack between the curtains and the doorway and you instantly recognize the sad, golden brown orbs from days ago in the nursery.

“Oh, it’s okay, little one!” You give him a warm smile that instantly seems to allay some of the despair in his big eyes, “You may come in, if you’d like.”

Hesitantly, he makes his way into the unfamiliar room, looking like a lost animal that’s experiencing a new environment for the first time and you think you know the feeling all too well; even after spending a few days at the covert, you still feel quite lost and you can’t possibly imagine what this child is going through.

You blink your surprise when he gets halfway across the room before spotting your lazy vulptex who is still curled up on your desk, staring at the boy curiously, though not unkindly in the slightest. Carefully, you make your way closer to the little who simply stares up at you with wide starry eyes, his hands clasped together politely in front of him and your heart melts at how nervous and scared he seems.

“It’s okay, little one,” You reassure him in a calm, hushed tone, reaching your hand out for him to take, “She loves younglings very much and would never hurt you, I promise.”

The curly-haired boy shifts his gaze between you and your rocky companion before ultimate latching onto your hand with his. Cautiously and without any force, you guide him closer to your desk where the vulptex is still observing the little boy with gentle eyes; you think that on top of being intelligent, her species must also be quite empathetic and can differentiate a kind soul from a dark one.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?” You question the boy softly, earning you a shy nod as an answer, and you carefully haul him up to the chair in front of your desk, keeping a hand pressed to the back of his shoulders to keep him steady, should he stumble, “If you want to hold your hand out to sniff it, it’ll be a sign that you want to be her friend.”

His eyes widen a little more and you can’t help but to grin as he holds a shaking hand out for the rocky vulpine to sniff eagerly, his other hand pressed shyly to his cheek in anticipation. A tiny, childish giggle meets your ears and warms your heart as the vulptex licks his palm, though he is quick to pull his damp hand back and wipe it on his beige tunic with a scrunched up expression. When he smiles up at you, you’re certain your heart is going to melt into a big puddle of goo in the pit of your stomach and you offer him one in return, smoothing his dark, unruly curls away from his forehead.

“See? She knows you’re brave and likes you now.”

He gives you a toothy grin and you feel a lovely warmth in your soul knowing that you were able to provide some emotional reprieve for the sweet child.

“Did you sneak away from the nursery, little one?” You ask him gently, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him at all; he simply drops his head in shame and you continue to stroke his curls in an attempt to comfort him, “It’s okay! You’re not in trouble, I promise. I just want to know why.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to answer as he keeps his head lowered, but then he eventually peers up at you and whispers his response in a tiny, meek voice.

“Y-You were singing,” He explains quietly, and you realize he must have heard you humming and followed you all the way here, “‘M sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” You crouch down in front of him so he’s taller than you while he stands on your chair and you give him a kind smile, “It’s okay, but how about next time you just ask the caretaker on duty, alright? They’ll come find me, wherever I may be.”

He gives you a shy nod, seeming thoughtful for a few moments as he presses a chubby index finger to his pouting lips, “Do I have to go back?”

You should say yes and you know it, but his eyes are all but pleading with you to say no and he looks so hopeful that you’ll let him keep you company. You think he must feel just as out of place as you do, not knowing who to talk to or who to trust, though you seem to be the one person he finds solace in.

How could you destroy that tiny amount of trust he already has in you?

You give him a tiny smile and shake your head, “You may stay for a little while, but I fear I do not make for the most exciting company, little one.”

The boy doesn’t say anything to that and you blink your surprise when he reaches out to clumsily touch the thick braid wrapped around your crown, along with the few flowers that you had strategically placed throughout the weaves that morning when Paz had been watching you. He seems curious by the vibrant flora, his eyes blinking and flickering with awe and you bow your head a little so he can get a better look at them.

“Do you like flowers?” You ask him quietly when he eventually ceases his exploration, and you look up to see him giving you a shy little nod, “What’s your favorite kind?”

You expect him to not know many, especially if he’s spent his few years of life on Nevarro, though he surprises you when he speaks in a barely there whisper, “I like roses--like the ones my ‘gramma used to paint.”

You’re desperately inclined to ask more about his grandmother--if he had any parents and what planet he had been saved from, but if he’s the covert’s newest foundling, the wounds on his heart and mind must still be so fresh and you do not wish to infect it further with your invasive questions. Instead, you force yourself to give him a warm, big smile and somehow manage to keep the tears out of your eyes when his chubby fingers find the little blue flower that Paz had tucked behind your ear earlier in the morning.

“Yeah? I bet they were beautiful,” You grin and he gives you a fervent little nod to confirm your thoughts, “What color roses did she paint?”

And what you thought was only going to be a ten or twenty minute interaction with the boy ends up to be more than an hour and a half long meeting where the two of you talk about harmless topics like flowers, favorite animals, different types of stars and constellations. Though for once, you do most of the talking and you are more than satisfied to describe the beautiful hot springs and caves that Paz had taken you to, sparing all the mushy details that you knew would probably gross out a child.

“He’s scary,” The boy murmurs as you tell him of the story, at least the clean version, of how Paz had stood up for you the night you first found your vulptex, “They all are--they don’t smile.”

“Well of course they do,” You inform the little one, curling a finger against his cheek and earning a tiny giggle, “Everyone smiles, you just can’t see it because they wear their helmets to honor their creed. It does not mean they are robots or incapable of feeling the same emotions we do.”

He’s perched on one of your thighs, seeming comfortable as he softly pets the sleeping vulptex and you smile down at him sympathetically upon realizing he’s still apprehensive of the armored warriors, “I was scared of Paz at first too, but he turned out to be one of the kindest, most honorable men I have ever met. These people are not cruel, but I understand why you are afraid, little one. I have only been here for three days and I am still learning how to fit in as well. Perhaps we can figure this out together.”

He gives you another toothy grin and nods, seeming comforted by your words as he leans back into you and your heart aches at the trust he shows in you; a part of you wonders if it’s because he can actually see your face. You’re not entirely sure of what to say as he continues to pet the sleepy animal, smiling whenever he hears the soft squeaks that the vulptex lets out every now and then.

“Do you have a name little one?” You ask kindly--tenderly--hoping that the question won’t overwhelm him as he tilts his head to stare up at you.

You truly don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then after a few moments of silence, he lowers his head a little, not looking you in the eyes.

“Odisian.”

“Odisian... what a lovely name,” You repeat it with a grin, earning a shy smile from him, “Is it okay if I call you Odi? Or do you prefer your full name?”

Suddenly, he beams up at you and kicks his legs a little, as if having a nickname makes him feel more at home, “I like Odi!”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how big you’re smiling at him and you nod, deciding it’s best not to dwell too much on his own name or what nicknames he might have had before being brought to the covert. You straighten your spine a little and reach out to pet your little vulptex who keens under all the adoration and attention she’s suddenly receiving from you and the little one.

“Would you like to pick out a name for her?” You ask him softly, tilting your head to the side when he gives you an expression filled with awe and wonder, like he can’t believe you are asking him to do such a thing, “She needs one and I do not think I am creative enough to bestow her with such an honor.”

Odi swings his legs nervously and you can’t help but to grin as he seems to seriously contemplate this huge decision, his tiny hand squeezing his cheeks together in great concentration. You remain patient with him as he turns his head a little to stare at all the flowers on your desk and the colorful vines that are draping off the edge of the shelves attached to the wall with admiration.

“Rosie?”

He says it more as a question, like he’s nervous for your response, so you offer him a warm grin when you realize this sweet child wants to name your vulptex after his own favorite flower. You wonder if he somehow knows just how much your flowers mean to you, just as Paz does, or if the flower simply has some sort of deeper meaning to him and you playfully ruffle his curls, earning you a little giggle from him.

“That is far more lovely of a name than I could ever come up for her,” You inform him, your cheeks hurting from how big of a smile you’re wearing on your face and he perks up at your reassurance, no longer seeming quite as nervous, “Her eyes are red like roses too! Is red your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” He bashfully admits, and you nearly chuckle at the way he pronounces his ‘L’s as ‘W’s, “It is a happy color.”

You agree with him as you begin to collect some flowers for the little boy, though a part of you lamely thinks he probably doesn’t even want them. You’re in the process of pointing out all the different flowers that Paz and Ima had been so kind to plant for you in anticipation of your arrival when the drapes to your alcove shuffle to the side a little.

You’re completely unaware of how long your blue warrior is standing in the entryway, simply observing you and the little one perched contently on top of your leg who seems utterly interested in what you have to tell him about the healing properties of violets and lavender.

“Oh! And then this one right here, if you just grind it up and add it into--”

“Cyare.”

Immediately, you and Odi both turn to face where Paz is standing just feet away in front of the rounded entrance, though the little one in your arms is quick to lower his head in fear of the massive warrior. Wanting the youngling to feel more comfortable, you simply smile up at Paz, who suddenly seems frozen to his spot as he stares at you with a cocked helmet, his shoulders tense as his pauldrons inch closer to the bottom of his helmet.

“Is something wrong, Paz?”

“No, it’s just--” His helmet slightly jolts to the side and he’s acting odd as you gently heave Odi off of your lap, offering him the little bundle of flowers so he won’t feel so lonely without you by his side, “It is time for the younglings to sleep and the caretaker on duty got scared because he was missing. I thought you might know where he is and it seems as though I was right.”

Odi is staring up at you with the saddest expression, as though he’s pleading with you to not return him back to the nursery and you gently cup the back of his curls, giving him a kind smile in return. Nervously, he fiddles with his hands as you stand up, easily scooping your vulptex into the crook of your elbow, all while the little one stares up at Paz with the most frightened expression you’ve ever witnessed, hiding behind your leg.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere and you’re more than welcome to visit me anytime,” You offer him a reassuring smile as he gazes down at the little bouquet of flowers and  he is quick to grab your outstretched hand with an eager expression, “C’mon, I’ll walk you back. Besides, he likes flowers too--I bet he would like it if you gave him one.”

You say the last sentence in a low whisper, as though you’re sharing some sort of gossip with him and you instantly notice the way he perks up as Paz holds the drapes to the side for you, his helmet still tilted to the side as he observes you two. Odi is still quiet and thoughtful as he stares down at the little bundle of colorful flowers you had gifted him, all while holding your hand as Paz slowly leads you through the dim tunnels.

Shyly, the child gazes up at Paz and warmth blooms in your heart and soul when he lowers his helmet to regard Odi with what you’re certain is the utmost kindness, most likely wanting nothing more than to earn the boy’s trust. Without saying anything, the little one holds up the colorful bouquet of flowers for Paz to see and you grin at the adorable interaction.

"Those are... pretty,” Paz comments in a softer voice and you can tell he’s trying to appear as placid as possible to the nervous boy, “Which one is your favorite?”

Odi lets go of your hand to press his index finger to his bottom lip in severe contemplation and you nearly chuckle at what must be a cute little habit that he does unknowingly when he’s thinking too hard. After a moment’s consideration, he points a chubby finger at one of the many violets that you had tucked in the center and you instantly grin.

“Those are my favorite too,” Paz says quietly, and you’re too focused on the way Odi is smiling down at the little bouquet to notice the Mandalorian’s visor trained on your face.

Odi seems conflicted as he gently tugs one of the violets from the middle of the colorful bundle and offers it to the huge warrior with a hopeful gaze, not saying a word throughout the entire exchange.

“What an honor,” Paz sounds like he's grinning as he accepts the little flower and Odi immediately seeks out your hand again, “Thank you.”

The youngling peers up at you with a cheerful glimmer in his eye, as though he’s proud of himself for showing such bravery and selflessness in the presence of a powerful warrior. Once you offer him a knowing smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand, Odi turns to gaze down at his colorful bouquet with a tiny grin on his face. 

Content upon realizing the little one no longer seems sad or fearful, you tilt your head up to beam happily at Paz, your heart still full of love and admiration towards both him and Odi; immediately the warrior lifts his hand to tenderly stroke your cheek. The cold bite of leather nearly makes you flinch and suddenly you’re remorseful that both of your hands are occupied by your littlest companions as you now long to touch the lighter blue in the hollows of his cheeks.

It’s not until you make it back to the nursery that Odi’s smile drops and his lips form into a little pout. Paz presses his gloved hand to the small of your back to guide you further into the nursery and through a short tunnel leading the four of you to where the younglings must sleep and take their naps.

“Hey,” You whisper after the four of you enter a dimly lit room with several beds lined up; you notice the tiny lumps curled up underneath the fuzzy blankets and smile as you crouch down in front of Odi, “Remember what I said, okay? You ever want to come see me, just ask one of the caretakers. I’ll always be here for you.”

He nods, and before you can even think about standing up, he steps forward to wrap his tiny arms around your neck and you’re quick to return the sweet gesture, your free hand coming up to gently cup the back of his head. You feel his chubby fingers curl into the hair you had left unbraided that morning and smile when he holds onto you a little tighter; you can tell he’s still afraid of you leaving as an idea pops into your head.

“Since Rosie seems to like you so much, why don’t I leave her here with you for the night?” Immediately, he pulls away from you, his starry eyes wide and filled with disbelief as you gently shuffle the lazy vulpine into his awaiting arms, “She may be small, but she’s a fierce little thing that will protect you from any nightmares you may have, I promise.”

He holds the animal closer to his chest, grinning when she lifts her head to lick at his cheek and Odi instantly giggles in response. He gives you one last shy smile before making his way to his little bed and you stand up to your full height as you watch him shuffle underneath his blankets, all while holding Rosie close to his chest. It’s not until you watch his eyes close that you let out a deep exhale and you wonder when you had stopped breathing; tears nearly escape your eyes when you watch Rosie curl herself closer to the child, head tucked underneath his chin as he smiles sleepily.

“Ner cyare,” Paz whispers and you jump a little, nearly forgetting that he had been standing there this whole time; you turn to face him and you give him a questioning look when he threads his fingers through the valleys between yours, “There is something I want to show you.”

You think when he says ‘something’, he most likely means ‘someone’, and your heart thrums wildly in anticipation as he leads you away from the younglings’ sleeping quarters. The alcove he’s leading you to is the one he had popped out of a few days ago after you confronted him after the fight, you realize, and you wonder what could possibly be in the room that he seems so excited to show you.

You blink owlishly at him as he politely holds the drapes to the side for you and you hesitantly enter the warm room; instantly, another Mandalorian with black and yellow armor turns to face you and Paz. Before you can offer the stranger an affable greeting, a soft whimper cuts you off and your heart instantly freezes over when you spot a wooden crib in the corner of the dim room.

An infant… 

There is an infant in the covert and the thought simultaneously terrifies you and breaks your heart.

Paz quietly says something in his mother tongue when the caretaker on duty tenses as you step forward to try to get a better look at the distressed infant, your heart now pounding so wildly that you hear it in your ears. Whatever Paz said to the caretaker immediately seems to calm them down and they simply watch as you observe the fussy baby that is kicking its little feet wildly and growing even more distressed. The infant is wearing tiny white socks and a long, dark brown tunic that falls to her ankles; her little head is adorned with a white beanie, but you see dark tufts of hair poking out from underneath.

“I… I cannot get her to stop crying,” The Mandalorian’s deep, filtered voice is coated with exhaustion and despite the tears burning your eyes, you fixate your attention on the defeated Mando, the vibrancy of the yellow stripes painted on his black armor nearly hurting your eyes, “What am I doing wrong?”

You wonder if he’s ever had to take care of an infant before, but judging by the way the black and yellow Mando shuffles around nervously makes you think it is not all too common of an occurrence in the tribe.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, shaking off your fears and insecurities as you remind yourself that you were brought here to take care of others, “O-Okay, how old is she?”

“I only found her a few weeks ago, cyare,” Paz informs you quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby even more, and you turn around to gaze up at him with wide, watery eyes; he must see the confusion etched on your features because he immediately explains himself, “I was walking back from seeing you one night and found her abandoned behind one of the vendors in the marketplace. I can’t… I can’t imagine what kind of monster does such a thing.”

You know all too well of the monsters that are capable of leaving a helpless creature behind to die, most likely feeling no guilt when they close their eyes at night.

You nod again and let out a shaky exhale as the caretaker turns his body to the side and allows you to lean over the crib, your chest aching something fierce as you carefully scoop up the tiny creature into your arms. Instantly, she lets out with a piercing, shrill scream and you heave a small sigh at how fussy of a little thing she is, though you think you already know what her problem is.

“What are you--?”

The strange Mandalorian jolts forward a little as you shuffle the crying baby around in your arms until her chest and stomach is resting against the inside of your forearm, her arms and chubby legs dangling lazily around in the air and her cheek tucked against the crook of your elbow. It takes a few moments of tenderly stroking her back to get her cries to soften into something less ear shattering, and you let out a relieved sigh when her whimpers turn into little coos and grunts.

“I think she might be colic,” You inform the caretaker with a shaky whisper, his helmet tilted to the side with what you think is either curiosity or shock as she dribbles, “I’ve uh, I’ve seen this before and read about it. Are you making sure to burp her after each feeding? Or perhaps she should be using a different formula if she has a sensitive tummy?”

“I--” He drops his helmet a little, staring at the cooing infant that you’re bouncing a little, “She wasn’t spitting anything up and I just thought… I wasn’t sure how to do it, how to burp her.”

You give the black and yellow Mando a sympathetic expression and nod, your eyes still burning with tears, “Babies can be pretty fussy sometimes, but once you find out how they like to be held and handled, it makes things a little bit easier. This tends to be a good trick at calming a lot of babies, but you need to make sure she gets burped after every feeding or else she’ll be really uncomfortable and even fussier than normal.”

“Thank you,” The caretaker nods his gratitude as you continue to stroke her back and you give him a weak smile in response, “Could you maybe get her to go to sleep? I should check on the others and I--”

‘Need a breather.’

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it in the way his deep voice drops and his shoulders fall at the mere thought of having a few moments of peace and relaxation.

He fidgets when you hesitate, though Paz places a gentle hand on your nape and he must realize that something is wrong as he squeezes the warm skin there; it’s something he only does when he’s trying to comfort you. Afraid that your voice will fail you, you offer the caretaker a jittery nod and he wastes no time in leaving the nursery that’s dedicated to this tiny infant. 

You find it difficult to even look at Paz as you make your way over to the rocking chair that seems far too small for any Mandalorian and slowly sink down until you’re sitting comfortably with a cooing, sleepy baby tucked in your arms. A soft sigh escapes your lungs when you feel a little bit of drool soak through the material covering your elbow and you risk a glance at Paz when he gets down on a knee next to the rocking chair, his gloved hand moving to gently squeeze your bicep.

“What happened?” He questions as quietly as possible, warranting a tiny grunt from the irascible infant, “Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

The way he asks such a question so softly instantly leaves you feeling painfully raw and vulnerable and you are quick to shoulder away a tear before he can wipe it away for you; you shake your head viciously, “It’s nothing.”

“Cyare--”

“I will explain later.”

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod and retrieves a piece of cloth for you as you move the calmed baby to burp her against your shoulder. You can tell he wants to say something as you pat her between the shoulders, but he remains silent and tilts his helmet to the side upon hearing the infant gurgle and do her business against the cloth draped over your shoulder. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep once she’s burped up all the air and spit from her meal and you let out a grateful sigh when you watch her eyelids slowly droop, somewhat eager to get her out of your arms and into her crib.

Once she’s comfortable in her cradle and fast asleep, you are quick to exit the little alcove, Paz hot on your heels as you practically storm past the exhausted-looking caretaker who’s sitting on a stone ledge in the main play area.

“Hey thank you for--”

You’re out of the nursery before he can fully express his gratitude to you and you hear Paz mutter something to the caretaker before rushing after you. Halfway down the tunnel leading to his private quarters, Paz catches up to you and carefully wraps his leather-clad fingers around your bicep, turning you around to face him.

“Cyare! What’s going--?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You don’t even realize you’re sobbing until you hear your own voice and Paz’s other hand comes to squeeze your shoulder in a comforting manner, “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby and why would you make me…? I didn’t know and... Maker, she was so much like--”

Your chest is heaving, tears streaming from your cheeks like raging waterfalls and Paz gently pulls you to the side and covers you when another Mandalorian passes you two, giving you what you’re certain is a curious gaze. He cups a massive hand to the side of your neck and leans down as you continue to sob and babble incoherent pleas at him, wondering why he’d put you through this, though he truly had no idea what he had done to you.

“I-I am sorry, cyare,” He breathes, squeezing your bicep firmly with his other hand, “You seemed to love the little ones so much and I thought… I thought you would love to see the baby, but I didn’t think…” He shakes his helmet in a jolting manner as you viciously rub at your eyes and cheeks, “What happened? What did I do wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” You ignore his frantic questions as you try desperately to stop the tears escaping your eyes, along with the horrific memories from flooding your mind, “I didn’t mean to be so rude! I thought I was over it and I could forget, but seeing her...”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” He hushes you in a kind manner, shielding you from any wandering eyes that might see your tears, “Why don’t… why don’t we go back to our room and you can tell me what’s going on? That’s what you said the other day, right? That we should talk about the things we feel?”

You nod your answer, not trusting your voice in that moment, and you try your hardest to force down the massive lump in your throat.

“Will you tell me why you are so broken up over seeing the baby?”

He’s quick to pull you in close, hunching over to hold you easier and you immediately stuff your face into the crook of his neck as you give him another jittery nod, “I fear you will hate me upon hearing what I’ve done in the past--how I have failed the ones I was supposed to take care of.”

“I… I could never feel such a thing towards you,” He promises with a deep exhale, sounding just as heartbroken as he reluctantly pulls away and leads you closer to his private quarters, keeping a firm hand on the small of your back, “Whatever it is, I could never hate you, I swear.”

Your chest aches more and more the closer you get to his private quarters and once you finally make it, he’s quick to sit you down on the foot of his bed, kneeling down as he collects your hands in his leather-clad ones.

“What is haunting you, ner cyare? What makes you cry so much when you sleep?”

You pray that once you tell him, the horrific memories won’t weigh heavy on your conscience any longer.

Translations:

Ner cyare=My beloved

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Ori Kebiin=Big blue

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum=I love you (lit. I know you forever)

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Verd’ika= Little soldier

Di’kut=Idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst​ @anakinsittinginsand​ @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27​ @justrunamok​ @peqchynero​ @haloangel391​ @awhiskeywithawinchester @aliciaxglasgow​ @bonesaldente​ @kawaiitimecharm​ @karaabove​ @clydesducktape​ @misssilvertongue​ @heartxheat​ @pazvizslasgirl4ever​ (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

Author’s note: As always, thank you all so much for being as patient and kind as ever <3 I don’t know why this chapter was such a struggle for me to finish, but I’m so glad eventually managed to get all the words I wanted down lol. I was worried it might seem like there’s a lot going on in this chapter, but I just wanted more interactions with our nurse getting more settled in with the tribe and meeting others, so hopefully this chapter doesn’t seem like it’s all over the place :( Anyways I love you all and thank you so much for all the support y’all continuously give me <33

[warriorrazor]

Alright ya’ll we got some more content and context for the Spooky Family AU!

((And here’s some context for the context!))

This’ll be explaining how Lila came to learn about Pump being neglected by his father. I wanted this to be more of a summary, but I got a little too into it and it’s basically a drabble/mini story now (I even made some lil doodles to go along with it!) I had fun with it, but I’ll put a tl;dr at the end if y’all find it a bit too wordy.

Also quick warning, this post will most likely be darker than the other things I’ve posted about this AU so far! There are some parts that go more into the details of the kind of abuse Pump has been facing.

Since it’s a bit long, the story begins under the read more:

Lila started suspecting something when she noticed Pump getting noticeably skinnier and clinging onto her a lot. She became even more suspicious when she heard him mention to Skid that he doesn’t have many toys and that he doesn’t remember the last time he visited the doctor’s.

However, Lila didn’t want to assume anything. She had never even met Pump’s parents, and Pump always seemed to be in high spirits for the most part, just like Skid. The most she felt she could do was make sure Pump had fun whenever he came over.

That was until one fateful night.

Pump hadn’t had anything to eat for five days. He would always wait until his father would give him a meal to eat, usually once or twice a day. Some days his father would forget... or maybe he just didn’t care. Pump didn’t quite know at this point. He didn’t want to sneak food though, he was afraid his father would yell at him, or shove him away. Pump didn’t exactly know what neglect was, he only knew that he felt very, very alone. He would often find himself wondering, is this normal?

Pump couldn’t fall asleep, he was too hungry. He sat in his bed only surrounded by the darkness of his room. He thought about Skid and his mother Lila, and how she would always give him plenty to eat when he was there. He never felt hungry, upset, or lonely when he was there. He wished there was something he could do...

Thankfully, there was. The Eyes of the Universe, who had taken quite a liking to Pump, could sense his distress. He sent Pump a message in the form of uncovering a buried memory. Pump suddenly remembered a fleeting moment of when Lila sat next to him, patted his head, and told him that if he ever felt sad, alone, or unsafe, he would always be welcome at her home.

This sudden vivid memory was the boost Pump needed. He threw his covers off, ran out of his dirty room, snuck down the stairs, and dashed out the door. It was the middle of winter, but Pump didn’t think to bring a coat, or anything for that matter. His only thought was to make it to Skid’s house, the place of comfort, safety, and belonging.

Lila was sleeping soundly when she was suddenly roused by a loud banging coming from the door downstairs. Thinking it was probably a group of child pranksters, she covered her head with a pillow and waited for them to get bored and go away... except they didn’t. Now thoroughly pissed, Lila stomped downstairs and made her way to the front door. The banging had suddenly stopped. Curious, Lila took a peek into the peephole and saw... Pump? Feeling her heart drop, she opened the door to see him looking at her with wide eyes. He was shivering from the cold and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He ran over to her and wrapped his shaky arms around her. Lila hugged him back tightly, stroking the poor boy’s back.

She scooped him up and took him inside. Pump told her how he hadn’t eaten for a while (he couldn’t remember exactly how long), so she cooked him up a full course meal right then and there, in the middle of the night. Pump was afraid Lila would send him back home, but instead she carried him upstairs and tucked him into her bed. He clung to her arm as he slept, now full and safe.

.....

Lila knew she absolutely had to do something. With all the time she and Pump had spent together, he was like a second son to her. She wasn’t about to let Pump continue suffering. She woke up early in the morning, snuck out of bed without waking Pump, and immediately called CPS to report child neglect. She then proceeded to fight tooth and nail to gain custody of Pump (which was of course difficult because she is not a family member), but she does her research and takes every step possible. Pump’s father doesn’t make it easy. While he does neglect Pump, he’s still not giving up his son without a fight. But Lila is ready. She filled out all the paperwork necessary, she underwent a home study, she hired a lawyer and discussed everything that she needed to do and what evidence she needed to provide. She went to court completely and entirely prepared in every way. Though it was a long and grueling process, in the end the decision was made that Lila could gain custody of Pump. She almost cried of joy right then and there in the courtroom.

Now fully knowing what Pump has been through, Lila often punches herself for not acting sooner. But now that Pump is a part of the family, Lila tries her best to make up for this by giving Pump all the love and support she can.

Sometimes a child may become jealous if another child is doted on by their parents. Not Skid. In fact, he is incredibly happy that Pump is his brother, and he knows that Lila has more than enough love for the both of them. Seeing Lila care for his best friend and now new brother brightens his day.

.....

Tl;dr:

Lila suspects something is up with Pump since he’s become noticeably more skinner, clingy, mentioning things like not remembering the last time he went to the doctors, etc. Her suspicions are correct, and one night Pump is lying in his bed starving since his father hadn’t given him anything to eat for five days. Pump runs to Skid’s house and Lila feeds him and provides him comfort. Now knowing his situation, Lila fights for custody of him. She succeeds, and Pump is now a part of the family.

*****

Thank you so much for reading! At first I wasn’t quite sure how in-depth I wanted this AU to be, but receiving so many kind comments and ideas has helped me to flesh out this AU more than I thought I could! As always, feel free to add any comments/questions/asks/additions you may have, they’re super appreciated and help me so much with my writing and world building!

Now that I’ve written this out, I think I’d like to work on some doodles (maybe even minicomics) of this AU, especially because some really awesome people have come up with really great ideas and scenarios that can take place. Like seriously, y’all are so big brained, I love and very much appreciate all the ideas that have been offered for this AU.

[starlight-writes-stuff]

hey! i sent in the ask for the party fic with ethan (which was so good holy shit) and i was hoping you could do the SFW alphabet for him? can I be ⚙️ anon, as well? (get it?)

⚙️anon (thats so clever ily for it) , welcome !! im sorry this took me forever , but here’s your sfw alphabet - this came so easy to me i spend too much time consuming ethan content - anyway ! i really hope you enjoy this ((: reblogs are always appreciated <3

AYO LOOK AT THESE : soft , fluffy ethan content , no tws ! also , yall rockin with the new blog theme ⁉️

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

ethan is incredibly affectionate in all senses of the word- big gestures, small moments, and everything in between. he brings you flowers or food quite often, just something small to show you that you were on his mind while he was out and about. you two would have a designated date night once a week where he’d clear his schedule to spend quality time with you; either taking you out to dinner or cooking and watching movies at home with spencer. also, ethan would definitely go out of his way to do little things around the house to help you out - washing the dishes, vacuuming, folding the laundry. however, ethan wouldn’t shy away from larger gestures of affection, either: he’d take you on surprise vacations or road trips for holidays or anniversaries. 

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

being ethan’s best friend would be so much fun. he’s definitely the kind of guy that would send you a text when he was 10 minutes away from your house because he was bored and wanted to go do something together. you’d never be bored around ethan- he can talk for hours, and would 100% know how to make you laugh, even if the two of you were just chilling on the couch. a friendship with ethan would be filled with adventures; concerts, midnight snack runs, campouts in the backyard and lots of fun with spencer. 

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

yes, 100%. thinking back to unus annus, ethan was a vvv touchy guy with mark, and i think that would only be amplified with his significant other- touch is one of his love languages, for sure. he’d be the type to always have some soft of physical connection; a hand on your thigh while he drives, mindlessly drawing patterns over your skin while your working, aways holding your hand in public type beat. if ethan wasn’t getting your attention when he wanted it he, would not hesitate to pick you up over his shoulder and carry you to the closest soft surface before plopping you down and wrapping you in his arms. i think he’s probably a fan of having you laying on your side, facing him so that he can hold you, but still see your face/ talk to you. he’d also love laying on your chest because he’s such a boob guy but that’s a conversation for another time ,,,,,

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

i think that if you and ethan were committed and had been dating for a while than he would absolutely want to settle down- but i feel like dating ethan would also include being around each other all the time (constant sleepovers while you aren't living together) so it wouldn’t be that drastic of a change. while he was living on his own, though, ethan obviously had to take care of himself, so he taught himself to cook and clean and do general, domestic tasks. i think he’d be a really good partner when it came to things around the house like that; ethan would always do his fair share and would pick up anything that you needed him to. 

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

ethan just comes off as a very feeling, sensitive person (his brand is literally soft boy what do u expect), so i think breakups would be really hard for him. he wouldnt break up with his s/o until he was 10000000% positive that it as the right choice, and had thought through it multiple times. even then, it would rip his heart out to end things- he wouldn’t be afraid to show his emotions. ethan would definitely break up with whoever he was dating in person- he knows that he owes them that.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

okay, this one is up in the air for me. i definitely feel like ethan would settle down with his person and be completely loyal to them- thats a no brainer. i just don’t know how he feels about marriage? i feel like ethan wants a life partner, i just dont know if he would marry them. (this could 1792049384% be my personal bias peeking through because i think marriage is fkn weird, but for some reason i think he would too ????? maybe thats just me)

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

ethan is just ,,,,, soft hearted, dude. he’s just gentle in general. i think emotionally he’s a total teddybear, and he feels all his emotions incredibly deep- he rules with his heart, for sure. he wants to make sure that everyone around him is happy, and if they arent, it would affect him more than he’d like to admit. physically, ethan can vary- like i said, he’s always touching you in some way, but i think he’d be down for getting a little rougher in bed when you guys want to. 

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

ethan is an envelope-the-whole-ass-person kinda hugger, hug-with-your-whole-body type deal. if you look at pictures from unus annus, even old old pictures from the tour he did w/ mark, ethan is always completely wrapped around someone, hugging them with everything in him. i think if his s/o was shorter, he’d love to stack his head on top of theirs, and if y’all were around the same height, he’d bury his face in your neck. he’s very huggy- when you’re out and about, he’s always hugging you from behind, pulling your body closer to his. i also think ethan would love koala hugs, where he was sitting and his s/o wraps their arms and legs around him- he’d sit like that forever, rubbing up and down your back.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

hhhhhhhhhh don't clock me for this one, yall- if ethan was feeling some type of way, he would tell you. i don't think the length of the relationship would matter as much to him as the intensity and depth of his feelings; if ethan really truly loved you and wanted to say it, he would. he’d definitely preface it with the fact that you didn’t have to say it back, that he just wanted to get it on the table and out of his head. 

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

ethan would be very secure in his relationships, and i think it would take a lot to get him jealous. however, when he was,,,,,,,, it wouldnt be pretty. like, at all. if it was a situation where someone was hitting on his s/o, he wouldn’t step in until you’d already tried to get them to leave you alone- not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew that if he did, it would get ugly. when he did step in, he’d start by saying something (not kindly worded, but to the point), and if that didn’t work i don’t think ethan would be above getting physical- he’s extremely protective of you. 

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

I THINK ABOUT THIS A LOT AND I HAVE SO MANY THINGS I'D LIKE TO SAY SO THIS ONE’S GOIN IN BULLET POINTS , GANG

okay- ethan loves to kiss you. he just loves kisses- they feel so personal and intimate to him, and he kisses you all the time, everywhere

he’ll dip you and kiss you in the middle of the grocery store aisles, he dgaf

but i think his favorite spots for kissing you would be your forehead, your lips (duh), collarbones/shoulders, down your spine and on your inner thighs hngggggg

but it goes vice versa too

ethan wants ALL your kisses . all of them , everywhere

He’s such a sucker for you kissing his neck and you cant talk me out of that (:

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

cute. literally so cute. i think that ethan would love other people’s kids, but definitely doesn’t want any of his own- at least, not right now. however, with other people’s babies he is S O F T; he loves to hold them, and would absolutely offer to try and calm a crying baby down, rocking them and singing soft lullabies to calm their woes. i also think that he would LOVE toddler aged kiddos- like 3-6. he’d be cool uncle ethan, playing catch with them, taking them to the park, finding games to play and always letting them win. he’d totally try to teach them how to ride their bike, or how to do a cartwheel, or how to jump off the swings for maximum height. ethan would totally bring them a fun lunch at school or sneak the kid’s favorite candy over to them and eat it together in a secret spot.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

mornings with ethan would be slow and lazy and filled with golden light filtering in through the blinds. if he woke up first, ethan would be as soft as humanly possible in order not to wake you up & would sneak downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast for the two of you, sometimes bringing it up to surprise you with breakfast in bed. the two of you would spend an hour (at minimum) in bed together, waking up and peppering each other with soft pecks all over. i think ethan would be extra soft™ in the mornings- he’d be super cuddly and affectionate. 

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights spent with ethan would always hold a sort of unexplainable magic- there’s something about the thought of falling asleep next to him thats just so… comforting? he’d be so warm and easy to fall asleep with, all soft and hazy and gentle; he’d fall asleep holding you as big spoon, but when y’all woke up he’d be wrapped in your arms, laying on your chest. also, if you were having a hard time falling asleep, ethan would stay up with you, talking through whatever was on your mind even if he was barely able to keep his eyes open. 

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

i think that ethan would open up more and more as the relationship progresses, going along with the natural advancement of things unless something happened that made it crucial for him to open up; if that did happen, though, you wouldn’t have to pry anything out of him. ethan is a pretty honest, open person and wants to be transparent with you always- trust is something that he values above all else and he wants to remain very truthful with you.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

ethan is incredibly patient and understanding- it would take a lot to truly upset him. sure, the two of you would get into little tiffs here and there about stupid things, but the small arguments would be resolved within the hour with lots of hugs and kisses and soft “im sorry”s. however, if yall managed to get into a big argument, i think it would take ethan a bit to calm down and he would want to put some space between you two while he did- not to anger you any further, but to make sure that he didn’t say anything he didn't mean. ethan has a bit of a temper while he’s angry, and he wouldn’t want to say anything just to hurt you out of anger. after he cooled off he would come back and be willing to re-examine whatever had caused the issue with fresh eyes. 

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

if you’ve watched ethan ever, you know that the sweet bby doesn’t remember shit (cue the instagram live thats purpose was to help him remember a word)- but listen. i think that ethan would go out of his way to hold on to little pieces of information about his s/o, and would put so much effort into trying to remember little details. he’d store them in his brain (things like your favorite flower, the brand of chocolate you like best, etc) and reference them when he needed. 

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

a couple moments would stick out to ethan - when y’all first met being his favorite. he’d remember every detail of the moment he was first introduced to you; what you were wearing, where you were, what y’all had been doing that night. it was something that he though about a lot, actually- he loved to reflect on the way you’d blushed as he’d introduced himself, how you’d hugged him at the end of the night. 

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

ethan isn't possessive, but he is incredibly protective of you. he secretly hates whenever someone flirts with you, even if it’s strictly platonic- you're his s/o, and he doesn't want anyone thinking any different. like i said earlier (reference letter j), ethan wouldn’t be afraid to step in and put someone in their place of they were getting a little too friendly. he likes when you’re protective of him as well, even if its something very subtle to show that he’s spoken for, such as calling him a nickname or dropping a kiss on his cheek.

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

romantic ethan my belOVED- he would try so hard. ethan would plan surprises for you for weeks before they would unfold, even roping your family and friends into his schemes. He’d be so creative with date ideas too; picnics, art classes, different seasonal excursions around california. For bigger occasions like anniversaries, holidays, birthdays and all that, ethan wouldn’t hesitate to go bigger- i definitely think he would take you traveling. he wants to see the world with his love :,)

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

ethan bites his nails, which is why he’d had you paint them- he’s trying to break the habit

he’s a very sweary human, but so are you; the only issue is he has no filter and accidentally swears in front of kids all the time lmao

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

eh. ethan is more particular about certain aspects of his appearance over others, but he’s generally well put together. he likes for his hair to look good, though- that’s the one thing that he’s picky about. 

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

ethan is his own person and is able to function on his own, but the two of you have developed a sense of codependency with each other, like any couple does. he can’t see his life without you at all anymore, and would much rather have you around than not. the two of you have fallen into a flow together- you and him against the world. life is much easier when you have another person on your team, and he’s honored that he gets to play that role for you. 

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

(this may or may not be a lil hint to a fic i'm working on shshhshshhhhhhhh)

on the night unus annus ended, ethan was a wreck - rightfully so

he had a bit of an existential crisis , and started to spiral a bit

you were worried about him , and knew that he would just continue to get into his own head

so you got him out of bed

and took him on a v special date

thats all for now ;)

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

ethan wouldn't like smoking (nicotine), and if that was a habit that you were willing to budge on, he would really try to help you break it. 

overall, ethan is a very considerate and kind person, so someone that was rude or had a sense of entitlement just wouldn’t fit well with him.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

ethan can’t fall asleep without background noise. his brain gets too loud when he’s just in bed in complete silence, for better or for worse; sometimes this leads to great video ideas or new concepts for the channel, but other times it just lead to him overthinking his life. when it was that kind of night, ethan would fall asleep to soft music or one of those white noise apps- then he became dependent on it to be able to fall asleep. something about filler noise managed to calm him right down and lull him to sleep, and he pays $5 a month for the premium version of his favorite white noise app.