#;; and my nose is still really tender so i have been mainly just chilling in the background bc i'm tired JKFDJAKDF

[kaerinio]

*crawls in here*. hello, my lovelies, i am planning on being here tomorrow evening and large portions of this weekend! this week at work has been . . . i have NO WORDS.

[madhyanas]

the sweetest and most important sound

Part [TBD] of the Hospitality series

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13 (Mainly due to verbal teasing and extremely mild language)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: None, really. Some non-sexual intimacy, if you’d like to avoid that.

A/N: this is my first fic that’s staying posted, so feedback is welcome. i do have a series in mind with paz and this specific reader. check it out on ao3, too, if you want to see more detailed tags. title comes from a quote by dale carnegie. 

big inspirations for this were @no-droids​, @vercopaanir​ and @its-alltheway​​. also, i’m very new to tumblr, and @jangofctts​ has been lovely :)

Golden.

That’s what you see, what you feel. Stopped on some backwater, Outer Rim planet, your little travelling party finally has some time to relax. To tread on soft, grassy earth, and breathe in the sweet scent of flowers in the breeze. It’s a welcome change from recycled air and solid, mechanical floors.

The fresh, crisp forest atmosphere. You can taste it on your tongue, feel the chill of it as you inhale. You can detect the fragrance of berries, somewhere far off in the trees, and the earthy, waterlogged scent of silt closer by. A stream, perhaps.

You don’t know the name of the planet; you didn’t bother to ask Mando, excited as you were. You suspect it doesn’t have one; so untouched by war and Imperial rule that it just… remained. Literally, a land that time forgot. Someplace so out of the way that it soothes even Mando’s constant vigilance.

Two suns set over the horizon, and the sky is a dreamy blaze of orange and violet. Insects buzz faintly in the background, and you sigh.

The Hawk IV stands behind you, hatch down, as you rearrange some logs around Mando, who’s preparing firewood. Vosca’s giggles fill the air as she scampers through patches of tall grass. Keeping a close eye on her, you catch flashes of a crimson forehead as she stalks some kind of creature. A frog, you think.

The mild, familiar scent of her is comforting. You rub the white, geometric markings on your cheeks absent-mindedly, and will yourself to relax. She’s close, she’s safe, she’s happy.

It’s a nice thought to have.

“Give me a moment. I’ll be back,” Mando says suddenly, and you blink. The fireplace is lit, you notice, flames crackling. Your sturdy canvas satchel has been moved to sit upon one of the logs, noticeably dusted off. He stands, patiently waiting for you to respond before he goes. Helmet inclined towards you with a respect that manages to warm your cheeks every time.

“Ah, yeah. Of course.” You pause, and joke, “Just don’t run away with the ship, huh?”

There’s a burst of static through the vocoder, and you think it could be a snort, before he steps forward. His gloved hand falls on your shoulder, and you swallow thickly at the closeness. A scant few inches lie between the tip of your nose and his cuirass. “I would never.”

There’s a depth to his low voice that resonates within you. As if he’s taking an oath, kneeling at your altar. It’s… a lot more sincerity than you expect.

“Oh. Well, of course. I think Vosca would throw a fit.” You grin, attempting levity, but he shakes his head firmly. Leaving no room for debate.

“Even then, even if she were with me. I would— I would not leave you. I could not.”

The hand on your shoulder squeezes gently, and his helmet inclines down to your face, like he’s imploring you to understand. Staring up at him, your lips part as his meaning finally reaches you. His broad figure is backlit by the dusky glow around you, casting his silhouette over your smaller frame, and you like to think that behind the helm, those eyes are staring back with just as much wonder.

Your mouth is dry, as if you’ve crossed a desert for years. Only now finding the water to quench your thirst. His hand on your shoulder, as heavy and muscled as you know it to be, does not feel like a weight. It’s pulling you up, rising, and there are no words to describe the lightness in your heart.

He ducks his head then — the movement registers as shy, impossibly — and the palm slides off your shoulder, lingering down your arm, before ultimately leaving you at the hand. The cool kiss of leather on your skin makes your breathing hitch. A modulated sigh, before he repeats softly, “I’ll be back. Faster than you know.” He turns and begins the short walk to the ship.

There’s a bubbling urge to say something. “No need for dramatics,” you call after him, wiggling your toes in your boots. “But best hurry back, Mandalorian.”

He hesitates, a split-second pause that you would have missed, had you known him any less. You almost think you’ve imagined it, because when have you ever known Mando to hesitate? But then he continues without looking back, disappearing into the hull of the ship.

You slump down on a log bonelessly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. Your cheeks ache, and you realise you’re smiling.

“Ruusaan, Ruusaan!” A whirlwind of scarlet limbs tumbles in front of you. Startled, you blink at the little Zeltron girl. It’s rare that anyone manages to get the jump on you, but by now you know that Mando and his ward are exceptions to almost every rule in your book.

There are leaves and twigs stuck in the two brown braids running down the back of her head. She grins toothily at you, a smear of dirt on one cheek. Really, it’s more a bearing of teeth than anything else, feral thing that Vosca is. Her eyes are bright, shining with the thrill of a successful hunt, and she thrusts her little arms towards you. “Look what I caught!”

In Vosca’s grimy grasp, there’s a blue, particularly fat creature, rather like a toad. Held at the middle, its six limbs dangle loosely at the sides. Your nostrils flare minutely, but can’t pick up any scents of poisons or toxins, and you relax a fraction. It casts an unimpressed gaze over you once, and attempts a croak, but the child’s clutching grip digs in too deep to allow for the swell of its belly. Those lazy, golden eyes widen in panic, and you balk.

“Hey, bug, let’s just put it down for now, yeah?” Hastily, you extract the toad from Vosca’s hands, and she pouts at you. You still, and cradle your palms around the creature’s stomach, fingers resting gently on the front, in a caress rather than a pincer-grip.

“See here,” you explain, leaning in, as if you’re trading secrets. She ducks her head towards you in curiosity, and there’s a burst of tenderness in your chest. “We’ve got sharp, pointy fingers for animals like these. Gotta be careful. Be soft with it.”

Vosca’s eyes widen and she nods her head vigorously. A few dried leaves fall to the ground. A beat, then she asks shyly, “Can I try, please?”

Always so polite. While you don’t know for sure, you suspect it’s Mando’s influence. In any case, you don’t think you could deny her even if she’d demanded it. “Sure, bug.” Gently, you pass the toad back into her dusty, red palms. With a watchful eye, you see how quickly she takes to correction. Now holding the scared little thing with more care, less force. Precariously tilting it onto her chest, she frees one hand to stroke it tenderly across the back. The corner of your mouth ticks up fondly.

Then, carefully, she kneels down, and releases it. The toad immediately hops away into the tall grass with a vengeful ribbit, and your brows raise. Sensing the question on your face, she turns her face up to yours, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“It wasn’t prey,” Vosca says simply. “S’just for fun. Wouldn’t be fair to hurt it.” She shoots you another toothy smile, filling her whole face with innocent joy.

Huh. Always keeping you on your toes, this one. You return her grin as she sits next to you on the log. “Ah, that’s right, bug. Good girl.”

You lift your arm and she snuggles into your side, her scrawny body fitting into yours neatly. Lovingly, you press a kiss into her hair, eyes falling shut. You keep your head resting on hers, and she heaves a sigh as you idly stroke through the loose strands at the nape of her neck.

This is how Mando finds you, later. Half-asleep, curled around each other. Your eyes open at the fuzzy, tingling feeling on the back of your neck, and lo and behold: he’s watching you as he makes his way towards the makeshift campsite. His gait is familiar to you; the broad saunter of a man confident in his abilities, yet not foolish enough to be cocky. As if he couldn’t fill up a room already, his walk only amplifies his presence.

You blink lethargically, trying to focus. The sky is now a deep indigo, the bare beginnings of twinkling stars appearing across the heavens. It’ll be fully dark, soon.

The Mandalorian comes to stand over you. Once, you would have found his constant presence menacing. But now you smile at him, grateful for his company. It’s sweet, you think, how awkward he is. If you know what to look for. Most don’t have the chance to look beyond the beskar, and the assortment of weapons he lugs around.

He seems… duller, somehow. You shake your head lightly, dusting off the lingering fatigue, and you realise it’s true in the most literal sense. He’s not reflecting light as much as you would expect.

Aside from the helmet, he wears no beskar at all. Dressed in a dark, high-necked, shirt and canvas trousers, Mando seems comfortable. Relaxed. It’s a good look for him, you think.

“Did she fall asleep?” he asks you, nodding at Vosca, nuzzled in your arms. Her head emerges from where she’d buried it in your side, yawning blearily.

“I’m not… M’not sleepy,” she whines, squishing a chubby cheek against you. You and Mando both chuckle.

“Of course not, ad’ika.” You think he’ll hold his arms out to hold her, pick her up, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he just takes a seat next to you. The log creaks under his bulk, even without the added steel.

Vosca grumbles something under her breath, and you snort as she wriggles further into your warmth. She slumps bit by bit, falling asleep once more. You glance down at her, and the love you feel is all-encompassing.

Because you do love her. Your girl, just as much as she is Mando’s. You don’t know if she thinks of you as a mother, and the thought stings a little. An aunt, perhaps?

But without a doubt, you know she’s your child.

You’re startled out of your thoughts as a weight settles over your shoulders, and you look at the man next to you. Mando’s draping a cloak over you, tucking it around your frame and over the little girl in your arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you recognise the sturdy, brass-coloured clasp as his own.

“O-oh. You don’t have to…”

“You’ll get cold.”

He shuffles closer to fasten the clasp. As he raises his gloved hands and leans in, you wet your lips nervously.

His helmet shifts, ever so slightly, to follow the motion.

“But what about you?” you ask quietly, heart hammering in your chest. His long fingers meddle with the clasp at your clavicle; the weight of them on your person seems astronomical, for such a small, small thing. In the shining surface of the helmet, you can see the outline of your face, small and vaguely illuminated in the firelight, framed by those bold white strokes. But when you see them in Mando’s helmet, for once, you don’t think of your father’s matching stripes, of what you inherited from him. You think of how close you two are, in this moment.

He’s so close you can hear him breathe, too faint to be picked up by the modulator. There’s a small puff of air, escaping under the lip of his helm. Raw, unfiltered. You cling to it with all your heart.

“I will be fine, Ruusaan,” he rumbles. He’s leaning over Vosca’s snoozing body between you, arching carefully so he doesn’t disturb her. He’s… really quite close now.

Inhaling as subtly as you can, you catch the scent of him. Lingering on the thick wool, a clean blend of soap, blaster residue and freshly cut grass. Something smoky, too. It’s more soothing than you expect. Involuntarily, your nose twitches in delight, and his helmet tilts a fraction in response. You rush to distract him.

“But— But the armour.” Mando stares. “You’re not wearing any. Isn’t it cold? With— Without it, I mean.”

He dodges the question entirely. “Would you like me to put it on?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, sweetening his low baritone, and he quietens to a murmur as he sticks his head forward condescendingly. “I understand if this is too… scandalous."

You stifle an outraged squawk, and remove an arm from holding Vosca to swat his bicep. Your hand bounces harmlessly off corded muscle and you look away from him, cheeks burning. He just laughs at you, muffled for fear of waking the girl at your side.

You huff, resolutely averting your gaze, but it’s for naught. A large palm comes to cradle the side of your face, and your face feels tiny in its hold. He directs your eyes back to the visor with more care you’d ever expect, had you not known him so well. The smooth leather against your cheek is grounding, an anchor amongst the dizzying, overwhelming ocean of his presence. Surely, he can feel your flaming blush through the glove. In your embarrassment, a peculiar strike of courage grabs you by the throat.

With your free hand, you hold the glove cradling your face. Without taking your eyes off him, you lean into the touch, exhaling gently.

Mando stills. You can’t tell who’s predator or prey, here. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Deliberately, you squeeze your fingers around his own and an unfamiliar, choked noise comes out through the modulator.

You stare at him, and realise there’s hardly any distance between you. It’s nothing obscene, never could be with Vosca dozing in your arms, and yet you feel so giddy. There’s a type of intimacy here that you’ve never experienced before, never imagined before.You’re close enough that your breath fogs on the beskar.

“Mando…” you breathe.

Suddenly, the figure between you stretches awake with a yawn. You jump away from Mando as Vosca awakens with a long, languid yawn. The man beside her, a little subtler, leans back with the fluid, practiced grace of a warrior.

“Are you okay, Ruusaan?” she asks sleepily, oblivious to the moment now broken.  She pulls the cloak away from her to face you properly.

“W-what? Of course I am, hun, why…”

“S’just,” she starts, rubbing one eye. “I got woken up. Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Your eyes widen. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You try to backtrack, “How about you go back to sleep, bug? It’s late.” You can feel Mando’s stare on you. Piercing, even through the steel.

Vosca frowns at you, scrunching her nose up endearingly. “But then you and alor’ad will be without me.”

After a moment of floundering, struggling to come up with an answer, Mando beats you to it. Planting a gentle, reassuring hand on her head from behind, he says simply, “We’ll never be without you, adi’ka. You know this.”

She leans her head completely backwards, and her braids dangle in the air. Arching her neck to look at him upside down, the vibrant red of her skin reflects in his helmet. There’s a flash of hesitation as she considers, and you jump at the opportunity.

“Bedtime, bug,” you say, standing. Mando’s nearly your height, you notice, even as he sits. You stuff the thought down. Later. “Got a big day tomorrow.”

Vosca mutters something under her breath moodily — something about how everyday’s the same — but her eyelids are drooping, and you figure you can let it slide. Just this once.

Maker, you’re impatient.

You sigh. Again. You hate to undo Mando’s work, but… “C’mon, hun. Floor’s more comfortable.” You undo the clasp deftly, and some subconscious level, it occurs to you that Mando is dextrous. More so than anyone you’ve ever met, probably. Fastening the clasp would take seconds.

No reason for him to linger as long as he did.

You smile faintly to yourself, and the ever-present heat burning in your cheeks this evening unfurls through your face.

You bundle the girl in Mando’s cloak as she lays down in the shallow grass. Tugging your canvas bag towards you, and place it beneath her head.

Kneeling down next to her, you stroke her hair once, twice. “G’night, alor’ad, g’night, Ruusaan,” Vosca mumbles, eyes falling shut once more.

“Goodnight, bug.” You lean down to peck her forehead tenderly, and she snuggles into her covering.

“Goodnight,” Mando returns kindly. At last, when you’re convinced she’s really out for the count, you steel your courage and look back to him.

From this angle, he’s glowing. Your lips part in wonder as you marvel at the rolling flames reflecting in the helmet. The flickering bronze and gold and scarlet washing over his bulky frame, defining the hard lines of his arms and chest beneath the shirt like something out of a painting. A relic of another time. Beautiful in its detail. Regal, even when most relaxed.

Silently, he holds a gloved hand out to you. You blink at it for a moment, too overwhelmed by this man you know so little about but oh, would you like to learn.

You take his hand, and suddenly he’s pulling you up with him to stand. Stumbling a little, your other palm comes to steady yourself on his chest. The movement feels so natural, so instinctual, and you worry you’re being presumptuous.

But then Mando’s free hand comes to rest on your waist — “Oh.” — and all other thoughts leave your mind.

“She’s asleep,” he notes, and you can feel his deep voice rumbling. Through the shirt, vulnerable and unprotected, his chest lies beneath your fingers. Solid muscle, yes, but there’s the soft give of flesh just like anyone else. It’s… nice. Pleasant, in the way it reminds you how human he is. How he lets himself be, in these fleeting moments of peace.

You hum. “Finally.” The hand on his chest gradually makes its way up his pectoral, tracing the ridge of his clavicle, before coming to rest on his shoulder. Without the pauldron, you can feel just how taut he holds himself. “Relax, Mando,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb back and forth in an attempt to soothe whatever’s running through his mind.

“Could tell you the same,” he replies smoothly, but you feel the strain in his shoulders lessen slightly under your gentle ministrations. The helmet tilts forward to hover next to your ear; it’s somewhat awkward, with how much he needs to bend down to do it, but that’s alright, you think. “Careful, Ruusaan. Does your heart still beat so quickly?”

Your jaw clenches momentarily, if only out of sheer embarrassment, because you know he’s right. “That’s— that’s not— Come on, Mando.”

The man chuckles, and at this meagre distance, you can feel it in your soul. Straightening just a little, he rests the side of his helm against your head. Not leaning, per se, or applying weight. Just touching. Keeping contact. The cool surface of beskar feels chilling against your molten cheeks.

With the hand joined with his, you curl your fingers, embracing the gaps between his. You both linger like that, for a while. Basking in the haze of firelight and safety; frozen in a half-dance, holding each other contently.

Then you realise. In another, strange instance of boldness, you murmur, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed yours either, smooth talker.” The reassuring thud thud thud beneath your fingertips is steady, as always. But you feel it’s more insistent, more urgent than you’d expect.

He doesn’t stutter or fumble like you do, but there’s a bashful sort of groan through the vocoder. It really shouldn’t be endearing as it is. “Ah, well. Seems I’ve been caught.” He plays along in a plaintive, mournful tone, and you stifle a snort. “Can’t be helped, I suppose.”

You nudge the helmet with your cheek playfully. “Oh? What’s that?”

He breathes a particularly wounded sigh, and you feel rather than hear him sober as he murmurs, “This is what you do to me, Ruusaan.”

Your jaw falls slack. Oh.

Your head is reeling with the implications of it. Him affecting you was one thing, because how could he not? With the way he fills a room and laughs at your stupid jokes and tells Vosca bedtime stories and holds you so carefully it feels like a lover caressing glass, about to shatter any moment—

Kinda how he’s holding you now, actually.

Your hand on his shoulder brings his head up from where it rests to look at you properly, and holds the blue steel in the indent where his cheek would be. You’ve been struggling for words, wondering how to respond to the affections of someone you admire so much. How to do him justice.

“You are so much to me, Mando.”

Timidly, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and once more, his helmet tilts to follow the movement. You feel a kind of longing in that little shift, an age-old yearning borne of dedication to the Creed, from a man who feels everything so strongly.

The knowledge that you two will always be separated by a layer of beskar is always floating over your head. To say that you’ve made your peace with it would be a bold-faced lie, but—

Well, it’s who he is. To disrespect his Creed would be to disrespect him, and that you cannot allow.

But for the first time, you wonder how he feels about it. If that perennial ache in your chest whenever you glance at the helm resides in his, too.

Mando’s hand, previously resting on the slope of your waist, comes to hold your cheek. As if there’s a mirror between you, paralleling your stance to each other like clockwork. Two halves of a whole, reflecting each other.

Gradually, he tilts your face up to his. Leaning in, he touches the forehead of the helmet to yours, and your eyelids flutter shut, lashes barely grazing the metal. This time, the cold metal against your skin feels like a reprieve, freeing you from the burning sensation.

Like a kiss, you think absently. Is that what this is?

You’ve seen him do this before, with Vosca. Never truly knowing what it meant, what it signified to him, you’d left it alone.

You try to ask him, to make sense of the maelstrom of affection and yearning and want. “Mando—”

But his shoulders tense suddenly. “No.”

You blink. “N-no?”

He draws away, then. His hand is still cradling your face, but the helmet retreats, and you panic. What happened? What did you do? What boundary did you overstep to ruin something so torturously good—

He says your name. The name your mother gave you, not the nickname he and your girl call you in their language. “May I give you something?”

You’re confused, to say the least. The emotional range he’s currently choosing to display could give you whiplash. He’s not a very materialistic man, you know, and what could he possibly be giving you now, in this moment?

“I— I don’t think you could give me anything greater than this.”

He deflates. “Oh, ner kar’ta,” he croaks, stroking his thumb over your flushed cheek. Even through the modulator, the foreign syllables drip from his mouth like liquid gold, tongue rolling over the consonants in a way that makes you shiver. “I would be honoured to try.”

Wordlessly, you nod, still not fully comprehending what he means.

He must sense your bemusement. The grip on your side tightens nervously, and you dig your heels in to swallow a squeak. “My name is not ‘Mando’, cyare.”

And the world collapses beneath your feet.

This is new territory, dangerous territory. This is uncharted land, and you feel like you’re trespassing on the tricky, treacherous land of his very being.

You must look ridiculous. Like a fish, mouth bobbing open and shut. He chuckles, a small, subdued thing, and you immediately think it doesn’t suit him. The urge to fix it, to help him, crawls up your spine and settles in your gut.

You bite down the nerves scrambling up your throat to accept what he’s giving you. To reassure this man in your arms, who you have come to care for so deeply, and for yourself. To satiate the niggling curiosity in that corner of your mind left forcefully ignored for so long.

“If you’re sure.” You pause, and add, “Only if you’re sure. This isn’t… an obligation.” It’s somewhere between a question and a statement. You can both hear the moniker you’re avoiding, the cavernous gap opened up by what he’s offering you.

“I know. This is what I wish to give.” And there’s the Mandalorian you know, steadfast and confident, unwavering in the face of adversity. Willing to cross the gap into the unknown with you.

You remain silent, and step closer to press yourself to him. Feeling his pounding heartbeat against yours. Allowing the words to come from him, at his own pace, the warmth of your combined body heat hopefully calming his nerves.

Just as your eyes drift shut, content to wait as long as he needs, you hear it. Quiet, rasped through the helmet.

“Paz. Paz Vizsla.”

You inhale sharply, and look up. Oh, stars. It feels surreal, having a name to the face. Or lack thereof. To think he’d really trust you with such a core part of his being. You’re not sure if this breaks his Creed, or if there are loopholes, but as of now, you don’t care.

It… suits him. Short, robust. Yet somewhat lyrical on the tongue.

“Can I say it?” you ask meekly. The last thing you need right now to is to overstep, not when you’ve come so far.

“Please,” he breathes.

And the floodgates open. A smile breaks over your face, soft and eager, and you swell with affection. “Paz.”

A beat passes, in which everything you love hangs in the balance, and then he laughs. A true, full-bodied, bark of laughter that would ring in your ears long after it stops, but it doesn’t — it spills out of him like water spluttering through the fissure of a dam, bursting forth with all the weight of its years of confinement. He keeps laughing and laughing and then he’s holding you tightly with both arms, swinging you around. With anyone else, the action would’ve scared you. Would’ve been interpreted as a wild, uncontrolled invasion of space.

But with Mando— No. With Paz, you feel like you’re flying. You’re reminded of your days piloting through hyperspace, and the pride of swimming amongst the stars.

You shriek as your feet leave the ground, but it soon dissolves into giggles as he holds you above him.

(The ease with which he can manhandle you, can wrap both of those large, large hands around your comparatively diminutive hips, brings a blush to your face. But that’s a thought for another time.)

Eventually, he places you back on solid ground, and you beam up at him. He’s panting lightly, though you know lifting you was an easy task for someone of his strength. It’s okay. You feel breathless, too.

“Only with me,” he says. “And Vosca.”

You nod gravely. Maker, you’d never use it with anyone, just for the pleasure of knowing he trusts you. “I give you my word.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the girl in question snoring lightly, still bundled up in Paz’s cloak. Somehow still asleep; you’re immensely grateful.

He returns the nod, and it’s funny how formal it seems compared to the little display you just put on. Paz stares for a moment longer, then huffs. “You sound like a Mandalorian.”

“Is that… good?”

He’s quiet, like he’s trying to find the words. “We may rubbing off on you— I may be rubbing off on you.”

You take a moment to look at him. Beskar gleaming in the moonlight, softly reflecting the fire behind you. He’s bared before you in a way that makes you feel safe. Maybe even loved.

“That might not be too bad.”

And so it goes. You and Paz stand under the stars, flames crackling at your feet, bending towards each other like flowers to the sun.

———

[oikawasass]

Oh boy I saw boyfriend hc with Iida, so would it be okay to ask for hc for Bakugo, Midoriya and Todoroki as boyfriends? 💞

general relationship headcanons.

‣ pairing : bakugo, todoroki, midoriya x fem reader. (separate)

‣ headcanons.

‣ warnings : swearing, nsfw topics.

Bakugo Katsuki.

bakugo would be an amazing boyfriend and you cannot convince me otherwise.

things are never boring with this mf.

everyone knows bakugo wouldn’t date someone if he didn’t truly have a strong attraction to them or if he didn’t really know them, so right off the bat, there’s quite a bit of trust in your relationship.

fighting :

arguments are a given in a relationship with bakugo, so be prepared to scuffle.

and be prepared for those scuffles to turn into lots of screaming and yelling.

bakugo doesn’t like to fight or argue with you, he doesn’t enjoy it one bit. it’s just… bakugo.

he isn’t one to instantly go and apologize right away once he feels bad or realizes he may have been in the wrong, but after some stubbornness and ignoring, he’ll try to bring himself to some kind of an apology, or try to find some kind of a way to make amends, so be patient with him pls.

gifts :

when it comes to gifts, bakugo isn’t a huge gift giver. he isn’t the type to just buy you something if it reminded him of you.

plus you already have him so what other gifts could you need.

but he will buy you nice things on important events. birthdays, holidays, anniversaries and such. he bought you matching promise rings on your one year.

“tch, dont look so happy. this is just a place holder till I get to put a real ring on your finger.”

and you teased him about him saying something so soft to no end.

dates :

you two don’t do the whole fancy uptight dates thing.

movie nights, late-night park walks and study/workout dates are the move for you two.

if you’re not actually going anywhere, then you just like to sit in either of your dorms and cuddle and talk about whatever random topics come to mind. expect lots of play fighting too.

cuddling / physical attention :

cuddling? bakugo touch-starved-baby katsuki is his name.

early into your relationship, he won’t be too keen on being clingy or super cuddly as he’s too tsundere and a teeny bit awkward.

but once you’ve hit that comfortable mark of a few weeks or a month, he will be on that shit.

growing up without very much sweetness or softness showed towards him, once he’d experienced it with you, he was addicted.

big spoon or die. except for when he’s sleepy.

he’s the type of boyfriend that when you guys are just chilling in your dorm, he’ll just

smack your ass, grab your ass, appreciate from afar (rarely,) pat it and play the drums on it.

he’s just an ass man.

not much pda, but he’s always got your hand held tightly in his or an arm around you while you walk through the halls.

kissing :

he love love loves to kiss your lips. somethin’ about your soft and plush ones up against his own just makes his heart feel a certain tenderness.

kiss his cheeks or nose in public and watch how red his face goes. then watch him pout about it and ignore your requests for smooches for a little until he starts wanting them too.

long and heated make-outs with you straddling his lap are his favourite.

sexual aspects :

you two most likely won’t wait until you’re older to be sexual, as long as you’re okay with it then so is katsuki.

but he’ll wait until you’re ready for anything like that, he doesn’t want to force you into anything. he most likely won’t be ready himself until at least 7 or so months into the relationship.

it comes down mostly to his quirk and him not wanting to hurt you.

but once you two have had your first time, expect many more. I imagine katsuki has quite the high libido.

Todoroki Shoto.

you two would have such a sweet relationship.

he grew up without feeling very loved or cherished, and you were the first to ever show him such feelings and emotions.

it takes him a while to learn to properly embrace or accept them? but once he does, all is lovely.

you’d have to really… impress todoroki for him to catch some kind of feelings for you. not strength or looks wise, but with your personality. so there’s hardly doubt when it comes to shoto’s adoration for you.

fighting :

fights with shoto don’t happen often. and when they do, they aren’t super nasty or loud. I can imagine they’d only happen over large disagreements or worries between you two.

when the fights are bigger, he’ll take some time to give the both of you a chance to cool down, and then try his best an apology.

he doesn’t like to fight at all. it makes some bad childhood memories resurface for him as expected, so you both try your best to avoid it. alas, it’s inevitable in relationships, unfortunately. but you two manage surprisingly well.

gifts :

will genuinely buy you the whole world if you pout enough. he cannot resist a pout.

he constantly buys you sweet little gifts! which were probably way too expensive, but it’s not his credit card anyway right?

if he sees something he thinks you would enjoy or that reminds him of you, cha ching $$ there’s more money out of endeavor’s bank account. you deserve anything and everything that will make you smile!

dates :

similar to bakugo, I feel as if you two wouldn’t do the whole fancy dates thing. unless you want to! then he’s all for it.

but you two much prefer to go to cafe’s or smaller, cuter and less populated restaurants. gotta maintain the cute couple aesthetic.

coffee and tea dates! library dates! park dates! sightseeing! allat cute jazz you see people on the gram do and go “aw i wish.”

cuddling / physical affection :

he loves to cuddle you. having you peacefully and safely wrapped up in his arms is his favourite activity, he wouldn’t give it for the world.

it took him a little bit to get to the point of seeking your arms for comfort or becoming touch starved when he hasn’t seen or hugged you in a little bit, but he got there pretty quick.

could cuddle you and listen to you ramble about your interests and views for hours. he loves the sound of your voice calmly filling his ears.

I imagine once you get to a certain point in your relationship, he can be a pretty silly boyfriend. so expect random butt pats and smacks at random times when you’re alone.

kissing :

todoroki loves to kiss your forehead. it’s such a sweet, yet almost protective action. not to mention the way your cheeks turn pink when he does it makes his heart flutter.

you are baby in his eyes. so expect lots and lots of forehead and top of your head kisses.

but he loves to kiss your lips just as much! sweet kisses and soft make outs™

shoto isn’t a huge pda person, but if you enjoy it then hes totally down. he’ll give you sweet kisses and hold you hand everywhere you go.

sexual aspects :

I imagine you two would most likely wait until you were older, but only your second or third year.

it just comes down to you both making sure you’re ready, and i see that being after you two have been together for at least a year and a half. sorry thirsty shoto stans.

I dont imagine him being a very sexual person either, so waiting isn’t a problem for him.

Midoriya Izuku.

my ANGEL. my small tiny angel. god he would be such an adorable and sweet boyfriend and you can’t deny.

he’s just so?? infatuated with you?? you’re so incredible to him?? he adores everything about you.

you never have to doubt izuku’s intentions or morals and you rarely feel insecure about this relationship. he makes sure to let you know how much he cherishes you.

fighting :

a rarity. he absolutely hates to fight with you, and he’s sure that it ends up physically hurting him when you argue. he feels his precious little heart crack.

only happens when there’s big disagreements or issues that get addressed. if you made a reckless decision that got you hurt during a fight, expect him to be upset.

he just worries about you and prioritizes your well being, so be patient with him.

100% will be the first to apologize almost every time, but not without some silent treatment coming from both sides. you both just need time to cool off and gather your thoughts, and he knows that.

gifts :

the sweetest gift giver!

he loves the reaction he gets when he buys you flowers and cute stuffed animals for no particular reason.

on aniversaries he buys you beautiful bracelets and necklaces, he got you guys promise rings for your one year too!

dates :

once more…no super fancy dates or anything. he’ll spoil you in other ways! mainly cause he doesn’t think he could sit still in a formal setting with you without being a blushing mess.

you two love to go for walks down town, window shopping and stopping in certain stores, grabbing coffee and such.

if it’s the fall or winter and you go out, are you sure you aren’t cold? you can have his jacket. and his scarf. and his hat. no just take them, he doesn’t want you to get sick. just take the damn scarf.

or just going by random food stands in town! ramen, sushi, katsudon, you’ve gotten it all. don’t be surprised of mido has a little notebook of food stand ratings.

cuddling / physical affection :

okay it took him a little longer than expected to comfortably cuddle and kiss you without his face going beat red or his shoulders tensing up.

it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy it! he’s just very very shy and you’re very very cute.

he still blushes and gets shy at affection, but he’s able to ignore it by now. he realized that he enjoyed hugging your waist and burrying his head in your soft locks way more than getting shy and being distant.

pda… he tries. he wants to be able to kiss you and your adorable face in public but he’s a shy baby. so the most you’ll do is link pinkies when you walk down the halls and kiss his cheeks between classes.

kissing :

he loves. LOVES. to kiss your cheeks. he’ll place the sweetest most chaste kisses on your cheeks all the time.

when he’s feeling extra bold he’ll pepper them in small and quick little smooches.

loves to kiss your lips, but he can’t for too long or his face is literally red hot and he starts to overheat …

took you a little longer than most to get to the making out stage, and even now they’re still very short and sweet.

sexual aspects :

100% will wait until you’re both older to even try to be sexual. it’s just not very present in the boys mind until you age a bit more.

I mean it took him over two months to be able to casually kiss you without dying, imagine what would happen if he tried bringing his mini mido anywhere near you before he was sure he could do it.

switch.

midoriya isn’t a very sexual person in general, so it most likely won’t be a huge aspect in your relationship anyway, which you’re both fine with because you love eachother in other ways.

[botanistlester]

Sweet Pea (32/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: Hey guys! Back at it again with another edition to SP 8) I've thankfully finished my midterms without dying, which is great news! Now I'm going to my parents' house, which is ironic considering the theme of today's chapter! Thank you for reading this fic and leaving such amazing comments. I love you all so much! The lyrics at the beginning are from the song I Found by Amber Run!

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Chapter Thirty-Two

I found love where it wasn't supposed to be: right in front of me.

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When Phil thought about meeting Dan’s parents, this hadn’t exactly been what he had in mind. He’d assumed that maybe they would have prior arrangements where Dan would lead Phil into a restaurant or something and introduce Phil as his parents sat smiling at the table. Maybe Dan’s parents would have to stand up to shake Phil’s hand and Phil would smile gleefully at them as he introduced himself. After that, they would have a nice dinner and Dan would cast little proud glances over at Phil as Phil chatted up Dan’s parents, effectively wooing them.

It did not go like that. Not at all.

No, instead, Phil had been in the shower when Dan’s parents randomly showed up at their flat. When Dan had knocked on the bathroom door before slowly cracking it open. The steam from the shower immediately began to leak out from the opening and Phil shivered as a breeze of cool air hit his skin.

“Close the door and join me!” Phil whined, poking his head out from the shower curtain. He pouted at Dan, his hair dripping into his eyes, and the sight made Dan laugh. He watched with bright eyes as Dan quietly shut the door behind him, which was strange because normally he would have just left it open or allowed it to slam shut. But he did neither, seeming to brace the door shutting with his fingertips.

With a small smile, Dan reached out and brushed his fingers through Phil’s wet hair, pushing it back. He gazed at Phil with such a tender look that it made Phil’s chest constrict, and then he was leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to Phil’s lips. “As much as I would love to join,” Dan murmured against his wet lips, “I don’t think that’s really possible right now.”

Phil hummed and frowned a little, peppering light kisses to Dan’s cheeks and making grabby hands at him, attempting to drag him into the shower fully clothed. Sadly, it didn’t work as Dan caught himself on the towel rack and swatted Phil away playfully. “Well why the heck are you in here then, if not to join your amazing boyfriend in a steamy shower?”

“Well you see,” Dan started, poking Phil’s cheek. His expression turned serious and he let out an awkward laugh. Phil immediately sobered up, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Phil asked in horror.

Dan glared at him, but there was no heat behind his look. He couldn’t look intimidating if he tried. “If you would just let me finish, then you would know that I didn’t do anything!” Dan exclaimed dramatically. He paused then, and Phil just gave him a long, hard look, which made Dan sigh in relief, throwing up his hands in defeat. “My parents showed up out of nowhere and they’re chilling in the lounge waiting for you to get out of the shower.”

All at once, Phil’s heart seemed to stop and speed up at the exact same time. The water, which was so hot that it was turning his skin red, was suddenly cold against his back, and he could feel his eyes glaze over with panic. “Your parents!” Phil hissed, submerging his head under the shower head to scrub away the conditioner from his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!”

He couldn’t see Dan now, but he could imagine his pout as he said, “you were so cute, I couldn’t just leave you hanging.”

“Oh God, your parents are going to think we’re having a quickie!”

“No they won’t! They know you’re in the shower and have to get presentable.”

“So what? Your shirt is all wet from where I grabbed it. We totally could have had a quickie by now.” Phil shut the water off and wrung his hair out, grabbing the towel from the rack and stepping out of the shower and onto the plush rug. He nearly bumped into Dan, who gingerly placed his hands on Phil’s bare hips and held him in place.

Phil paused as Dan tilted his head and looked him in the eyes, gaze intense but filled with fondness. The look froze Phil in place and made him feel warm all the way down to his toes. It didn’t matter that Dan was fully clothed and Phil was completely naked. Dan was simply looking at him, not judging him for his lack of dress. “Phil,” Dan murmured softly, nuzzling his nose against Phil’s in the way that he liked. Phil hummed and pursed his lips, waiting for Dan to kiss him. “I’m offended at the insinuation that I only last two minutes in bed.”

Laughing, Phil shoved Dan away, feeling some of the tension in his chest diminish. If Dan was so carefree and joking around with him despite Phil’s state of undress, then maybe his parents weren’t too terribly scary. “You realise that five minutes isn’t that much of a difference from two, right?”

“Hey, at least it’s something!”

Raising his eyebrows, Phil finished drying himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Not enough to satisfy somebody,” Phil teased, pecking Dan on the cheek as he brushed past him and swung open the door. He trudged to his room, hearing Dan muttering under his breath, albeit with no toxicity at all.

He honestly loved all of the teasing between he and Dan. It was just so relaxed, so familiar. He loved how he could just be completely naked and still feel confident in front of a fully dressed Dan. It hadn’t been like that at first, that’s for sure. When Dan had first seen Phil naked, Phil hid his face behind his hands, in the sheets, in every possible shield that he could. It had made him so self conscious, like Dan was judging him even despite their similar stages of undress.

The embarrassment of being naked in front of someone was definitely new for Phil. He had never had an issue with getting nude in front of strangers. But maybe it was just different because this was Dan, and Phil wanted him to like what he saw. Dan’s opinion mattered because Phil cared about him so fucking much that he didn’t know what to do with himself half of the time.

The first time they were naked together, Phil hid his face and peaked between his fingers at Dan’s own nakedness. They stared at each other, not moving, until Dan’s lips turned up in a soothing smile and he whispered a tiny, “can I please kiss you?”

Phil’s answering nod was all that Dan had needed before he breached the space between them and lightly took Phil’s cheeks in his hands, kissing him so softly, almost as though Phil would break.

While the memory of it was a bit mortifying, just because Phil had felt like he was in high school again, he also wouldn’t change it for the world. That experience was undoubtedly one of the most tender moments he’d ever experienced. They were just two giant, nervous nerds that wanted so badly to share their bodies with each other without really knowing how. Dan had been so gentle and understanding, pressing soft kisses to Phil’s stomach, and Phil kissed Dan’s eyelashes and thighs in return. He had practically worshipped Dan’s body, had run his hands over Dan’s curves and the smooth skin of his waist. He especially liked Dan’s hip bones, liked how they jutted out when he laid on his back. He liked to grab them and pull Dan closer, until they were pressed together so tightly that Phil could hardly breathe.

Phil had been uncertain in his movements, mainly because he wasn’t used to not being submissive, hadn’t been an equal in bed in over a year, so he was freaking out half of the time. Dan didn’t care. He let Phil do the leading, let him choose the pace. When Dan had grabbed Phil’s wrist to hold him in place and Phil had started panicking, going back to a much darker time, Dan calmly suggested that they either stop or swap positions.

It was different, it was embarrassing, it was vulnerable. But it was real, and it made him feel so many things at once that he could hardly grasp for enough air. In a good way, though, like he was inhaling Dan, breathing him in until he was suffocating, surrounded by him and his love.

God, Phil was cheesy as hell.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and focused at the task on hand. Now was not the time to be thinking about his sex life with Dan while Dan’s parents were in the same building. Instead, he distracted himself by throwing on his best looking clothes and placing his glasses on his face. He didn’t have enough time to dry his hair and make himself look amazing, so he ended up angrily towel-drying his hair as best as he could and then touseling it so it wasn’t plastered to his head.

Once he deemed himself presentable, he took a couple of gulping breaths, trying to steel himself and mentally prepare himself to finally meet the Howells. When his meditation was finished, he finally swung open his door and headed to the lounge.

He could hear light chatter coming from the room, and he stopped right before entering, hearing Dan explaining to his parents about how Phil was studying English Literature and how he’d taken some time off of school for personal reasons. Phil cringed when he heard who he assumed was Dan’s mum asking if Phil treated him okay, and he listened intently as Dan let out a light chuckle. He was probably nodding profusely as he said, “treats me better than all of my partners combined in the past.”

“But doesn’t he have some… you know, mental issues after everything that happened?” Dan’s father asked in a hushed tone. Phil grimaced, but he couldn’t be mad because he understood their worry for their son. Hell, he was worried too. “Surely that’s not healthy for you to surround yourself with? Especially considering your own depression.”

“His past doesn’t define the type of person he is,” Dan replied confidently, and Phil fucking loved him. “Like, we have our issues just as any other couple does, but he doesn’t bring me down. We communicate with each other, and we’re both seeing separate therapists, so we have a really strong relationship.” Dan laughed awkwardly and Phil almost felt bad for leaving him to deal with his parents alone. Almost, except Phil was kind of having fun eavesdropping. “Sometimes I can’t believe he even likes me, you know? It’s like he’s a mystical gay Earth faerie and I’m just a boring human who’s cast under his spell.”

The serious tone to Dan’s voice made Phil laugh and shake his head, finally deciding to step out from his hiding spot from behind the wall. He cocked his eyebrow, putting a hand on his waist, giving Dan an amused look. “A mystical gay Earth faerie? Seriously?” The answering grin on Dan’s face made Phil shake his head in disbelief. “How long have you known I was eavesdropping?”

Dan stood and made his way over to Phil, putting his arm around his waist and squeezing him to his side. “Your footsteps aren’t exactly quiet, you clumsy oaf,” Dan teased. He kissed Phil on the cheek, and it was then that they both sobered up a bit, finally realising the situation and how Phil needed to meet Dan’s parents.

All of a sudden, the reality of what was happening was hitting Phil, and he was panicking again. He tried to steel himself, tell himself that it was just Dan’s parents, that it didn’t matter if they didn’t like him because the only thing that mattered was that Dan liked him and Dan was happy with him. But on the other hand, these were Dan’s parents, who made Dan. Dan literally came out of his mum’s vagina. Shouldn’t Phil try to impress them in that case?

Dan’s mum was a lady with a warm face. She somewhat reminded Phil of his own mum, with laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Her eyes were the same colour as Dan’s, a warm chocolate, and even her hair was similar to her son’s with beautiful brown ringlets. There was a smatter of red lipstick on her lips, and a dusting of blush on her cheeks. Dan’s father was also a kind looking man, with salt and pepper hair and blue eyes and a long nose.

They both stood as Dan gestured to Phil, bowing and presenting him as though he were royalty. “At long last, meet Philip Lester,” Dan said in a voice much deeper than usual. “My astounding best friend and wonderful boyfriend.”

Phil snorted and lightly kicked him, forcing Dan to stand up with a grin. “Enough of that,” Phil muttered, and then crossed the lounge to shake both of Dan’s parents hands. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dan’s father laughed, his eyes sparkling, and Phil knew that they would get along just fine. “Trust me, I think we’re the ones who have heard the most about you.” The comment made Phil duck his head and blush, but only because he knew that Dan talked about him a lot. After all, he constantly heard him talking on the phone with his mum about Phil and his whereabouts. Dan was slightly obsessed, and Phil didn’t mind in the least bit.

Dan and Phil took a seat across from his parents. They weren’t in each other’s laps, having respect for Dan’s family, but they were definitely sitting close enough that their thighs were touching. Dan put his hand on Phil’s knee, grounding Phil, showing him that he was here and that everything was okay.

Phil leaned into him a little bit more.

They made small conversation, Dan’s parents asking Phil questions that he knew that they already knew the answers to. They asked him what he was studying, how old he was, what he wanted to do with his degree. Why he was taking a year off of school. Basically everything that Dan had already told them. And when Dan’s father asked Phil why he wanted to date Dan, Phil didn’t even blink.

What a dad thing to ask.

Instead, he went on a long tangent, talking about how Phil had first met Dan at his work and how he had always made Phil enjoy his time as a server. He mentioned how he had gone through a rough time and Dan had been by his side through it all, even in his darkest moments. He talked about how Dan loved him when he didn’t love himself, and how he’d always urge Phil to be the best person that he could possibly be. Finally, he talked about their trust in each other, and how they communicated when something was wrong, and how Phil had never really had someone respect him like that before.

When he was finished, he could tell that Dan’s father and mother were pleased. Dan patted Phil on the knee, nosing his shoulder and pressing a kiss there, and Phil saw the blush on his face when he turned to smile at his boyfriend.

“Well, it certainly seems like you two love each other,” Dan’s mum, Karen, murmured, and if Phil were anyone else, he would have cringed. But instead, he made the most disgusting sappy face and gave Dan a fond smile.

“We do,” Dan and Phil replied at the same time, like those creepy couples who finished each others sentences. Honestly, they were definitely still in their honeymoon phase, still excited about the aspect of a relationship with each other and wanting to get in all of the affection that they could after not being able to do so for over a year. Phil didn’t think there was any shame in that, even if he did find the entire thing a tad cringey.

They decided to show Karen and Dean around their place, taking them into each room and pointing out the things that they were passionate about. Dan had gone on a long tangent about the painting hung on their wall above the television of some dogs playing poker, and why he liked it so much, and Phil talked about just why he had so many stuffed animals sitting on the window sill.

By then, Phil had relaxed enough that he had gotten over the initial shock of Dan’s parents showing up, and he was starting to just have fun with them. He liked it when he teased Dan by gloating about him in front of his parents, liked how Dan’s face turned red and how he swatted at Phil to shut up. He liked how Karen and Dean just smiled and urged on his teasing, telling him all about how Dan had been terribly afraid of dark windows as a child, and sometimes they still caught him running past the windows in the house at night because he apparently felt like he was being watched.

It was endearing, and it was fun, and Phil didn’t know why he had been so worried in the first place.

They didn’t stay too terribly long, saying that they had just stopped by while they were on their way to Dan’s aunt’s house. Before they left, Karen pulled Phil into the kitchen, and it took all of Phil’s willpower not to freak out, memories flooding him of another mother telling him to be careful of his own boyfriend.

But Karen didn’t say anything of the sort.

Instead, she pulled Phil into a tight hug, which was a bit awkward because he was so tall. But Karen was definitely used to it, if Dan’s height was anything to go by. “Don’t hurt my son, you hear?” Karen said in a warning, yet light tone of voice.

Phil chuckled and hugged her back, resting his chin on her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied sincerely.

He must have sounded truthful enough because Karen nodded and pulled away, giving him a soft smile. “Dan’s lucky to have you,” she said. “Especially after he wouldn’t shut up about you for years. It’s about time you got your head out of your ass and reciprocated his feelings!”

Laughing, Phil shook his head and agreed. “I know. I was pretty stupid back then, wasn’t I?”

“Unbelievably so.”

When they made their way back to the lounge, they caught Dan hugging his dad, face slightly flushed and his eyes a bit wet. Phil kept that in mind for when his parents left, but otherwise let Dan say goodbye to his parents. Phil shook Dean’s hand and hugged Karen once more, telling them that they could come over whenever they wanted, and then they were gone, leaving Phil with a slightly sniffly Dan.

He turned to Dan and nudged his shoulder, giving him a supportive smile. “What’s wrong, you?”

Dan shook his head and groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. When he was finished whining and groaning, he opened his arms, pouting at Phil, and Phil took him into his arms, hugging him tightly. He kissed Dan’s collarbone and waited for Dan to speak. It took him a moment, but eventually he got the words out. “My dad told me he was proud of me. Said that you seemed like a nice lad and he’s not seen me so happy in a long time.” Phil tightened his arms around Dan’s waist, not really knowing what to say, but showing that Dan could continue to talk if he needed to. “For a while they were upset with my decision to come to uni for a degree in directing, you know? Said that I wouldn’t be able to do anything with it. I was also pretty depressed for a while and I don’t think my parents really understood why. I think they’re trying to be supportive of me though, and it just… it feels really good, you know?”

Phil nodded and smiled into Dan’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. “I know exactly what that’s like. I’m really glad your parents are being more understanding of your life now. Life definitely isn’t easy, but you’ve accomplished so much, and that’s something to be proud of. Especially when your parents didn’t understand why you were doing what you wanted to do.”

Dan sniffled and nodded his head, murmuring a small, “yeah.”

It was clear to Phil that Dan didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Phil took it upon himself to change the subject, squeezing Dan’s sides. “Plus, why wouldn’t they be proud when you snagged a hunk like me?”

Pulling away, Dan smacked Phil’s chest and laughed loudly. Phil tried to kiss the smile from his face, but it just ended up with him kissing Dan’s teeth, which made him cringe at the feeling. He didn’t really like that, apparently.

“Hey,” Dan started suddenly, looking at Phil with a small smile on his face.

“Mhm?”

“You wanna go take a nap?”

Phil chuckled and pecked Dan on the lips. “Man after my own heart. Is that even a question?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

[mindfulwrath]

On Lawyers, and the Care and Keeping Thereof

A short fic about how Jekyll and Lanyon came to be friends with Utterson.

Words: 2,530 Pairings: Jekyll/Lanyon Warnings: None

Robert and Henry were traversing the halls of Cambridge arm in arm, as was their wont. It was a chilly October afternoon, after the last class of the day had let out, and Robert had snagged Henry before he could dart off back to his room. Henry had, admittedly, allowed himself to be snagged. Robert had been pining lately, and a little indulgence was called for, although not too much.

Certainly, he wasn't indulging anything of his own; he was not unduly warmed by Robert's presence, nor at all set aflutter by his touch, because—as a gentleman—Henry didn't feel those sorts of things.

"Ah, here we are!" Robert said, coming to a stop in front of a nondescript door. They were in a half-enclosed corridor, barred from a courtyard on one side by Doric columns and a waist-high wall. It was fairly deserted, and nobody was paying them any attention.

"Where is here?" Henry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why, you don't know?" said Robert, twinkling. "You really have been spending too much time shut up in your room. Here, after you."

He opened the door and bowed Henry in. Henry spared him a dubious look before stepping inside.

It was a very small room, dim, occupied mainly by rakes and pruning shears. Robert stepped into the room behind him and closed the door. It was a very small room.

"Robert," Henry said.

Robert took his face in his hands and kissed him. Henry's eyes rolled back in his head. He couldn't help it. It was just so damnably good. He hooked his fingers into Robert's waistcoat and pulled him in closer, chest to chest, then draped an arm over his shoulders to keep him there. Robert tangled a hand in Henry's hair and rested the other on the small of his back. His breath was hot in Henry's mouth, intoxicating. Absently, Henry loosened Robert's cravat for him.

"You've been avoiding me," Robert accused, breathless and swaying.

"I've been avoiding everyone," Henry said, although a pang of guilt shot through his chest.

"That's not better," said Robert. He kissed Henry again, deeply, drinking him like fine wine.

"I'll make it up to you," Henry promised, when Robert allowed him to come up for air.

"Yes you bloody will," said Robert. A chill raced up Henry's spine, and he dipped his head to kiss Robert's neck, tugging his high collar aside. Robert's head tipped back obligingly. "And at great length."

Henry bit him, just hard enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. Robert pulled him up by his hair and kissed him again. The two of them overbalanced and Henry's back slammed into the wall. A couple of rakes fell over with a clatter. Henry hooked a leg around Robert's thigh, hopelessly drunk on feeling already.

So much for not too much.

Robert undid the top button of Henry's shirt, tugged his collar aside and suckled at the tender flesh underneath. Henry's head thunked back against the wall, his hips pressed up against Robert's of their own accord. He had to put a hand over his own mouth to keep from moaning aloud.

Suddenly, light burst down over the two of them. Robert yelped, and Henry nearly climbed the wall behind him.

A tall, handsome, dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Henry locked up in abject terror.

"Oh!" the man squeaked. "Terribly sorry!" And he shut the door again.

Robert buried his face in Henry's shoulder and laughed while Henry, mortified and paralyzed, could only stand there gawping like a fish out of water. Footsteps hurried away, clicking smartly on the marble floors.

"Stop laughing!" Henry hissed, shaking Robert by the shoulders.

"Oh God, sorry, I'm sorry," Robert said, hiccuping with mirth. "It's only—did you see the look on his face?"

"This isn't funny! We could be expelled!"

"Yes yes, it's dreadfully serious, but Henry, did you see his face?"

And he dissolved into giggles again, helpless.

"Let go of me, you lunatic," Henry said, peeling Robert off of him. "What are we going to do?"

"Oh, heavens, Henry, let's buy the poor man a drink," said Robert, wiping tears from his cheeks. "He—hah—he looked like he might've needed one!"

"Would you please take this seriously!"

"Henry, darling dearest Henry," Robert said, clasping Henry's face in his hands and continuing to choke back laughter. "That was not the face of—hgghk—the face of a man—hee—who was thinking of making trouble. It was not."

Henry glared at him. Robert pecked him on the lips. Henry continued to glare.

"You don't know that," he said. "We don't know who he is, we don't know who he might tell!"

"Oh, do calm down," said Robert, patting his shoulder. "It's smoothed over easily enough. Let's go catch him, he can't've got far."

"Looking like this?" Henry cried, but Robert was already out the door, retying his cravat as he went. Cursing under his breath, Henry made a quick attempt at re-sheveling himself before dashing after him.

"Worse comes to worst, I suppose we could bribe him," Robert mentioned, while Henry hovered at his elbow. "Now, where could he have—ah!"

Before Henry could stop him, Robert was off across the courtyard. Hunched and blushing, Henry scurried along behind him, acutely aware of every gaze that happened to brush against him.

"Sir!" Robert called. "Oh, sir!"

The dark, lanky figure paused, turning back. Between his figure, his long black coat, and his hat, he looked remarkably like an American cowboy. His eyes were still very wide, and only got wider as Robert approached him. Henry wished fervently that he could sink into the ground or, failing that, die instantly.

"My apologies," said Robert, somehow perfectly at ease. "I do hope my friend and I weren't in your way."

"Ah," said the man, looking about as dazed as Henry felt. "Hm. No."

"So sorry, where are my manners?" said Robert. He extended a hand. "Robert Lanyon, and this is my friend, Henry Jekyll."

"Utterson," said the man. "Gabriel . . . Utterson."

He transferred the book he was carrying to his other hand, then shook Robert's hand, and then Henry's. His skin was quite warm. He had the wild-eyed look of a horse about to bolt.

"Gabriel! A pleasure," said Robert. "May I call you Gabriel? Delightful. Henry and I were just talking about how we'd like to buy you a drink, weren't we, Henry?"

"Robert, I am going to kill you," Henry hissed.

"Thank you," Gabriel said carefully, "but no, I couldn't possibly."

"Nonsense! We're all friends here."

To Henry's horror, he clapped the poor fellow on the shoulder and shook him. Gabriel was clutching his book so tightly it had turned his knuckles pale. Gold glinted under his hand.

"It's quite all right," Gabriel said, his voice thin.

"Is that—sorry, is that Kinder- und Hausmärchen?" Henry interrupted.

"What?" said Gabriel. He looked down at the book in his hand like he'd forgotten it was there.

"The Grimms' fairy tales," Henry clarified, in case it was an English version.

"Oh," said Gabriel. "Yes. So it is."

"I've been looking everywhere for a copy, where did you find it?" Henry asked, peering at the cover.

"Ah? It's one of mine," said Gabriel. "I was . . . intending to donate it. Little use for it, now. In law. As I am."

"May I see it?" Henry asked, holding out a hand. After only a momentary hesitation, Gabriel gave him the book.

"For goodness' sake, Henry, can't you go five minutes without stuffing your nose in a book?" Robert asked, teasing.

"No," said Henry, "and especially not this one." He flipped open the cover and nearly squealed in delight. It was an English first edition. He looked back up at Gabriel. "You've read it?"

"Once or twice," Gabriel mumbled, looking anywhere but at Henry.

"God," said Henry, rapturous. "It's illustrated! Are you actually an angel?"

Gabriel muttered unintelligibly, tugging on his ear.

"Why don't we," Robert said, "continue this conversation over dinner, hm? Just the three of us?"

"Yes yes, whatever you say," said Henry, already engrossed in the pages.

"You can see he'd be lost without me," Robert remarked dryly. He flung an arm around Henry's shoulders and started steering him away. "It's imperative to look after him when he gets like this, otherwise he'll forget to eat or sleep."

"Gracious," said Gabriel, who was apparently tagging along as intended.

"God, this is beautiful," Henry muttered. If he wasn't careful, he was going to start crying. "And you were just going to—to give it away?"

"What?" said Gabriel. "Oh. I suppose. Haven't much use for it."

"Use? I don't envy you, then," said Henry. "But I'll buy it off you, if you're determined to be rid of it."

"Oh no you won't," Robert scolded. "We've talked about this, Henry, I'll not have you winding up destitute."

"You needn't worry," said Gabriel. "If he wants it, it's his. Clearly . . . already it's in better hands than mine."

Henry looked up at him, starstruck. The corners of Gabriel's mouth were pinched, a little gleam in his eye.

"Robert, I'm leaving you," Henry said vaguely. "I have to marry this man."

Gabriel went off on a bluster to rival February, and Robert smacked Henry in the back of the head.

"Stop that at once," he admonished. "You've embarrassed the poor fellow, and we've both of us done enough of that for one day."

"But Robert—" Henry pleaded, clutching the book to his chest.

"Yes yes, keep the book, but don't go proposing to strangers, God's sake," said Robert. He looked over Henry's head at Gabriel. "He doesn't mean anything by it."

"Hm," said Gabriel, rubbing his mouth with his thumb. Robert went on talking, and Gabriel caught Henry's eye.

Thank you, Henry mouthed.

Subtly, but with a great deal of gravity, Gabriel winked.

After his fourth glass of wine, Gabriel finally started to loosen up.

"So you're a lawyer, are you?" Robert asked, four glasses deep himself. Henry had not let go of the book yet, but he'd also had his fair share of wine. They were all three in Robert's room, mostly because it was the nicest.

"Nearly," said Gabriel. "Exams and things, you know."

"I daresay you'll make a fine one," said Robert. "I believe I saw you the other day, or a photograph of you."

"Did you?" said Gabriel, frowning.

"Yes, in the dictionary. Right next to lawyer."

"Oh, well," said Gabriel, and muttered at length.

"Robert is a career flatterer," said Henry.

"And Henry is a career recluse who wishes he could be a career flatterer," Robert said, kicking him amicably.

"I'm learning," Henry said, defensive.

"Whatever the both of you are," Gabriel said, "you've got very good taste in wine."

"I have, thank you," Robert said, pressing a hand to his chest. "Henry will drink anything you give him."

"I've got taste," Henry objected.

"A taste for excesses," said Robert, quirking an eyebrow at him. Henry shrank into himself, squirming.

"Very good taste in books," said Gabriel.

Heat rose to Henry's cheeks. He took a sip of his wine to cover his blush. If he drank enough, he'd stop feeling embarrassed altogether—but that would be his taste for excesses coming into play. The wine turned bitter on his tongue.

"One would hope," Robert said. "He spends enough time buried in them."

"Working," Henry mumbled.

"Fairy tales are not working," Robert scoffed.

"That would depend," Gabriel said slowly, "on the work. Hm?"

Robert sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I can see I'll gain no ground against the two of you," he said, flicking a hand theatrically. "Please do go on about your book club, while I drink the rest of this very fine wine."

Henry wrinkled his nose and shifted in his chair, then propped his feet up on Robert's leg.

"If you ever read anything other than party invitations, you might be able to join in," he said.

Robert elbowed him in the shin. "Ever so many parties, none of which you're invited to ever again. I shall have Gabriel come with me instead."

"I?" said Gabriel. Henry couldn't tell if he was affronted or simply shocked.

"You!" said Robert. "And why not? You seem a decent fellow."

"I am not a . . . party fellow," said Gabriel. He took a pen out from his pocket and began fiddling with it.

"No?" said Robert, clapping a hand to his cheek in coquettish shock. "I never would have guessed! And you carry yourself with such aplomb."

"Robert's parties are unbearably dull," said Henry. "You'd fit right in."

"Henry!" Robert cried, scandalized.

"I—oh," said Henry, realizing what he'd said. "I'm sorry, I didn't honestly mean that—"

Gabriel had taken his pen and placed it on his face like a mustache, holding it against his nose by pursing his lips. He wiggled it at Henry with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ever so dull," he said, his mouth pinched to keep the pen in place.

"I do believe he's drunk," said Robert, delighted.

"If he is, it's your fault," said Henry.

"I'd hardly say fault. Would you, Gabriel?"

"No, no," said Gabriel. "Nor drunk."

"That's fixable!" Robert chirped.

"You are truly horrendous."

"I'm bribing him with Claret, Henry, it's an age-old tactic."

"Horrendous and insufferable."

"But effective," said Robert. He turned to Gabriel. "Gabriel, now that we've become better acquainted, I did hope I could ask a small favor of you."

"Oh?" said Gabriel.

"A tiny thing, really," said Robert. "Nearly insignificant. You wouldn't mind not mentioning to anyone what you saw earlier today, would you?"

Gabriel frowned. "I shouldn't have done so in the first place," he said.

Robert grinned at Henry and slapped him on the foot.

"I told you," he said, gloating. Henry put a hand over his eyes.

"I don't," Gabriel went on, "ordinarily go poking about in storage rooms. It's only that I had heard a clatter and thought perhaps something had got trapped inside."

"Oh, bless your darling heart," Robert said. "Henry, I believe we've found the only good man in Cambridge."

"No, no," Gabriel said again, a twinkle in his eye. "For you see, sir, now that I know my silence is worth something to you, I am determined to take advantage of it."

Henry leaned back, going cold in his chest. Robert's ease slipped out of place for just a moment as he winced.

"So much for that, then," he said, brittle. "What's your price?"

"Hm," said Gabriel. He swirled his glass. "Regular payments of fine wine and excellent company, I should think. That would suffice. Yes. I should be hard-pressed to keep quiet about a pair of strangers, but I would never dream of causing any distress to a couple of friends."

Robert blinked at him. Henry laughed, more out of relief than anything.

"You are a twisty man, Mr. Utterson," Robert said.

"I," Gabriel said, eyes a-twinkle, "am a lawyer." He raised his glass to the two of them. "It's what we do."

[airlea-sicarius]

Aftercare with the boys after some love making? 😏

I’m not gonna lie, but I was so excited to right this and now that I’ve got round to it I kinda forgot where I was going with them. 

What I do know though, is that I may create another part for the older!bros if you guys enjoy this!

which I hope you do because god dang Older!Noct is just stuck in my head and he’s so gorgeous no matter how old he is… 

Gladio is a very very tender man after making love to the one he truly loves and wants to be with. He’s the type to look at you with the most gorgeous gleam in his eyes that make you forget just how much of a powerhouse he is on the battlefield (and sometimes in the throws of passion). He’s caress your cheek so gently because he’s almost afraid that he’d accidentally hurt you, treat you like you were a fragile piece of china.

And he’d caress the ends of your hair before tucking the runaways that have fallen in front of you face behind your ear. He’d be smiling just as tenderly as his touch Of course, you’d smile right back and he’d only cup your cheek  and press a kiss to you forehead, cheeks, nose and lips once you’d snuggled up to him.

There would be very minimal talking and it would depend upon how rough he was. If he was rougher than normal, he’d ask ‘you okay?’ rather casually. But it would break you into laughter or into a wide smile. Mainly because it would show that he wasn’t mad at you. That he still cared.Apart from that it would just be small things: looking back at the day just gone, maybe making a few plans for the future. After a couple of months there would just be the inclination of starting a family, though nothing would ever be set in stone considering his duty to the crown. But he never said no. He’d say ‘I’d like that’ or ‘sounds like a plan for when you’re ready.’ Because even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be the one lugging a child in his body. So it would be up to you.

After making love for the first time with him, he would be a little verbal after the act, making sure you were okay, that he wasn’t too tender or too rough. Because it was easy for him to miscalculate how he was in bed, it would have been very impulsive, so he’d need to get a better idea of what you truly liked.

Sometimes, the small talks would lead to another round. Because he would often tease you with chaste and sinful kisses. 

He’d either hum or sing for you (he’s a good singer now) so you could sleep soundly. Because of this, you’d usually fall asleep first. But if he had an excruciatingly long day - both from guarding the prince and trying not to thin about you too much - he’d fall asleep because you would be able to notice his weariness, and you’d hum and sing for him instead. 

On those days, he’d value your chest as his pillow, although you would be cradling his head in such a way that you breasts were his only pillow, and he’d let both your voice and your heart lull him to sleep.

Most of the time though, he’d refuse sleep until you were at peace in your slumber and he’d be holding you to him. Sometimes he’d even slip one of his vest tops on you so wouldn’t wake to a horrible chill at four in the morning.

Prompto would be a little similar to Gladio, but also entirely different. Sometimes there would be absolutely no talking because you would have fallen asleep, or the only talking shared would be from looking at the pictures he had taken.

But he would also be the master of teasing you. Not in Gladio’s style, but from just saying sweet things like ‘This is my fave photo of you from the day - the lighting captures your perfection so well and it makes you look so radiant’. But one that would always be with you was ‘the dawn makes you look like a goddess bringing in the new day. And the dusk makes you look like the same goddess waving farewell to the day. But the moonlight? That easily transform you into the most beautiful angel.’

“If I really am an angel, I must have done something real bad to be banished down here then.”

“That’s the most comforting thing you’ve ever said.” And, of course, he’d show you his best smile. “Because you loving me so much that you’d get banished to be with me makes my heart sing.”

And it would turn playful, mainly with tickle fights. Which, again, may or may not lead to another, more playful, round. Though they were very rare because most of the time you’d be far to embarrassed to even stay awake. Because you’d be hiding your face in his neck, and the feeling of his pulse on your temple would send you to sleep quicker than any lullaby would.

The after care after making love to you the very first time round would be a very concerned and embarrassed Prompto checking over you repeatedly. Because it was his very first time of having a sexual encounter. And he loved you so much that he just wanted to make sure he did it right to your tastes. But goddamn he needn’t have worried about that. But worry he did and he’d only stop once you pecked his lips. But whether you then treated him to a round is entirely up to you. Because, he wasn’t gonna turn it down.

Ignis would most certainly be the type to pillow-talk. Because making love with you would also build a bond of faith and trust between the two of you. And it would be the only time he’d be sober of caffeine for him to not only feel drowsy, but far more relaxed. But maybe that would be because he couldn’t be mum friend to you without feeling absolutely mortified. Mainly after making love you.

It is a well known fact to you that he has perfected the skill of intense love making. He’d take slow to a while new level but it was also known to you that he could be rough. Depending upon a - how long you’d been oh-so-casually teasing him - and b - how long it had been since you two had been able to have time alone.

It was a must-do thing to ask if you were okay after, but he didn’t make it a rarity either. But he would make ask if you wanted anything before going to sleep: a glass of water, a window upon, a blanket and so on. 

Regardless if you wanted anything or not, talking was a must. At first he was against it, but you told him ‘you always take on everyone’s burdens, now let me take on yours. What’s the point of fighting alone if you know you’ll be stronger fighting with another?’ And suddenly it became a thing.

Sometimes the talks would be trivial, sometimes they would be deep. Sometimes they were happy, other times they were just goddamn depressing. But what didn’t change was his actions during these talks.

He would just be holding you to his chest, either talking softly or listening intently, and he’d be looking at you with his piecing green eyes looking at you so gently you could feel his soul embracing yours. At first it was a very strange feeling, but you quickly learned it was because his eyes looked so much brighter without glasses that they just drew you in.

After the first love making ‘session’, he visibly flushed at your staring and he legit pouted when you found it amusing. Of course he played it behind his typical Ignis sarc, but he couldn’t keep it up forever. And he soon just stared right back at you, right into your eyes, and then chuckled when you flushed.

Although he didn’t seem like the Ignis everyone knew and loved, he really was. But he had just adopted a side he would only ever show you on a common basis. And when he unintentionally showed it to you in front of everyone the next day, Noct was the first to say ‘I think he needs a doctor’ and check his temperature. And it was somehow comforting….

Anyway, moving back to the point at hand, it’s also a well known fact that he really doesn’t get that much sleep. So the pillow-talk helps him get sleepier than Noct and having sex you definitely uses all that caffeine. Rest assured that he will be a lot happier the following morning. And he would be looking so radiant that the boys will just know what you had done. And no one really wanted to know apart from Gladio, who always asked the most disturbing questions which would always be accompanied by Noct and Prompto’s gagging noises.

Noctis is another barrel of fish - pun unintended. Now, people like to think that he’d just fall asleep ridiculously quickly. Don’t get me wrong, that is definitely one of the most common occurrences. But he is also the most willingly to have a mess around and stay up until you grew tired: which could be anywhen.

His aftercare definitely depends upon the situation. 

Had a relatively easy day of just driving around the place? He’d fall asleep without even knowing he’d closed his eyes. Most of the time on top of you. Just spent all day in a royal tomb over run by daemons? He’d do a little talking. Just a lot of I love yous.

But on days where everything just weighed him down? On days where he just wanted to break down? Aftercare would be full of sentimental value. Although he’d just put forward insecurities and where his heart on his face - sometimes he would actually go into silent breakdown mode - he wouldn’t talk about them in so much detail. Because just thinking about them would hurt. 

But if you were injured slightly? He’d gently tease you after it all. If you had just recovered from a nasty injury? He would be blaming himself and he would literally vow to you that he would never let it happen again. 

If you had scared him on more than one occasion throughout the door - like jumping on his back and yelling ‘IMPERIALS WANT OUR BLOODS TODAY’ - he will be extra silent on you whilst curling up to you.

But each scenario always led to the cutest things. Noct was obsessed with playing with your fingers. He’d hold your hand, fiddle with your fingers, kiss your fingertips and then and he’d weave them with his. If he was cuddling up to you, he’d put your hand on his head and you knew you’d have to play with his hair. If he was the one to hold you, he’d bury his face in your hair, rest his chin on the crown of your head, play with your hair. But both circumstances also had him smiling so tenderly at you, had him pecking your lips, the backs and palms of your hand. And he would always fall asleep holding onto your hand.

And the only times he would ask if you were okay with the intercourse, would be during it.

But you can rest assured that he would definitely be extremely smiley the next morning and oh em gee he would be absolutely adorable all day. Well, until some silly sausage would be evil to him. Like you saying he should drive for a couple of days because Iggy had pooped himself out so badly that he was ill.

That’s right. You also wanted people to get used to his driving. Because you found it so entertaining. You strange person.

Opps. I just burned myself. Oh well XD

[citadelsushi]

Pressed Ham

Shepard and Kaidan on leave. Because I really enjoy writing shenanigans.

Avory swung her legs absentmindedly, her toes barely grazing the thin metal footrest attached to her barstool with each pass. The jingle bells on her ankles rattled joyously, a steady, rhythmic song with no lyrics, which had become her favorite activity over the past three days. Well, her second favorite activity.

The first had to be watching Kaidan cook. Especially when his parents called it an early evening, retreated to their bedroom and left the rest of the large cabin to her and Kaidan for the night . As much as Avory loved his parents, she was happy to have more time just the two of them. Mainly because she didn't have to feel impolite for blatantly staring at his backside as he stood shirtless before the stove.

It was a pleasure to watch him work in the kitchen just as it was to watch him work on a battlefield, but in a completely different realm. Kaidan was completely relaxed, but the same focus was there. His hands were constantly moving, seemingly doing five different things at any given moment. With each reach of his arm, each flick of a frying pan, the muscles in his back shifted under his skin and she took as much enjoyment in watching the thick bundles of rope there extend and contract as she did being a spectator to his culinary prowess.

“Shepard,” Kaidan glanced over his shoulder for only a second, but it was long enough that he had to have caught her staring at him because he cast her a cheeky grin, “you're going to have to take those socks off eventually.”

Avory stilled her legs and looked down at her feet, covered up to her ankles in thick, bright pink microfiber luxury, jingle bells sown around the cuffs. His mother had given them to her as a gift when they arrived, to keep her warm. They certainly did the trick; if she wore them with anything other than a pair of shorts, she'd sweat like a pig. But they were comfortable, and cute, and she'd never been gifted a pair of socks before.

“What's wrong, Alenko?” She looked back up, beaming at the back of Kaidan's head. “Gettin' tired of me playing for you?” She extended her legs, shook her feet as quickly as she could in the air, and the high-pitched bells reverberated loudly in the space between them.

Kaidan laughed and she saw his head shake slightly as he continued working on whatever he was cooking. She couldn't see the food, but all four burners were lit and she could smell something sweet in the air, just a hint of spice that tickled her nose with each inhale. Identifying scents had never been something she was good at, but she knew when food smelled good, and whatever he was making smelled fucking delicious.

“What are you making, anyway?” She leaned forward, finally stilling her feet and resting her elbows on the counter in front of her.

Kaidan was quiet at first, long enough to make her question if he had heard her, then said, “It's ham.” Shepard raised a skeptical brow at his surprisingly guarded tone. As if he read her mind, he added, “Secret family recipe.”

Avory chuckled, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as she nodded to herself. Of course his family would have secret recipes. They were just so domestic, so normal, so warm in ways she had never known existed.

“Oh yeah? What's it called? 'Scrumptious Alenko Pig Butt'?”

Kaidan laughed again and she felt her cheeks nearly split with her grin. It felt so good to be this at ease with him, to make him laugh like that, no fear of who might see or hear them together. “No, smart ass.” He shot her an amused look over his shoulder. “My dad calls it 'Pressed Ham'.”

Avory twisted her pout to the side, her upper lip pulling up. “Huh. I thought it'd be more creative than that.”

“Just wait 'til you try it.” Kaidan twisted the knobs on the stove and she heard the familiar whoosh of burners going out, then he turned to her, beckoned for her with one hand. “Come on.”

Mouth watering and happy to oblige, Avory swiveled in her chair and jumped down, the bells on her ankles jingling harshly. She moved around the island to where Kaidan stood, eagerly trying to peer around him into the dishes he had prepared. However, he caught her before she could see what he had made. His bare arms circled around her waist and he promptly tilted his head down, gazed at her with those beautiful amber eyes, waited for her to rise to her tip toes and kiss him.

Their lips met only briefly, interrupted when his hands caught her sides and hoisted her into the air and over his shoulder. She squealed in surprise, unable to stop herself, helpless as he held her steady with one arm wrapped around her thighs and the other on her hip.

“Kaidan!” She twisted and wriggled in his grip, but it only made his shoulder dig into her side. So she stilled her body and bent her head back, trying desperately to see out from behind the curtain of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “What the fuck?”

Beneath her, Kaidan laughed, his body shaking as the sound left his lungs. “I told you, pressed ham.”

The sea of blonde hair obscuring her view finally parted and she caught sight of the food on the stove; potatoes, corn, and a meat that was definitely not fucking ham. “What the fuck is pressed ham, Kaidan?”

“You'll see.” He laughed again and she groaned at the devilry in his tone.

She knew that if she really wanted to, she could fight free of his grip, but she resigned herself over to him, slumped herself heavily over his shoulder. There were worse things than being carried around by Kaidan; at least this time they weren't in complete armor and neither of them had been shot.

Though the further they got from the kitchen and the closer they got to the front door, the more Avory started to doubt her decision to comply. Her socks kept her plenty warm inside, but outside, where snow had been falling for the past twenty-four hours, her fuzzy pink footwear would not be enough. The arm Kaidan had held on her thigh slipped upward and he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, pulled them down just below the curve of her ass, and she shivered as air rushed over her exposed flesh.

“Hey!” She planted her hands on his back and pushed herself up, twisted in a futile attempt to see his face.

Kaidan ignored her though and now, only feet from the front door, Avory knew her fate.

With a laugh she swore was evil, Kaidan pressed her bare ass to the icy, frosted over glass panel built into the front door. She squealed, loudly, flopped dramatically against his back as he held her there. Goosebumps rose from her skin, spread from her butt down her thighs and up her back, covering even her arms as a torturous chill ran through her body. Finally, after what felt like a brief eternity of shrieking for him to put her down, Kaidan pulled her from the window, still laughing as he held on to her.

“You suck, Alenko.” Avory shivered against him, but his laugh was contagious, and she couldn't help now but to giggle herself.

“Couldn't help myself.” He stepped them back from the door. “If I put you down now, you promise to behave?”

“Nope.” Avory laughed a response, but Kaidan had already bent forward and her feet eventually found the ground, though she was a little unsteady and her shorts had slipped to her ankles. Condensation from the window trickled down the backs of her thighs, sending a second wave of goosebumps crashing over her.

She narrowed her eyes up at him, doing her best to look angry, but it was pointless. Kaidan gazed down at her, his smile stretched ear to ear, his eyes, full of adoration, shone with joy. There was no way she could pretend to be anything but extremely fucking happy. So she stepped forward, bells on her ankles jingling, pressed herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist and clung tight. She thought she felt him breathe a sigh, either contented or relieved she hadn't retaliated immediately she wasn't sure, and he returned her embrace. He cradled the back of her head with one hand and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, firm yet tender, chaste yet lingering, and she smiled against him.

“You know I'm going to get you back for that, right?”

Kaidan breathed a laugh and pulled her in even tighter against him. “Yeah, Shepard, I know.”