#the logistics would be difficult but I could figure it out

[sageadvice]

Now I want to write a fic where Rook was raised by Cassandra 👀

I… does the Necropolis just serve as Nevarra’s orphanage and babysitting services? Because from what I understand both Emmrich, Rook, Cassandra, and Cassandra’s brother all grew up there, and Dorian was also being taught there when he was like… 10. How many children are just running around the Necropolis? How childproofed is the Necropolis? Who is taking care of all these children? Where do they house them? Why does every orphan from Nevarra somehow end up in the Necropolis? Did Rook grow up with Cassandra? I have so many questions about the fact that there is literally no orphan from Nevarra who didn’t grow up in the Necropolis so far.

[reddwarfpoll]

If, hypothetically, I were to do a bit poll* once the current episode poll finishes, would people be interested?

*The idea would be a poll where each match up consisted of two "bits" or sustained jokes (more than just one-liners; the board game scene in Samsara or the Deja Vu exchange in Future Echoes, for example) and people could vote for which they liked most/found funnier. These bits would be submitted by other people

[carcarrot]

this week in: my dad is insane

[miley1442111]

insecurity- a.hotchner

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summary: aaron starts to overthink and doesn't realise how it's impacting the relaitionship.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fiancé! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, aaron is super insecure about his body, reader is upset with him, suggestive mentions, fade to black smut, kissing, aaron ignores reader and is kind of a dickhead, cursing, angsty for a moment (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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“Not good enough.” 

The sentence rang out in his mind as he knocked on your apartment door. 

“She’s too young for you, she’ll get bored.”

“Hi handsome,” your bright eyes met his, your perfect figure clad in a t-shirt and jeans, your hair done how he loved, and he smiled. 

“Hi beautiful,” he smiled. Adjectives became names with him. You smiled. “Ready to go?”

“All packed and ready,” you smiled. 

You were moving in. And Aaron was shitting it. 

“How could she ever find you attractive?” “She’s too young for you.” “Jack will hate you when she leaves you.”

He’d been a careful and logistical man his entire life, and all of that, all the walls and things he’d put in place to protect himself had disintegrated when you confessed to him and asked him out. 

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“Hey boss,” you smiled, knocking on his open door. “Can I talk to you?”

He’d smiled and nodded. It was 9pm, much later than you usually stayed ‘til. It had been months of fleeting glances, scorching touches, and mixed signals. Tonight was the night you’d change that. 

“Of course,” he’d offered you a seat and you smiled up at him. He thought you were gorgeous, even after the excessive amount of running you’d all had to do (since the unsub almost got away), and the long three days of no sleep. 

“Can I say something? And if it’s weird, or wrong, or if it makes you uncomfortable please just tell me to shut up and-”

“I’d never tell you to shut up,” Aaron chuckled, god much he liked you was getting pathetic. 

You smiled. “I’d like to go out with you, like on a date,” You swallowed nervously. “Would that be something you’d be interested in?”

Aaron’s entire throat went dry and a million thoughts ran through his head, every single one of them about you.

“She’s joking, there’s no way she’d ever-”

“I’d be very interested,” his lips moved before his brain could even comprehend what he was saying. Every wall, everything that he’d put up to protect himself, it all crumbled to the ground in an instant. You had a knack for making him feel completely raw, completely at your mercy, and he hated to love it.

You smiled. Your beautiful, indescribable smile. “Good,” you were trying to not smile so hard, but it was proving difficult when he was sitting there so prettily, so Aaron. “How about Thursday, since Fridays are you and Jack time? I know this great tapas bar?”

You even knew Fridays didn’t work since they were ‘Jack and Dad night’. Could you be more perfect? “That sounds great.” 

You’d left his office with a smile on your face. He watched you leave and realised he was fucked.

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“Earth to Aaron?” You waved a hand in front of his face. “You alright?”

“I’m alright,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry.”

“Dad’s a crazy old man!” Jack giggled. You both laughed along, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel the sting. He knew it was a joke, he knew this was all irrational, but it still hurt all the same.  

“Jack!’ you scolded playfully. “He’s only 48.”

Jack rolled his eyes and laughed, then got in the car. 

“You’re not crazy to me,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips and smiled.  “Promise.”

He smiled back, but he was still riddled with anxiety, and he was scared. Aaron hadn’t been scared since Floyd. He was scared because he knew the power you had over him, and he knew you didn’t even know the magnitude of that power. You were his guiding star, his everything. 

“I love you,” He beamed, despite the inner monologue that was tormenting him.

You softened. “I love you too. Ready to go?”

“All ready,” he smiled. 

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The first week, you could tell something was up with Aaron. He was quieter, less physical, and seemingly, work was more interesting than you.

You frowned every time he came home late and left for work early, just wanting a moment or two alone with your fiancé. When you met him at work, it wasn’t much different which, granted, wasn’t unusual. He was averse to pda, especially in the workplace, and  he didn’t much like sharing his personal life with the team unless it was completely necessary. 

But it was getting strange when even on cases where you’d be sharing a hotel room, he’d choose not to have sex, citing that he was too tired.

Now, your sex life was great, he was great. You hadn't gone more than a week without having sex since the first time you did it, which was a month into your relationship. Had you done something to annoy him? You weren’t sure. 

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Living with you was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, you were always there. On the other hand, you were always there. He dug himself deeper, hating the scars on his body and the way his hair greyed at the roots. He hated the extra fat he’d put on, and decided to work himself harder in the gym. He hadn’t gone in a while, choosing to spend his time with you instead. Why did he feel like this? Aaron Hotchener had always been a smart, logical, confident man. Now? He was scared to be shirtless in front of his own fiancé. It’s not like he didn’t think he was handsome, he knew he was good-looking. Maybe not as good as he did in his prime, but still good-looking. It’s just that you were so… young and so beautiful. You two were so opposites, he was 48 and you were practically fresh out of the academy in his eyes (You were not fresh out of the academy, you’d been working with him for years). When you two went out, people hit on you, and you had to point to him and say that he was your boyfriend. The way the guys looked at him, the younger, more attractive guys, made him feel small. 

Aaron Hotchner did not like feeling small, so he decided to make a change. No sex (unless initiated by you) until he felt confident again. 

When would that be, you may ask? He had no clue. 

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Ok, three weeks with no sex and you were even more worried. But, at least you two had the weekend off since work was quiet and Jack was off to Jessica’s to be with his cousins.

You walked into his office to see him sweaty and clearly more tired than usual. Aaron had been coming home later, not at all interested in wedding planning, and just not mentally in the room with you or Jack in recent weeks. It was worrying you to say the least. Were you losing him? Was he cheating? 

“Hey boss, here’s the reports from me, Jj, Spencer, and Derek,” You handed him the reports from the last cases, and he barely looked up at you. You felt something other than hurt and confusion started to bubble, anger. Why the fuck was he treating you like this? You’d done nothing that you were aware of and anyways, he had no right to not talk to you if he was upset. He’s a grown man, he can talk about his fucking feelings. 

You walked out without another word, deciding that it was time to be angry, not worried. 

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You got home later than usual, deciding to head out to dinner with Penelope after work, and when you got inside you found Aaron on the couch, waiting up for you. 

“Where were you?” He asked through gritted teeth. Oh, now he wanted to talk. 

“Out,” your answer was short, and ambiguous enough to warrant other questions. 

“Where?” he asked again. 

“Bar.”

“Y/n,” his voice was low.  

“With Penelope.”

He sighed and got up, walking over to you. “Why aren’t you talking to me?”

The look of annoyance on your face made him stop in his tracks. 

“Why am I not talking to you?! You’ve been ignoring me for 3 fucking weeks Aaron!” you shot back. “You come home late, you’re never here when you are here, you ignore me at work, you ignore me at home, I’m the one hanging out with Jack on the weekends, not you and we haven’t so much as kissed in three weeks. If you want me to move back out i-if this is too much for you, I can do that, I don’t mind. I’m just so sick of being treated like I don’t exist, like I’m not your fucking fiancé,” your voice got smaller as you went on, realising just how frustrated you were getting with it all. “It’s not fair Aaron.”

Aaron could feel his heart breaking, while his insecurities swallowed him up, he forgot about how it would make you feel and how it would impact your relationship. “Honey I’m-”

“I love you Aaron. I love you so much, and for a while I thought I did something wrong, like really really wrong. Like maybe I overstepped with Jack, or maybe I upset you somehow. And if I��m right, please just tell me. These last few weeks have been torture trying to figure out why you’re mad,” you begged, small tears cascading down your cheeks as emotion overcame you. 

Aaron hadn’t remembered how good it felt to be told he was loved by you. Obviously you said it everyday, but it sometimes becomes ‘just a thing someone says’. But not with you. You said it with your full chest, only to people who meant something. Aaron meant something to you. He realised how he should have remembered that. He should have remembered that you had loved him despite how he looked and acted, that you stood by him during Foyet, not because you were in love with him (not yet anyway) but because you loved him (even if it was just as a friend then). You were the most loving person he’d ever met, and he felt ashamed that he;d ever let his insecurities blind him to the beautiful reality he was living. He was going to marry you. He was living with you. 

What was he thinking?

“I’m so sorry Honey,” he pleaded. “I was worried.”

You stood there dumbfounded. “Worried about what?” You spat. 

“I worried… that I was too old for you… that you’d look at me and think that you’re without,” he admitted. “Jack thinks I’m old, I thought it was only a matter of time before you came to the same conclusion. I’m not as young as you, and I don’t measure up in… well in looks. You’re fucking beautiful and stunning and beside you I’m just… me. Scars and all.” 

You sighed and took his hand. “You’re 48 Aaron, not 77. Alright? Better yet, you’re a hot 48 year old. But you know what’s better than that? You love me. You’re sweet to me, and you treat me well. I feel the love from you everyday. That’s what I give a shit about, that we love each other. Is that not what you care about?” you asked, a hint of insecurity in your voice. 

“Of course I care about that,” he nodded, glad you were letting him touch you. “I was just…”

“Getting your own head about things?” you finished for him and he nodded. “I understand. But in future please just come to me, yeah?”

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he added, softly cupping your cheek and drying your wet eyes.  “I’m so sorry.”

You cracked a smile, chuckling lightly as you cupped his cheeks. “It’s ok.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

You chuckled as you pulled him in to kiss you. “It’s alright,” you whispered against his lips. You quickly pulled away realising you had another question to ask. “You’re not cheating on me, right? Like, why have you been coming home so late?”

He chuckled and smiled at you. “No, you’re enough for me to handle.”

“So what have you been doing,” you asked. 

He looked down in embarrassment. “It’s stupid.”

“I want to know,” you pushed, a smile on your face. 

“I’ve been going to the gym,” he admitted, his cheeks heating up. “Don’t laugh.”

You stared at him in shock, then playfully hit him on the chest. “You bitch! We could’ve been going together!” 

He laughed, then pressed his lips to yours again. “We will.” 

“Y’know what else I’ve missed?” you smirked as he pulled your waist into his. 

“What?” he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Sex.”

He smirked. “Well, I do have a lot of making up to do, don’t I?”

You nodded, pulling towards the stairs. “Yes you do.”

As you two made it to the top of the stairs, he pressed his lips to yours again. “I love you.”

“Shut up and fuck me Aaron.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[velvetures]

Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’��� Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren��t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

[wroetominter]

Come back, be here - George Clarke

In which Y/n and George are friends, who live an ocean away and can’t stand the distance.

Pairing: George X Femreader

Warnings: none, flufffff

Cool breeze whipped my hair around as I walked down the streets of New York on my way to the shop on the corner. The January air was crisp and cool, just how I liked it. I had been living in New York since starting my YouTube career a few years back. It was a great city, with many opportunities for career development - usually. I had fallen into the UK YouTube scene quickly, which made my American roots a bit more difficult in my career.

Luckily for me, a lot of my friends loved the city and would frequently visit. Recently George, Max, and Andrew had visited during a brand trip they had been on.

———

"Max! That is so not how that happened!" I yelled at him from across the table.

"That is most certainly how it happened, I remember it clearly!" Everyone at the table erupted in laughter. Max had told a story about me from one of my more recent trips to London. We had been on a night out and I allegedly stood up on the bench we were at in the club and started dancing above everyone, singing at the top of my lungs.

A blush crept to my cheeks, looking at George sat next to me, hoping he would save me from this embarrassment. "Sorry love, that is what happened." I sighed, knowing I could trust his word as he was the sober one that night.

"Well, at least I kept my clothes on." I laughed.

During this all too short trip, we had visited all of the tourist destinations together. The Met, Rockefeller, and a ton of different restaurants and bars.

When it came time to leave, I stood in my apartment with George. Max and Andrew had an earlier flight, and had left a few hours ago.

"I don't want you to leave" I pouted at him. He smile down at me, pulling me closer for a hug.

"I'll be back before you know it, or you'll be in London I'm sure." We pulled back, I still held onto his arms looking up at him.

"I'm going to book a flight now. It sucks being so far away from all of you guys."

"You could always move to London." He raised his eyebrows.

"I could, if I can manage a work visa somehow..." I trailed off, trying to think of how to logistically do this.

"You'll figure it out. Until then, I unfortunately do have to go home." I pouted once again, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

"I'll miss you." I said softly into his sweater.

He hugged me back tightly, swaying us together. "I'll miss you too, I'll call you when it's morning for you." I shook my head.

"Call me when you land." I said pulling back from his embrace and leaning against my counter.

"Y/n, it'll be 4 in the morning your time when I land." He explained.

"I don't care, call me anyway." He laughed it off, shrugging his jacket on and pulling the handle of his suitcase up. I walked to the door with him, sadly watching as he left. "Bye George, see you soon!" I said. He waved to me as he left, elevator closing down the hall. I felt sad closing the door to my apartment, sitting myself down on the couch.

I always felt a pang in my chest when I left my friends. They had become such a pivotal part of my life in recent months. I sat with my laptop in my lap, browsing the internet trying to research moving to the UK as an American. I sighed, not finding much helpful information. I figured I should just sleep it off and worry about it later, setting my laptop on the table I pulled the blanket over my body and drifted to sleep.

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing on the coffee table, reaching over instantly and seeing George's name.

"Hello!" I answered, trying to be as chipper as I could seeing as I had just woken up.

"I told you I would wake you up." He said laughing. I looked over to the clock to find it was now half 3 in the morning. George had left nearly 10 hours ago at this point.

"It's fine, I wanted you to. How was your flight?" He sighed through the phone.

"Awful to be honest. I miss you." The tone of his voice became really serious with those words.

It wasn't exactly a secret I had become closer to George than the rest of the group. We had so much in common that everything just came easily with him. I had myself fully convinced if there wasn't an entire ocean between us we would likely be dating at this point.

"I know Georgie, I miss you too... I was actually looking into moving to London the second you left my apartment." I admitted.

"I looked into it on flight as well. I talked with my manager and she mentioned that if you're signed with a company abroad you can usually get a work visa for that country. She said she's done it a few times before for some of her American talents." My heart nearly skipped a beat. He had been thinking about it too.

"Aw, you asked for me?"

"Of course. Don't you realize I want to see you more often? Ideally daily if I can". Oh. He was fully flirting with me now. Borderline admitting feelings for me.

"Are you sure you could handle seeing me every day? I fear you would really see how annoying I am at that point" I laughed, part of me knowing it was true.

"You could never annoy me darling. If anything I'm sure my dry jokes would send you running eventually." Darling. Damn, that one hit me right in the chest. "I have to run though, about to get in the uber home. I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Of course, I'll call you. Bye bye Georgie" I said.

"Bye love, see you soon."

After we had hung up the phone I flopped onto my back on the couch, feeling my chest swelling with emotion. I want to see him so badly.

———

I had been hiding this from nearly everyone I knew for months. It was eating me alive every second of every day. After George told me his manager had helped people get work visas in the UK, I knew what I had to do.

I had secretly reached out to her, inquiring about how I was to go about this. I urged to her the importance of keeping this a secret from everyone. I wanted to keep it hidden in case something didn't work, I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up.

It had been a whirlwind of emotions, between getting myself signed to their talent management, to the intense amount of paperwork that came with it. I had made it work, and finally received my authorization to move with a work visa.

I coordinated with an estate agent to secure an apartment right away. Having been to London many times, I had already picked out a few areas of the city I wanted to live in. Luckily in this virtual world, I was able to do everything remotely, from my tour to the application process.

Taking a final look around my empty apartment I locked the door, heading to the office to turn in my keys.

I rolled my suitcase behind me, ready to leave my life in New York behind.

———

After my long flight, all I wanted to do was see my new place. I still hadn't told anyone I was in the country, let alone moving there. I had been dodging FaceTime calls from George for the last few days, knowing if I saw his face or heard his voice I would crumble and give in telling him everything.

After collecting my keys for my new apartment, I took a look around at all of the boxes I had shipped here over the last few weeks. It was basically my entire New York apartment, just in boxes.

Now to put my plan into action to tell everyone. I started by unpacking a few essentials, taking a shower and freshening my outfit. I took a selfie in my living room with all of my boxes, making sure that the background was clear in the window, showing off my London city view. After making sure I had everything packed into my crossbody, I locked my door and made my way to George's flat.

I realized that I had to tell someone that I was there, to be able to get into the building. I decided Arthur Hill would be my safest bet. I sent him a text message asking him to let me into the building, as I was there to surprise George. He obliged quickly, and I was granted access to their building.

I felt my nerves building as I reached the door to their flat.

Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans, I knocked on the door. Secretly hoping that George wouldn't answer so I could play out the surprise, and calm my nerves a bit.

Luckily for me, Chris answered the door. "Y/n! What are you doing here?" He exclaimed, immediately pulling me in for a hug.

"Surprise visit! How are you?" He replied with the normal pleasantries, letting me know he had been well. "Is George home?"  I asked him.

"Yes, he's in his room. Let yourself in. Do you want me to film?" He asked. I instantly handed over my phone and nodded.

Waiting for his queue, I walked down the short hallway to George's room, silently turning the knob and opening the door. His back was to me at his desk, headphones in, blocking out sound.

"Hey stranger" I said, immediately pulling his attention from his computer. His eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet, tossing his headphones on the desk and coming to meet me, instantly wrapping his arms around my waist and picking me up in a tight hug, his face nuzzling into my neck.

"How did you know I needed to see you today?" He said softly, his hand stroking my hair softly.

"Just had a feeling I guess." I replied.

Chris stopped the video "you guys are too cute." He handed me back my phone and I thanked him. He excused himself and I directed my attention back to George who hadn't removed his arms from my waist since we had hugged.

"Is this why you've been dodging my calls?" He joked, smirking at me.

"It may have been." I retorted.

I thought for a minute about how to tell him I was here to stay. I considered just showing him the photo but it didn't feel grand enough considering I had just moved across the ocean, essentially for him.

"Take a walk with me?" I asked him.

"Erm, sure?" He finally pulled away, eliciting a pout from me as he grabbed a sweater, pulling it over his body.

We walked together, making the short trip between his flat and mine. He continues to ask me where we were going, and I continued to assure him he would see shortly. I could tell he was frustrated with the answer, but I knew it would be worth it soon enough.

We came to my new door, and he still didn’t seem to be understanding. I could almost visibly see the gears turning in his head as I reached out to unlock the door and stepped in.

He followed suit slowly, looking around the room. He recognized my handwriting on the various moving boxes labeled around the room.

He turned to face me “is this a prank?” He asked me, searching around the room with his eyes, likely looking for a hidden camera.

I shook my head, smiling at him. “Not a prank. I’m here to stay.” A grin broke out on his face and he wrapped me in his arms once again. I let out a sigh, feeling content snuggled into him. The soft smell of cologne lingering on the sweater he was wearing.

Taking me by surprise, his hands brought themselves to my face, cupping each cheek and he pressed his lips to mine in a kiss. I kissed him back, finding myself smiling into the kiss. He pulled back, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting to kiss you.” He admitted. I leaned in, kissing him again, my arms tightening around him as I deepened the kiss.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I smiled at him.

London was going to be very good for me.

[writerblue275]

Ranking Heartsteel members from least to most dom. (With some explanation) 😏

Inspiration: It just popped in my head and wouldn’t leave so here we are......blame Ezreal.

Genre: Ranking

Category: SMUTTTTT (18+ ONLY UNDER THE KEEP READING. MINORS DNI.)

Gender: I’ll do my best to be gender neutral. I am AFAB, so please understand that’s where my perspective comes from, especially from an anatomical standpoint. That being said, I’ll try to keep language as GN as possible.

TW: NSFW as FUCK. Mentions quite a few kinks: Dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM, etc...you have been warned.

Now that we have the logistics out of the way, are we all ready then? Lovely! Let's begin...😈

Important context: There’s an assumption here that everything is consensual. I’d never write anything about non consensual acts. Consent and communication are always CRITICAL. Also, this headcanon primarily applies to an established romantic relationship between member and reader, but I do think there are some things that could carry over into a FWB arrangement or something so have fun imagining that.

Least

- Ezreal

Do you know what’s hilarious? I actually have differing headcanons for Heartsteel Ezreal and like base-skin Piltover Ezreal. (I know Riot said it’s all the same universe and everything is canon, but are you really going to put Heartsteel Ezreal next to base-skin Ez, Debonair Ez, or Ace of Spades Ez and tell me they have the completely same vibes? To use my favorite GIF of Viktor from Arcane:)

But back to the reason we’re here. Let’s bffr, we all know this is the right spot for Heartsteel Ezreal.

He exudes such sub energy lmao. Like that’s baby boy right there. (He LOVES when you call him that BTW.)

You are absolutely going to be the one in control in your intimate relationship and that also includes aftercare. You will be taking care of him.

This chaotic man is a certified B R A T. The BRATTIEST of brats. And you just know it’s all on purpose to get a reaction out of you. 😂

Not shy at all about letting you know he’s needy. I’m not sure Ezreal (in any fucking universe lmao) has a subtle bone in his body. He definitely isn’t afraid to get a little whiny/clingy/handsy (but not like inappropriately so if you’re in public) in order to get his message across.

Likes to try and take the lead when you let him, but eventually he gets tired and you have to take back over.

Could he escape when you tie his wrists to the headboard? Absolutely, but why would he do that when he absolutely loves it? Also loves when you blindfold him. Oh, and he has the BIGGEST praise kink (receiving). Like be sure to tell him how good he’s being for you.

Wants you to use toys on HIM. Be creative and tease the hell out of him. It’s what he gets for being a brat.

He’s absolutely walked into rehearsal covered in love bites before, much to Alune’s dismay, so now you have to be a little more discreet about where you mark him. But believe me, he definitely wants you to.

- Aphelios

I was having such a difficult time figuring out how to classify Aphelios. Like I truly couldn’t figure out if he’d be dom or sub. Then it hit me….

He’s BOTH. The man is a fucking SWITCH. (HELL YEAH FOR SWITCHES.) Still a little unsure if he leans more dom or sub, but my gut is saying a bit more sub, so that’s what we’re going with.

There are days when he gets home and he needs to get his frustration/stress out. Those are the days he’s more dominant. Then there are other days where Phel is just damn tired and needs to be taken care of by his favorite person (you). Those are definitely the days he’s more submissive.

On those days, please pamper this man. He works so hard…

Even if traditional dirty "talk" can't be a part of your relationship, Phel’s a very creative man, as you know, and he will let you know how he feels, whether you're with him or not.

The absolute MASTER of sexting. Like you’ve been in meetings and your phone buzzes, and it’s just your lovely boyfriend texting you the most incredibly filthy stuff. You even had a coworker once ask if you were alright, you were so flushed. But my friend, TEASE HIM BACK. One afternoon Yone had to whack him on the back after he took a sip of water, looked down at his messages from you, and started coughing.

I’ve discussed previously (HERE) that I don’t think he’s had a ton of relationships before you, so I think the broadening of horizons in your physical relationship will take time. Butttttttt…..

This man is a very fast learner. (I’ve said it before and I will say it again: The quiet ones are always the most perceptive.) He knows exactly where and how to touch you in order to hear you gasp and moan. (Your body is an instrument, and as we all know, Phel is GREAT at playing instruments.) As he learns more about you and your body, he is willing to try new things with you. He trusts you deeply.

Whether or not he’s on top, Aphelios likes positions that allow him to see your face, and more importantly to him, allow you to see his face. Because he can’t verbally tell you how incredible you are and how much he loves you in the moment, it’s really important to him for you to be able to get that message somehow, and his face is very expressive. (Especially his eyes.)

Doesn’t matter if you’re leading aftercare or he is, it’s one of his favorite parts. The intimacy between the two of you while in this “vulnerable” state, taking such gentle care of each other, makes him melt. (Despite all the sass and the smolder in photos, he’s become a bit of a romantic.)

(A/N: Ok Yone and K’Sante I could also see being flipped here. I feel like they’re similar in “level” of dom, if that makes sense.)

- Yone

So Yone is definitely where we cross over into members who are for sure more dominant. Like he’d let you lead if you asked, but he’d absolutely be in control most of the time.

Similar to Aphelios, he knows EXACTLY how to read your body. (Those quiet men and their awareness!!!!) An extremely fast learner when it comes to what flusters you, gets you in the mood, and your favorite things he does.

Do not be afraid to be vocal with him. He loves hearing your noises when he does something very right. And he loves hearing you talk (especially when you say his name). He’ll always verbally confirm with you that you’re still enjoying yourself. And don’t worry about being too loud. He’ll soundproof the bedroom if necessary (he knows where to get extra soundproofing foam since he redid his whole studio).

“That’s it, my love…say my name again for me…let me hear you…” (🫠 <- Oh look it’s me!)

I ranked him the most romantic member for a fucking REASON (though I still think him and Sett are basically neck and neck). I think what really takes Yone up in the romance arena are his pet names for you (HERE).

There’s no one better to create mood music. And you know he puts in EFFORT. Along with mood music, I can absolutely see him giving you roses and slow dancing around your apartment to just set the VIBES. (Fucking immaculate vibes right there.)

While I can’t see Yone having too many “wild” kinks or fantasies, one that I absolutely can see him enjoying is shibari. Of course he’s very gentle and makes sure you’re not too uncomfortable (this sweet sweet man).

As I said earlier, he definitely likes to hear you, so dirty talking (both giving and receiving, but especially receiving) is for sure a big kink of his. And you love when he murmurs/whispers the sweetest yet dirtiest things into your ear.

Primarily prefers positions where he can see your face, but I also think surprisingly he’d like to hit it from behind. Especially when shibari is involved.

Very very sweet with aftercare. He thoroughly checks you over, making sure you’re feeling alright, and wipes you down before whisking you away to a bath. That’s when cuddly Yone comes out and he’s not leaving your side for the rest of the evening.

- K’Sante

K’Sante? He knows how to treat a partner RIGHT. He’s setting the mood throughout the entire fucking DAY. But you know what makes it even better? It doesn’t even have to be a special occasion. It could be a random Thursday and he’s still going all out.

I suppose that makes him the king of foreplay since he knows how to play the long game. This man is a PATIENT dom. What a fucking tease omg. (Those are his biggest kinks btw. Foreplay and teasing (both giving)).

Buys you a full outfit he knows (not thinks, KNOWS) will look incredible on you. Includes lingerie if that’s something you like. Of course he’s right. It really did look great on you and you got so many compliments that you couldn’t help but feel amazing and sexy. He also takes care of any small things you usually do so you can focus on yourself.

Sending you texts that gradually get flirtier and spicier throughout the day. Might even leave you a voice message or voice mail (with a text warning first to use your headphones because he’s smart like that).

All of this makes it so you’re ready to pounce on K'Sante the second he gets home. You’re ready to climb this giant man like a fucking tree.

That’s EXACTLY what he was trying to do. He can’t help but chuckle as he carries you to the kitchen instead of the bedroom, ignoring your complaints. He just smirks widely down at you once he sets you on the counter and softly but confidently, brooking no argument, says, “Not on an empty stomach, baby. You and I both know that’s unwise.” (He’s absolutely right.)

But worry not. The fun starts after you finish the delicious dinner he made. He’ll put you right back on the counter and enjoy his “dessert” first. 😉

Eventually though, even the master of the long game finally loses his patience (he played himself just a little bit). I think because of that, he’d be just a bit rough with you (though of course nothing that you dislike). You’re up against the wall/door of the bedroom as soon as you enter. When K'Sante doesn’t play the long game, I definitely think he’s much gentler and more romantic with you. Even without the long game he’s still definitely a fan of foreplay like oral or toys. He’s making sure you’re prepared for him.

Loves positions where he can show off his strength. He works hard for it, and what better way to reap the benefits than to use it to make you feel good? Loves anything that involves carrying you around.

I can totally see K’Sante being great at aftercare. He’d heat up some leftover food for you and get you a Gatorade (hydration!!!) after helping you clean up. And I fully believe cuddling him is one of the best things ever.

- Sett

Settrigh (that’s right, FULL NAME TO START) is not only dominant as fuck, but he’s one of the most ROMANTIC doms of the group and you will not convince me otherwise.

Outside of the bedroom? You have Sett wrapped around your little finger. This man worships the ground you walk on. (Lucky!!)

But intimacies? That’s his domain. He’s here to give you what you and your body NEED. You just have to give him the keys and let him drive. (“Let him cook” as the kids today say [lmao I swear I’m not even that old]).

When he’s with you, his goal isn’t even to find his own pleasure. Remember when I said acts of service (giving) is one of his love languages? 😉 (Same headcanon linked in Phel's.)

His goal? To make sure you feel loved/give you as much pleasure as you want. THAT’S how he finds his pleasure, knowing you’re feeling out-of-this-world because of what HE’S doing.

The master at creating romantic ambience. An incredible homemade meal by candlelight, a rose petal trail/petals covering the bed, special surprises (toys, lingerie, candles, music), and many other things to help set the mood.

Sett is extremely tall and very strong (I mean duh, pit fighter) and he loves pulling you into his lap for a make out session.

Praise kink, both giving and receiving. Loves telling you how good you are for him, how incredible you feel. And when you breathlessly tell him he feels perfect and beg him not to stop? That’s the shit he LIVES FOR. Absolutely loves the sounds you make. To likely no one’s surprise, I do think he has at least a little bit of a breeding kink.

Because he is a romantic, he likes to see your face. Loves watching your expression as he brings you bliss over and over and over again. (“Eyes on me, kitten. That’s it…you follow my directions so well, love…”) Also loves oral (giving). It’s one of his absolute favorite things in this world. Please PLEASE sit on his face, he loves it.

A KING of aftercare. Like Sett spoils you absolutely rotten. You don’t even have to lift a finger as he gently wipes you down with a warm wash cloth, carries you to a bubble bath where he cuddles and cleans you himself, and grabs you all the water and snacks that you need as soon as you’re cozy in bed again. He sets the bar SKY HIGH.

- Kayn

If you don’t think Kayn is very much on the dominant side, I don’t know what to tell you because have you SEEN HIM? The confidence. The energy. His SMIRK. This man is in full control and he KNOWS IT.

Will let you be in control every now and then when you request, but he’s definitely the main one who is in charge. And honestly he’s so good at his job that you’re very happy with your arrangement.

Loves buying you lingerie (so he can rip it off you later). If you surprise him by waiting in bed wearing just lingerie that he bought you, Kayn will go FERAL.

HICKEYS. This man is shameless when it comes to marking you. And he loves feeling you mark him, but of course because of his profession, you’re a bit more limited on where you can mark him. He needs to be able to cover them.

He is kinky as hell. Hair pulling, BDSM, edging, toys, and more. Dirty talk KING. Like I don’t think he’d shut up. Murmurs the filthiest shit in your ear. With your consent he’d also take photos and videos, but of course they’re on a completely separate phone that only you two know about/have access to (he takes it with him when he travels).

He’s an ass man so any position he can see your ass, he loves. Big fan of oral (both giving and receiving but more so receiving). “You look so fucking pretty on your knees for me, Angel…”

Of course Kayn’s not a jackass. If you need to go slower or need more romance he’s happy to give you that. He can be surprisingly gentle and sweet.

And if you ever do need to use it, the SECOND you use your safe word, he stops, murmuring gentle and sincere apologies and affirmations as he takes you through your aftercare routine. He knows he can be rough, since you’ve told him he’s allowed to be, but the very last thing he wants to do is hurt you or go beyond your limits. You’re truly precious to him.

I think he is secretly phenomenal at aftercare. Like you might not think so from looking at him, but he really goes the full nine yards. Warm bath or shower with him, changing into comfy pjs (or not, he leaves it up to you), a massage if you’re sore anywhere, hand feeding you a snack and helping you hydrate, and some damn good cuddles and pillow talk.

Kayn is an excellent dom who cares about your satisfaction and well being in and out of the bedroom.

Most

Thank you for reading! This was so fun to write. I'll be honest, I even managed to fluster myself! 😳😂 Maybe I’ll have to do like NSFW A-Z for each member. Here’s a small glimpse into my internal and external reactions as I was writing for each member!

Ezreal: *Smirking, giggling, kicking my feet* (He’s who inspired this entire post tbh.)

Aphelios: *Eyes widening in realization and blushing*

Yone: *Sighing and swooning*

K’Sante: *Biiiiiiiiiig smirk*

Sett: *Melts into a god damn puddle*

Kayn: *Screams into the void because HOLY SHIT??*

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a teacher!reader

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Maybe I need all members x kindergarten teacher! reader for science (def not because my heart goes soft and I also teach kindergarten’.

A/N: The Joshua and Seungkwan teacher!reader drabbles were pretty popular, so here is a short reaction for the other members. 

Massively contributes to your classroom library - Minghao

It truly doesn’t matter what subject or age group you teach. He knows your classroom library collection better than you because he’s bought most of them. If you teach art, he’s got the history and color theory and technique books. If you teach literature, he’s got alllllll of the classics on the shelf just in case. If it’s math or science or history, he’s found totally obscure and interesting textbooks or non-fiction books on various topics. And he’ll load your shelf up with picture or chapter books too if you teach younger kids. It doesn’t matter if he’s never read any of this or is even interested in it. He keeps new things constantly flowing into that shelf because you’re into it. 

Loves to help with logistical things - Jeonghan, Woozi, Chan

Lesson plans, seating charts, grading, anything of the sort. You can come to him with something you’re stuck on and he’ll help you figure it out. You could say, “I don’t know what the best way to teach this topic really is, what do you think?” Or “I have some kids that reallllllly don’t get along and they cannot sit next to each other. Where should I put them?” Or “This feels like a sort of right answer to the question on this quiz, what do you think?” Adores being able to help you with some of the logistics of teaching so you can just focus on the actual teaching. 

Constantly buying things with our name on it - Seungcheol, Mingyu

It feels like everything you own is personalized. Your notebooks and planner. The nameplate and the set of pens on your desk. The decorative sign on your classroom door. His favorite thing to do is find things you need for your classroom that can be personalized because he thinks it’s so cute to hear the kids say Ms. or Mr. L/N. The only thing cuter would be if it’s his last name sometime in the future. He’s very, very, very prepared to replace all of it when that happens. 

Dives headfirst into any craft/experiment you want or need to do - Hoshi, DK

If you ever require a craft or an experiment, he cannot wait to test it out at home to work out any issues before you try to use it in class. Patiently sits at the table and paints with you, or cuts construction paper, or builds a paper mache volcano. You could throw literally anything at him and he is sort of like a little kid in how excited he is to do those things with you. Sometimes you might come up with a craft for class just so you can try it out with him. Bonus points if he can come in and actually help with this little craft or experiment because his excitement is infectious. 

Lets you vent when there are things that you can’t control - Wonwoo, Vernon

There are so many things that you might like about teaching, but as with any career, there are bad days. After all, nothing is all sunshine and rainbows all of the time. If everyone fails a quiz you gave, or you have a difficult student, or even a difficult parent, he’s always there to listen as you vent your frustrations about whatever it is. Then he’s there to let you know that you can’t control everything and that you did your best and should cut yourself some slack. I feel like he’d think you have a very challenging job, which makes you laugh if he ever tells you that, given what he does for a living. But he has a lot of respect for how hard you work, especially when it’s not easy. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Wedding Bells: Lee Dutton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @queenslandlover-93 @newyorkrican922 @bryandechartisasmolbean @lovethis-lovethat @goblinenby @foxfables @solar-raccoon

Companion piece to

Wild Bloom

A Boy from Bozeman

The Worry Doll

Wild Fire

Experiance (NSFW)

Blind Date

Fire Wood

Lee Dutton is getting married.

He’s standing in the church in the middle of town with his hands clasped in front of him as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him. You’re clad in a white, A-line maxi dress that flows in the breeze from the open door. You’re carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers in your hands, the colours matching those in the field where you made love for the first time. It’s that attention to detail that he loves, that you’ve brought an aspect of your history to the ceremony.

“You look beautiful.” Lee says as you stands across from him, his hands holding yours in front of the priest.

“And you look very handsome in Jamie’s blazer.” You tease and Lee’s cheeks flush because that’s the very first time in his life he’s been called handsome.

It’s when he slips the ring on your finger that everything just falls into place. Lee, he’s never been happy before, not truly. He’s always put everybody else before him, catered to their needs but right here, right now he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, where he should have been twenty years ago, standing in a church, making you his wife.

It's when you step outside, your hand clutched tightly in his that you find the biggest surprise. One of the Yellowstone trucks is parked against the curb, a ‘Just Married’ banner strung across the back. There’s strings of pastel coloured pom poms tied to bumper, along with a couple of cans resting on the asphalt.

“You said you wanted people to know you were off the market.” Kayce says, shrugging his shoulders and Lee can’t help but smile because Kayce, he knew exactly what he was doing when he selected this truck.

It’s a loud, bold statement that’s about to be talked throughout Montana.

Lee holds open the truck door for you, helping you get settled inside before he closes the door and turns to face both his brothers. The two of them had pulled out all the stops over the past couple of days, Jamie rushing through the marriage license and taking care of the logistics such as the church and the rings. Kayce, running interference so that no one at the ranch would figure out what they were up to.

“A little bit of rebellion looks good on you.” He’d said when Lee had told the two of them he was getting married.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely as he strips out of Jamie’s blazer and hands it back to him. “I know I put you in a difficult position with dad and you really stepped up. I can’t say how much I appreciate that.”

“You know he’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” Jamie says, folding his blazer over his arm. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already at the farmhouse sitting on the porch.”

“Then it’s a good thing they’re not going back to the farmhouse for a few days.” Kayce says, gesturing to the bags in the back of the pickup. “I’ve saddled up Dolce, she’ll be ready to ride once you get to the trail. I’ll pick up the truck later return it to Yellowstone so you don’t have to worry about anyone tracking you down up there.”

“Did you…” Lee begins and Kayce cuts him off.

“Everything’s set up, Monica and Tate were just adding a few finishing touches when I left. They should be gone by the time the two of you get up there. You’ll have the next three days to yourselves before you have to come home and face the music.”

Lee has no illusions about what he’s coming back to after his impromptu honeymoon. His father is going to be terse, angry and a little sad too. If they had a normal relationship, if Lee didn’t think that he’d try to talk him out of it, they could have done this proper. Instead it had been a secret ceremony witnessed by his two brothers because he’s been terrified his father would have found some way to stop it.

“You need to get going.” Jamie says, interrupting his thoughts as his phone begins to buzz. His father’s name pops up on the screen and he silences it before putting it back into his pocket. “It looks like the news just broke that you’re not Bozeman’s most eligible bachelor anymore.”

“I’m leaving that title to you now.” Lee says, clapping his hand on Jamie’s shoulder before he climbs inside the truck.

He starts the engine and the vehicle roars to life before he pulls away from the curb, the cans clattering against asphalt as the two of you drive towards your future.

Love Lee? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[notanothermacdennisblog]

i gotta talk about frank v russia cuz i was rewatching it again and whoever said it was a fever dream of an episode is so right, there's just so many implications to dissect i didn't catch them all at first.

the beginning of the episode sets up dennis's motivation to pass the effort of helping everyone around him onto someone else... by him putting an enormous amount of effort into finding normal dates and teaching mac and dee to be normal enough to hold onto normal people (i can't imagine how this would keep mac and dee from bothering him tho cuz they'd just come back to him asking for more relationship help, dating a normal person doesn't make relationship issues go away). the enthusiasm he shows when checking in with them after the dates shows this amount of effort was worth it to him. one could argue it's because deep down he cares about their growth, he mistakenly thinks this will get them to leave him alone, or that he's attracted to the thrill of the ruse. mayb it's some combination of all three, but given that he could have always just ignored them or left, to me his hard on for control and deception points to the latter for the most part.

which further explains his flimsy justification of catfishing mac just to "get him out of the apartment." like if that was his sole goal there's a million other ways to accomplish that. ways that don't include: creating a profile guaranteed to get mac to match with him, chatting long enough to establish an emotional bond (altho that's not the hard part when mac falls for anybody who shows him a modicum of affection), and buying and sending him remote controlled anal beads as some sort of complicated signal system when simply texting "meet me at the motel" would suffice.

we're talking about a man who started a cult just to get mac to stop eating his thin mints. who drugged mac with diet pills, convincing him they were "size pills" just because he was unhappy with mac's weight gain. the exploitation of mac's body dysmorphia serves not only as a means of keeping his self esteem in check so he's more easily pliable ("you've been looking so sexy, so this... this is disappointing, at least to me" in ass kickers united; "mac did you gain some weight?" at the end of the gang makes paddy's great again), but also to mold him into an idealized physique that he's attracted to, and the unnecessary inclusion of anal beads in this ploy is the logical conclusion of obsessing over mac's appearance.

it was never just about getting the apartment to himself, or even just seizing an opportunity to manipulate, even if those both played a role. there's just no heterosexual explanation for the full extent of what this episode is implying.

so it still seems odd that dennis would want to sabotage a system that was working in his favor logistically and emotionally, essentially giving up the thrill (and safety) of inhabiting another man's skin in order to admit things he could never feel secure enough to admit even to himself. was johnny becoming too difficult to maintain? maybe dennis was motivated to pass mac onto someone else because he was running into a wall trying to figure out how to keep mac interested while avoiding the obvious issue of meeting in person. an effort to self sabotage when things started to get too close for comfort, when he could feel a certain loss of control.

the "johnny doesn't love you, he doesn't even like you" was enough to send me reeling that it was too easy for me to pass over all of this the first time, what a red herring. there's not another man as toxically obsessed w his roommate/work husband in crime/life terry mac as dennis is, while also being so self-deluded he has to make up half-assed excuses just to convince himself this is normal behavior.

[askror]

Question for the diamond cutters. You’re all stuck w/ a set of bunkbeds w/ however many layers you need, who gets what bunk?

“I’ve actually gone through logistics for this,” Lanolin said.

“You… Have? That’s our boss, thinkin’ about everything!” Tangle said proudly. Lanolin reached up to her wool poofs and pulled out a piece of paper with a detailed diagram on it. Said details rendered in, of course, tragically utilitarian stick figure art.

“The absolute, most integral part right off the bat, is that I can’t be between those two. If I am, then they’re going to spend all night whispering sweet nothings to each other and I’m never going to get to sleep.” Her finger pointed at her chickenscratch illustration insistently.

“Would not,” Whisper said, cheeks puffing out a little with surprisingly adorable outrage.

“Yeah, we’d probably pass notes back and forth to each other!”

“The point stands,” Lanolin said dismissively, “So, knowing that, we also know they’re going to want middle-top, not bottom middle. The problem is, both of them are going to want the top. Tangle, because she’s going to want to jump out of the bed every morning dramatically-”

“Okay, now that one’s fair.” The lemur admitted.

“-and Whisper because it’s the highest vantage point to scope out the room.”

Whisper smiled faintly, nodding: “Tactically sound.”

“This is where things become difficult. Further study needs to be conducted to discover whether the resulting nervousness of Whisper would be less disruptive than Tangle forgetting where she’s sleeping and bumping he head every morning trying to do a jump. I’ve been thinking about having Belle run some computations, and-”

“Hey, Lanny, why don’t me and Whisper just share a bed?” Tangle half-lidded and poked her fiancee in the arm a couple times, making her fidget. “That would make everything simple, right?”

“First, because that goes against the hypothetical.” Lanolin sounded wounded at the mere concept of imaginary rules not being played by. “Second, bunk beds are usually too small for two, so-”

“I could use Pink,” Whisper proffered, “Slice the beds into three separate ones, and-”

“No! That’s extra against the hypothetical. The challenge is-”

“Hey the question says as many layers as we need. Wait, I could have like… An omega-super-fifteen-story bunk bed tower!” Tangle clapped her hands together excitedly and her eyes began to sparkle. “And that way we’d all have plenty of space! Me ‘n’ Whisper can be near the top, Whisper can build a sniper deck and I can build a diving board!”

“Good thinking,” Whisper nodded, smiling fangily and squeezing Tangle as a reward for this genius play. "That’s our answer. Tangle’s fifteen story bunk bed tower. Thank you for the question.”

“But that’s… You.. I… Ugh!” Lanolin was left to stew, balling up he diagram and just tossing it over her shoulder.. Some people just had no respect for the fun of playing everything by the most conservative version of the rules

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [3]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of reader’s fake name, reader is on the run from her past, remember?, self-doubt, i think that’s it🤷🏻‍♀️

Word Count: 4,045

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Chapter #03: MARSHAL DADDY

Chapter Summary: It’s difficult to eat dinner with someone who wears a helmet.

  “The greatest act of courage is to be & own all that you are. Without apology. Without excuses & without any masks to cover the truth of who you truly are.” ⏤Unknown

They say it takes three days to build a habit. Three days of an activity then your body and brain begin to crave that routine. You found that to be true, and by the fourth day of living and working for Nevarro's Mandalorian Marshal you were mostly comfortable. You had a schedule at least. In the mornings, you’d get Grogu up and start on breakfast while Mando got ready for work. Like you assumed, Grogu slept in Mando’s bedroom. There was a hammock style set up in a corner of the room surrounded by plush toys, animals, and thick blankets⏤ like a little nest. Then the Marshal would go to work and you’d spend the day with Grogu. Doing light chores around the house when able. Mando would be back from work before the sun went down and you’d have dinner ready for them. If that were all that was involved you’d consider yourself a pro already.

However, like most things in life, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Dinner time still felt rather awkward and you weren’t sure what to do with that. Mando didn’t plan on taking his helmet off around you, information you had gathered not been told, and Grogu was accustomed to seeing his father’s face in the evening. The first night you stayed in the house, you took dinner to your room to eat with the excuse of having to unpack. That’s where you hid until the house grew quiet because you were terrified of stepping out of your room and accidentally seeing Mando’s face. You weren’t sure the logistics of it all, but obviously the stories about Mandalorians not showing their face to the public were true and you’d feel awful if you screwed that up for him.

The next few nights you tried a similar tactic, but you could tell Mando felt odd about the entire scenario. Maybe he felt bad that you were hiding away in a house you technically lived in, or maybe he hated the idea of someone lurking in a back bedroom, but it was obvious this was not going to work. So, you made the excuse that Nima wanted to hang out, and on your third and fourth night you met your friend at the local cantina to drink. Mando preferred to do Grogu’s night time routine anyways so he got the kid into bed. You just had to be there in case he got called into work⏤ which hadn’t actually happened yet.

The point was, your system needed adjusting, but you were still in your first week of work. Obviously there would be issues and hopefully time would be the solution to it all.

“So, is this just where you’re going to live from 7:30 to 9:30 every single day?” Nima asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not.” As a side note, you mumbled under your breath. “I can’t afford to drink that much.” Mando and you had agreed on a more than fair wage, but your salary wasn’t going to go far if you kept blowing it on drinks with Nima. “We’re still figuring things out.”

“Has he offered any solution?”

“I don’t want him to offer. I want to figure it out myself.” You argued. “That’s his  home. I’m intruding. I hate that he feels uncomfortable in any way.”

Nima pointed her glass toward you. “Counter argument. It’s your home now. He’s  paying  you to be there. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable either.”

“It’s⏤It’s more complicated than that.” You said. “It’s not like he’s doing this just to do it. The helmet thing is part of being Mandalorian, I think, and the only time he is free of that is with his son in the evening. I don’t want to take that from them.”

“Cara says it’s not all Mandalorians.”

“What?”

“Apparently there are different kinds, or something, and they have different beliefs.” Nima replied. The two of you were sitting at the bar on stools you had claimed to be your own this week. Behind you the cantina was buzzing with life and music. This was a popular place to be in the evening, you weren’t alone in your routine. “The Marshal is part of the group that can never reveal their face to any living thing. But he shows it to his son so maybe that’s the exception.” Nima clapped you on the shoulder. “That’s it! You just gotta be adopted by him!”

“I don’t want to be adopted by the Mandalorian.” You snorted and lifted your drink to your lips.

“Why? You can call Marshal Mando ‘daddy’. Mmm, Marshal Daddy.”

You inhaled your sip of spotchka at her words and began to choke. Nima laughed in glee while you tried to cough up the blue, burning liquid that now resided in your lungs. When it was clear enough for you to speak, you glared at her. “Seriously?”

“He’s hardly my type, but there must be something about him considering how worked up the single women in this town get over him.” Nima shrugged. You chuckled in response. She wasn’t wrong. On your first day of being a nanny, Torlee had given you rather a cold greeting and she hadn’t been the only one. There were a handful of random people around town who would give you the stink eye as if you had stolen something from them. “So? What is it? You date guys. Tell me the secret.”

To be honest, you weren’t entirely sure. You had your guesses. There was something about the strong silent type that tended to strike up intrigue, and Mando was nothing if not strong and silent. It was really cute hearing stories about how serious and deadly he could be as Marshal and then watch him hold full conversations with his son at home. Duality of man, you supposed. Then there was his figure alone. Somehow, it left nothing to the imagination while also leaving plenty for a person to imagine. You, and everyone else it seemed, had no idea what he looked like under all that armor, but by the Maker was his shoulder to waist ratio godly.

Personally, you hadn’t caught the bug for him. Probably because, despite knowing he was human, you couldn’t stop picturing large green ears tucked into the helmet. As if Grogu had taken after him somehow. It was ridiculous, and you knew Grogu was adopted, but if imagining an aged up Grogu under the suit kept you from drooling over the man then it was for the best. He was your boss after all.

“I don’t know the secret.” You finally replied. “But if I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Grogu’s eyes had already fluttered close, soft snores drifting from him, but Din couldn’t bring himself to set the child down yet. Peli told him dozens of times that it wasn’t good to let the kid fall asleep in his arms. Children were supposed to learn how to fall asleep on their own. Din figured Grogu could learn that skill later in life. Letting his son fall asleep in his arms was quite possibly his favorite part of their night time routine. It was when Din felt the most at peace.

Din continued to lightly rock Grogu as he stood in place by his bed. A soft buzzing sound had him reaching over to his dresser to pick up the communicator that rested there.

  ‘I’m home! Are you in your room?’

‘Yes.’  Din sent back. Seconds later he could hear the front door lightly click shut followed by quiet footsteps. They passed his bedroom, and Din stared at his communicator a second longer before typing,  ‘Good night.’

  ‘Good night to you too. Hope Grogu didn’t give you too much trouble.’

Din struggled with a response before deciding to just set his communicator aside. You were hardly a stranger at this point, but he still found himself at a loss of words. It didn’t help that the two of you were caught in quite the dilemma. Din didn’t know how to fix this problem. Well, he did, but it wasn't a step he was prepared to take.

The easiest solution was to take his helmet off and show you his face. Easiest in the sense that it was the least complicated, but in terms of how ready he was to handle that⏤ it may be the most difficult solution. Technically speaking, he wasn’t a Mandalorian right now. Apostate. That’s what the Armorer had called him, and he could hardly argue otherwise. Din had taken his armor off with Mayfield in order to find where Moff Gideon had taken his son. Mayfield had seen his face. Then, when he thought he was saying good-bye to his son, he removed his helmet once more. Grogu saw his face. Cara saw his face. Fennec and Bo-Katan. At that point, he knew he should never place it on his head again, but he had.

When the Armor asked him if any living thing had seen his face, he knew what the outcome would be. His creed had been lost. Boba had spoken to him for a long time about the Children of the Watch and about the reputation his helmet carried. According to the older man, there was more to the creed than hiding his face. Boba Fett was someone he respected greatly. His opinion on the matter held great weight, but in the quiet of the night Din still found himself doubtful. The Armorer agreed to redemption after all. If Din returned to Mandalore, bathed in the Living Waters, then he would be Apostate no longer. That had been his plan until Karga offered him a home and job here.

Din's plan had been to turn it down, carry forth with his mission to redeem himself, but upon further thought he didn't want to take Grogu to a potentially poisoned planet. Maybe one day, but for now he wanted peace. He wanted a life with his son, and Nevarro gave that to him. As he hadn’t redeemed himself yet, as he was still Apostate, that meant Din was free to take his helmet off right now. Technically speaking he had no creed to uphold, not until he went on his journey to Mandalore, but he still hadn't been able to bring himself to reveal his face to anyone but his foundling. He told himself it was because he didn't want to break his creed any further than he already had before finding redemption, but sometimes he wondered if that was all.

He spent a majority of his life wearing this helmet. It was a shield that separated him from the rest of the world. To be honest, Din didn't know how to go about his day with his face out for any stranger to see. He never wanted to admit to fear, but this gripped his soul. Up until now, he was able to push the thoughts aside and just live his life with Grogu by his side. It wasn't until you came into the equation that things changed. Now, he was forced to confront these thoughts.

What were his options? Show his face to you or fire you? The latter wasn't a feasible. Grogu had already grown attached, and Din would be lying if he said he hadn’t as well. Having you around was a relief. It had taken a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t been aware he was carrying. Hiring you had been a very, very good decision. Now, he just had to figure out how to keep you.

At the end of the day, he did not regret the choices he made regarding his helmet. If Din had to relive those days he would make the same choices over and over and over again. In his entire life, he never thought he’d find something worth more to him than his creed, but he had been proven wrong. Grogu was more important. His son. Din would reveal his face to the world twelve times over if it meant he could keep Grogu safe. He’d suffer the Armorer’s disdain and be exiled repeatedly if it meant he got to keep his son by his side⏤ help raise him and watch him grow.

Din did not regret the position he found himself in, but he did not know where to go from here. He couldn't expect you to hide away when the sun went down every day. DIn could argue that showing you his face would be for Grogu's benefit. Revealing his full identity to you was for his son. That's a sacrifice he's always been able to make. Still, he struggled.

With a soft sigh, Din set Grogu into his hammock and tucked him in. He snuggled deeper into the space and Din smiled at the action.

Solving this issue would take just one minute of decisive action. Don't think, just act. He was good at that. Din ran a hand through his hair, probably only making it messier, and readjusted his plain shirt and sweatpants. He didn’t have a mirror in his room, wasn’t used to needing one, and for the first time he felt annoyed by that fact. Settling in his resolve, Din stepped out of his room and quietly treaded to your closed door.

Din went to knock, but he found his hand hovering over the wood, 'What if she doesn't like the way I look?'

The thought was involuntary. It shoved to the forefront of his mind without any kind of warning. What? Where had that even come from? His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That shouldn’t be something he cared about, yet now he couldn't shake it free.

He found you attractive. It was one the first thing he noticed, but he didn’t pay it any attention. His dating history was by no means extensive, but he was still a red blooded man. Din was just used to putting that kind of information to the back of his mind. Especially since Grogu became a part of his life. He hadn’t pursued anyone since he found Grogu. It just hadn’t been a priority to him.

Granted, you were difficult to ignore. He thought you were beautiful, and he thought it was cute that you tended to ramble anytime you got nervous. Plus, watching you with his son was addicting. Din could watch you play and chat with Grogu all day long. That had to be it. He was just hypnotized by the domestic bliss you carried with you. There was nothing more. If he was better at convincing himself of that then this would probably be easier. Din planned to knock, he wanted to, but despite logically working through the issue the question still remained and he found himself embarrassed that he had such a silly concern.

The sound of muffled steps alerted him that a decision needed to be made. His body was moving on its own accord, and he backpedaled silently to slip back in his room. Seconds later he heard your door open followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. Din rubbed his face and shuffled over to his bed to fall into it.

Tomorrow. He’d try again tomorrow.

As your alarm began to blare, you blindly reached out to your nightstand table to silence it. You laid in bed a moment longer, stretching each limb, then sat up with a groan. Around this time in the morning, Mando was getting ready for work and Grogu would be in the process of waking up. You climbed out of bed and wandered out to the bathroom to use the toilet and quickly brush your teeth. Still dressed in your pajamas, you peered into Mando’s bedroom assuming that since the door was open it would be safe.

“Grogu?” You whispered and tiptoed in. Typically, you’d find him chilling in his hammock waiting for you to scoop him up. He was always the cutest and most cuddly when you picked him up in the mornings. Today though, you were greeted with an empty bed. “Huh.”

You turned out of the room and walked down the hall. You could hear Mando softly talking to Grogu, and Grogu’s giggly, mostly nonsensical responses drifting toward you. There was something odd about Mando’s voice, something your mind couldn’t place, but in your morning haze you didn't think to stop and puzzle out why. You stepped through the archway into the kitchen just to freeze.

Standing at the stove was a man.

His back was to you and you could see Grogu’s ears from where he was being held in one arm. He wore a plain gray t-shirt that was thin enough to see the outline of his shoulder blades and back. His sweatpants hung on his hips and that shoulder to waist ratio was undeniably familiar. This was the Mandalorian. You were staring at Mando. His helmet was resting on the counter by the stove. Soft, messy brown hair covered his head. The ends looked like they naturally curled, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tan skin rising up from his collar to where his hair met the nape of his neck.

You were so in awe that it took a second to realize the situation you were currently in.

This was Mando.

You were staring at Mando.

Helmet less Mando.

You couldn’t hold back the gasp that left you, and you quickly shut your eyes⏤ slapping your hands over them as well for good measure.

"Soran?" You heard Mando call out to you in surprise, but you spun around to leave the room. Unfortunately, in your panic, you misjudged where you stood and instead of rushing through the archway you ran straight into the wall. You yelped in pain and since you were too afraid to pull your hands from your eyes to catch yourself you ended up falling on your ass instead. You grunted, and Mando cursed. “Dank farrik.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You blurted. “I am so sorry, Mando.”

“Are you alright?” Mando’s voice was altered once more to the tone you were most familiar with as it came through the voice modulator. "Soran?" He called out again in concern, and you could feel him kneeling near you. "Are you-"

You shook your head and didn't let him speak. “Mando, I am so sorry. I swear to the Maker, I didn’t see you.” You paused. “That’s sort of a lie. I saw the back of your head. You have brown hair. Really nice brown hair, but definitely brown hair. I swear though, I didn’t see your face.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Mando said. “You can open your eyes.”

His voice sounded like he was wearing his helmet, but you still found yourself nervous. You peeked through one eye between your fingers, hesitant, but when you saw silver beskar you breathed out a sigh of relief. Mando was knelt beside you, one hand resting on the archway you ran into, so his entire frame hovered over you. It still felt odd to see his bare arms, and now with him facing you it was clear to see all of his neck and his collarbones. You were gawking. You needed to stop. Luckily, Grogu was standing in front of you with his hands held over his closed eyes much like you had just been sitting. You chuckled and at the sound he peeked through his own hands.

Finally, you lifted your gaze back to the t-shaped visor, “Mando⏤”

He held up a hand, stopping your flow of words, and spoke firmly, “Are you injured?”

“Not physically. My pride hurts a decent bit.” You admitted. Mando let out a breathy laugh and the sound caught you off guard. You really hadn’t spent all that much time with him let alone spent the time making him laugh. You were mostly with Grogu. “I am sorry though.”

“If anyone is at fault, it’s me. I forgot to warn you I wasn’t working today, and I’m the one out in the open without my helmet.”

“Yeah, but this is your house. You have every right to wander all over this place, helmet less or not.” You replied. Just last night you had been talking to Nima about this issue, and it was growing more problematic by the second. You sighed. “Maybe… Maybe I should move out?” Mando stiffened and slowly tilted his head at you. “I can get a place in town, real close, and just come here in the morning before you leave for work and then leave when you get back.” Grogu crawled into your lap cooing and you wrapped your arms around him. “If you ever need me in the night you can just message me and I’ll run right over.”

Mando didn’t immediately reply and you nervously began to play with Grogu’s ears. The kid giggled and the sound was almost a good distraction for the tension in the air. Finally, Mando spoke up, “Are you... comfortable living here?”

“Am I⏤? Of course!” You said. “You’ve been so welcoming and my room is great and the job is perfect⏤” You shook your head. “You’ve been wonderful, Mando. I just don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable." He replied in a tone that settled the matter. "And if you’re not uncomfortable then,” Mando shrugged, “I think you should stay.”

There was a warmth in his voice that brought a broad smile to your face. Grogu bounced in your lap and he held his hands up toward your face. You leaned in so he could pat your cheeks. “Okay. Besides, how could I stand to be so far away from my bestest buddy?”

Mando pushed to stand and then he held out a hand for you to take. The urge to stare and take in every inch of it was weirdly tempting, but you let him pull you up to your feet. Mando cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m actually glad you’re up. Grogu wants something for breakfast, and he’s unhappy with all my attempts.”

“Egg.” Grogu blurted, staring up at you. “Egg. Egg. Egg.”

“He sounds like a Jawa.” Mando mumbled. “I made eggs, but he didn’t want them.”

You glanced over at the stove where a frying pan sat by a carton of eggs. Grogu’s high chair had a small bowl of untouched scrambled eggs. You chuckled. “I think he wants an omelet. I made it for him yesterday and he loved it.”

“Egg!” Grogu agreed.

“Here, I can make it.” You held Grogu out to Mando who took him. The Mandalorian murmured something to his son in Mando’a that you didn’t catch. It reminded you that you meant to talk to Mando about this. Grogu used a handful of words in that language, but because you didn’t recognize them it made communication difficult. You had been working with Grogu on words in Basic, and you’d love to add some Mando’a vocabulary to it. You just needed to know it first. You went to the fridge to pull out cheese and a few vegetables that you knew Grogu liked.

Mando stood behind you, leaning against the kitchen counter top with his son in his arms, and you glanced over your shoulder only once to admire him.

“What?” He questioned.

“Sorry. It’s just so weird to see you out of the suit of armor.” You chuckled.

“Bad weird?”

“No,” You replied quickly, “It just ruins the mental image I had of green skin and big ears.”

Mando laughed again, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’ll just have to learn to live with it, I suppose.”

The kitchen was filled with Grogu laughing as his dad tickled him and the sizzling of breakfast. Typically, you were here alone wrestling the green bean while trying to make him food. It wasn’t overly difficult and you still enjoyed it, but there was something kind of calming from having Mando here as well and that caught you off guard. The lack of his full suit of armor might play a role in that. In the early morning light wearing his pajamas and playing with his son, he looked so… human.

“I was wondering, do you, uh, have plans today?”

You flipped the omelets in the skillet then looked over at Mando with a grin. “Well, until five minutes ago I thought I was on Grogu duty.”

“Right.” Mando blurted. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner⏤”

“I’m joking, Mando. What were you thinking?”

He paused briefly, “Well, there’s a traveling market here today. Local vendors and some from neighboring worlds." Mando said. “I can show you around. If you're interested that is."

You finished with both omelets and went to grab a set of plates. “I’d love that!” You set both plates on the counter by Mando. “Sounds fun. Here. You boys have breakfast and I’ll go get ready for the day. Yeah?” Mando pushed off the counter and pointed to the omelet with a slight tilt of his head. You nodded. “It’s yours.” You point to his, then his son’s omelet. “You, Grogu.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not a big breakfast eater, don’t worry.” You shrugged. “Take your time too, don’t rush. I’m gonna take a shower this morning so you and Grogu can enjoy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Excited for the day, you hurried upstairs to get ready. You were interested to see the small marketplace become more lively with outside visitors. You were sure the lively city was even more bright today. Plus, this would be an opportunity to get to know your boss a little bit better. Maybe if the two of you were a little more comfortable with one another then hiding from him in your room during dinner time would be a bit less awkward.

[mmikmmik]

In Mouthwashing, imo, we're definitely not supposed to take Curly's injuries super literally or think about the actual logistics of his treatment. Maybe I'm underestimating what's possible, but I don't see how he could have survived with a single caregiver (with at best three completely untrained assistants) with the kind of facilities and supplies we see in the game.

But definitely, I think we can take literally the parts of his care that the game specifically draws attention to. He needed to be administered painkillers, Anya and Jimmy talk about how his bandages were changed up until the supplies ran out, and Jimmy eventually tries to figure out how to feed him. So, Anya would have regularly changed his bandages for the first couple of months, and she would have been feeding him, and of course she had to treat his initial injuries (but again, I don´t think we're meant to worry about the exact details of that).

So why does Anya ask Jimmy to give Curly the painkillers, and not to do any of the other tasks? What made that part of the job specifically so terrible for her? How could that be any more painful for Curly or difficult for his caregiver than feeding him?

Anya has a line about Curly pretty early in the game, I think the second time she asks Jimmy to give him pills, where she says something along the lines of... "he doesn't want to be still anymore"? My theory is that she hated giving Curly the meds because it was the part of his care that was not only awful and painful, but unwanted by Curly. I'm guessing it was the effects of the serious painkillers he objected to - that they had a sedative effect and he was even less able to move and think clearly. And Anya was willing to/believed she should override his wishes in that regard, but forcing him was worse for her than incidentally hurting him during other parts of his care that he was willing to accept.

[irish-urn]

Okay, so this is a dasey question that has been plaguing my mind for quite some time and I feel like you, the brilliant and talented dasey extraordinaire, would be able to give me an adequate answer:

Why is it that in most high school Dasey fanfics (at least the ones I’ve read) do Derek and Casey only spend the night/hang out in Derek’s room? I find it to be an interesting event that seems to repeatedly happen in dasey fanfics and honestly, I think it makes so much sense but I can’t quite figure out why it does. So I was hoping to get your take on that, even though I know you specialize more in post-highschool fics.

Thanks for your amazing writing!

My goodness gracious me. Who spilled the beans on one of my biggest weaknesses: flattery? Who did it?

Oooooh. That *is* a question. Why *do* so many fics have them hang out/spend the night in Derek's room?

Okay. So, first I thought about logistics, but I honestly can't tell and don't know where Derek's room is situated upstairs except that it's next to Casey's. I think Casey's might be closer to the bathroom? Which would likely mean there would be more traffic going past her bedroom: and if that's the case, that might be one of the reasons. People who know the show a lot more than me might have figured out that it's just *safer* for Derek's room to be the private room.

But, since I'm not 100% sure about that, I'll move on to what I do know for sure, and that's Derek. Derek is very possessive about his room. It's his room; we see how hard he fights to keep it. Furthermore, if I remember correctly, Edwin tells us very early on that no one goes in Derek's room without his permission. Casey, obviously completely ignores this rule, BUT the three younger siblings do still have a healthy amount of respect/fear. So I think they would knock. Do they have the same kind of fear of Casey? No. So there is a greater chance of, especially Lizzie, just walking into Casey's room (even though we all know the main intruders are Derek and Casey themselves).

I also can't see a high school Derek being cool about sleeping in Casey's bed. He's spent soooooo much time whining about the way she smells, her perfume, her shampoo, her laundry detergent, her body wash -- to admit otherwise (that he actually loves the way she smells) would be to admit defeat. And I find it unlikely that any version of high school Derek would be comfortable enough to admit those kinds of feelings for Casey, to admit that kind of tenderness. Would a high school Derek admit that he finds her hot and that he likes her? Yeah, if he thought he would win himself a Casey, he just might. But there's a certain amount of vulnerability in sleeping in someone else's room. It's... no longer your territory. And as long as Derek and Casey are in Derek's room, he's still got home turf advantage.

(Never mind that we ALL know that Casey has him wrapped around her finger, but let's allow the boy some dignity)

Now, while we can say that all of that is equally true for Casey, or for any human being, I think we all get the feeling that for Casey to admit her feelings for Derek, to sneak around with him, to make out or have sex with him, would already be the height of vulnerability for her. Our Casey, who narrates the show because she wants to control the narrative, who wants us to know her side of the story before anyone else, who is so deep in denial about her feelings for Derek... If she ever actually admitted it, then she's already been so very, very brave. So for her to then submit enough to agree to Derek's room... Well, whatever. She's already done the most difficult thing she could do; this is minor in comparison.

Furthermore, I think Casey's romantic side would be thrilled to spend in the night in her boyfriend's arms, surrounded by his scent and his heart, and although she would likely make him tidy it up before she spent any significant time in there (and then finish the job to her standards)... I think even that domesticity would charm her.

...So, yeah. I think that's why a lot of writers choose Derek's room, and why we all go along with it. It just fits, don't it?

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 25

Kid x Fem Reader x Killer

Warnings: violence lite, kissing girls and liking it

Fuck Around...

The Victoria Punk pulled into port in the early afternoon. This island was clearly not affiliated with any kind of marine presence. It appeared disorganized and haphazard from your bird's eye view. There were a lot of buildings, most of them looked like shops rather than houses. Stopover islands often had tons of resources available to purchase, but permanent residents were few. That was doubly true of stopover islands without marines. The type of people that wanted to settle in one place didn't feel safe without them around, and business practices were shady at best, downright criminal at worst.

While you would have been nervous to step foot on an island like this in your past life, you had been on many such like this in your career as the Sea Snake. Places like this, with no laws, and disenfranchised folks, were ideal for promising better lives, and instead kidnapping people to sell. By way of this, they were also great places to ambush traffickers, and it wasn't difficult to recognize which were affiliated with corrupted marines. They had money and they tended to go after people that were younger and attractive. And if you happened to catch others in the cross-fire, oh well. You had tunnel vision and it was dead set on revenge.

The girls had already scrambled off while you had to hang back and wash dishes after breakfast. Kid and Killer left together not long ago. You debated on whether or not to bring Mini, although she had been crammed on this ship and would also make a great pack-mule, so you decided she could come. You had a list of stuff you wanted, but remembered Killer had taken your savings. It would be really embarrassing to ask for a little back. Though, you had wanted to try your hand at counterfeiting. 

While you were thinking about the logistics of shopping, a familiar face walked up beside you. "Want some company?" 

You greeted Heat with a smile. "Only if you don't mind going clothes shopping first. Do you have any paper I could borrow?" 

Heat gave you a curious glance. 

"So I can make Berry." You wiggled your fingers, devil fruit powers ready.

Heat snorted. "Look at the little marine now."

You shot Heat a glare. "Watch it or I won't share my fake money with you."

The two of you, plus Mini, headed off the ship as soon as you had converted enough regular paper into something indistinguishable from Berry. As you said, the first order of business was clothes shopping. Heat had good taste, so you were glad that he wanted to go with you. Heat picked out a few things for himself, leather things that matched his aesthetic. He had also picked some things for you, of a similar style. You couldn't remember ever owning anything leather. 

You held up some of the stuff he had picked. "Heat, this is too much."

"No, no it'll match your jacket. It'll look cool." 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Did your captain put you up to this?"

"No!" Heat crossed his heart. "But..." He was a little sheepish, "I do know what he likes." He gestured to the pile of things you had to try on. "I kinda figured you wanted to catch his eye."

"First of all, maybe. Second of all, I could catch anyone's eye that I wanted." You grabbed the pile and went into a dressing room. 

Heat rolled his eyes. "I have no doubts." He continued to browse for himself. "Show me when you have something on." 

There were some black leather shorts with straps on the legs. Pants were more your thing, though these shorts looked really good on you and you would need more clothes for hotter weather, granted leather was not the most comfortable fabric in heat. A few simple tops, some tank tops since you generally liked your arms exposed, some other varieties so you had options, including a deep red corseted top that you couldn't resist. There were pants that were more your vibe, baggy, many pockets, and hanging from the hips, with some decorative straps. And then there was what Heat had picked out: white leather low-rise pants that laced all the way up the legs on the sides paired with a top to match. You had to admit it would look cool with your jacket, and you did look eye-catching. Maybe Heat knew a thing or two. 

Heat gave you a thumbs up when you walked out. "See?"

"You were right." You considered yourself in the mirror. "Pick out some more things for me." 

After trying a few more things, you both settled on your final options. You had also left Heat to his own devices while you grabbed some more intimate things, simple things, not anything wild. There was nothing worse than being short on bras and panties. You hung your bags on Mini's tusks, much to her displeasure. They only got heavier as you and Heat made your way through the various shops. Heat wanted to get some mapping things for Wire and journaling things for himself. You decided to pick up a small sketchbook. There were some things you wanted to start working on and needed to draw plans for. Speaking of which, you needed to visit a few more places. 

"I'm gonna head back to the ship. Want me to bring the bags?" Heat asked.

You cocked your head at him. "That's kind of you to offer. That would be great."

He took them from Mini and she gave him a grateful lick on the cheek. "You gonna come out with us later?" He patted her on the head in return.

You were staring at his arms. Is it a crew requirement to have beefy arms? You knew those bags weren't light. "I'll think about it."  You winked at him. "Which bar?"

Heat shrugged. "All of them." You both laughed. "Don't go by yourself though," Heat added. "This is a rough place at night."  

Shooting him an incredulous look, "You're so cute, Heat." It was endearing, however unwarranted. You had literally skinned a guy's face a few days ago. 

He rolled his eyes again, but his cheeks were tinted. "I'll put your bags on your bunk."

"Thank you." You couldn't help adding, "Don't go looking through my panties now." 

Heat walked off and gave you the finger as you cackled.

Hopping on Mini's back, now that she was unencumbered with bags, you got on to your other errands: finding an armory and some place that sold scrap metal, because you would be damned if you asked Kid to borrow some. It was dusk when you got back to the Punk and Mini was loaded down with various pieces of metal. You had gotten a few other items as well. You didn't really want to put all of it by your bunk, not that there was room anyway, so you brought everything to the infirmary for storage until you could get to it. 

The last time you had cleaned up nicely was for Killer's party and that was with help. The boat was pretty vacant. Everyone was out for the most part except for some stragglers and some rookies who were assigned watch duty. You treated yourself to a quick shower, probably the only time you had gotten the women's showers to yourself. There wasn't time for your hair to dry so you left it alone. You mainly wanted to wash the day's grime from your skin so you didn't stink. Nothing worse than someone with B.O. grinding on you, not that you would be doing that. 

With maroon lips, a little bit of mascara, and the outfit that Heat had put together, you looked better than you had the last time. Maybe you thought that because it was more your style than a dress. The last touch was using your power to change the color of your heeled boots from black to white. No better way to ruin an outfit than to wear clashing shoes. One of the items you had acquired earlier in the day was a little switchblade, which you tucked into your shoe. Never knew when it could come in handy. You threw your holster and coat on, then decided your coat hid too much skin. Normally, you didn't care and you would want to advertise who you were, but you hadn't been to a bar in a long time and wanted to be a little unrestrained. 

When you had a big, beautiful beast like Minerva, whose best attribute was sense of smell, though she would argue it was her tusks if she could speak, it was easy to find the bar that the majority of the Kid Pirates were patronizing. No one had bothered you on the way there. Something about a huge animal mounted by a person with an aggressive demeanor really limited the amount of people in your way. Minerva unfortunately was too large to comfortably fit in the establishment so she was content to sit outside, occasionally snorting at people to spook them, for her own entertainment. 

The bar was noisy and dim, as expected, and packed with a grungy variety of pirates, thieves, bounty hunters, and other criminally minded folks. The white of your outfit and the fact you were coming in alone drew the attention of many gazes. Most people wore dark clothes, so you stood out. Not to mention, you were gifted with a body so perfect, you could lay someone down on hot coals to use them as a bridge to walk across and they would thank you. At least, that's what someone had told you once. For a moment, the bar had quieted to a low murmur, save for a boisterous laugh that you recognized as belonging to the Red Menace. Purposefully, you ignored that area and went straight to an open stool at the bar. 

Of course Kid noticed as you walked in. His eyes devoured your figure in that tight leather outfit. If you had asked him if he was waiting to see you walk in, he would deny it, but he was pleased that you did. He was not pleased, however, when you ignored him and went to the bar. And he was especially not pleased when you started giggling and flirting with some loser who bought you a drink. He didn't even have a bounty for fuck sake. Kid grumbled to himself and downed the rest of his beer, slamming the stein on the table and demanding another from the waitress. 

"What's wrong, pirate?" The pretty ginger shifted in his lap. 

"Shut up." Kid continued groping the petite little whore that had wound herself around him. It fed his ego that women, and some men, threw themselves at him. He liked that they decorated his side at whatever bar they decide to visit. But now, for some reason, he was just annoyed. The girl in his lap squeaked. He had been squeezing her a little too tightly. "Why don't ya fuck off?" He all but tossed the woman away from him, returning to his refilled mug trying to burn through that guy's head with his glare.

You could feel Kid's attention on you. You smirked knowing that meant you were probably bothering him in some way. The guy you were pretending to be interested in was telling you about all his adventures, obviously trying to impress you. You finished your drink, leaving the bar while he was still talking to you. His voice faltered and he turned around to mope over his glass. A hand grabbed at you while you were walking to a corner where they were playing darts. You took the hand by the wrist and held it like it was a dirty sock. 

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." This was one of your favorite games to play. A game where you let them think you were simply a pretty thing to look at, let them get themselves into trouble, and then you got to punish them for it. 

"Why not, sweet cheeks? You're dressed like you want some attention."

You dropped his hand, ignoring him, and started to walk away, when he grabbed you again. This time you turned his arm around behind his back and forced his head down on the table. Then you rested your knee on his back to free up your hand, taking his drink and finishing it off. "Least you could do is buy me a drink first." You let him go and continued on. He was lucky you didn't smash his glass over his head. 

Killer had watched the interaction. He, like Kid, had also noticed when you came in. For a while, when you hadn't shown up, he thought you may have left completely, but Heat had mentioned you had been with him all afternoon and planned on meeting up with them. Killer thought your hair was cute down instead of in its usual ponytail. And of course you were hot in leather, even so Killer thought you would probably look hot in just about anything. He saw when that man had grabbed you, noticing that his hand tightened around his glass. When the guy grabbed you a second time, he heard the mug in Kid's hand shatter, causing him to relax his own grip before he did the same. Prior to either of them getting up to handle it, they watched you push the guy down into the table. Killer swore Kid had a smug hint of a smile on his face. Honestly, Killer should have known you would put him his place yourself. 

Darts was a lot harder to play with one eye. If you had won, you would have gotten some money. If you lost, you owed your competition a kiss. Your competition happened to be the short, ginger girl that had been sitting with Kid earlier, though you hadn't noticed her at that time, and you had lost badly. The girl, whose name was Ruby, was cute, freckles spattered across her cheeks, and her ginger hair, short and wild about her face. She was like a pixie. 

"You talk a big game for someone so tiny," you quipped. You weren't used to being the taller one in a pair. Like many other things, it had been some time since you had kissed a girl, though the last time was probably also at a bar. She grabbed your hand and led you into a corner booth. "I think the deal was a kiss, not a date."

"Yeah, well, have one drink with me. That guy on the other side of the bar pissed me off and you seem like a fun time. I saw you smash that dude's face." She laughed and motioned for a waiter to bring you drinks. 

"Do you want me to smash your guy's face, too? Who was it?" You smirked. Maybe coming out tonight would be more fun than you thought. A waiter came over and put two glasses in front of you both, filled with a small amount of greenish liquid. "Absinthe?" You raised an eyebrow. So I'll be getting shitfaced tonight. You took a sip and scrunched your face at the strong taste. 

"Yeah it's kind of my drink of choice." Ruby pointed to the table that Kid was sitting at. "That red-head over there. But I don't think you want to fight him. It's Eustass Kid, of the Kid Pirates." 

You almost spit out your drink. "Is that so?" This girl had questionable taste, like yourself. "He pisses me off, too." You pondered something for a minute. "Do you want to really piss him off and get your kiss?" A sinister thought poisoned your mind. 

"See? I knew you would be fun."

You downed both drinks and grabbed her by the hand this time, leading her outside. Earlier, you saw that the booth that Kid was in happened to be by a window. You pulled Ruby to the side of the bar, not in front of the window, but next to it, close enough where you knew they could hear you, yet couldn't see you. You were both giggling as you pushed Ruby so her back was to the wall. She wrapped her arms around your neck and jumped up to wrap her legs around you, you supporting her with one hand, while the other played with her hair. "Maybe I have a thing for redheads," you wondered out loud. You didn't even know if Kid had noticed the two of you slip out. Even if he didn't, you still got to make out with one cute ginger tonight. The alcohol was starting to make the edges of your mind fuzzy. 

Kid couldn't rip his orange leer from your back. What were you doing, talking to that pint-sized whore from earlier? He barely even participated in the conversation with his own officers. His eyeballs almost fell out of his head when he watched you two go outside. There were only a handful of things people went outside to do. I am NOT jealous. Those two whores can fuck around outside all they want. So why couldn't he relax and enjoy his drink? He growled and turned to Killer to bitch, when they both heard giggling and felt a thump outside the wall. This was not a well-constructed establishment. That could be anyone. They went back to their conversation, though Kid slowly tapered off when he heard sounds that were definitely from your mouth.

The little ginger demon was not shy, slipping her tongue in your mouth and snaking her hands into your hair. You took turns leaving marks on each other's necks. "How do you know him?" She asked you. 

You pulled away from biting at her collarbone to answer, "Fucked. Tried to kill each other. Fucked again."

"So you're dating?" She bit the top of your breast, making you gasp.

That evolved into a laugh. "Not a chance in hell." 

"You like poking the bear then?" She tugged at the laces on your top. 

"Something like that," You grinned. At once, her hand stilled and she tensed. You stopped and looked at her face, which had paled.

She whispered to you, "Good because the bear is right behind you." She unraveled herself from you and put her feet back down on the ground, slipping out from under you and scurrying back into the bar.

You turned around to see Kid, as red as you thought he would be. "You scared my date away." 

"What do ya think yer doing?"

"I lost a bet." You put your hands out in defeat, as if you had no choice but to comply and this was not at all your idea. He wasn't yelling at you, which was strange. The rest of the Kid Pirates were behind him. You guessed that was why.

"We're going somewhere else." He grabbed you and pushed you in the direction of the others. "Don't get left behind." He stalked off to walk by Killer.

Heat found you in the back of the group, Mini trotting beside you. "She was cute. Do you have a thing for redheads?"

"You know I was wondering that myself." 

Heat stopped you for a second to retie your top and wipe some smeared lipstick from around your mouth. "Have you eaten today?"

"Not really." You lowered your voice so only Heat could hear, "Did I get him mad?" 

"I can tell. You're not gonna last the night if you don't eat. That was only the first bar." Heat fake-punched you in the arm. "Yeah, he made us leave early. Thanks a lot." 

"Sorry. I didn't think he would do that."

"What did you think he was gonna do?" Heat realized his mistake. "No, don't answer that." 

It was too late. You were already explaining an elaborate plot fitting for an X-rated film. Very loudly, in fact, since you were sort of drunk. The half of the crew that heard it was pink from head to toe, including Killer. All the girls were giggling and making gagging noises. Kid was grinning ear to ear, chest puffed out, a 180 degree turn from the moping, pouty captain that he had been minutes before. 

If that's what she wanted, all she had to do was ask. But now I think I'll make her beg. Kid's ego had been bruising this entire time, when it really should have been inflated. 

Next Chapter

[earthravenclaw]

So, I think RoR left me more, not less, confused about Air Nomad family structure. Based on previous canon material, I had been imagining the following system:

Marriage and monogamy in general were not the norm, and were discouraged. (Several characters have broken this rule (Jesa, Yangchen (potentially), and Aang).)

Air Nomads are known to be sexually promiscuous, both with each other and people of other nations.

When children are born to Air Nomad mothers,* they're sent to either the opposite temple (if the baby is female), or to the South or North (if the father* is both known and an Air Nomad, the baby is sent to the other temple). This would probably be after a nursing period. (Although female babies could be nursed by people who had just given birth at the opposite temple. This might not be the system, though, since it wouldn't work for male babies (in most cases*). However, this also might just result in female babies often being nursed for longer, because they could be nursed after moving temples. This could strengthen community bonds, especially if babies are nursed by multiple mothers*

When babies are born from Air Nomad fathers,* the parent who gave birth can chose to send their baby with the Air Nomads, or keep them. This is probably usually influenced not only by personal preference, but also by culture. Most cultures probably see having an Air Nomad child as a blessing, but maybe in some the shame of having a child out of wedlock trumps this. And, if a child is born from an affair, it's be almost impossible to hide, since Airbending is canonically incredibly dominant. Logistically, it's also difficult enough to raise an Airbender, and it might be almost impossible if you're not one.

At sixteen, Air Nomads are told about how they came to be. This is the age when childhood is generally thought to be over, so it's both the ideal time to tell an Avatar about their status, and it's assumed that at this point they won't form stronger familial bonds with their biological relatives. Most chose to meet their parents, but some don't. Of course, no one calls anyone "Mom" or "Dad." Frequently, they're only told about their mother,* who may be able to tell them who their father* might be, but isn't sure.

Growing up, kids would probably make guesses about their own and others' ancestry, based on physical features. Those who don't have gray eyes, don't have black hair, or aren't tall are might be speculated about, and kids might try to compare features to guess if they're related. This would probably be (lightly) discouraged by elders trying to keep kids focused on spiritual, rather than physical, identity.

So, as I was saying, RoR confused me. What was up with Gyatso and Yama? Yangchen and Jetsun called themselves sisters. But, they grew up together. So, I figured Gyatso and Yama must have grown up together, leaving me to assume that one of them was transgender (probably Yama, since Gyatso later had a mustache). Then, Gyatso explains that they were biological siblings, which sort of threw my system out the window. He could have found out after turning sixteen, but then they almost certainly wouldn't have been as close as they were. How were they close at all, though, growing up separately?

It's worth noting that these cultural practices could of course change and evolve over time, and we do see several points up close over hundreds of years (plus Wan's time).

*Air Nomads believed (and presumably still do) in the fluidity of sex and gender, so when I say "mother" or "father" I mean it biologically, not socially.