#the toe injury was the big deal lol

[evadingreallife]

Me: owwwwie my foot hurtsssss

The physiotherapist: ok now move it dumbass

[littlebugs]

Can I request for Kylo Ren in which the returns with him from a failed mission? She made a mistake and maybe Kylo made it clear to her that he was very upset about it during an argument afterwards. She tries to make up for it by doing a mission on her own, only on this one she gets badly hurt and is brought back by Hux after finding her severely wounded/injured. When Kylo learns of it, he flips out thinking she wasn’t going to make it alive, but in the end, she survives and makes a full recovery. Something short and sweet in the end between them as he takes care of her during the healing process. Thanks! ❤️

(I hope this is okay! If not, feel free to ignore it!)

i love you

warnings: injury, very angsty (fluff ending), fem presenting reader (she/her pronouns), mild language, written at 1am so not the best proofreading, toxic kylo in the beginning 😓 a/n: thanks so much for the request love! i got carried away writing this lol, sorry if its a lil long!

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"Shit," you cursed as you sprawled over the couch in yours and Kylo's living room. You'd messed up today. It was tiny, minuscule, just a little mistake. You hoped it wouldn't matter to Kylo. But you knew better.

The large door, black, matching most of the Commander's gloomy interior, swung open. And slammed shut. You nearly fell off the couch, already exhausted from the days work. "Hey Ky..." you trailed off. He looked absolutely terrifying. Blood on the toes of his boots. Holes ripped through his outfit. But the worst of all, his face. He looked- angry. Disappointed. Annoyed. Maybe even..disgusted?

"Shut up," He threatened, walking up to you. His arms crossed, feet spread apart, you knew you were in for it. From your spot now on the floor, huddled in a ball, you felt defenseless. "You messed up today," he scolded. "This was a covert operation. We had one shot at this, and you blew it." His voice was a low, seething growl.

"I'm sorry I had a- momentary.. lapse in judgment?" You didn't know what to say. This wasn't supposed to be a big deal. It was a tiny mess up. You forgot to disable a single security camera. Just one. It wouldn't matter anyhow, as the saber marks lining the walls of the Rebel base being hijacked was a sign as to who the attacker was.

"Sorry isn't going to fix this. We're on the brink of a war, and this mission was crucial. The Supreme Leader trusted us, and now, because of your mistake, we might have just handed our enemies a victory," he nearly shouted.

Kylo's voice rose as he continued, but it was as if you were underwater, the sounds muffled and distorted. Your eyes filled with tears, blurring your vision. You couldn't let him see you like this. "I-I'm sorry," you mumbled, as you got up from the ground and staggered to the door.

You scarcely cried. There were many things the two of you never did, which maybe you should have done. It wasn't a conventional relationship. You'd only cried in front of him once, years ago. He had left you, crumpled on the floor, unable to deal with the sudden emotion. He never told you he loved you. Not even once. You shared a ship, meals, even a bed with him, and even in your most intimate moments, he just... didn't seem to feel anything. At least on the exterior. You hoped.

"Leave me." you stammered, nose already running. "Did you think I was going to follow you? Pathetic. Absolutely worthless. Do you think I even care-" He stopped, dead in his tracks, after catching sight of your face, glimmering in tears. "M'sorry" you mumbled, and quietly closed the door behind you.

Breathing in the cool air of The Supremacy, you quickly wiped your face before any troopers nearby could catch sight. Word traveled fast, and although it was a big ship, news could be spread in mere hours. You remembered the first time you had to deal with the gossip, it had been your first one night stand with Kylo, before any relationship. You left in the dead of night, but one lucky Stormtrooper caught you on the security camera. The next day, half the the Supremacy was staring you down, and the other half was triumphantly giving you high fives (Knights of Ren included.)

Life seemed...simpler. Now you were plastered on the wall to Kylo's rooms, breathing in slightly sterile air as you tried to get your wits about you. It being 11pm already, you decided to make way to your old room. Walking down the hallway, you encountered little confrontation. That was the good part of being in relation to Kylo. Then there was the name calling, the teasing the "Commanders whore" whispered behind your back. It all made you want to cry again, and you were grateful to near your room.

As you unlocked the door, your old life greeted you. There wasn't much left really, as you had inhabited Kylo's space for the past months. You had thought maybe...maybe he was changing- that he would one day tell you how he felt? Yeah right, you thought, as you walked in, flopped down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Looking around you, a chair sat to your left, with a window showing the view of a million stars outside. A bathroom and dresser to your right, emptied of all your items. Not that you had any in the first place, but Kylo had spoiled you as of recent.

You couldn't stop thinking about him. His face when he saw your tears. The way he had yelled at you nonstop. The fact that he didn't seems to care.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls like haunting specters. Suddenly feeling cold, you huddled beneath the covers of your bed. The air was thick with silence, now broken only by the muffled sobs that racked your body. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, the fabric twisted and knotted in fists of despair. With each passing moment, the tears fall harder, faster, until you couldn't breath. You gasped, shuddered, and with a pounding headache, went to sleep, soiled clothes and all.

Unbeknownst to you, Kylo stood near your door, listening to your sobs feeling...terrible. He hated hearing you cry. It filled him with disgust not in you, but now in himself. For making you feel this way. And through the Force, he heard your thoughts, the desperate calls to be openly loved that Kylo had so valiantly ignored. He thought to wake you, but instead headed back to his quarters.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

The next morning, at 6 am sharp, you woke up with solid determination. You were going to show him you weren't pathetic, worthless...disgusting. You were always soft, especially in comparison to him, but you weren't pathetic. Or at least you hoped so.

As you headed to the mirror, you jumped at your reflection. That wouldn't do. You would also have to make it work with the meager amount of supplies at hand, but you could do it. After opting a shower to the refresher, so you could use scented soaps and lotions, you blow dried you hair, and styled it to the best of your ability. "Not too bad," You thought to yourself as you brushed on mascara and lip balm. "Nothing crazy" you told yourself, but betrayed your thoughts as you opted for a smaller sized uniform.

Exiting your room, you felt misery and despair inside of you, but at least you looked like you had it together. Making your way down to the control center of the Supremacy took quite a while, it being a literal Mega Class Dreadnought ship, but it gave you time to think. Think of what you were going to say to him. You could apologize. You could pretend nothing happened. You could act all mushy and touchy. Or just ignore him completely.

You decided to just fuck it and ball. Walking into the room, the control center hummed with the usual tension that permeated the First Order's headquarters. The air was thick with the weight of strategic discussions and the ever-present rivalry among its officers.

Then you saw him. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as he moved, his presence commanding attention. You had always been drawn to the enigmatic power he exuded, and despite the fight, that magnetic pull remained intact. You were immediately waved over by General Hux, and as you walked over to a control table in the very front of the room, getting closer, you regretted your decision. The mask, the robes...everything about him was just huge. Intimidating. Compared to your scantily dressed body, he looked like he could envelope you whole. Maybe you wanted him to.

Deciding to play with him a little, you boldly stood next to Hux, leaning over to look at the schematics on the table so Kylo had direct view of you. Though the mask concealed his emotions, you could sense the internal turmoil beneath it. He was distracted, and you knew why.

Hux sighed and rolled his eyes, in classic fashion. He was never one for your machinations, but continued explaining the mission at hand, obviously annoyed. You didn't bother listen, opting to shift around in a way that made Kylo's fists clench.

At what seemed like the end of the brief, Hux tiredly asked "So we'll need an Admiral or Commander to volunteer for this mission. As I know both of you do not care in the least so I will just-" You cut him off. "I'll do it." Both Kylo and Hux turned towards you, silent. "But you never do anything-" The General retorted. You roll your eyes. "Shut up Hux. I'm going." The redhead sputtered. "But-you... -You don't even care! Ever!" "Ok well, I'm a Commander, and I'm going," You spat, not bothering to glance at Kylo, who hadn't moved an inch in the last minute. You stormed away, but not before hearing Hux call "Don't screw this up Commander," and scoffing.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It wasn't going well. You had overpowered the Rebel base, which was somewhat pitiful, but managed to get a blaster wound to the side which was currently steaming in a way that did not look safe. Most of your troops had made it through, save the couple of troopers who'd been shot here and there. The masks made it harder to remember they were human, people on the inside. Limping back to your ship, you woozily asked Hux to make someone check the surrounding areas for stragglers as you slumped into the seat, adrenaline still preventing you from feeling the full pain of your wound.

Setting the TIE on autopilot, slowly coming back to reality, you looked down to the left of your torso. You had almost dodged the blast, the wound cauterized by the superheated plasma, leaving a sizzling, blackened mark on your flesh. Smoke rose from the wound, carrying with it the acrid scent of burnt fabric and singed skin. The pain intensified with each passing second, as if a red-hot poker has been driven into your side.

You clenched your teeth, trying to stifle a scream, as you grasped at the wound. Your fingers came away slick with your own blood, which oozed from the wound and trickled down your side. The ride was short. Only 30 minutes at full speed. You could probably..maybe hold on. You busied yourself coating the wound with Bacta spray, which took most the time, considering the fact that every movement made your side burn and sting like never before.

After successfully applying the antiseptic, you started to see the giant that was the Supremacy. It slowly appeared as a behemoth of steel and darkness, adorned with the stark, angular design characteristic of First Order aesthetics you had come to be so familiar with. You were on course, but you'd have to manually land the plane. "Oh for Kriffs sake" you muttered to yourself, trying to figure out how you were even alive.

You painstakingly moved your right arm to the control panel, and started the descent, aiming for one of the many hangars. It seemed to take forever, but with a final, skillful maneuver, you brought the ship to a shaky landing on the hangar deck. The ship's landing struts had absorbed the impact, but the screech of metal against metal reverberated through the hangar.

You all but fell out of the fighter, letting out a strained "I'm aight-" before collapsing into the arms of medical personnel, whom immediately transported you to the medical wing.

Not known to you, the second of your arrival, Kylo was storming down the hall, looking menacing as ever. Although he looked same as ever, on the inside, his emotions swirled inside of him. He was freaking out. He powered through the med bay, drawing terrified looks from doctors and patients alike, not stopping until he found your room.

He ripped the door open, all calm was lost. "Is she alright?" He boomed, modified voice scaring the living daylights out of the doctors and nurses surrounding you. "S-Sir, erm-Commander we think she'll most likely survive with minor s-setback" A doctor answers, inspecting the wound as to not have to face Ren.

He sat down on a chair, further terrifying the staff with his presence. "She'd better," Kylo fumed, prepared to annihilate the staff over anything. He didn't know what made him feel like this, but he was prepared to wait days for you to awake. And wait he did.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It was early morning. You had just woken up, not in the Med Bay, but... in his room. He was already awake, looking at you with those deep brown eyes. You looked around, surveying the surroundings. You were wearing his sleep clothes, all too big on you, hair smelling freshly washed. You had an IV hooked up to your arm, and the stiff bandage across your torso chafed against delicate skin.

"I'm sorry" He uttered, quietly. "I said those things, and I... shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I don't- feel like that about you. I think you're.." He trailed off. He'd never said sorry before. You didn't know how to react.

Looking at him, caring for you in your injury made you frown. "Why do you- why do you care?"

"Here, lay down. Have some soup." He nudged you gently, positioning pillows behind your head. You were so shocked, you almost forgot your previous question. "Wait, but why are you doing this?" You whisper, voice hoarse.

"Because I love you"

[tf2yall]

Mercs react to being picked up

Scout

Kinda like a really fussy cat

Makes a big deal of it the first few times and tries to wriggle free.

"What da hell do you think you're doing? Put me down!"

Really doesn't like it in public because he wants to be the big strong man in the relationship >:(

Keep doing it and he'll get used to it. Still doesn't like it in public but won't mind being picked up in private. Still complains tho

Likes to be held but will never ever EVER admit it

Soldier

Doesn't even bat an eye tbh

Oh we're doing this now? Cool.

Soldier's a very touchy person, especially with people he likes so he's very okay with being picked up and carried. Very snuggly and probably wraps his arms around your neck

Don't expect him not to pick you up too tho! Scoops you up bridal style if he's in a playful mood or just straight up tosses you over his shoulder if there's something cool he wants you to go see

Pyro

Heart eyes mf

Pyro's pretty similar to Soldier in that they like both being held and holding their partner.

Loves to be picked up and will probably never stop bugging you to do it again if you do it once

Barely even needs to be supported because they cling like a cuddly little limpet

They're stronger than they look and will have no problem picking you up too

Extremely cuddly. Pyro takes this as an invitation to be in your personal space all the time now. Sorry, they're your best friend now. It's non-negotiable

Heavy

I'm sorry what

Kind of bluescreens because he's honestly impressed that you managed to pick him up

Thinks it's impressive that you're that strong but would really rather prefer you put him down. He just prefers to have his feet on the ground thanks

Would prefer to be the one picking you up altho he'd really prefer nobody get picked up tbh. Unless he's excited or really happy about something. Then he won't think twice about scooping you up and spinning you around!

Engineer

Another one of the mercs who just bluescreens

Definitely freezes for a second as his brain works to catch up with what just happened

Probably starts blushing really hard and gets exceedingly flustered.

"Aww shucks... I didn't know you were that strong, partner."

Again tho, please put him down. He would like to walk thank you very much

Probably won't pick you up either unless a) you ask or b) you're bleeding out and he has to move you to safety

Demo

Like Soldier, doesn't bat an eye

This is just par for the course with Demo. Honestly you'll have a hard time picking him up before he picks you up.

Likes to initiate a lot of playful touch. Wrestling, throwing each other around, ruffling your hair, etc.

Just kinda melts when you pick him up. Lol enjoy holding a Demo puddle.

May or may not fall asleep if you hold him for any length of time

Medic

Oh

Oh hello

Medic starts blushing the instant you pick him up. Kicking his legs and giggling

Starts joking about you being his knight in shining armor.

Probably has a crush on you now if he didn't already. Look, he's just into people who could easily squish him alright???

An overdramatic bitch if he's in the mood to be picked up

"No, I am afraid my injury is too bad! You will have to carry me!"

He stubbed his toe. Jfc medic

Spy

No. No. A million times no.

The first time you do it, he blushes fiercely and runs away and you don't see him for a week.

It is undignified and humiliating and you're going to ruin his reputation and how dare you

More inclined to like it in a romantic relationship but still makes a fuss about it.

That is, until he gets used to it and then he's demanding you carry him everywhere like a spoiled brat

Sniper

Kinda hard to pick up because he's a lanky fuck and he's got so much goddamn legs. It's like picking up a spider

Really really nervous that you're going to drop him. Has a death grip on your shirt

Sniper's pretty confident right up until something happens that he doesn't know how to deal with. Being picked up is one of those things. Probably hiding his face with his hat and blushing really hard and making a big fuss

Can't decide whether or not he likes it

Probably isn't going to stop complaining but he's also not squirming so idk make what you will out of that

[holocene-sims]

oc deep dive

thank you @stargazer-sims for tagging me!! naturally, because i am predictable, i'll answer these questions for grant 🙈

not sure who has done this tag because it went around mostly when i was on hiatus, but i'll tag: @windermeresimblr @nectar-cellar @papermint-airplane @queeniecook @sparkiekong + anyone who wants to do it 💌

what uncommon/common fear do they have?

common: he's a major germaphobeeeeeee

hello, mr. showers-multiple-times-a-day! 🧼

btw i always headcanon grant as wearing masks frequently in public and always in very crowded places like airplanes. you just don't see that in-game because all the mask cc i have installed conflicts with his glasses and/or eyelashes 😔

uncommon: idk if he's afraid of anything uncommon. the main ones for him are germs + being yelled at or physically pushed around, which are common. i guess you could say noses kind of freak him out; the whole cartilage/bone/close-to-the-brain combo is a very unpleasant thought for him lolz

do they have any pet peeves?

you know how most people hate it when a two-person party at a cafe/restaurant sit on the same side of the bench? grant actually hates it when the other person sits opposite of him; he finds it a little bit awkward and lonely. he'd much rather have the friend or partner sit next to him, provided they're cool with it and a side-by-side seating arrangement is possible! ❤️

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

his cat, probably

hand sanitizer (citrus scent)

pikachu plush acquired during the korea arc with henry

what do they notice first in a person?

physically: hair 💇 simply because hair is the first thing his eyes can see when looking at someone...unless they're the same height as him, at which point he can finally look someone in the eyes lmao

personality-wise: if they're nice to servers or other customer service workers and tip well

on a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

at this point, it's a 10. his body is a little (a lot) banged up from old injuries and being chronically ill. when he was super young, his pain tolerance was not that great, like stubbing a toe was a serious hour-ruining problem, but he's had to get used to feeling much worse, so his "i feel great, let's go run a marathon!!" days now are probably an average person's 6 on the pain scale but a 2 or so for him. it's not that things hurt *less*, it's more that the conditions that would get him to notice his pain, pay more attention to it, or rate the pain level at a 6 or well above that are far more extreme.

do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

it depends what kind of pressure. if it's some kind of social pressure, aka being in an argument with someone or having upset someone, it triggers major fight or flight response, and usually, he's a flight kind of person. it's changed, though, over the course of the story. i think he's more willing to fight or at least just feel the fight/flight response while responding with a cool head.

if it's a non-social pressure like a situation at work, even if people are involved in the situation he needs to deal with, grant responds very differently. he doesn't get the fight or flight response here, he's always pretty level-headed and logical about non-social situations.

do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

his family is too big, but he adores them all (sans his parents and one of his sisters). grant is 1000000% a family person!

what animal represents them best?

personally, i think he could be a panda. large, cuddly, and endearing

what is a smell that they dislike?

ultimate irony: he hates the smell of cigarettes ☠️

and he finds it funny. he's unfortunately been addicted to smoking forever, but he's so irritated by the smell and also scared of bothering anyone with it that he takes extreme measures to avoid not absorbing cigarette scent lmao

have they broken any bones?

oh dear. yes, he has. lol. the whole "i accidentally knocked out/broke some of my teeth playing hockey thing" was real 😭😭

the teeth were probably the most obvious/annoying bones to break, but he did also break the pinky finger on his left hand, aka his dominant hand, at church when he was like six. he was fucking around in the church basement with his cousins and friends after some church event, and when they were leaving to go back upstairs, he shut the giant wooden door too quickly, which jammed his finger hard enough to break it 💀

how would a stranger likely describe them?

physically: giant, should have played basketball

personality-wise: charming

are they a night owl or a morning bird?

i think he's somewhere in between! he's happy to stay up late and get up early. although, even if he does stay up late, he still will always get up early. he's used to that from work and also from chronic pain bothering him in his sleep.

what is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

love: coconut, chocolate, citrus, coffee

hate: strawberry, vanilla, tea

do they have any hobbies?

cooking, baking, playing video games, dungeons & dragons/TTRPGs, painting, stargazing/reading about astronomy, watching airplanes irl or in videos, watching youtube, watching cat videos on instagram reels, hiking when he feels up to it, working out, traveling, reading (he's trying to fully get back into it), etc.

boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

honestly, grant is one of those people who does muchhhh better with surprise birthday parties than planned parties. if you give him zero time to think about receiving love, gifts, and affection, he can't do the whole "woe is me, i don't deserve it, you're too nice" shtick

do they like to wear jewelry?

at this point, he doesn't really own any. he used to have piercings (the only ones remaining are the 🍒💍, and he did have a claddagh ring, which was a gift from his great uncle, but the piercings were lost to career dress codes, and the ring disappeared with all his other stuff that his mother threw out years ago.

so, he's not anti-jewelry, like he'd totally wear rings at least, and he regrets that his one very nice ring was lost :( i think he'd also wear a necklace if someone gave him one, but grant himself would not naturally consider himself a necklace guy, so he wouldn't go out of his way to purchase one of his own volition.

(author's note: he deserves a nice necklace)

he does wear a leather watch all the time, though, but i'm not sure if that should be categorized as jewelry or just an accessory!

do they have neat or messy handwriting?

he has very neat handwriting!

what are two emotions they feel the most?

probablyyyyyy contentment (i know that may seem ironic given the story, but i think he's generally chill *now*, and my image of him is always a little bit colored by the yet unpublished end of everything the stars promised, which will get posted some day when the plot gets to that point) and shame

do they have a favorite fabric?

he may not own anything in this fabric but minky dot!! grant has visited fabric & craft stores many times with grandma aoifeeeeee, and when he and his cousins were younger, they loved to run around the stores feeling up all the fabric. he's always fond of minky dot because (1) it's soft, and (2) the dots are fun to poke at.

what kind of accent do they have?

i feel like i've answered this so many times, but grant, in my mind, has a unique accent!! he grew up in small town upper peninsula michigan, so he's had plenty of time to absorb the yooper/midwestern accent, but he was also raised by a family full of immigrants and spent most of his childhood hanging out around his grandparents specifically and traveling overseas to visit family, so at the same time, his accent turned irish-y early on. he's not the only one that combo accent happened to, but he probably has the strongest case out it outside of his aunt and uncle.

basically, with 100% certainty, i deem that grant has never and will never be able to pronounce the th sound with the h in it or vowels without them being nasally.

it's hard to put what i think he sounds like on paper, but it's some mix of these people: (1) (2) (3)

[spaceyflowerswriting]

How would Gun/Goo/DG/Daniel react to their s/o being like Unconscious Daniel? You can delete this if you’re uncomfortable, thank you! :) I think it be pretty badass if s/o fight them unconscious like they didn’t know they could fight.

lookism boys discovering their s/o is capable of UI

details: gender neutral reader but written in 2nd pov, reader has been dating character for a while

a/n: no worries; thanks for the request :] !! i hope i understood your request right 😭😭

×

gun

> move aside, daniel, gun's got a new masterpiece to work with ★

> no seriously he's probably going to be pushy about it the second he finds out you have UI 😭 he'll tell you as soon as you recover consciousness and say stuff like, "this is untapped potential, you can't just not do anything about it."

> wants to train with you and whatnot; see what you're capable of, and if it's anything similar to daniel or better

> either way, you can stand toe-to-toe with him/beat him up and honestly? it makes him fall for you a little more. you're already charming to him, but now you can beat his ass up, too, like damn he's blushing LMAO

> a little... um... obsessed with your UI. the guy's a freak about fighting, what can i say

> glad he doesn't have to worry about you as much but in order to defend yourself you'd have to get knocked out so gun's trying to see if he can make your UI happen while you're conscious 😭

> if you two are stuck together in a situation causing your UI to happen after getting knocked out, gun doesn't mind if you end up picking a fight with him 😋 he'll uh. try not too hurt you too much

goo

> is super shocked and dramatic when he finds out but eventually becomes chill with it. to him, it's just a cool new thing about you ^_^

> when you recover consciousness, he lets you know about it in a very casual and friendly way and shows you a recording he took in case you don't believe it lol

> after that, he doesn't really make a big deal out of it. mostly because again, he's just chill with it, but also he genuinely wants to keep quiet about it because if gun hears word of your UI, he would lose his mind and goo does NOT want gun to do anything to you

> yes he becomes mildly more protective of you and puts in more effort to make sure you and gun barely see each other for long. just in case.

> loves watching you let loose in your UI state. not that he'll purposely get you knocked out, but if a situation occurs where it happens, he enjoys seeing you wreck havoc <3 as long as you don't fight him ;;

> if you do, he'll whine about it to you as soon as you come back from your UI state. expects to be given kisses to pay for the small injuries you gave him 💔 if he unintentionally hurt you out of self defense, he'll make it up to you in some way as well!

> doesn't bother training you or anything unless you're excited by your UI ability and ask him how to become a better fighter

dg / james

> two words: oh no.

> he keeps your UI ability to himself for a day or two before deciding to be upfront because he felt guilty after being vague when you asked what happened after you regained consciousness; plus he figured it'd be better if you knew anyway

> definitely keeps it under wraps, though. who knows how the people around him would react or what they'd do to you ;; (gun, charles, possibly eugene...)

> not to be shady, but he secretly does a background check on you and digs up your history. wonders if you're who he thinks you are, or if there's someone pulling the strings from a distance

> nothing changes in the relationship though, and he calms down after seeing you're 100% innocent and just... apparently somehow have this ability

> considering you have no control of yourself in your unconscious state, he does his very best to make sure you never get in a situation so dangerous it'd activate. wants to avoid either of you getting hurt/in trouble (lookism has never shown james vs UI daniel but i figure he's probably stronger so he'd handle you just fine if you picked a fight with him in your UI state)

> if you feel positive about your UI, he gives you a worried look but he's not against you learning self defense so he'll teach you whatever as long as you ask. all while telling you to be careful, of course!

daniel

> the second he sees you in your UI state, he's screaming, crying, throwing up and not in the funny way

> it takes him months before he confesses to you about what he witnessed of you being capable of UI. he was just in too much shock and was worried about you ;;

> after he lets you know, he has a very serious conversation with you about your history and background. assuming you don't know he has two bodies, his questions get pretty suspicious lol

> he also warns you about how dangerous UI is and that he's experienced it before

> eventually slowly backs away once satisfied you're not going through something as crazy as him, you just... have this ability that his powerful second body does. who knows why. he's not about to find out. he just wants you safe and sound and to ensure this never happens ever again

> makes sure you're never involved in any fights. if you somehow get into a dangerous one that activates your UI, he makes it his job to keep everyone safe and to try to get you back under control T_T would never hold it against you if you hurt him in that state!

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

She Never Asked Me Once About the Wrong I Did | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends!

Here I am again, writing fanfic while I’m at work. And in a shocking turn of events, it’s inspired by a Hozier song. I know, that’s new and different for me lol

Comments, questions, suggestions? Send me a message! And If you’d like to be on my tag list, let me know! 🥰

And here is my very cute and small tag list: @beefybuckrrito & @shadytalementality 💜

Warning: blood, injuries, anxiety, PTSD, violence

"My babe would never fret none,

about what my hands and my body done.

If the lord don’t forgive me,

I’d still have my baby

and my babe would have me”

Sleep evaded you as you waited for Bucky to return from his mission. It was always tough on you when Bucky was gone; worry constantly hung over you like storm clouds from the moment he left til the second he returned. And sleeping without him was one of your least favorite things. You sat up in bed, wrapping his dark green comforter loosely around your shoulders, and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, letting it bathe the room in a warm yellow glow.

His room in the Avenger's compound had been cold and uninviting when you first started dating. Just a bed with a blanket that was too small and one lumpy, uncomfortable pillow. It made you sad that Bucky didn’t have anything comfortable to come home to at the end of the day. Now that he'd let you decorate, it was finally homey. He'd even referred to it as cozy once, which was a big deal to you. All that time he was on the run, he'd stayed in dirty, rundown apartments that never housed him for long. Now that he had a permanent residence, you wanted to make it as comfy as possible, and you'd done just that.

The time ticked by as you scrolled through social media and attempted to read a book, but your mind constantly wandered and ended up thinking about Bucky. Around 3am, you heard heavy boots trudging down the hall and knew he was finally home. You threw the comforter to the side and flew to the door, throwing it open to greet Bucky.

But the Bucky you saw standing in the doorway was not the one you'd kissed goodbye just a few days ago.

This Bucky had a darkness in his eyes. He was dirty and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, betraying just how exhausted he was. A small smile flickered across his lips when he saw you, it had become an automatic response every time he laid eyes on you. But this smile was different-it was sad, somehow.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around Bucky's neck and pulled him close. It took him a moment to return the gesture and wrap his strong arms around your waist-but even his hug was different. Instead of the almost suffocating squeeze that you'd come to know and love, Bucky's arms were wrapped lightly around your body, barely administering any pressure.

You slowly unwound your arms and pulled back, studying his dark expression. "Hey, is everything okay?" you murmured. He shook his head slightly before moving past you through the doorway and flicking on the overhead light. In the weak lamplight, you hadn't been able to see how rough Bucky really looked-but now his entire form was illuminated and your stomach turned.

Dried blood seemed to cover him head to toe. It was in his hair, smeared on his face and neck, and dried drips ran down the length of his arms. You could see it splattered on his shirt and pants, and a thick coat of it had congealed across his boots. The air felt like it had been sucked from your lungs and an involuntary "oh my god" fell from your lips. You rushed to Bucky, looking for injuries to tend to, but he pulled away.

"Buck, babe, you have to let me check you out. If you're hurt I-" but the sound of him mumbling something cut you off. "What?" you asked. He turned to you sharply and repeated what he had said in an almost frightening voice. "It's not my blood!" he declared. His hard exterior suddenly shattered and he covered his face with his hands. Sharp, shallow breaths began emanating from his mouth at an alarming rate and you knew he was in the midst of a panic attack.

You coaxed him over to the armchair he liked to read in and made him focus on nothing but you- the sound of your voice, the color of your eyes, the feeling of the soft henley you'd stolen from him. "You're doing so good, Buck" you cooed every now and then.

"It was-it was so bad", Bucky eventually muttered, still clutching one of your hands for dear life. "I said I was done with this kind of thing...but it always ends like this". You squeezed his hand and looked him square in the eye. "Babe, you're taking down the bad guys", you said gently. A deep, sad sigh came from Bucky's chest and he stood up, pacing near the chair. "That's what they said! That's what Hydra said-that's what they told me for years! And I listened!" he almost yelled. "Do you have any idea how many people I've hurt? How many people I've killed? Just because someone said it was the right thing to do?!" He slumped back down in the chair, his vibranium hand clinking against his dog tags as he nervously fiddled with them.

You took his face in your hands, grounding him. "Buck, you know I don't care about that. That wasn't you..." he nodded weakly, though he was not convinced. "You, Bucky Barnes, are not a monster. You are not evil. And you are not the Winter Soldier”. He sat there, reliving every person he had ever hurt, and slowly pulled his hand from yours. “I just don’t…I just don’t see how you can overlook everything I’ve done.” You took his hand back, lacing your fingers in between his with authority. “Because I know you. I know who you are. Who you really are.”

A silence fell over him for a while as he took in what you said. After a few moments, he finally spoke: "But sometimes these missions are..." he looked down at the concerning amount of congealed blood that seemed to coat every inch of him, "violent. I hate coming home to you like this. AndI can't guarantee that I won't feel this way again…I don’t want you to have to do this for me every time I come back.”

"I know, Buck. But I'll always be here to remind you who you are. You'll always have me", you promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I can never thank you enough" he whispered, his eyes downcast. You smiled, lifting his chin gently and looking him in the eye. "That's the thing, babe. You don't have to". He nodded again and brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to your palm.

"Come on, Barnes. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" you cooed. A sheepish smile crossed his face and he chewed on the inside of his cheek before muttering "you should probably join me". You'd been too busy to notice, but in your efforts to comfort Bucky, you too had become covered in the sticky enemy blood. It was under your nails and along your forearms, smearing your shirt and staining your neck.

"Ohh…um yeah, that's probably a good idea," you muttered, trying not to throw up right then and there. "I’m so sorry about that, sweetheart. I should've warned you beforehand..." Bucky said, feeling guilty for covering you in a biohazard. You shook your head and gently stroked his cheek. "Hey, it's okay, it’s fine. Come on, now we have an excuse to shower together," you teased. He rolled his eyes and helped you up, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked to the bathroom together.

[bread-writes]

Hi! I really liked really your relationship headcanon piece with Gun, Warren and DG. I was wondering if you could do relationship headcanons for the other characters Goo, Samuel and Jake? Thanks ~

how in the world did I misread Jake as Johan-- Well it just means another character lol

Bro what?? 100+ followers?? Me?? I can’t thank you guys enough for the support! <3333

Headcanons under the cut!

Relationship Headcanons Ft. Goo, Samuel, and Jake, and Johan

Joon Goo Kim

dating Goo... is a trip, to say the least

you guys are definitely that couple covered head to toe in brand deals

he won’t settle with anything but the best for both you and him

which usually leads to him spoiling you no matter how much you tell him you’re fine

you basically have a degree in nursing with how much you patch this man up

every

single

day

he’d come home with at least one new injury

at first, he was reluctant in letting you care for him

let’s be honest

real, genuine kindness is like a foreign language to him

so when you first expressed concern for him, he was definitely confused, if not suspicious

much like Gun, chances are you also work under Charles Choi

he generally doesn’t care whether or not if you work in his particular...field as long as it brings in money

his all time favorite kinds of dates are most probably casino dates

dressing up and having the chance to earn a quick buck? 

sign him up!

although, you do have to console him after a few big losses

he gets all pissy and just hugs you closer

speaking of hugs, he seems like the kind if guy to just whisk you away from whatever you were doing and hold you in his arms for a while

and if you want to get out of his hold, good luck...

I hope you have thick skin because this man teases you so much he borderline insults you

ouch.

however, fret not, for he shall make it up to you with endless amounts of cuddles and kisses

...until he does it again only a few hours later

8/10, it’s off-putting seeing him beat up people for money and how often he gets injured but his hugs are to DIE for

Samuel Seo

he’s obsessed with you, to put it simply

like, borderline yandere obsessed

and we’ve SEEN how he acts with Gun

so

if you want to avoid him beating the shit out of random people to get your attention

just give him attention from the get-go lmao

he’s like TOUCH STARVED touch starved

so shower him with attention, okay?

loves it when you spend hours tracing the faded scars and prominent tattoos that litter his skin

GIVE HIM SOME PRAISE TOO

poor guy’s been ridiculed all of his life for basically everything he does

oof

but not too much, though

because good lord does this guy have a superiority complex

if you’ve been with him since middle school don’t bring up Jake

like ever

no matter how long you’ve been with him he’ll still loathe being interrupted

oh well, small price to pay if you’re talkative, I guess

definitely the kind of guy to buy you something super expensive and when you ask where he got the money because, you know, he’s still technically a teen--

he’ll just be like “Don’t worry about it.”

sketchy, but whatever 

did I mention how possessive he is?

always has an arm around you whenever the two of you go out

nearly punched a poor tourist who only asked for directions

bro chillll

7/10 clingy, but he makes up for it in his own ways

Johan Seong

he’s definitely reluctant to let you into his life, much like the other two on this list

but when he does, have fun trying to pry him off in the mornings

Johan sucks with words so he shows his words through his actions

small things, like making you a small breakfast and holding your hand during little walks with Eden and Miro

cute shit, really

that doesn’t make things any less dangerous with him around

similarly to Goo, he’ll pick lots of fights with the sole intention of getting a quick buck

speaking of fighting, though he doesn’t say anything about it, he loves showing off to you (have you SEEN that smirk??)

because he sees you as far more than family, he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you

weird guy looking at you weird from across the street?

bam--he just got a taste of the sole of Johan’s shoe

doesn’t really enjoy going shopping, or really anything that doesn’t include playing with his dogs or eating

but won’t complain if you do decide to take him out for shopping

much like Samuel (though not to his extent) he’s clingy

it’s been a very long time since there was someone other than himself he could rely on

even later on in your relationship he has his doubts

they’ll probably always continue to gnaw in his mind, but as long you’re there to comfort him, he’ll learn to just ignore those doubts.<3

because of these doubts and insecurities, it doesn’t take a lot to get him jealous

likes to be coddled, but not to the point where it’s suffocating

8/10, rocky at first, but when you find the right rhythm it’s practically smooth sailing from there

Jake Kim

Jake is, well, Jake

I can’t promise he’ll always have time for you or will clear his schedule at the drop of a hat (he does that in advance lmao)

he’s a busy guy

but that doesn’t change the fact he loves you

he really, truly does love you

he’s got basically everything about you memorized

keeps all important dates highlighted in red on his calendar

and always knows what to get you as a gift, whether it be spending time together or something you spotted from a store

...if it’s in his price range, of course

Jake will always appreciates your cooking and eat it even if it tastes like coal

anything is better than instant noodles for a week straight tbh

touched starved and a little clingy

not like Samuel level

but enough to crave your touch after a long week of nothing but paperwork

even if you’ve been with him for a long time (since, like, middle school) he’d still be apprehensive about business pertaining to Big Deal

it’s not that he’s keeping secrets from you

he just doesn’t want you constantly worrying about him. which could potentially put a target on your back

during the few occasions when his thoughts finally catch up to him, he wonders why you’re still with him

so just hold him for a while to dispel these thoughts

loves doing small, mundane things with you on his rare days off

it makes him feel...free from everything else around him

no gangs

no fighting

no money crisis (debatable)

just you and him living life

9/10, he’s an overall great guy who puts a lot of effort into a relationship

helloo!!! im dum lol, so i present to you the “emotionally constipated” quartet

Sorry for disappearing...

anyways--

[59writes]

SEVENTEEN- REACTION: THEIR S/O GETS INJURED (PT. 1)

written for the lovely @honeyylin

again, thank u for being my first request, I will love u eternally (:

I might do the other version still, idk yet!!! but I hope this is satisfactory!!!

(also shout out to my phone for autocorrecting “finally” to “fistula” I hate it here lol)

tw: food, injury

SEUNGCHEOL

• Homeboy would do his damn best to stay focused on whatever task at hand!!!

• he knows you’re a responsible person and you reassured him on the phone that you’re completely fine, but he’s still got the jitters

• but after he zones out for the third time in a row, Jihoon kicks him out of the studio and tells him to go home

• “you’ll do better there, hyung.”

• “But… the songs-“

• “you’re not exactly contributing right now. go home.”

• and so he does, fidgeting the whole way back

• his anxiety is truly at a peak as he reaches the apartment door, practically chewing through his lip as he fumbles with the keys

• he calls your name the second the door swings open

• “y/n?”

• your head pops up from the couch, tired but grinning wildly. “Cheol!”

• the next thing you know he’s wrapping you in a hug, tension finally leaving him

• “I thought you were at the studio.” You frown when he finally moves away.

• “Jihoon made me leave.” He pouts, sitting down on the floor, eyes even with your leg, which is propped up on a chair. “I was too… out of it?”

• “Aw. I’m really okay, Cheol.” You assure again, reaching down to grab his hand, giving it a squeeze.

• “I know, I know. Just… worried.”

• It’s very clear he’s trying not to make a fuss and ask a million questions about the state of your existence, so you pat the couch next to you.

• “C’mon, we’ve got the day off now. Do you wanna finish the show?”

• His face reluctantly breaks into a grin, hopping up to join you on the couch

• and both of you forget about the pains for a little while as you lose yourself in the screen

• it’s peaceful and warm, and finally, you both get a chance to slow down

• maybe you should get injured more often (/j)

JEONGHAN

• he trusts that you’re completely fine, but he does not trust that you won’t somehow hurt yourself again

• he will babyproof the house for the next few days

• “nope, you’re not allowed to chop vegetables. give me the celery.”

• “hey! let me get that, idiot, you’re hurt.”

• “I don’t care. If you want the cat then text me and I’ll get her for you.”

• just generally being a nuisance, you know how it is

• but still, in his babyproofing he does make sure you take your pain meds on time, setting a little alarm on his phone so he can wake you up with a glass of water and your pills

• he also doordashes you your favorite food without announcing like he just says “Steve is on his way with food” and you have to just ponder who Steve is until some guy knocks on your door

• “he paid me extra to say that you’re the love of his life, so…”

• “let’s not and say we did.”

• he always makes sure to order something sweet too (:

• but yeah he’s doing work around the house and forcing you to stay in bed

• tbh it’s like having a very bossy butler lol

• but hey, at least he’s actually doing his own laundry for once!

JOSHUA

• oh my god he drops everything when he gets your text

• it’s literally just “hey josh can I get some help? I hurt myself moving some furniture” and this man goes feral

• you know how someone is so anxious that their brain shuts off and they’re scarily calm??? Joshua.

• he’s at your house in like, five minutes

• and tbh you just wanted him to finish moving the bookshelf so you didn’t have to

• but now he’s gently scolding you while wiping dirt and blood from your leg

• it’s not even that big of a cut but he’s treating it like open heart surgery

• like his hands are so gentle…

• of course he moves the bookshelf after a little more scolding before like,,, making soup like this man would definitely make soup

• like it’s just an annoying cut that’s gonna leave a bruise and this man is making some chicken noodle in the next room over like you’re dying of pneumonia

• it’s some good ass soup tho (:

JUN

• he would not know what to do tbh but he would be excellent company while you waited to heal

• he’d definitely be very panicky but would hide it as best he could!! cuz you’re the top priority!!!

• he’d lurk and when you get up he’d be like “do you need anything? aspirin? food?” and you’re just like “Jun I’m good I just need to go to the bathroom”

• he definitely knows exactly what you like, and does his best to do things like keep your favorite show on, or make you tea.

• (even when you assure him that you’re fine)

• his help is very random and antsy but still excellent lol

• and the fact that he’s constantly here to help really proves how much he cares about you and your health (:

HOSHI

• oh god, this man

• he’d be all over the place

• overreacting and then scolding and then just zoning out and then he falls asleep smh.

• this man would get out a chainsaw and ask which door you stubbed your toe on so he can destroy it lol

• but alas, no chainsaw is around (thank goodness)

• and so Soonyoung just gets to blame everything else while you’re replacing bandages or whatever

• like, he’s going on about how “just because they have safety stickers on ladders doesn’t mean they’re safe!!” and you’ll hold out your hand for gauze and he’d instinctively just grab it and put it in your hand even though he’s on a bit of a rampage

• he also most definitely is the kind to get a stuffed animal for when you’re hurt lol like every time you get sick or injured badly he gets you a bear that says “get well soon” on its stomach or on the heart it holds in its hands and eventually you just have a pile of creatures encouraging you to be healthy

WONWOO

• this man is just. excellent

• he’s caring without being demeaning, and is just so so so helpful

• he comes home and sees your arm bandaged up and just asks what happened

• and you tell him the story and he tries to hide his smile when he hears about your dumb mistake

• but still he’s patient and willing to help!!

• it’s like he could read your mind on what you needed and would just materialize behind you with a drink or an aspirin or something

• and he’d stay in the room with you whenever he could, reading or texting silently

• it was nice having such a caring presence next to you, even if he didn’t chat much

• I mean, the quiet helped you nap more easily too

• and somehow whenever you woke up, he was still there, keeping an eye on you

• if he had to leave for whatever reason he’d gently wake you up to let you know he was headed out and to call him if you need anything

• he makes the healing process peaceful (:

WOOZI

• when he hears the news he’s just. suddenly very very quiet

• like this man is out of it.

• he brushes off the others when they ask what happened, and makes it through the day fairly uneventfully

• when he gets home you almost don’t hear him, only noticing when he shuts the door

• “Jihoon?”

• He beelines straight to you before wrapping you in a huge hug. big tight hug.

• definitely swaying back and forth a little <3

• but you’re just like “woah ok bud what’s up with you”

• and one look at his face says everything

• it’s just been so much: the stress of a comeback, dealing with the managers and the other boys, and then his s/o gets hurt on top of that?

• maybe he needs a break too

• and so you both take one

• I hope you like sleeping lol

• basically you guys take the next few days to recover, just ordering food up and watching shows in silence before falling asleep together on the couch or even the floor once (hey the rug is soft!!!)

• and one day you wake up to find your injury no longer aching

• and the bed is empty next to you

• so you get up and peer down the hallway

• and Jihoon is in the kitchen, playing soft classical music while cutting vegetables

• he notices as you approach, silently offering you a carrot stick

• “I see you’re feeling better too?”

• he nods.

• you both spend the rest of the morning waking up again, cleaning the house and making food, Jihoon’s energy and personality slowly coming back too

• maybe your break wasn’t as much of him taking care of you, but you taking care of each other

• almost as if you’re tied together somehow, your ups and downs mutual

• either way, after that you’re both a lot more aware of the balance and way of recovery you two have

• and you can predict things in advance for next time!

[devildomimagines]

This is a bit self-indulgent, but how would the brothers react to an MC that not only has a high pain tolerance but can relocate their limbs? I fell down the stairs and didn’t notice my ankle was broken and I remember relocating my arm one time when it got dislocated in some other accident without reacting much.

MC can still feel the pain but they can handle it like a champ and fix/adjust whatever injury they have with a poker face

Hello Anon! Happy to take the request but dude(gnc lol) your body, please be careful! Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy~

Belphegor

First of all, what the hell?

He knows humans and they shouldn’t be able to bend like that.

You made him question his understanding of human anatomy.

Once he’s over that, he calls you weird in the most affectionate way lol.

Kind of amazed that you showed him something he’s never seen before.

After chapter 16 events, he knows you have a high pain tolerance so he finds himself constantly asking if you’re ok?

There were a few times when you had been hurt but didn’t even notice until he asked.

He swears you’re an injury magnet but the two upsides are that you don’t whine about it and can fix any dislocations yourself.

Belphie has stress dreams about you getting seriously hurt but you don’t recognize you need help.

The only way to quell his fears is to stay with him when he sleeps so when he wakes up and sees you’re fine he can go back to sleep.

Beelzebub

He has a high pain tolerance too so he often forgets you’re human and that your body is much weaker than his.

Once gave you a really excited but hard high five and it dislocated your wrist.

You popped it back in with ease but he was so apologetic.

You aren’t mad though, it didn’t even hurt and you’re back to normal already.

He’s like those big dogs that are so excited to see you that you can’t be mad when they take you down by jumping on you.

Belphie reminds him that there are things that you can’t do and to be careful with you.

He’s protective of you when around others but he almost always forgets his own strength when handling you.

There could definitely be times when he’s pulling you along to a restaurant he wants to get to and just dislocates your shoulder.

Again, another easy enough fix to pop it back in but Beel treats you to meals all week as an apology.

If there was ever a time where you actually vocalized your pain, he’d know it was serious and get you to a hospital right away.

Asmodeus

He’s at first more worried about your skin scarring with cuts and scrapes you don’t notice and leave to scab over messily.

The first time he sees a dislocated joint though, he has sympathy pain and asks if you’re ok and if you need a doctor.

When you say no and relocate the join yourself, he grimaces. It’s not a pleasant experience as a bystander.

He doesn’t know much about human anatomy but he figures this is not the norm.

You’re making him stress and it isn’t a cute look!

Asmo gets protective so you and him don’t have to suffer through relocating your limbs.

If there is even a chance you could get hurt, he’s pulling you aside to help him with something.

Being a demon means that he also has a pain tolerance but he’s aware humans are generally weaker.

Although you’ve assured him many times that it doesn’t hurt, he still treats you to a relaxing bath or massage after an incident. 

Surely your body might not be giving you the signals it’s hurting but he figures dislocating and relocating your limbs that often can’t be good. He hopes he’s mitigating any lasting damage on your joints/muscles/nerves with the warmth of the bath or the relaxation of the massage.

Satan

He would be disturbed but so intrigued. 

Relocating limbs was definitely not in any books he read about humans.

He has so many questions!

Does it hurt? Not for you but you know for others it would.

How often does it happen? Not too often but enough to have a handful of stories about it.

What joints can do that? Fingers, toes, shoulders, knees, elbows, and ankles just to name a few.

Satan may or may not subtly test your pain tolerance with unsuspecting pokes or gradually increasing his force behind back pats, high fives or pulling you along to different locations.

His experiment leads him to conclude that although you’re not feeling the pain, your body is certainly reacting to his tests. There were bruises where he poked a little too hard.

Afterwards, he dials back his research with you as a test subject but picks up more books about human anatomy.

He knows you’re sturdy and you could take a lot but he treats you gently anyway.

Leviathan

You know his “Whoooaaa!”

Yeah, that is definitely his reaction seeing you fix your dislocated joint.

He thinks it’s super cool, a total boss move.

He has no idea that humans are not supposed to do that and at the very least it should hurt.

Belphie mentions it’s not normal and Levi somehow thinks it’s even cooler.

You’re weird! Like him!

I could see our local snek bro being double jointed or something along those lines.

Your high pain tolerance doesn’t come up until he accidentally whips you with his tail and he knows it should have hurt but you just shrugged it off.

It’s definitely a relief that he doesn’t have to worry too much if it should happen again by accident. He was just excited and turned too quickly, that’s bound to happen again.

When he’s bored, he’ll say, “MC, do the thing!” and you put your arm at a funky angle and he watches everyone’s grimace with a look of pure joy.

Mammon

Kind of freaks out the first time he sees you with a dislocated shoulder.

He’s practically dragging you to get help, he doesn’t know what the fix is but knows enough about humans to know you need something.

Once you calmed him down enough, you can pop the sucker right back in front of him.

If demons can faint, he almost does. You had him so worried!

After that initial time, he almost boasts about how great you are, you don’t need a doctor, you can fix it yourself! No problem!

Don’t blame him when he tries to exploit this though. He might get the idea to tout you around as you have a dislocated joint, asking for pity donations.

It’s up to you if you go along with it or take the moral high ground.

He’s generally gentle with you by default, having never threatened you with violence like his other brothers. 

Mammon was kind of surprised that you weren’t phased when Beel slapped you on the back as he laughed at your joke. It looked hard and it made Mammon wince.

If you shrugged it off then so did he. He trusted if you needed help or anything, you’d ask him since he was your first.

Lucifer

Maybe the first time he’s been surprised in a while was watching you relocate a joint.

He knows human anatomy just from preparing for the exchange program and that was not something he prepared for.

Hesitantly asked if you were ok?

When you shrug it off, he’s concerned.

May just take you to the doctor to be certain.

He’s pretty protective after that. Although you confirmed it didn’t hurt, it would look bad on Diavolo’s grand plan if you kept getting injured.

Lucifer would be grateful that you aren’t going to come crying to him at a drop of a hat since he has enough to deal with.

Of course he would drop everything if you needed medical attention, don’t think that his daily duties would take priority in that situation.

Still can’t cure himself of chronic worrying though and will check in with you often.

You had better be honest with him, he has to report on your general health regularly so it’s in your best interest to let him know when you’ve been hurt or dislocated/relocated limbs.

[whumpinggrounds]

Getting Suspicious

Yay! Day 1 of @febuwhump! I’m already doing an alt prompt lol because I just...couldn’t do a head injury. Here’s some ~plot stuff~ for our fave sidekick whumpee !

Tagging my super folx - @whumpy-writings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, annnd if there’s anyone else I’m very sorry but I did not write you down so. Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

CW: superhero whumpee, superhero whump, black eye, injuries

Beck catches August halfway down the hall to his room. He’s called after August a few times, but the young sidekick just ducks his head and speeds up. He’s all but jogging by the time Beck catches him by the elbow and half-spins him around.

Then, straightaway, Beck is recoiling, taken aback by the sight of what August was trying to hide from him. All attempts at secrecy gone, August bares his teeth in an awkward little smile. Beck’s eyes don’t get that far. His horrified gaze is still fixed on August’s brand-new black eye.

“What happened to you?!”

Beck sounds genuinely shocked and genuinely upset, which makes August want to wince. He disguises it by bouncing on his toes, widening his eyes in an attempt at oblivious innocence. “What do you mean?”

Beck shakes his head. “August, don’t play dumb. What the hell happened to your eye?”

“Oh, that!” August fakes a hearty laugh, which is apparently a little too hearty. Beck is giving him a disbelieving, concerned kind of look. “It’s just, uh. You know. Training! Stuff happens.”

Cocking his head, Beck studies the bruise, and August resists the urge to hide from his gaze. He knows what it looks like. He’s examined his own face in the bathroom mirror, has poked and tested the edges of the bruise. It’s an ugly one – a wide, dark, swollen shiner. August can tell from Beck’s face that he’s disturbed by it, too.

“A training accident? What kind of training?”

Beck’s face is still much too close to August as he examines the swollen eye. August is afraid he won’t be able to control his face, his reactions, and that his leader, his team captain, will see right through him. His breath gets short, a little panicky, and his mind races, trying desperately to come up with something to say.

“I…I tripped, you know? I was tired. I got sloppy. It’s not a big deal, really.” He chuckles again, nervously, takes a little step back. Beck doesn’t follow him, but that concerned expression stays on his face, his eyebrows drawn together. August’s throat is suddenly thick, his mouth dry. Beck knows. He knows. He knows that Don is hurting August and now – now maybe he’ll kick August out, say he isn’t tough enough.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’ll storm back down the hallway, to where Donovan is still in the training room. Maybe he’ll tell August’s mentor that it’s not fair, that he can’t do this, that August isn’t a useless wimp of a sidekick, after all.

And then Beck heaves a sigh and shakes his head. He takes a step back all his own, and August feels his heart sink. “Are you overworking yourself?” Beck sounds genuinely confused, and August wants to scream. “Are you…do you think you’re being careless?”

Humiliated, August ducks his head. “I…I don’t think so, Beck. I’m…I’m trying my best. I really am. It’s…it’s just…hard.”

“Of course!” Beck reaches out, clasps August’s shoulder. “Of course, it’s hard. I’m sure you’re trying as hard as you can. This stuff really does take time.”

“Yeah.” The word tastes bitter on August’s tongue. He doesn’t really want to talk anymore, but he forces himself to try, just a little, just once. Beck is already turning away when August forces the words out, and they come a little too loud, a little too fast.

“You know, um, Donovan-”

Beck turns, alert, interested, ready, and all at once, his blue eyes are too heavy where they meet August’s, too much. August drops his gaze. “Sometimes, Donovan, um…”

He trails off, wanting Beck to pick up on what he’s trying to say. August doesn’t want to have to say it, to put the thing into words. Beck just keeps looking at him expectantly, though, so August screws up his courage and forces the words out. “Sometimes, I think, um, maybe the training that Don has me do is kind of…is maybe a little more dangerous…”

Already wincing, August glances up to find Beck’s face full of awkward pity. Immediately, August regrets saying anything, hates that he’s said anything, is already opening his mouth to take it all back. Beck beats him to speaking first. “I can ask Don to go a little easier on you if that’s what you need, yeah? It can take some time to adjust-”

“No.” August is backing away, waving his hands, utterly and completely mortified. “No, no, no way and no need. We’re all good. Please don’t say anything to him. I really, really don’t need him to go easy on me. I swear.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“I’m sure! I’m sure. Actually, I’m positive. I am absolutely positive that everything is absolutely, positively fine.”

[funnywormz]

* ralsei!

YAYYYA ralsey my friend ralsei......... i don't talk abt ralsei much but i love him so get ready for an info dump lol

i'm going to structure the headcanons like a character profile thing bc i think that will be easier to read than just dumping them all in a paragraph. also pls bear in mind these are just my fav silly headcanons, it doesn't mean i necessarily think they're accurate to canon or that i dislike other ppl's headcanons (sorry if i'm overexplaining i thought i should add a lil disclaimer)

ANYWAYS!!!! ralsy headcanons time....... ..

pronouns: i think ralsei would be OK with any pronouns! maybe he would prefer he/they though

gender: personally i'm a big fan of nonbinary ralsei. he's kind of Boy Adjacent but i think for darkners in general, gender is less of a thing. he's just a little creature

age: i see ralsei as being around the same age as kris and susie, so like 15-18 somewhere. a personal little headcanon of mine is he's actually the youngest of the group, but everyone automatically assumes he's older bc he seems the most emotionally mature lol

sexuality: asexual and biromantic. i think it suits him :-)

Miscellaneous headcanons:

- ralsei is very brave i think. although he's gentle and friendly, he's not afraid to stand up to people and speak his mind. if his friends are in danger he will always do his best to protect them

- ralsei is an insecure person. i don't really mean that he dislikes himself, but i don't think he places much value on his own existence. i mean he's pretty much stated that he sees himself and other darkners as existing to please lightners. i think that he'd maybe struggle with doing nice things just for himself and thinking abt his own needs. it would be hard for him to learn to put himself first

- while i definitely don't think ralsei is secretly evil (and if he is i will be extremely mad and disappointed in toby tbh lol), i do think he's hiding things from everyone and that there's a lot of stuff we don't know abt him yet. i think he has good intentions, but only time will tell if he's leading kris and co. down the right path or not.

- ralsei, despite being kind and caring on a surface level, has a hard time dealing with complex emotions in other ppl (eg. his reaction to how kris behaves after the spamton neo). he tries his best but his responses can come off as unhelpful and shallow. it's not that he doesn't care, he just wants ppl to be happy, but he doesn't really understand that sometimes conflict and negative emotions are necessary.

- despite being a goat/goat adjacent, he has little paws with toe beans. this is canon i've decided

- he gets allergies in the spring/summer

- him and lancer end up being really close and kind of have a brotherly type of relationship

- he likes to watch random old soap operas

- he's crafty! he knows how to sew and knit and one of the aspects of his healing magic is that it heals rips/tears in clothes too, not just physical injuries

[echo-hiraeth]

Princesa - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie is eager to find out what it is his girl does for a living, but she’s rather reserved about it. Until they run into each other at a birthday party.

Warnings: Profanities, mentions of injury, little bit of angst, but overall very fluff

Masterlist

A/n: I didn’t pick a specific princess, so everyone can feel included :)) feel free to imagine whichever one lol, go wild!

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”, he asked, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck.

You scratched at his scalp, smiling down at him. “I get what you’re trying to do”, you chuckle.

“What? Bull-shit! Me, a secret agenda?”, he jested, lying his absolute ass off.

“You jerk! Pretending to care about my safety huh?”, you continued to taunt.

He poked your sides, burying his scruff in your neck. “Can you blame me? You work in ‘entertainment’ that could literally be anything, I just want to knowwww”, he whined.

“Patience, my dear, is the greatest virtue of all. Now unhand me, I have entertainment business to attend tomorrow.”

He pouted, tightening his strong arms around you. “Why can’t you just stay the night, princesa?”

“Because I have a lot of getting ready to do”, you answered, wiggling out of his iron grip.

“Alright, alright, fair enough, but let me come see you after”, he bargained, handing you your shirt off the floor.

You put it on, standing up to button your jeans. “I’ll text you, okay? I love you Frankie.”

He kissed you goodnight, walking you to your car and waving as you drive past. Luckily he had something to preoccupy his mind tomorrow, it was one of Redfly’s girls’ birthday. Tom had invited all the guys to help him out, a bunch of seven year-olds not exactly something he was equipped for.

The two of you had been dating for about half a year now, though you’d only gone public in your fourth month. Frankie had introduced you to some of the guys already, Redly and Ironhead being the ones you had yet to meet. So when you got an e-mail seeing if you could attend a seven year-old’s birthday tomorrow as a Disney princess. The one big mystery had been your job, you’d roughly told Frankie what you did without ever telling him what you did. It had been a big deal to you, some of your exes either breaking up over it or being really creepy about it. Everything had gone so smoothly with Frankie, as if it was always meant to be, and the longer you were dating, the more the talk about your job stressed you out.

The next morning you were up early, showering while trying to think of a way to tell Frankie. Too bad you weren’t allowed to drink on the job, you could use a shot for courage right about now, at ten am in the morning. Getting out of the shower you made your way to your wardrobe, pulling out the drycleaner’s bag with your dress for the day. You put on all the layers, trotting back to the bathroom to do your make-up and put on that damned wig. They really didn’t pay you enough for this, more than once had you nearly passed out from the heat, the wig and excessive uniform nothing short of restricting and suffocating in summer.

You sat down in the kitchen, eating a quick lunch and checking up on your work e-mails before heading off. The drive was supposed to be just under two hours, so you had time to rehearse your little act in the car, singing along to the karaoke version of the assigned princess’ song. You loved it though, seeing those kids’ faces light up as you walked into the room, tugging on the skirt of your dress, singing along with you. It was a very fulfilling job, but a tough industry nonetheless, more than once had a father taken you aside, asking you if you did anything else on the side. It was downright inappropriate and having to walk it off and smile hadn’t always proved easy. You had a good feeling about today though, humming along to the music as you drove, waving at kids and parents in passing.

As per usual you parked a couple houses down the road, not wanting to blow your cover of being a mundane girl rather than a glorified princess. You texted the father of the kid, communicating that you were ready to go. He texted you the OK, telling you to just come around the back. You took a deep breath, putting on your trademark smile as you opened the fence, walking into the garden.

“Look kids, the princess is here!”, somebody announced.

About a dozen of little heads turned your way, some squealing and screaming went along with it, as per usual. You waved excitedly, making a reverence to the birthday girl.

“Tessa! Happy birthday darling!”, you cooed, engulfing the little girl in a hug.

Some of the kids gathered around you, immediately starting the crossfire of interrogation, asking where your prince was, if the other princesses would be coming too, where your castle was, and so on and on. You answered each and every one of their questions, giggling and chuckling as they grew more and more excited.

Frankie was in the kitchen when you arrived, flipping pancakes with Santiago. “Think the princess is here”, he sighed.

“Think she’s hot?”, Pope asked.

“Hope not, Benny won’t be able to keep his hands off”, he chuckled.

Will walked in with some empty bottles. “Those kids are gonna sleep well tonight.”

“Ironhead”, Santi called, “she hot?”

He wolf-whistled, fervently nodding. “Drop-dead-gorgeous is what she is! Go have a look, I’ll take over.”

The two of them went outside with some new bottles of soda and water, setting them down on the table before looking in the direction of all the commotion. Frankie was sipping on some coke as he followed Santi, nearly choking on his drink as he spotted you.

“No way, Fish!”, Santi laughed, doubling over in his enthusiasm.

“That your girl?”, Tom asked with a confused look on his face.

He was rendered speechless, just slowly nodding as he looked at you. This was your “entertainment” job you refused to tell him about? So you weren’t like a private dancer? Just a.. princess for hire? He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not, feeling bewildered more than anything. When the initial shock settled he could actually take a good look at you. Will was right, you did look gorgeous, beaming like that. The dress was beautiful too, making you look regal, if not divine. It was a sight Frankie could get used to, you were adorable. You looked up from where you were crouched, talking to some kid and locked eyes with him.

A fucking deer in headlights. You felt your heart drop, blood rushing to your face. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, not wanting any of the kids to suspect anything was off. But fuck, this wasn’t the plan at all.

He disappeared back into the kitchen, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. At least Benny would keep his hands off. Will clasped his shoulder, grinning wickedly. “Goddamn Fish, you got yourself a whole princess, huh?”

Normally you felt rather comfortable in your role, singing and dancing for and with the kids as they please, but now, knowing that your boyfriend was here.. it was gonna be a long two hours. Everything was fine until Tessa tugged on your corset, beckoning you to bend down a little.

“Yes, dear?”, you asked.

“My uncles are staring at you”, she whispered, “maybe you should dance with them.”

Your lips curled up involuntarily, your bashfulness gaining the upper hand. “Is that what you really want, Tessa?”

The little girl nodded, twisting some of your locks around her tiny finger. “But uncle Frankie has a girlfriend, so you can’t dance with him”, she explained.

“Of course, that would not be very ladylike”, you assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Your pick, love.”

She hauled you over to Santiago of all guys, giggling as she ran away, leaving the two of you just awkwardly standing there. “Tessa wants us to dance”, you sighed, picking at your fingers.

“Did she now?”, he humoured, “Well who am I to turn a princess down.”

He extended his hand, motioning for you to take it. And so you did. The two of you walked back over to the improvised dance floor. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, as Santiago placed a hand on your waist, the other one holding onto your palm. It was one simple waltz, where he learned this you didn’t know, but as you spun around you caught a glimpse of your surroundings. All the way in the back stood Frankie, leaning against a doorpost.

“Don’t worry about him, he can take it”, Pope soothed you, circling around once more.

You twirled out of his grasp, only to come back in four counts later. “I just feel bad that I didn’t tell him.”

“He’ll understand, but for now, let’s annoy him a bit more.”

You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at this, nodding before you devoted all your attention to the dance again. At the end you curtsied, as did he, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. You saw Frankie shift in the corner of your eye, Benny already making his way over to you.

“Got one more for me?”, he asked, clearly wanting to play along.

You made another reverence, accepting yet again. “How pissed is he gonna be?”, you questioned as he laid his hands on you.

“Fuming”, Benny chuckled, starting to sway along to the music.

It became clear that he was an inexperienced dancer when he stepped on your toes for the fourth time. You just smiled at him, despite wanting to curse him out. He wasn’t doing it on purpose though, offering a mumbled apology each time it happened. That was until he stepped on your foot mid, twirl, making you bend it at an awkward angle. You heard somewhat of a crack before losing your balance. Because he was so close he had no issue steadying you.

“I think I just sprained my ankle”, you whispered, smile faltering due to your discomfort.

“Can you stand on it?”

You get tried to put some more weight on it, nearly falling in your attempt. Benny caught you yet again, putting your arm around his shoulder, guiding you towards one of the chairs.

Frankie was by your side before you could so much as blink, crouching down next to your chair. “Everything alright?”

“Her ankle’s fu- not good”, Benny informed him, grabbing the nearest bottle of water.

“We should take this inside, away from the kids”, you whispered, noticing the little heads turned in your direction.

Frankie nodded, sliding an arm under the backs of your knees, swiftly picking you up. He carried you into the house without a word, setting you down on the couch. You bent over to slide your heel off, whining at the sensitivity.

“What happened out there?”, he asked from the kitchen.

You lifted your skirt to get a good look. “He stepped on my foot and I bent it.”

“Shit – think it’s broken?” He knelt down again, resting your foot on his thigh as he carefully laid some ice on it.

You flinched at the touch, pursing your lips as you nodded rather frantically. “Yep, yep, yep. That’s never a good sign.”

“Okay, I’m taking you to the ER, c’mon”, he announced, once again picking you up. “I know my truck is no carriage but..”

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t you dare make fun of me now.”

 He sat with you the entire time you were in the ER. Since you weren’t injured that badly you mostly were just stuck in the waiting room, in pure agony. You got some strange looks in your dress, but you’d abandoned the wig and corset. Frankie stuck by your side the entire time, kissing you forehead and holding your hand when he felt like it.

“I think you’re up, princesa”, he murmured, pointing towards the doctor approaching you.

 You had indeed fractured your ankle. The x-rays proved as much, a clean break on the bone. The doctor gave you some advice as to how to treat it and what not to do and left you in a small room with Frankie, waiting for a nurse to come apply your cast.

“Are you mad?”, you asked quietly.

He quirked a brow at you, trying to read you. “What?”

“Well.. the dancing and just not telling you and-“

He kissed you, shushing you with his mouth. “Honey, you were doing your job and the guys were just playing around. Why would I be mad?”

“It’s just that.. well in the past my job has.. you know, put an end to things…”, you said with a trembling lip.

He cupped your face, making you look up at him. “I don’t care about what you do for a living, baby, princess or not, you’ll always be my princesa.”

You blinked away a few tears, leaning back in to close the gap once again. “I love you so much, Frankie.”

“Te quiero mucho, mi amor. But.. you do owe me a dance.”

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Hello you told me not to hold back so I’m gonna be ANNOYING feel free to ignore indefinitely until you’re feeling it but I’m gonna send you like a bunch of prompts cause I can’t sleep and am stalling finishing my own fic.

First one: Bobby (obviously), Reggie or Luke or friends I don’t even care, tea and blankets

lol hi have a rebuke cuddle-puddle disaster, also available on ao3 here. warning for swearing and very vague allusions to physical child abuse.

i guess we belong to each other | reggielukebobby | 1.8k words

--

Luke has his guitar in his lap and his writing notebook by his side even though it's late at night. He's playing his acoustic, so that he has no chance of stirring Bobby's parents from where he's sat in their studio, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, it's cold enough that he's found one of Alex's hoodies in the back of the studio, a black one Alex never wears any more, and he's bundled up in it to try to fight off the chills. He regrets storming out earlier this evening — not because his parents might be worried, he's still too mad at them for that, but because he misses his own warm bed in a house with central heating.

But it's late, and he doesn't want to bother Bobby, who's already been generous enough as it is (and is exceptionally grumpy when he's woken in the middle of the night). So Alex's old hoodie, smelling vaguely of the dusty studio and distantly of Alex, will have to do.

A noise distracts Luke from his writing. Something outside the studio, maybe an animal, but it sounded like footsteps. Cautiously, he draws his guitar closer, running through what he could say if it's Bobby's parents, his heart suddenly rabbit-fast in his chest.

A head pokes through the door.

Luke's shoulders drop with relief.

It's Reggie.

He looks a little scruffy, not like himself, because usually Reggie pays such close attention to his appearance, fusses over his hair and colour-codes his outfits and shaves with the precision of a professional painter. But he kinda looks messy, which makes Luke's stomach feel even colder than the air around him.

“Oh! Hey, man,” Reggie laughs, putting on a big smile, and it'd fool anyone else — Reggie's too experienced at this for his own good. “I didn't know you'd be here!”

“Hi, Reg,” says Luke, sounding a little distracted even to his own ears as he carefully looks Reggie over. He's not walking like he's been hurt, and there are no visible injuries. So that's something. Jesus, Luke wouldn't know what to do if Reggie turned up here with a fresh version of the bruises Luke sometimes catches him trying to hide. “You, uh — you good?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Reggie agrees easily, saunters into the studio and slumps down on the couch next to Luke. The relaxed way he moves soothes Luke's worry somewhat. “The house was just — ugh. You know how they can be.” Looking over at Luke, Reggie adds, “Hey, isn't that Alex's hoodie? I was wondering what had happened to that.”

“Hey!” Luke sputters, a little defensive. “He didn't, like, loan it to me or anything, it was just here! I found it.”

“It is cold,” Reggie concedes, pulling his flannel a little tighter around him. “Wish I'd brought my jacket, but it was in the kitchen and I didn't wanna. I dunno. Didn't wanna get in the way.”

Luke nods, puts his guitar to the side so he can press up against Reggie's side. Hip to hip, his cheek on Reggie's shoulder, links their ankles together and puts an arm over Reggie's stomach. Almost automatically, Reggie links his arms around Luke in turn.

Honestly, Luke was intending to steal some of Reggie's body heat, but after Reggie's walk outside and in such a thin layer, he thinks Reggie's probably leeching his own. Luke lets him go ahead; Reggie seems to need it more than he does.

They sit for a moment, both unusually quiet, huddling and not talking. Not so much for a lack of things to talk about, but more because any topic that comes to Luke's mind feels insurmountably complex and emotional. There’s so much stuff he can't tell Reggie — so much stuff Reggie isn't telling him. So they sit together and try to create some warmth without the need for disclosure.

Until there's another set of scuffled footsteps outside.

“Not Alex too,” Reggie sighs, at a whispered volume so that the newcomer can't hear him, “he squirms so much in his sleep, man, I can't share this pull-out with him again.”

Luke muffles a laugh with the back of his hand, but he can't help worry it's Alex, too. Things have been... okay, he thinks, with Alex's folks since he came out, but he also knows Alex hoped for better. Suspects there are things Alex isn't telling them (so they all have that in common).

But it's not Alex. Preceded by an armful of blankets that he's almost tripping on, Bobby staggers in, still in his pajamas and with his eyes almost all the way closed. “Luke? It's fucking freezing, I thought I'd—” He stops when he gets far enough in to see Reggie on the couch too. “Oh, shit.”

“Hey, Bobby,” says Reggie, voice a little nervous. “I hope it's okay that I—”

“Shut up,” Bobby grumbles, and dumps the whole pile of blankets on top of Reggie. “You guys are stupid. You're both out here, in the freezing cold, and neither of you come wake me up?”

“We didn't want—” Luke starts, at the same time as Reggie insists, “You were sleeping—!”

“Idiots,” Bobby growls, rubbing his eye with his sweater paw and yawning. He looks stupidly cute, like a little kid. “You're idiots, and I hate dealing with you. I'll be back.” Turning to leave the studio again, he turns back and adds, “Hurry up and burrito yourselves in those blankets, I swear to god. And Luke, isn’t that Alex’s hoodie?”

“He left it—!” Luke starts, but Bobby’s already gone, leaving Luke with Reggie, cackling at him.

—

By the time Bobby returns, Luke and Reggie have folded the couch out into its bed form, and are snuggling under the several blankets, giggling together as they talk about how grumpy Bobby had been.

“We should have woken him up,” Reggie snorts, “I think then he would have been less pissed.”

“I would have,” Bobby agrees, sounding somewhere between menacing and amused, as he reappears over them. His hair is all shaggy in his face. He's carrying a teapot. And cups. “Sit up.”

Luke does right away, Reggie pulling himself up a little slower. Bobby sits cross-legged at the foot of the couch-bed, tucking his socked toes under his own legs to keep warm, and pours them each a mug of what smells like peppermint tea. Suddenly, Luke can't imagine anything better in the world. When Bobby offers him a cup, he takes it eagerly, wrapping his cold hands around it and enjoying the steam wafting up to his face.

“Wow,” says Reggie softly, eyes wide, “thanks, Bobby.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke echoes, letting out a sigh as he takes his first sip.

“Forget it,” Bobby says, a little bitey. Luke knows it's because Bobby hates being seen as nice, so he doesn't take it personally, and he knows Reggie won't either. He has his own cup, which he drinks as though it's done something to offend him, scowling off into the corner of the studio. Reggie nudges Bobby with his foot from under the layers of blankets, and a tiny smile tugs at Bobby's mouth as he nudges Reggie back with his elbow.

After the cup of tea, Luke feels better. He feels warmer on the inside, now, and sleepy too. Reggie is starting to get that dopey, slow blink that shows he's on the verge of sleep as well. Bobby clears his throat and holds out a hand, beckoning for their empty cups. Luke and Reggie hand them over.

“Okay,” says Bobby, after a pause. “G'night, guys.” He goes to stand, but Reggie leans forward and catches Bobby's sleeve.

“Would you stay?” he asks, as if he can't help himself, as if on sheer impulse, but he doesn’t look embarrassed afterwards.

“Reg!” Luke says, a little startled. “It's cold out here, he won't want—”

But he sees Bobby's face, and he stops himself. Because he can see it in Bobby's eyes. That he does want. He’s Bobby, so he won't say it, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on some point behind Luke and Reggie's heads, but Luke has known Bobby for too long to miss something this obvious, no matter what else Bobby can hide from him.

“That being said,” Luke backtracks hurriedly, “it would be warmer with you here, Wilson. I'm happy to be a leech.”

“That's all I'm good for, huh?” Bobby snorts, but he's already setting the mugs down on the floor near the side of the bed, already shuffling the teapot down there too. He hops up for a moment, and Luke wonders where he’s going, before he realises Bobby is just switching off the light. When Bobby comes back, he pauses, like he's not sure where he fits, and Luke and Reggie make eye contact for only a second before they move apart, leaving a space in the middle.

Bobby looks even less sure of himself, eyebrows knitted, jaw tight. His hands flex and one of them twists in the hem of his sweater. Luke gets it. It looks too much like it's on Bobby's behalf, like they’re doing it to make space for Bobby. Bobby’s always had trouble accepting anything that seems like it’s for his own benefit.

“I already sucked all Reggie's warmth up,” Luke explains.

“Yeah,” Reggie agrees immediately, and Luke loves him, “and you're warmer than Luke anyway, man. I wanna huddle with you. As a penguin, you would be my first-choice huddle-buddy.”

Bobby barks a laugh. “The fuck? What does that even mean?” Finally, he wriggles his way under the blankets in between them, and rolls his eyes when they both throw limbs over him right away, twining legs and arms together and resting cheeks on his chest.

“Like, if we were penguins. You know? In the winter?” Reggie says, like this is totally obvious and self-explanatory. “If I was a penguin, I'd be looking for the Bobby-penguin in the winter huddle to stick close to.”

“Aaand I'm at my capacity for dumb shit,” Bobby says, closing his eyes pointedly, but it's a scam, because his hands come to run through Luke and Reggie's hair. “Goodnight, morons.”

“Goodnight, Bobby,” they chorus. This close, Luke could almost brush noses with Reggie, has to try to focus his eyes to keep Reggie from getting blurry. Reggie sticks his tongue out at Luke just a little, and Luke grins back, links his fingers with Reggie’s over Bobby’s stomach, rubbing over Reggie’s knuckles until Reggie’s fingers don’t feel so much like icicles. When Luke uses his free hand to tug the neckline of Alex’s hoodie up over his nose, the familiar smell of the third piece of his heart soothes him right down.

The feel of Bobby’s fingernails on his scalp makes Luke’s eyelids flutter, and before he knows it he’s dopey, the world feeling blurrier and safer and cozier. Honestly, more like home than his own house would have. He no longer daydreams of returning to his own warm bed. Instead, he feels the way Bobby’s chest rises and falls with his breaths, pushing his and Reggie’s joined hands up and down. If he listens closely, Luke can hear Bobby’s heartbeat, familiar and steady.

Maybe the cold isn't all bad.

--

other prompt fills here :)

jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @malecacidd @burntchromas @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @chickwiththepurpleguitar @fairylightsandrainydays @joyandthephantoms @fighttoshine @michelangelinda @queenofthequillandink 

[stubbychaos]

A Guilty Conscience

Chapter 10 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While you get used to your new role in the tribe, you make it your mission to meet the ones who are to be your family. While befriending some unlikely members of the tribe, Paz later surprises you with something that he thinks will make you happy, though it ends up having the opposite effect.

Rating: T

Word Count: 14,000 *Y’all idk how this happened, I’m so sorry lol*

Warnings: Some unresolved sexual tension, minor injuries and reader still dealing with a bunch of past trauma. Other than that, this chapter is pretty harmless!

Just a quick mention: Thank you as always to @datmando for inspiring me and giving me so many amazing ideas for this story!! You’ve helped me so much with this story and getting through writer’s block and I freaking love you <3 Thank you as well to @aerynwrites @hdlynnslibrary and @maybege for all being wonderful and I love you all for motivating me to write more Paz!!

Also thank you to @coredrive​ for the beautiful gifs you made!! If anyone wants quality gifs for their stories, masterlists, etc... please go to Kat because she was so freaking lovely and sweet!!

“Would you like one of my shirts, ner cyare?”

You turn around, coming face to face with an unarmored Paz who is sitting on the foot of the bed, his forearms lazily resting on top of his thighs as he observes the way you hopelessly shift the torn, silky fabric in your hands. You turn to face the culprit who is currently curled up in a white rocky ball close to the furnace in the main area of Paz’s private quarters, seeming completely unbothered and not regretful that she had used your only sleep attire as a chewing toy while you were in the shower and Paz was talking to the armorer.

“That would be nice, thank you,” You murmur softly, watching with a smile as he promptly stands and makes his way over to the dresser near his bed while you discard the torn, silky fabric.

Though a few days have passed since the fight without incident--much to your appreciation--you notice Paz acting differently around you and while it’s not in a bad way by any means, it still has your curiosity growing. You notice how he almost seems worried about letting you stray too far from him, though you’re certain it’s not because he’s concerned one of his own will hurt you again, but perhaps he has the same fears you hold in your very own heart. While you’ve only been with the tribe for three days, you find yourself getting less sleep with every passing day, afraid that when you wake up, you’ll be right back at the village infirmary with your estranged father.

Perhaps he’s anxious that if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll randomly decide to leave without a word or trace.

The thought amuses you and also fills your heart with grief, wondering how the Mandalorian could possibly conjure the thought of you even thinking about leaving the place that had quickly become your safe haven.

“I’m going to shower, if you want to change,” Paz gruffly voices as he approaches you with a thick, black garment and you perk up a little upon feeling how warm it is--how warm it will keep you.

Once the Mandalorian is in the refresher, you’re quick to strip your clothes, smiling softly as you neatly fold the emerald, long-sleeved dress that Ima had found for you in a designated stack of clothes that wasn’t being worn by anyone in the tribe. Once you are only in your shorts, you grab Paz’s black shirt that he must wear over all his padding and sheepishly tug it over your head, instantly relishing in how it smells just like him--all woodsy and spicy and just like the soap he uses. The material is incredibly thick, though it’s not stiff and doesn’t make it feel like you’re suffocating; it feels soft and comforting against your bare skin, engulfing you so warmly just like one of his embraces, though you still long for the intense pressure of his arms around you. The sleeves that usually come to an end just above his elbows now fall just a few inches above your wrists and the hem skims the middle of your thighs.

As you sit on the edge of the bed and get to work on tending to your braids and all the tangles from the hair you had chosen to leave down, you think of how surreal everything still feels and how all the horrors you had ever dreamed about running away from are currently above you in the village. You try your hardest not to think about it, and instead, your mind wanders to the tribe and its intimidating, rambunctious warriors that you’ve been interacting with in the covert for the past few days.

It’s been… an interesting experience, to say the least.

For people who you used to be terrified of until recently, you think it’s somewhat surprising as well as amusing that Paz had been correct when he mentioned them being quite mischievous when it came to you, though you’re certain most of it comes from you being an outsider and not understanding their language. It had already happened a couple times where you would be exploring the enclave, trying to memorize the tunnels and where different ones led, and you would run into a small group of Mandos speaking in their native tongue as you shyly approached them to introduce yourself.

Most of the time they would simply peer down at you while informing you that they already knew who you were--that they had seen you standing your ground against Paz, which apparently nobody in the tribe had ever really done before. It was quite interesting seeing everyone’s perspective towards their heavy-infantry warrior, how they knew him to be one of the strongest in the tribe and how they respected him for it. However, it was also slightly amusing that they seemed to have no problem making jokes at his expense--talking about how they were glad you were at the covert so he would stop being grouchy and angry all the time.

Ima, you found, was the exact same way, although she had no qualms about berating the man she called her uncle to his face.

Seeing the way the teenager and your blue warrior interacted with one another felt like some sort of special phenomenon that you had never really witnessed before--a relationship stronger than that between a sister and a brother, but not quite as profound as one between a daughter and father. You thought uncle and niece was a good way to describe it and though you’re curious as to why Ima doesn’t call anyone else in the tribe ‘brother’ or ‘sister’, you decide it’s better not to ask for the sake of accidentally bringing up a sad memory.

You’re too deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice a hulking figure emerge from the refresher minutes later, a few water droplets dripping down his shoulders and back as he mindlessly observes you combing through your hair with your fingers.

A small cough startles you and you turn your head to gaze at Paz, his helmet slightly tilted to the side as he stares at you through the guise of that unforgiving visor. Your fingers are still threaded in your damp hair, your bare legs dangling off the side of his bed with your sock-clad toes barely skimming the stone floor as you blink owlishly at him, still not used to seeing him expose so much of his skin.

He’s not saying anything and it has you slightly worried--have you done something wrong? 

“Paz, are you okay?”

His bare, broad shoulders tense upwards when you shift on the bed, finally working through a stubborn tangle as you tilt your head at him; you find yourself doing that a lot more lately and you think being surrounded by so many Mandalorians has their little mannerisms rubbing off on you.

You move to get up when he doesn't say anything, now worried that you really have done something wrong, but Paz shakes his head and squashes your worries immediately.

"No--I mean, yes," He huffs and shakes his helmet a little harder when you stand up next to the bed to pull the thick fur away from the pillows it's tucked under while he moves to turn off the lights, "I'm fine, just a little tired, cyare."

You nod your understanding, feeling your own exhaustion creeping up on you, though today had been a relatively easy day in regards to treating scrapes and bruises. You’ve come to find that some of the younger, less trained Mandalorians aren’t exactly the most graceful on their feet, some tripping over their own capes while descending staircases, while others who are less skilled with blades or blasters manage to slip up and injure themselves. It’s definitely not the kind of injuries you’re used to tending--minor ones--but you find it much more pleasant and rewarding than your job in the village, especially when everyone here has treated you politely, for the most part.

You know that even while you had been accepted into the tribe, it doesn’t quite make you part of the family to some, especially to those who still felt as though you should swear the creed to be fully accepted. It was a big detail you had worried about quite a bit, whether or not you would have to swear the creed and wear a helmet just as the rest of them, but you think that perhaps it is a topic you should speak to the armorer about.

You slide underneath the heavy fur and exhale a content sigh, reminding yourself that such worries could wait until morning.

A yawn leaves you just as you hear the quiet hiss of Paz’s helmet being removed before he places it on his nightstand and a tired smile stretches your lips when you feel the mattress dip underneath the weight of the warrior’s body.

Before you can even turn to face him, his huge arm is wrapped around your waist and he’s carefully moving you closer to him; an intense warmth spreads throughout your cheeks when he holds you close, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wastes no time in placing a kiss to the top of your damp hair. You can feel the heat from his bare chest already spreading throughout your entire body and you curl your legs back to press your feet against his bare ankles.

He lets out a small huff as he curls his fingers into the soft material of his shirt covering your abdomen and leans down to press a tender kiss to your cheek, “You are lucky I love you, or else I would not let you wear socks in our bed.”

The ‘our bed’ comment definitely doesn’t go over your head and you hold back a giggle when he sighs against your warm skin, his thumb stroking firm circles near your belly button, “I cannot help it that my feet are always cold.”

His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he settles behind you, his hand moving a little lower to your hip, just underneath where your cauterized wound is still healing, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, “I told you that you’d do nothing to warm our bed up, mesh’la, I knew I was right. You’re always freezing.”

“If I recall correctly, you told me that you would not mind keeping me warm,” You remind him of what he had said the night he had told you his name, your cheeks growing hot when you feel his lips against the outer shell of your ear, “And you are doing no such thing, ori kebiin.”

“You are a funny woman,” Paz is still trying not to laugh as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, long fingers splayed widely against your burning cheeks, “You feel plenty warm to me, sweetheart.”

Realizing that there’s no way of beating the Mandalorian at his own game, you give up and simply shuffle your curled toes between his calves, making him grunt a little when he feels the blocks of ice that are your sock-clad feet through the material of his sleep pants. He cups your jaw and urges your head to the side a little, using his thumb that’s pressed to the corner of your lips to seek them out with his own.

This close intimacy is certainly another thing you’ve noticed since you forgave him after the fight--him wanting to kiss and touch you whenever it’s just the two of you. It’s definitely something you don’t mind, you realize as his tongue firmly swipes across your bottom lip, and you find yourself growing more comfortable and relaxed when it comes to accepting little touches from him. You can tell that it’s something he’s nervous about when you two are just laying in his bed, wide awake when sleep refuses to wrap itself around the two of you--that he’s worried something he does will set you off.

He always tries to keep his touches to your thighs and hips feather-light after politely asking if it’s okay for him to touch you there and a part of you wonders if he’s already concluded that you’re simply not used to people asking you for consent when it comes to certain things.

Even if it’s not the reason why, you’re still grateful he always asks and his consideration fills your heart with warmth whenever he seems so hellbent on making sure you’re comfortable when you two find yourself in these sort of intimate settings. It doesn’t necessarily feel like it’s him testing your boundaries, but more so him seeing what you like and what gets certain noises out of you, though you find your skin quite sensitive to every nip and lick he inflicts on you.

A part of you is grateful that he usually lies on his back when the two of you are holding one another, as the thought of being pinned underneath anyone again, even your blue warrior, lingers like a storm cloud in the back of your mind.

Currently, however, you focus on the way his fingers tentatively curl around your thigh, just below the hem of the shirt he had given you and your lashes flutter as he guides your head back a little so he has more access to your throat. He seems a little more eager tonight, you think, and as his fingers curl into the thick fabric at your thighs while he dutifully presses tender kisses to your sensitive skin, you start to slowly put the pieces together.

“Paz?” His name comes out in the form of a breathy whisper as he settles back to press a kiss into your damp hair.

He still seems slightly dazed as he brings his arm back to curl tightly around your waist, “Hm?”

“Earlier, when you were staring at me when you came out of the shower,” You grin a little when you feel the way his arms tense around your middle, “Was it… is it because I’m wearing your shirt?”

Paz huffs an amused noise and you’re certain you’ve left him flustered for once as he slowly shifts his body until he’s able to rest his chin against the slope of your neck, “I like the way you look in anything, cyare, but something about seeing you wearing my clothes--it does things to me. I can’t say that I am upset that your vulptex tore up your nightgown, not with how beautiful you look right now.”

“You can’t even see me right now, silly man.”

“I don’t need to,” He mumbles, his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he lazily tends to all the little marks he left behind with his lips and teeth the previous night, “I remember everything about you, ner cyare, like how your eyes always get big whenever you see me taking off my armor and my clothes. Perhaps my sweet little nurse isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

You nearly let out with a whimper when you feel his tongue on your skin, your cheeks burning furiously as his hand cautiously grazes up your thigh, “Is this okay?”

His tepid breath fanning along the column of your throat makes you shiver a little and your voice cracks a little when you speak, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He repeats with a soft sigh, his hand moving past the little shorts you typically wear to bed and up to your bare hip, just underneath where your blaster wound is still tender, though not nearly causing you as much pain, “Stars, your skin is so damn soft and your hair smells good--just like those flowers you’re always wearing.”

You let your eyes close as he continues to explore your stomach with feather-like strokes, seeming content to simply warm you with his large hand and you feel your thighs clench together firmly when he rubs a sensitive spot just underneath your belly button. His hands are leaving a scorching blaze in their wake and you feel a deep shudder wrack your body upon feeling the wet, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving just underneath your earlobe. 

Despite the ache between your thighs, you jump when his fingertips barely graze just above the hem of your shorts and he immediately freezes upon feeling the tension in your body.

“I’m sorry,” Your ears grow hot with shame and you think he must be frustrated with you for not feeling ready to be intimate on this kind of level yet, “I just--”

“Hey, don’t you dare ever apologize for knowing when you’re not ready,” He whispers, moving his lips away from your jaw and removing his hand from underneath the shirt he let you borrow, “I shouldn’t have done that--I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay,” You weakly reassure him, smiling softly when he politely fixes your shirt, dragging the hem back down your thighs, “I... I want to be with you like that and I thought I was ready but I... I don’t know.”

“You do not owe me an explanation. I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” Paz promises in a rushed tone as he moves to unlatch his arm from around you, though you are quick to stop him, “I am sorry if I was too forward, cyare. I want you to only ever feel comfortable around me and if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like, please tell me, okay? I’ll never be mad at you.”

“I love you, Paz.”

He relaxes against you and presses another tender kiss into the hair above the tip of your ear, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare.”

You smile into the darkness at the warmth his words bring you, though you can’t help but to feel doubt towards yourself and you turn your head a little over your shoulder until his warm breath fans across the plane of your cheek. Even though you can’t see him in the slightest, you like to imagine his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully--curiously--and you hear him let out an inquisitive hum when you murmur his name.

“I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple of days,” You admit softly, placing your hand on top of the much larger one that’s resting just under your sternum, “I’m scared that every night here is going to be my last one--that someone isn’t going to want me here because I haven’t sworn to the creed and that I don’t wear a helmet or armor.”

Paz exhales softly and you close your eyes when his minty breath tickles your nostrils, “Our alor already knows that you were to be brought to the tribe to be our nurse, not a fighter. I made it clear to everyone that you would not have to wear our armor and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me or the armorer. You’re not going anywhere… not if you don’t want to.”

You detect the way his voice lowers into a much more sheepish, subdued tone upon whispering the last part and your suspicions from earlier are proved correct.

He’s afraid that you’re going to change your mind about staying with the tribe.

In an attempt to squash his own fears and insecurities, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and urge his arm up past your chest until you are able to lean your head down a little and kiss his calloused knuckles tenderly. He lets out a content sigh as you let him splay his fingers out widely against the swell of your breast, your heart pounding frantically against his palm while his thumb studies your firm pulse at the base of your neck.

“I just want to be wherever you are, Paz,” You murmur, your lips stretching into a smile when he tenderly kisses your cheek again.

“I feel the same way about you,” He sighs, finally relaxing completely as you keep his hand cradled to your chest, “Anything else you’re losing sleep over, cyare?”

For a moment it sounds like he’s teasing you, but something about the rawness and sincerity of his voice makes you think differently and you swallow the lump in your throat as you think of the little boy from the nursery--the one that had clung onto your leg and hugged you. Though a part of you wants to ask Paz more about how he was found and what happened to his parents, you think it best not to ask and shake your head a little bit.

It is none of your business.

“Try to get some rest,” Paz murmurs against your cheek, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, “I’ll make sure to wake you up if you have any nightmares.”

You murmur a tired ‘thank you’ and let your eyes slip shut, feeling reassured by his words and the feathery press of his lips against the tail of your brow, along with the way his thumb continues to rest atop your pulse point at the bottom of your neck.

For once, you sleep restfully--not necessarily dreaming of much, but not really having any nightmares either. You’re stuck in a strange limbo for the rest of the night and at one point, you feel Paz stroking your brow in an effort to calm you down upon feeling your body jolt when you wake from a strange dream that has you crying out.

As you fall back asleep underneath the comforting guidance of his hands and sweet whispers against the shell of your ear, you briefly wonder if the heavy-infantry warrior ever sleeps.

The next morning when you wake up and tiredly crack your eyes open, Paz is already fumbling around the little kitchenette, his helmet and underclothes now on and you prop yourself up on an elbow as you watch him set a wooden bowl down in front of your excited vulptex. The dish is filled with colorful fruit and chunks of meat and you think it must be the best meal she’s had since she was born, what with her dramatic reaction. She lets out long, happy little squeaks between bites and you think you hear something reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle from Paz’s vocoder when he reaches out to graze a bare hand along her rocky spine.

“And here I thought you hated her,” You murmur with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head before gracelessly rolling out of bed, the room dimly lit as you make your way over to your beloved companions, “You and everyone else are always calling her a runt.”

Paz snorts and shakes his head a little, tilting his head a little as he hands you a bowl of fruit that has some yogurt underneath, “She is a runt, saviin--doesn’t mean I hate her for it. Besides, she tried to bite Djarin in the leg yesterday, so I guess she’s starting to grow on me.”

You huff a little at that as you savor the fresh berries, your taste buds still not used to such sweet food, and you shake your head at your Mandalorian, “You better not be training my sweet vulptex to attack others, Paz.”

“I would do no such thing,” Paz still sounds a little smug as he begins to put on all of his thick padding and heavy armor, “I’d only train her how to attack the bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he puts his armor on piece by piece, the same way he’s done it every morning for the last couple of days he’s been here. It must be a routine for him, you think as you watch him clip his pauldrons in place and work his way down his body; you find the whole process to be mesmerizing and you wonder if he’s been doing this every single day for nearly his entire life.

“I can feel you staring at me, cyare.”

You feel your cheeks warm up when you promptly turn your attention to the breakfast that Paz had kindly made for you, though you had insisted the previous mornings that you didn’t expect him to do this for you. Your heart warms when you remember how he had admitted that it made him happy to see you enjoy little basic necessities that you had been robbed of nearly your entire life and you stopped arguing after that.

Though it was only yogurt and fruit, you still felt like the most spoiled woman in the galaxy.

After completing your usual morning routine, along with braiding the top half of your hair around the crown of your head, you pick out your clothes for the day and scoop your needy little vulptex into the crook of your elbow, her favorite resting place, it seems.

“What am I going to do when she gets too big and I can’t carry her like this?”

Paz snorts as you wait for him to snap his gauntlets into place around his black, leather gloves, “If you didn’t spoil her so much and carry her around all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem, cyare.”

You pout a little at that, struggling not to smile when he gives your earlobe a playful tug once he’s finished with his big gauntlets, “Her leg is still sore--would you really be so heartless to make her walk around the covert?”

“She seemed to have no problem limping around until you showed up and started carrying her all over the place.”

Not having a solid rebuttal to the playful words, you simply shake your head and watch as he checks all the big pouches attached to his utility belt. Your eyes immediately land on the vibroblade sheathed at his hip and you let out a shaky sigh when you remember the Trandoshan, though Paz seems to notice the change in your attitude and shields that side of his body from you.

“C’mon cyare, we have a long day.”

Following close behind Paz, the two of you make your way out of his private quarters and down the tunnels where others are starting to trickle out of their rooms as well. You’ve come to find that with the exception of a few Mandos, the tribe tends to stick to a pretty strict routine of going to bed at a certain time and waking up earlier, though you find this to work out quite nicely for you. Whereas once you were getting two or three hours of sleep a night, along with maybe a thirty minute nap on your break, you now have the entire night to rest, even if you don’t always get the best sleep.

Perhaps he’s worried that you’ll get lost, even though you memorized the directions to your little office on the second day of being at the covert, but you allow Paz to guide you there anyways, grateful for his company when you know you won’t see him until tonight. Though you feel slightly sad upon making it to your destination, you’re somewhat anxious and eager to see what today brings you and who you might meet.

With a gentle kiss of his Beskar forehead against yours, you and the heavy-infantry warrior part ways for the day and you contentedly enter the little office that you had managed to clean up pretty well since your arrival. As you enter the little alcove, something feels off and you quickly detect the sounds of soft hums and discontented grunts. 

You freeze upon finding out that you are not the only one occupying the room and your brows shoot up at the strange spectacle taking place in front of you.

In front of your desk, where you had placed a small pot of violets that you’d taken from the room Paz and Ima had decorated for you, is an unarmored Mandalorian who’s currently inspecting something you wrote down on a little notepad the previous day. Though the Mando is wearing a light grey helmet with chipped away emeral trimmings around the visor and cheeks, you think they must be one of the elders in the tribe, what with their hunched over form, wavering hands, and the long staff they wield.

You don’t miss the sharp, pointed tip of the walking stick that is made from what you’re certain is Beskar and you make sure to approach slowly, not wanting to frighten the Mandalorian, though the thought of you startling a warrior is slightly amusing to you.

They’re humming something that you can barely make out through their modulator and your lips instantly stretch into a faint grin when you realize they’re reading the little list you had started of all the Mandalorians you had met in the tribe so far, along with the colors of their armor and their names to help you memorize the people who are supposed to be your new family. You watch with curiosity as the unarmored Mandalorian grabs one of your pens from the little cup next to your notepad, leaning down to try to scribble something down, though they seem to grow frustrated with how shaky their hands are.

You decide to step in when you hear a disgruntled voice uttering curse words under their breath that you’ve never even heard Paz say before and your cheeks grow warm.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Immediately, the Mandalorian whips around with a small gasp, making you jump as well and you hastily take a few steps backwards when they turn around to face you, their hand pressed tight to where their heart must be frantically pounding, just like yours currently is. Your eyes are wide, hands nervously clutched together as the Mandalorian tilts their faded, scuffed up helmet to the side while observing you closely. Though you think they must be elderly, they stand about only one or two inches taller than you and you’re finally grateful to meet someone who isn’t terrifyingly large or as tiny as one of the younglings.

“You cannot sneak up on me like that!” He lightly admonishes in a deep, gruff voice, still holding his bare, wrinkled hand over his heart, “I am not nearly as alert as I used to be, but it doesn’t mean I can’t deal out some damage still.”

He lifts the staff to show you the pointed, steel bottom of it and you immediately nod your understanding, bowing your head a little, “Of course, I am so sorry! I wasn’t sure if you were hurt or not and I just thought…”

You bite your bottom lip nervously--what were you even thinking?

“Ah, I see,” He seems to relax then, pulling out the chair in front of your desk and sinking down into it with a pained grunt while you continue to wring your fingers together in an anxious manner, “So you must be my replacement--the nurse Paz insisted on bringing to the tribe.”

Maker, did your Mandalorian actually tell the entire damn tribe about you?

Your leg bounces as soon as you take a seat at the end of the medical cot and you brush a few unruly hairs from your forehead before speaking to the elderly man, “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a replacement, sir. I’m sure I could never be as good of a medic as you are for your people. I’m just here to help out as much as I can.”

He chuckles and shakes his helmet at your humbled statement, propping his steel cane against his thigh and you feel a twinge of sadness deep within your soul as he stares down at his trembling hands. You notice his right hand is trembling more than the left and you think that must be his dominant hand--the one he would typically use for certain medical procedures--and you remember what Paz had mentioned about the tribe’s medic growing too ill and shaky to actually help others.

‘No wonder why the office was so dusty and everything was unused,’ you think to yourself sorrowfully, your eyes taking in all the big dents and scuff marks on his gray and crimson helmet.

“Hey, don’t give me those sad eyes, little one,” He admonishes you again and though you don’t remember having any kind of grandparent in your life, you think being scolded by this man must be what it feels like to have one, “I was told by Paz that you are a tough one--a warrior, just like us.”

You offer him a wry smile, “I suppose he didn’t tell you that I tend to cry quite a bit as well?”

“Oh, he definitely mentioned that,” The Mandalorian chortles and you can’t help but to grin at that, immediately feeling better at how playful he sounds, “I was hoping he was messing around with me--our people aren’t exactly the best with tears and emotions, but I suppose it is not a bad thing. During times like these, the tribe could use a little more happiness and vulnerability.”

You contemplate his words deeply, thinking of the few times Paz had informed you that because of the Empire, his people were nearly extinct and you wonder how this stranger could so easily accept you into the tribe without really knowing you. Seeing how worn out and damaged his dented helmet is, you can’t help but to wonder what he’s been through and though he seems to be more of an eccentric member of the tribe, you’re certain he’s been through hell and back.

“If you do not mind me asking--” You offer him a fond gaze, your smile growing when he tilts his helmet dramatically to the side, his Beskar cheek nearly touching his shoulder, “May I have your name? I am trying to learn who everyone is, but the visors are all the same and sometimes the color of armor is similar and--”

“I get it,” The older man sounds like he’s amused and you briefly wonder if he was once an outsider like you, though you find it rude to ask, “I was about to write it in your little notebook, but I fear my hands are too unsteady for you to understand my writing, little one.”

You perk up and quickly stand up, making your way over to where he’s sitting before you crouch down in front of your desk and grab one of the several pens in the little cup near your notebook. The Mandalorian makes a funny noise as you give him an inquisitive glance, wordlessly asking for his name with a quirk of your brow and though he wears a typical Mandalorian helmet, you think he must be grinning underneath his Beskar guise.

“Ezir Ralas.”

You somehow manage to write down his name as fast as he spells it out for you and you grin at how demanding he sounds upon spelling every single letter out and how he describes the exact colors of his faded helmet. There’s something about his lighthearted tone that makes you think he’s not as intimidating as every other warrior you’ve encountered since being brought to the covert.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, sir,” You beam at him as you make your way back to the medical cot to sit on while you wait for your first patient of the day, “Have you been the tribe’s nurse for very long?”

He chuckles again, long fingers curling against his knees, “Oh yes, I’ve been with the tribe since we were forced into hiding years ago. Before all of this, however, I was a field medic for my people on Mandalore, back during our civil war.”

“Oh, I um, I had no idea there was a civil war,” You frown at this new information, briefly wondering if Paz knows about this, though you think he must, “That must have been so scary to be out there on a battlefield, trying to save your own people.”

He lets out a small grunt as he leans forward to rest his forearms atop his thighs, “Even though I am a medic, I was also born and raised a fighter, little one. Though the things I have seen haunt me at night when I cannot sleep, I would not so willingly admit that I was ever afraid.”

You slowly nod and gaze down at the steel pendant that hangs between his collarbones and you recognize it as the one you often see around the covert, or in the morning when Paz tucks his own into the collar of his tunic. Seeming to recognize your curiosity towards the skull sigil, he unties the knot at his nape and holds out the necklace for you to inspect up close.

With great eagerness, you reach forward to accept the kind gesture, “Is it rude of me to ask what this is?”

“It is not rude,” Ezir sounds amused by your curiosity and your cheeks grow warm as you trace over the sharp horns protruding from the cheeks of the skull with your thumbs, “It is the skull of a beast that was once native to Mandalore--the mythosaur. They were these enormous monsters with teeth and horns sharper than a sword made of Beskar and when they tried to attack my ancestors, we either slayed them or conquered them and rode them as transportation.”

“How big were they?”

“Massive,” He flippantly waves a hand in the air, appearing far too nonchalant while speaking of terrifying beasts, “Well, I would imagine they’re the size of the village currently above us, little one.”

Your eyes grow wide and a chuckle escapes past his modulator at how incredulous you sound, “And you’re ancestors fought them?”

“Without hesitation,” He informs you and though the image of a monster so fearsome and enormous terrifies you, it also fills you with feelings of reverence and awe, “After the beasts went extinct, the mythosaur skull became a symbol of our people and all that we had overcome; it is a symbol of our history and culture.”

You hum quietly, barely noticing the way his tilted visor is trained on the way you tenderly trace all the curves and divots of the pendant with admiration, a smile tugging at your lips as you think of the symbolism behind the sigil. Suddenly, you understand why people have always murmured terrifying rumors of the Beskar-clad enigmas and you think it must be true that they’re the strongest warriors in the galaxy. You wonder what it must feel like to exude such power to the point where people fear you without even knowing who you are and though you still regret feeling so much terror upon initially meeting Paz, you’re suddenly grateful that you’d eventually let him into your heart.

“Perhaps one day, you will have one of your own,” Ezir concedes and your head snaps up to peer at him with shock; you hand the pendant back out for him to take, feeling undeserving to be holding something so precious to his people, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You may not wear our helmet or armor, but once I teach you some Mando’a and get a weapon in your hand, you’ll be a fearsome warrior.”

You think of what Paz had mentioned about the others in the tribe teaching you Mando’a, and while you’ve only known him for a few minutes, he seems to be a respectful man, albeit a little quirky.

“What does riduur mean?” You blurt out, your skin instantly growing warm when you see Ezir’s shoulders shaking as he laughs at the innocent question; suddenly, you fear that everyone has been saying something demeaning about you, “I just... everyone in the tribe keeps calling me ‘Paz’s riduur’ and I--it’s not an insult, right? They’re always laughing when they say it.”

He shakes his head as his laughter eventually ceases, “No, little one, it is quite the opposite of an insult, but rather a term of endearment. I do not think it is my place to tell you what it means and I am not sure if Paz has the guts to actually tell you, but I can say that I am certain you will find out for yourself one day when he calls you that himself.”

Your leg bounces anxiously as you watch him situate his mythosaur pendant between his collarbones and as you think of all the meanings that the word possibly possesses, one stands out to you the most.

“Is it something I would be allowed to say to him as well in the future?”

“Yes,” He reaches down to pet your vulptex that’s awkwardly making her way towards his boots, sounding utterly entertained by your inquiry, “Though I cannot promise you that his brain wouldn’t combust if he heard you call him that.”

“Then perhaps I would call him that as payback for all the times he’s teased me about certain things.”

Ezir guffaws at that, remaining diligent in petting the lazy vulptex that’s headbutting his calf in a needy manner, “I like you, little one. I almost didn’t believe Ima when she told me you had stopped the fight between Din and Paz, let alone when she informed me that you had stood up for yourself and the bounty hunter.”

You watch as the older man awkwardly scoops the little vulptex into his arms and you’re grateful that not many seem to mind her presence in the covert, as you’re not sure what you would have done had you been forced to get rid of her.

“I have been belittled by men all my life,” You shyly admit, staring at the little creature that’s reaching up in an attempt to bite his pendant, though Ezir doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest as you continue, “And for the longest time, I just learned to keep my mouth shut and deal with it because that’s just the way I was raised, I suppose. These last couple of days have taught me that it does not make me a bad person for only wanting to be treated with respect and my only regret is that I did not realize this sooner in life. Perhaps I’d be a stronger woman if I had realized my worth at a younger age.”

No longer is Ezir petting the vulptex, but instead, he now has his visor trained on you and in return, you offer him a small smile. He remains deathly silent for at least a minute before giving you a curt nod, as though he approves of either you or just your declaration in general.

“In our language, we have a word that I think perfectly describes you, little one,” His gruff, filtered voice drops to something softer as he watches you perk up with curiosity, “Ramikadyc--it means that you have the tenacity and determination of a Mandalorian, that you have our mindset.”

Your heart instantly swells with gratitude and you shyly cross your ankles together as you wring your fingers together on top of your lap, “I would hardly compare myself to your people. I do not think I would have the tenacity or determination to fight against one of those mythosaurs that your ancestors slayed.”

“Something tells me you and I are not too different,” Ezir informs you with what you think is mirth laced within his deep voice, “I do not think you would hesitate to put yourself in harm’s way if it meant protecting someone you care for or someone you do not wish to see to get hurt.”

You smile softly and give him a slight nod as you think of the bounty hunter that you had stood up for, despite him not deserving it, or even your little vulptex that you had taken a blaster shot for. If Ezir truly thinks that you have the heart of a warrior, then he must be saying it for a good reason and his words, along with Ima’s and Paz’s confidence in you, fills you with a little more hope in regards to your future with the tribe.

“Will you tell me more about you?”

“I am afraid my stories might bore you to the point of insanity,” Ezir chuckles, shifting in his seat a little so he can hold your vulptex in a more comfortable position, “But since you seem so curious, what is it you wish to know, little one?”

“Can you tell me more about Mandalore and the civil--?”

Before you can finish, a deep baritone from the entrance of your office interrupts your inquiry and both you and Ezir immediately turn around to find your blue Mandalorian standing tall behind another unarmored Mando, though this one is still taller than you and Ezir. The smaller Mando is holding their wrist protectively against their chest and it takes a few seconds for you to recognize the warrior as one of the younger ones that seems to have a knack for constantly getting hurt during training.

“Saviin’ika,” Paz greets politely with a slight nod, cocking his helmet to the side upon noticing who’s been keeping you company in the short amount of time you two have been apart, “Ezir.”

You raise your brows at the way your warrior tenses up a little upon seeing the elderly man, though you manage to get in a word before any of the Mandalorians can say anything, your attention focused on the injured boy.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

The unarmored Mando peers up at Paz with what you think must be a wary expression through his visor--something that your warrior immediately picks up on. With absolutely no hesitation, the heavy-infantry warrior murmurs something to the younger Mando in his native tongue and you raise your head with anticipation and a kind smile. As though that’s all the confirmation of the young teenager--Vhan--needs, he nods a little and you slide off the end of the cot so your first patient of the day can sit down.

You give the boy a small, encouraging smile as he takes his glove off and pushes up his sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist, “What happened?”

“It was my fault,” Paz says immediately, making you raise your brows in surprise at the thought of him somehow hurting someone so young, “He was sparring with his brother and I looked away for a minute. He fell and landed right on his wrist.”

You frown a little at the guilt in his voice, though judging by the exasperated sigh that wafts past Vhan’s modulator, you think this must be a common occurrence amongst the younger ones who get hurt on Paz’s watch.

“Well, it’s hard to tell for sure without x-rays,” You manage to rotate Vhan’s wrist in the slightest, a gesture that seems to cause minimal pain to the boy, “But it looks like it’s just a minor sprain, since there seems to be no crooked bones and you can still move it around a little. Nothing too serious and nothing to feel bad about.”

Paz lets out a relieved huff at the news, though you know your blue warrior enough to know he’s not going to let the guilt down so easily, especially not when it pertains to one of the younger members of the tribe. A knowing grin stretches your lips when Vhan groans, and now you’re certain this isn’t the first time Paz has been worried like a mother hen over the clumsy teen. Though the blue warrior has quite the reputation among all the adults in the covert, it seems he also has a completely different persona when he’s with the younger ones.

“See? I told you it’s fine. Can I go back to training now?” Vhan insists, moving to hop off of the cot, though you are quicker to stop him by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Uh uh,” You shake your head, earning another groan from the teen and what you’re sure are surprised expressions from the two other men occupying the room, “Just because it’s a sprain doesn’t mean you can go running off just to damage it even further. You should at least rest it for forty-eight hours and put some ice on it every thirty minutes for two hours until the pain goes away. Also try to keep it elevated as much as possible.”

“That’s so much work for a little sprain though!” Vhan argues and you let out a soft sigh as you begin to compress his wrist with a thick bandage, “Can’t I just--”

“Hey!” Ezir suddenly sounds annoyed, and you’re surprised when the boy tenses up a little, just as Paz had earlier, and something about their reactions has you growing even more curious to what kind of reputation the elder has among his family, “Listen to the nurse, di’kut. She only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yes sir,” Vhan mumbles, though you can tell he’s still not happy about it when he turns his visor to you, “S-Sorry, Saviin’ika.”

You blink your surprise at him calling you the familiar nickname, but eventually you give him a kind smile and stand up to retrieve your roll of ice wraps, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure it must be difficult for you to miss out on training, but it really is for your own good. I don’t have the resources here to fix your wrist if it was seriously broken, so it’s detrimental to make sure that the sprain heals properly before doing any serious training again. Perhaps there is… um, maybe something else you can do in the meantime that’s not too strenuous?”

He perks up a little and hope instantly flares in your chest as he gives you an eager nod before turning to look at Paz, “You told me the other day that you would show me how to take apart an assault rifle and put it back together--would that be okay?”

Paz glances at you and the boy’s eager tone makes it hard for you to say no, so you give your warrior a reluctant nod as you finish tying the ice wrap around his swollen wrist, “Just as long as you make sure to not move your wrist around too much and keep the ice wrap on, okay?”

“Alright!” He’s instantly hopping off the cot and you chuckle at his newfound excitement, “Thanks vod’ika!”

You huff a little, opening your mouth to stubbornly remind him that you’re far older than him, though he cuts you off with a quick headbutt to your forehead; while it’s not too harsh of a harsh gesture, it’s certainly not as gentle as all the times Paz has performed the same action. You rub your tender forehead as Paz turns to the side a little so Vhan can make his way, presumably, to the armory. Paz shakes his helmet in an exasperated manner as he steps toward you, most likely to get a look at your forehead, but Ezir’s small grunts as he slowly stands up has your full attention.

Instinctively, you move to help the elder up from your office chair, noticing his slight struggle to stand and you force yourself not to cringe at the numerous pops and cracks coming from his knees and back. After a lifetime of fighting and being a medic, you’re certain it’s taken a toll on him, though he simply chuckles a little and pats your back as you both make your way over to Paz.

“I suppose I should take this as my sign to leave you to your duties for the day, verd’ika,” You beam at the new nickname as he carefully grabs onto your elbow for better balance while you lead him to the entrance where Paz is still standing with a cocked helmet, “I’ll have to look for my old medical books and datapads for you to read.”

“Oh, thank you!” Happiness and warmth instantly blankets your heart at his consideration, gratitude filling your soul when you realize that he seems to approve of you being the tribe’s new nurse, “I would love that very much, if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Of course not,” He gives your hand a little pat before latching onto a grumpy Paz’s elbow instead, “I’ll just make this one help me later since he can reach the higher shelves.”

“I have other things to--”

Jutting a thumb out in your direction over his shoulder, Ezir sends a rough little whack! of his walking stick to Paz’s armored shin, “It is good she is here with the tribe now--perhaps she can teach you and everyone else some manners, you big brute.”

“Yeah, ori kebiin,” You giggle in a teasing manner, earning a small grunt from the blue warrior, “Would it really kill you to learn a few manners?”

Ezir lets out a loud laugh that has Paz shaking his helmet at you, and though you know you’ll soon regret it, you think it’s worth the delightful torment he’ll inflict on you later when the two of you are alone. Without another word, Paz reaches out to give your nape a tender squeeze before leaving you alone to your thoughts in your little office, though you think that seeing Ezir and helping Vhan has already given you a bright start to your day.

With a faint smile stretched along your lips, you add a few comments to your little notepad and take inventory of the supplies you have and what you need for the next time Paz goes on a supply run. For the most part, the day goes by slowly and uneventfully--something you are actually grateful for, what with being so used to the chaos that came as a result of working in a village full of crime and those with cruel hearts.

Needless to say, you don’t mind a calm day in the slightest and when Ima passes your office hours later to politely inform you that training and sparring lessons are done for the day, you’re grateful that no serious injuries were sustained. Packing up your things and making sure your office is in order, you turn off the lights and exit your office, eager to explore the covert a little more and go to the room that Paz and Ima had decorated for you.

After conversing with a few of the Mandalorians you had befriended in the short amount of time you’ve been at the covert, you happily make your way down the stairs that you know leads to everyone’s private quarters, as well as the nursery and your little flower alcove.

You hum a mindless tune to yourself as you stroll down the long tunnel, smiling when the atmosphere gets a little warmer when you pass the shielded alcove that leads into the nursery; your walking slows a little and you’re half tempted to go inside and say hi to the little ones, though you don’t want to cause any chaos again, especially so late in the day. Reluctantly, you continue past the nursery and make your way to the little room Paz and Ima had decorated with your flowers, your vulptex resting comfortably in your arms as you two seek out relaxation.

“I need to think of a name for you, little one,” You murmur, earning a soft gaze from her, crimson eyes slowly blinking up at you, “Maybe I should ask one of the younglings to come up with one. They must be far more creative than me.”

She simply answers you with a dramatic huff as you continue down the path that Paz had already taken you down a few times.

You’re completely oblivious to the little footsteps following you far behind.

Finally, you make it to your beloved sanctuary and let out a relieved sigh upon seeing all your growing flowers and the lights that hang above them. Placing your little vulptex on the center of the desk where you had placed a little pillow for her, you dutifully water the plants and flowers that look like they need it the most. It’s comforting to have a little place of your own, especially after dealing with so many of the boisterous warriors all day and while you feel as though you’re slowly getting used to their antics, you realize you truly had no idea what you were getting yourself into upon agreeing to be the tribe’s nurse.

A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips as you feel the tiniest ache in your temple where the younger Mandalorian had headbutted his gratitude a little too roughly earlier, though warmth fills your heart when you remember how he had referred to you as his sister.

You’re in the middle of checking on your little violets when your vulptex raises her head in a jolting manner; immediately, you turn around, expecting Paz or perhaps Ima needing you to tend to someone’s wound.

It is neither one of them, you realize with surprise.

You let out a little gasp upon seeing a pair of wide, fearful eyes poking from the tiny crack between the curtains and the doorway and you instantly recognize the sad, golden brown orbs from days ago in the nursery.

“Oh, it’s okay, little one!” You give him a warm smile that instantly seems to allay some of the despair in his big eyes, “You may come in, if you’d like.”

Hesitantly, he makes his way into the unfamiliar room, looking like a lost animal that’s experiencing a new environment for the first time and you think you know the feeling all too well; even after spending a few days at the covert, you still feel quite lost and you can’t possibly imagine what this child is going through.

You blink your surprise when he gets halfway across the room before spotting your lazy vulptex who is still curled up on your desk, staring at the boy curiously, though not unkindly in the slightest. Carefully, you make your way closer to the little who simply stares up at you with wide starry eyes, his hands clasped together politely in front of him and your heart melts at how nervous and scared he seems.

“It’s okay, little one,” You reassure him in a calm, hushed tone, reaching your hand out for him to take, “She loves younglings very much and would never hurt you, I promise.”

The curly-haired boy shifts his gaze between you and your rocky companion before ultimate latching onto your hand with his. Cautiously and without any force, you guide him closer to your desk where the vulptex is still observing the little boy with gentle eyes; you think that on top of being intelligent, her species must also be quite empathetic and can differentiate a kind soul from a dark one.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?” You question the boy softly, earning you a shy nod as an answer, and you carefully haul him up to the chair in front of your desk, keeping a hand pressed to the back of his shoulders to keep him steady, should he stumble, “If you want to hold your hand out to sniff it, it’ll be a sign that you want to be her friend.”

His eyes widen a little more and you can’t help but to grin as he holds a shaking hand out for the rocky vulpine to sniff eagerly, his other hand pressed shyly to his cheek in anticipation. A tiny, childish giggle meets your ears and warms your heart as the vulptex licks his palm, though he is quick to pull his damp hand back and wipe it on his beige tunic with a scrunched up expression. When he smiles up at you, you’re certain your heart is going to melt into a big puddle of goo in the pit of your stomach and you offer him one in return, smoothing his dark, unruly curls away from his forehead.

“See? She knows you’re brave and likes you now.”

He gives you a toothy grin and you feel a lovely warmth in your soul knowing that you were able to provide some emotional reprieve for the sweet child.

“Did you sneak away from the nursery, little one?” You ask him gently, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him at all; he simply drops his head in shame and you continue to stroke his curls in an attempt to comfort him, “It’s okay! You’re not in trouble, I promise. I just want to know why.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to answer as he keeps his head lowered, but then he eventually peers up at you and whispers his response in a tiny, meek voice.

“Y-You were singing,” He explains quietly, and you realize he must have heard you humming and followed you all the way here, “‘M sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” You crouch down in front of him so he’s taller than you while he stands on your chair and you give him a kind smile, “It’s okay, but how about next time you just ask the caretaker on duty, alright? They’ll come find me, wherever I may be.”

He gives you a shy nod, seeming thoughtful for a few moments as he presses a chubby index finger to his pouting lips, “Do I have to go back?”

You should say yes and you know it, but his eyes are all but pleading with you to say no and he looks so hopeful that you’ll let him keep you company. You think he must feel just as out of place as you do, not knowing who to talk to or who to trust, though you seem to be the one person he finds solace in.

How could you destroy that tiny amount of trust he already has in you?

You give him a tiny smile and shake your head, “You may stay for a little while, but I fear I do not make for the most exciting company, little one.”

The boy doesn’t say anything to that and you blink your surprise when he reaches out to clumsily touch the thick braid wrapped around your crown, along with the few flowers that you had strategically placed throughout the weaves that morning when Paz had been watching you. He seems curious by the vibrant flora, his eyes blinking and flickering with awe and you bow your head a little so he can get a better look at them.

“Do you like flowers?” You ask him quietly when he eventually ceases his exploration, and you look up to see him giving you a shy little nod, “What’s your favorite kind?”

You expect him to not know many, especially if he’s spent his few years of life on Nevarro, though he surprises you when he speaks in a barely there whisper, “I like roses--like the ones my ‘gramma used to paint.”

You’re desperately inclined to ask more about his grandmother--if he had any parents and what planet he had been saved from, but if he’s the covert’s newest foundling, the wounds on his heart and mind must still be so fresh and you do not wish to infect it further with your invasive questions. Instead, you force yourself to give him a warm, big smile and somehow manage to keep the tears out of your eyes when his chubby fingers find the little blue flower that Paz had tucked behind your ear earlier in the morning.

“Yeah? I bet they were beautiful,” You grin and he gives you a fervent little nod to confirm your thoughts, “What color roses did she paint?”

And what you thought was only going to be a ten or twenty minute interaction with the boy ends up to be more than an hour and a half long meeting where the two of you talk about harmless topics like flowers, favorite animals, different types of stars and constellations. Though for once, you do most of the talking and you are more than satisfied to describe the beautiful hot springs and caves that Paz had taken you to, sparing all the mushy details that you knew would probably gross out a child.

“He’s scary,” The boy murmurs as you tell him of the story, at least the clean version, of how Paz had stood up for you the night you first found your vulptex, “They all are--they don’t smile.”

“Well of course they do,” You inform the little one, curling a finger against his cheek and earning a tiny giggle, “Everyone smiles, you just can’t see it because they wear their helmets to honor their creed. It does not mean they are robots or incapable of feeling the same emotions we do.”

He’s perched on one of your thighs, seeming comfortable as he softly pets the sleeping vulptex and you smile down at him sympathetically upon realizing he’s still apprehensive of the armored warriors, “I was scared of Paz at first too, but he turned out to be one of the kindest, most honorable men I have ever met. These people are not cruel, but I understand why you are afraid, little one. I have only been here for three days and I am still learning how to fit in as well. Perhaps we can figure this out together.”

He gives you another toothy grin and nods, seeming comforted by your words as he leans back into you and your heart aches at the trust he shows in you; a part of you wonders if it’s because he can actually see your face. You’re not entirely sure of what to say as he continues to pet the sleepy animal, smiling whenever he hears the soft squeaks that the vulptex lets out every now and then.

“Do you have a name little one?” You ask kindly--tenderly--hoping that the question won’t overwhelm him as he tilts his head to stare up at you.

You truly don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then after a few moments of silence, he lowers his head a little, not looking you in the eyes.

“Odisian.”

“Odisian... what a lovely name,” You repeat it with a grin, earning a shy smile from him, “Is it okay if I call you Odi? Or do you prefer your full name?”

Suddenly, he beams up at you and kicks his legs a little, as if having a nickname makes him feel more at home, “I like Odi!”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how big you’re smiling at him and you nod, deciding it’s best not to dwell too much on his own name or what nicknames he might have had before being brought to the covert. You straighten your spine a little and reach out to pet your little vulptex who keens under all the adoration and attention she’s suddenly receiving from you and the little one.

“Would you like to pick out a name for her?” You ask him softly, tilting your head to the side when he gives you an expression filled with awe and wonder, like he can’t believe you are asking him to do such a thing, “She needs one and I do not think I am creative enough to bestow her with such an honor.”

Odi swings his legs nervously and you can’t help but to grin as he seems to seriously contemplate this huge decision, his tiny hand squeezing his cheeks together in great concentration. You remain patient with him as he turns his head a little to stare at all the flowers on your desk and the colorful vines that are draping off the edge of the shelves attached to the wall with admiration.

“Rosie?”

He says it more as a question, like he’s nervous for your response, so you offer him a warm grin when you realize this sweet child wants to name your vulptex after his own favorite flower. You wonder if he somehow knows just how much your flowers mean to you, just as Paz does, or if the flower simply has some sort of deeper meaning to him and you playfully ruffle his curls, earning you a little giggle from him.

“That is far more lovely of a name than I could ever come up for her,” You inform him, your cheeks hurting from how big of a smile you’re wearing on your face and he perks up at your reassurance, no longer seeming quite as nervous, “Her eyes are red like roses too! Is red your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” He bashfully admits, and you nearly chuckle at the way he pronounces his ‘L’s as ‘W’s, “It is a happy color.”

You agree with him as you begin to collect some flowers for the little boy, though a part of you lamely thinks he probably doesn’t even want them. You’re in the process of pointing out all the different flowers that Paz and Ima had been so kind to plant for you in anticipation of your arrival when the drapes to your alcove shuffle to the side a little.

You’re completely unaware of how long your blue warrior is standing in the entryway, simply observing you and the little one perched contently on top of your leg who seems utterly interested in what you have to tell him about the healing properties of violets and lavender.

“Oh! And then this one right here, if you just grind it up and add it into--”

“Cyare.”

Immediately, you and Odi both turn to face where Paz is standing just feet away in front of the rounded entrance, though the little one in your arms is quick to lower his head in fear of the massive warrior. Wanting the youngling to feel more comfortable, you simply smile up at Paz, who suddenly seems frozen to his spot as he stares at you with a cocked helmet, his shoulders tense as his pauldrons inch closer to the bottom of his helmet.

“Is something wrong, Paz?”

“No, it’s just--” His helmet slightly jolts to the side and he’s acting odd as you gently heave Odi off of your lap, offering him the little bundle of flowers so he won’t feel so lonely without you by his side, “It is time for the younglings to sleep and the caretaker on duty got scared because he was missing. I thought you might know where he is and it seems as though I was right.”

Odi is staring up at you with the saddest expression, as though he’s pleading with you to not return him back to the nursery and you gently cup the back of his curls, giving him a kind smile in return. Nervously, he fiddles with his hands as you stand up, easily scooping your vulptex into the crook of your elbow, all while the little one stares up at Paz with the most frightened expression you’ve ever witnessed, hiding behind your leg.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere and you’re more than welcome to visit me anytime,” You offer him a reassuring smile as he gazes down at the little bouquet of flowers and  he is quick to grab your outstretched hand with an eager expression, “C’mon, I’ll walk you back. Besides, he likes flowers too--I bet he would like it if you gave him one.”

You say the last sentence in a low whisper, as though you’re sharing some sort of gossip with him and you instantly notice the way he perks up as Paz holds the drapes to the side for you, his helmet still tilted to the side as he observes you two. Odi is still quiet and thoughtful as he stares down at the little bundle of colorful flowers you had gifted him, all while holding your hand as Paz slowly leads you through the dim tunnels.

Shyly, the child gazes up at Paz and warmth blooms in your heart and soul when he lowers his helmet to regard Odi with what you’re certain is the utmost kindness, most likely wanting nothing more than to earn the boy’s trust. Without saying anything, the little one holds up the colorful bouquet of flowers for Paz to see and you grin at the adorable interaction.

"Those are... pretty,” Paz comments in a softer voice and you can tell he’s trying to appear as placid as possible to the nervous boy, “Which one is your favorite?”

Odi lets go of your hand to press his index finger to his bottom lip in severe contemplation and you nearly chuckle at what must be a cute little habit that he does unknowingly when he’s thinking too hard. After a moment’s consideration, he points a chubby finger at one of the many violets that you had tucked in the center and you instantly grin.

“Those are my favorite too,” Paz says quietly, and you’re too focused on the way Odi is smiling down at the little bouquet to notice the Mandalorian’s visor trained on your face.

Odi seems conflicted as he gently tugs one of the violets from the middle of the colorful bundle and offers it to the huge warrior with a hopeful gaze, not saying a word throughout the entire exchange.

“What an honor,” Paz sounds like he's grinning as he accepts the little flower and Odi immediately seeks out your hand again, “Thank you.”

The youngling peers up at you with a cheerful glimmer in his eye, as though he’s proud of himself for showing such bravery and selflessness in the presence of a powerful warrior. Once you offer him a knowing smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand, Odi turns to gaze down at his colorful bouquet with a tiny grin on his face. 

Content upon realizing the little one no longer seems sad or fearful, you tilt your head up to beam happily at Paz, your heart still full of love and admiration towards both him and Odi; immediately the warrior lifts his hand to tenderly stroke your cheek. The cold bite of leather nearly makes you flinch and suddenly you’re remorseful that both of your hands are occupied by your littlest companions as you now long to touch the lighter blue in the hollows of his cheeks.

It’s not until you make it back to the nursery that Odi’s smile drops and his lips form into a little pout. Paz presses his gloved hand to the small of your back to guide you further into the nursery and through a short tunnel leading the four of you to where the younglings must sleep and take their naps.

“Hey,” You whisper after the four of you enter a dimly lit room with several beds lined up; you notice the tiny lumps curled up underneath the fuzzy blankets and smile as you crouch down in front of Odi, “Remember what I said, okay? You ever want to come see me, just ask one of the caretakers. I’ll always be here for you.”

He nods, and before you can even think about standing up, he steps forward to wrap his tiny arms around your neck and you’re quick to return the sweet gesture, your free hand coming up to gently cup the back of his head. You feel his chubby fingers curl into the hair you had left unbraided that morning and smile when he holds onto you a little tighter; you can tell he’s still afraid of you leaving as an idea pops into your head.

“Since Rosie seems to like you so much, why don’t I leave her here with you for the night?” Immediately, he pulls away from you, his starry eyes wide and filled with disbelief as you gently shuffle the lazy vulpine into his awaiting arms, “She may be small, but she’s a fierce little thing that will protect you from any nightmares you may have, I promise.”

He holds the animal closer to his chest, grinning when she lifts her head to lick at his cheek and Odi instantly giggles in response. He gives you one last shy smile before making his way to his little bed and you stand up to your full height as you watch him shuffle underneath his blankets, all while holding Rosie close to his chest. It’s not until you watch his eyes close that you let out a deep exhale and you wonder when you had stopped breathing; tears nearly escape your eyes when you watch Rosie curl herself closer to the child, head tucked underneath his chin as he smiles sleepily.

“Ner cyare,” Paz whispers and you jump a little, nearly forgetting that he had been standing there this whole time; you turn to face him and you give him a questioning look when he threads his fingers through the valleys between yours, “There is something I want to show you.”

You think when he says ‘something’, he most likely means ‘someone’, and your heart thrums wildly in anticipation as he leads you away from the younglings’ sleeping quarters. The alcove he’s leading you to is the one he had popped out of a few days ago after you confronted him after the fight, you realize, and you wonder what could possibly be in the room that he seems so excited to show you.

You blink owlishly at him as he politely holds the drapes to the side for you and you hesitantly enter the warm room; instantly, another Mandalorian with black and yellow armor turns to face you and Paz. Before you can offer the stranger an affable greeting, a soft whimper cuts you off and your heart instantly freezes over when you spot a wooden crib in the corner of the dim room.

An infant… 

There is an infant in the covert and the thought simultaneously terrifies you and breaks your heart.

Paz quietly says something in his mother tongue when the caretaker on duty tenses as you step forward to try to get a better look at the distressed infant, your heart now pounding so wildly that you hear it in your ears. Whatever Paz said to the caretaker immediately seems to calm them down and they simply watch as you observe the fussy baby that is kicking its little feet wildly and growing even more distressed. The infant is wearing tiny white socks and a long, dark brown tunic that falls to her ankles; her little head is adorned with a white beanie, but you see dark tufts of hair poking out from underneath.

“I… I cannot get her to stop crying,” The Mandalorian’s deep, filtered voice is coated with exhaustion and despite the tears burning your eyes, you fixate your attention on the defeated Mando, the vibrancy of the yellow stripes painted on his black armor nearly hurting your eyes, “What am I doing wrong?”

You wonder if he’s ever had to take care of an infant before, but judging by the way the black and yellow Mando shuffles around nervously makes you think it is not all too common of an occurrence in the tribe.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, shaking off your fears and insecurities as you remind yourself that you were brought here to take care of others, “O-Okay, how old is she?”

“I only found her a few weeks ago, cyare,” Paz informs you quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby even more, and you turn around to gaze up at him with wide, watery eyes; he must see the confusion etched on your features because he immediately explains himself, “I was walking back from seeing you one night and found her abandoned behind one of the vendors in the marketplace. I can’t… I can’t imagine what kind of monster does such a thing.”

You know all too well of the monsters that are capable of leaving a helpless creature behind to die, most likely feeling no guilt when they close their eyes at night.

You nod again and let out a shaky exhale as the caretaker turns his body to the side and allows you to lean over the crib, your chest aching something fierce as you carefully scoop up the tiny creature into your arms. Instantly, she lets out with a piercing, shrill scream and you heave a small sigh at how fussy of a little thing she is, though you think you already know what her problem is.

“What are you--?”

The strange Mandalorian jolts forward a little as you shuffle the crying baby around in your arms until her chest and stomach is resting against the inside of your forearm, her arms and chubby legs dangling lazily around in the air and her cheek tucked against the crook of your elbow. It takes a few moments of tenderly stroking her back to get her cries to soften into something less ear shattering, and you let out a relieved sigh when her whimpers turn into little coos and grunts.

“I think she might be colic,” You inform the caretaker with a shaky whisper, his helmet tilted to the side with what you think is either curiosity or shock as she dribbles, “I’ve uh, I’ve seen this before and read about it. Are you making sure to burp her after each feeding? Or perhaps she should be using a different formula if she has a sensitive tummy?”

“I--” He drops his helmet a little, staring at the cooing infant that you’re bouncing a little, “She wasn’t spitting anything up and I just thought… I wasn’t sure how to do it, how to burp her.”

You give the black and yellow Mando a sympathetic expression and nod, your eyes still burning with tears, “Babies can be pretty fussy sometimes, but once you find out how they like to be held and handled, it makes things a little bit easier. This tends to be a good trick at calming a lot of babies, but you need to make sure she gets burped after every feeding or else she’ll be really uncomfortable and even fussier than normal.”

“Thank you,” The caretaker nods his gratitude as you continue to stroke her back and you give him a weak smile in response, “Could you maybe get her to go to sleep? I should check on the others and I--”

‘Need a breather.’

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it in the way his deep voice drops and his shoulders fall at the mere thought of having a few moments of peace and relaxation.

He fidgets when you hesitate, though Paz places a gentle hand on your nape and he must realize that something is wrong as he squeezes the warm skin there; it’s something he only does when he’s trying to comfort you. Afraid that your voice will fail you, you offer the caretaker a jittery nod and he wastes no time in leaving the nursery that’s dedicated to this tiny infant. 

You find it difficult to even look at Paz as you make your way over to the rocking chair that seems far too small for any Mandalorian and slowly sink down until you’re sitting comfortably with a cooing, sleepy baby tucked in your arms. A soft sigh escapes your lungs when you feel a little bit of drool soak through the material covering your elbow and you risk a glance at Paz when he gets down on a knee next to the rocking chair, his gloved hand moving to gently squeeze your bicep.

“What happened?” He questions as quietly as possible, warranting a tiny grunt from the irascible infant, “Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

The way he asks such a question so softly instantly leaves you feeling painfully raw and vulnerable and you are quick to shoulder away a tear before he can wipe it away for you; you shake your head viciously, “It’s nothing.”

“Cyare--”

“I will explain later.”

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod and retrieves a piece of cloth for you as you move the calmed baby to burp her against your shoulder. You can tell he wants to say something as you pat her between the shoulders, but he remains silent and tilts his helmet to the side upon hearing the infant gurgle and do her business against the cloth draped over your shoulder. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep once she’s burped up all the air and spit from her meal and you let out a grateful sigh when you watch her eyelids slowly droop, somewhat eager to get her out of your arms and into her crib.

Once she’s comfortable in her cradle and fast asleep, you are quick to exit the little alcove, Paz hot on your heels as you practically storm past the exhausted-looking caretaker who’s sitting on a stone ledge in the main play area.

“Hey thank you for--”

You’re out of the nursery before he can fully express his gratitude to you and you hear Paz mutter something to the caretaker before rushing after you. Halfway down the tunnel leading to his private quarters, Paz catches up to you and carefully wraps his leather-clad fingers around your bicep, turning you around to face him.

“Cyare! What’s going--?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You don’t even realize you’re sobbing until you hear your own voice and Paz’s other hand comes to squeeze your shoulder in a comforting manner, “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby and why would you make me…? I didn’t know and... Maker, she was so much like--”

Your chest is heaving, tears streaming from your cheeks like raging waterfalls and Paz gently pulls you to the side and covers you when another Mandalorian passes you two, giving you what you’re certain is a curious gaze. He cups a massive hand to the side of your neck and leans down as you continue to sob and babble incoherent pleas at him, wondering why he’d put you through this, though he truly had no idea what he had done to you.

“I-I am sorry, cyare,” He breathes, squeezing your bicep firmly with his other hand, “You seemed to love the little ones so much and I thought… I thought you would love to see the baby, but I didn’t think…” He shakes his helmet in a jolting manner as you viciously rub at your eyes and cheeks, “What happened? What did I do wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” You ignore his frantic questions as you try desperately to stop the tears escaping your eyes, along with the horrific memories from flooding your mind, “I didn’t mean to be so rude! I thought I was over it and I could forget, but seeing her...”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” He hushes you in a kind manner, shielding you from any wandering eyes that might see your tears, “Why don’t… why don’t we go back to our room and you can tell me what’s going on? That’s what you said the other day, right? That we should talk about the things we feel?”

You nod your answer, not trusting your voice in that moment, and you try your hardest to force down the massive lump in your throat.

“Will you tell me why you are so broken up over seeing the baby?”

He’s quick to pull you in close, hunching over to hold you easier and you immediately stuff your face into the crook of his neck as you give him another jittery nod, “I fear you will hate me upon hearing what I’ve done in the past--how I have failed the ones I was supposed to take care of.”

“I… I could never feel such a thing towards you,” He promises with a deep exhale, sounding just as heartbroken as he reluctantly pulls away and leads you closer to his private quarters, keeping a firm hand on the small of your back, “Whatever it is, I could never hate you, I swear.”

Your chest aches more and more the closer you get to his private quarters and once you finally make it, he’s quick to sit you down on the foot of his bed, kneeling down as he collects your hands in his leather-clad ones.

“What is haunting you, ner cyare? What makes you cry so much when you sleep?”

You pray that once you tell him, the horrific memories won’t weigh heavy on your conscience any longer.

Translations:

Ner cyare=My beloved

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Ori Kebiin=Big blue

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum=I love you (lit. I know you forever)

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Verd’ika= Little soldier

Di’kut=Idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst​ @anakinsittinginsand​ @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27​ @justrunamok​ @peqchynero​ @haloangel391​ @awhiskeywithawinchester @aliciaxglasgow​ @bonesaldente​ @kawaiitimecharm​ @karaabove​ @clydesducktape​ @misssilvertongue​ @heartxheat​ @pazvizslasgirl4ever​ (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

Author’s note: As always, thank you all so much for being as patient and kind as ever <3 I don’t know why this chapter was such a struggle for me to finish, but I’m so glad eventually managed to get all the words I wanted down lol. I was worried it might seem like there’s a lot going on in this chapter, but I just wanted more interactions with our nurse getting more settled in with the tribe and meeting others, so hopefully this chapter doesn’t seem like it’s all over the place :( Anyways I love you all and thank you so much for all the support y’all continuously give me <33

[ghstandpucks]

Toe Pick ~ Jeff Skinner

Hello! Sorry I have kinda been MIA, I’ve had a lot going on personally lately. This idea came to my head though and I could not pass up writing it! I just love the fact that Jeff was a figure skater lol I hope you are all doing well and staying safe and healthy! Enjoy!

Summary: Being partnered with Jeff as a pairs team caused you both to rely on each other at an early age. When life’s ‘toe picks’ come along though, your friendship was tested. And when a toe pick later on throws you back into each others lives, will it be the same?

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Master List 

The toe pick at the front of a figure skater’s blade can either create phenomenal moments in a routine, or can bring a skater down. The sharp points can do some damage, but also give the ability to fly when tapped correctly into the ice. You can often hear figure skaters talk about toe picks, and for two kids in particular, saying “toe pick” when they stumbled became a game. On and off the ice, the two were inseparable. That was, until a ‘toe pick’ in life took them away from one another.

Past ~ 2000

           Eight-year-old Jeff Skinner was working on his flying camel, waiting for his coach to get on the ice and start his lesson. It wasn’t just any lesson today though. He was scheduled to meet a new girl who just joined the skating club, one that his coach thought would pair with him perfectly for a pair skating event. Jeff wasn’t so sure about skating with a partner at first, but then after watching a senior skating pair perform, he changed his mind. The throws and different spins that could be done with a skating partner interested him, so he let his coach talk him into it.

He had been told that the new girl had just moved to the area. You were also a single skater with promising talent and a year younger than Jeff. His coach had watched you try out for their skating club, and asked if you would be interested in pairs skating as your showman-like style was almost uncannily the same as Jeff’s. You smiled and nodded, just excited to be accepted into the prestigious club.

           As Jeff stopped what he was doing to look at the clock on the wall, he felt someone run into his back. “Sorry! Toe pick,” a giggle came from behind him. He turned and saw a girl about his age, grinning with a missing tooth off to the side. Jeff laughed to himself.

           “It’s fine. Are you okay?” he asked. He had never seen you before, and started to think you may be who he was being partnered up with.

           “I’m fine! I’m Y/N. I just moved here,” you introduced yourself. Jeff smiled, a toothy grin that matched yours.

           “I’m Jeff. Are you skating pairs?” he asked, and you nodded.

           “I was singles, but they asked me to switch when I tried out. I don’t know who I’m partnered with though,” you admitted.

           “I think you might be my new partner…” was all Jeff was able to say before his coach skated over to the two of you.

           “Jeff, I see you’ve already met Y/N. I think you two will get along great. If you’re both warmed up, why don’t we get started with the basics,” Ms. Seale said, and the two young skaters nodded. The next hour was spent learning how to stand and skate in perfect unison, the two kids fitting each other’s speed and style flawlessly, almost as if they were meant to be paired up.

           Three years later, you and Jeff were still skating pairs and about to enter your first junior’s national competition. After taking the ice for your groups warm up, the two of you waited off to the side with your coach running back and forth to see where the order of skaters was at. “Don’t drop me,” you leaned into Jeff as you always did before a performance.

           “You trust me?” he grinned at you, holding out his pinky.

           “Always,” you smiled back, wrapping your pinky around his. Pinky promises became a thing for the two of you when you first started learning lifts. You were nervous, and Jeff promised that he would never drop you. He had always kept that promise, even going as far as breaking your fall with his own body just to keep your trust. Your coach came to get you a few minutes later, and grabbing your hand Jeff led you out onto the ice. You took silver at that competition, the names Jeff Skinner and Y/N Y/L/N becoming known in the competition circuit.

           Two years after that, when Jeff was 13 and you were 12, Jeff hurt himself while doing a double axel. The two of you had just won junior nationals and were working on senior level moves. His injury caused you to pull out of an upcoming competition, the both of you devastated. “I’m really sorry Y/N,” Jeff said one evening as the two of you were doing homework together. Being skating partners had drawn the two of you close together on and off the ice. You trusted Jeff with your life, and may have formed a small crush on him over the years.

           “It’s okay J. It’s just a toe pick in the plan. You’ll heal and we’ll be back out there before you know it,” you tried to reassure him.

           “What if I don’t though?” he asked, worried this injury could be more serious than either of you were thinking.

           “Hey, do you trust me?” you asked, holding your pinky out toward him. He grinned and this time wrapped his pinky around yours.

           “Always.”

           Unfortunately, the injury Jeff sustained took a while to heal. It also caused him to choose between hockey and figure skating. Jeff didn’t want to give up on you, but he also wanted to pursue hockey. You smiled when he told you and supported him the best you could, even though you went home that day and cried your eyes out. How were you supposed to find a new partner? You and Jeff had been skating together for five years at that point, you didn’t want to start over with someone else. You tried though, and eventually found a partner that was compatible enough to compete with. Jeff would ask you how things were going when you saw each other, and you would always lie, saying things were great when really you couldn’t stand your new partner.

           Though the two of you stayed friends for a while, you always going to Jeff’s hockey games and him coming to open skate and competitions for you, you eventually drifted apart when Jeff graduated high school. You couldn’t help but feel like when Jeff traded in his toe picks for hockey skates, he traded you in as well. A few years later you closed the door on your skating career after a particularly bad injury, and the memories were all that was left of the toothless grinning boy you had first met on the ice that one day way back when.

Present Day­

           Take the job in Buffalo they said, you muttered to yourself as once again your socks were all wet from not wearing the proper foot wear and stepping in a puddle on the way to the rink. It had been years since you skated competitively, now being 27. When you graduated high school, you went to college and earned a degree in media, sticking with sports. You mainly stuck around the figure skating circuit, also finding a job as a coach to put yourself through college. A month ago, a job was offered to you at a local news station in Buffalo as their sports reporter, and you jumped at the opportunity.

           When you arrived at the rink, you changed into your tights and leggings. Skating always destressed you, and after settling in to your new place and trying to learn the ropes of the station, you needed some time to unwind. Only a few people were skating, the rink being otherwise deserted as the weather outside wasn’t the kindest at the moment.

           Stepping out onto the ice, a relaxed smile spread across your face. You mindlessly curved on your edges, letting muscle memory take over. Ever so briefly did you let your eyes close, basking in the chill of the air and the sounds of your blades carving through the ice. A moment later though, you were pulled out of your head as your blade caught a particularly deep rivet in the ice, causing you to trip forward on your toe pick. With a squeak you were almost ashamed of leaving your mouth, you fell into the back of a stranger. “Oh my God, I am so so sorry! I caught my toe pick and…” you trailed off as the stranger turned around.

           “Toe picks can be nasty, no worries,” he smiled at you, then stopped himself. It would have been the perfect romcom meet-cute, if the two of you hadn’t recognized each other in an instant. “Y/N?” Jeff asked, not entirely believing you were this beautiful woman who just collided with him.

           “J,” you whispered, shocked as well. “What are you doing here?”

           “I play for Buffalo?” he said, smiling but unsure at the moment. You were honestly the last person he expected to see that morning. Your face went red out of embarrassment. Of course you had followed his career; you knew he was in Buffalo but in the haste of your move you forgot.

           “I knew that,” you mumbled out, and blushed at his chuckle. Why was it after all these years, you could feel your crush resurfacing the second he smiled at you?

           “I’m more curious as to why you’re here?” he asked, leaning on his hockey stick.

           “Just moved actually. I’m a sports reporter now for the local Buffalo news,” you smiled at him and Jeff grinned.

           “No shit!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. You gladly wrapped your arms around him, feeling at home for once in this new city.

           A week had passed and you had talked to Jeff every day of it. What started out as a “How are you settling in?” text, turned into constant messages, a quick phone call, and even a facetime when he was on the road that weekend, with plans made for coffee the following week when he was back.

           That coffee turned into lunch, which turned into Jeff taking you around to a few places and now the two of you were at dinner, having spent the whole day together. The two of you were catching up, and easily fell into your younger selves where physical contact wasn’t a big deal because you were constantly holding hands on the ice. It was as if the years had never passed, and you realized your feelings for Jeff had never truly gone away. He would smile at you, and just like that you were seven years old again running into him your first day at the rink. “Are you working Friday night?” Jeff asked as he drove you home that evening.

           “No, I’m off actually. Why?” you asked. Jeff cleared his throat, seeming a little nervous about what he was going to say next.

           “Would you want to come to my game? I can get you a ticket,” he said, glancing at you quickly. You smiled and nodded.

           “I would love to!” you said, a little too enthusiastically but it made Jeff visibly relax. “You don’t have to get me a ticket though. I can buy one.”

           “No. It’s the first pro game of mine that you’ll be at, I’m getting you a ticket,” he stated, then added, “Don’t argue with me,” as you opened your mouth to do so.

           “Thank you,” was all you said with a giggle. Jeff smiled as you both fell back into an easy conversation.

~ ~ ~

           Friday came and you were being shown to your seat at the arena by an attendant. You thanked him and sat down, waiting for the Sabres to take the ice. Looking around, you twiddled your thumbs at being right up against the glass. What did Jeff do to get you this seat? Before you could second guess coming though, the team took the ice and you immediately found your old skating partner. A few minutes later he locked eyes with you and skated over with a big grin. He tugged on his jersey and pointed at you as you smiled back at him. You had bought a Sabres’ jersey for the occasion, Jeff spotting the 53. Nodding, you turned around slightly to show him the “Skinner” across the back. If Jeff’s grin could get any larger, it would have split his face. Seeing you there at his game, in his jersey, after all these years brought back all the feelings of being young with you; leaning on you; putting his whole trust in you. The Sabres may be his current teammates, but you would always be his first teammate; his first crush; his first love.

           The game was a tough one, the Sabres barely pulling out a win. You were so relieved when the final buzzard sounded. Jeff had asked you to meet him outside the locker room earlier that day, so you made your way there. Standing off to the side, you watched some of the guys spill out to their loved ones, smiling at how familiar it all felt. You remembered in high school when you used to wait for Jeff after his games with his parents.

           A couple minutes later you spotted the slightly curly hair of the man you had grown up with. He grinned as he spotted you, and lifted you into a big bear hug once he got to you. “Congrats J! Good game,” you said into his neck before he set you down.

           “I’m so glad you came,” he said softly, and you blushed under his gaze. “I’m glad you moved here,” he whispered.

           “Me too,” you said under your breath. Jeff was about to say something when your moment was interrupted.

           “You must be the old figure skating partner Jeff won’t shut up about,” the Sabres’ captain Jack Eichel patted Jeff’s shoulder and extended his hand to you.

           “That would be me. Hope it was positive,” you tried to hide your nerves with a joke. Jeff rolled his eyes.

           “Trust me?” he held out his pinky to you like he would when you were younger.

           “Always,” you responded automatically as Jack looked on amused.

~ ~ ~

           After that evening, you went to all of Jeff’s home games that you could. The two of you were also together all the time, practically spending every free moment with each other. Two months later you were curled up into Jeff as you watched a movie at his apartment. You weren’t together, but it was obvious to everyone around you that the feelings were there. Since you were used to being physically close to him, many thought you were already together. The both of you would awkwardly laugh those comments off.

           As the movie credits rolled, you sat up and looked at the time, realizing you should probably get home as it was almost midnight. You started to unwrap yourself from the blanket on top of you when Jeff spoke up. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

           “It’s late J,” you laughed lowly.

           “Exactly. Stay,” he smiled softly, but had a serious look in his eyes. “I hate saying goodbye to you.”

           “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smiled, slightly confused by what he said. Jeff shook his head and sat up.

           “That’s not entirely what I meant,” he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as you took his other hand in yours.

           “Then how did you mean it?” you asked, keeping your eyes on his. Jeff sucked in his lips, looking at you thoughtfully.

           “I’ve always felt bad for choosing hockey over you; over being your partner. I felt terrible when you got hurt and I wasn’t around to stop it from happening. When we lost touch, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of reaching out to you, but didn’t cause I was worried it was too late. And now you’re here, and back in my life and I don’t want to make those same mistakes all over again,” he said. You squeezed his hand.

           “I hope you know I don’t blame you for any of that Jeff. You had to do what was best for you, and I’m so proud of you. Life just dealt us some…”

           “Toe picks?” he interjected causing you to laugh.

           “Yeah, some toe picks,” you said softly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, letting his words sink in. “I don’t want to lose you again either,” you whispered, and Jeff sent you a smile that made your heart flutter. Slowly, you both leaned in closer to each other, your lips finally meeting. It was everything you ever thought kissing Jeff would be like, and so much more. As you separated, you both had the largest smiles on your faces. Slowly, Jeff stood up and pulled you along with him.

           “Do you trust me?” he asked, sweeping a piece of hair behind your ear. This time you knew Jeff wasn’t teasing when he said those words, he wasn’t just asking because you were worried about him dropping you, but asking because your relationship was about to dive into uncharted territory, and he knew that it would change everything. Though, then maybe it wouldn’t. Being “together” was simple because you had skated together for so long.

           Taking his hand, you nodded. “Always,” you said, meaning it with every fiber of your being. Jeff smiled that brilliant, infectious smile at you, and led you to down the hall to his room. That night you both fell asleep tangle up with each other, and completely in love with this figure skating boy turned hockey player that you had known for what felt like eternity.

[ak47stylegirl]

Little brothers do what they have to do.

Okay, I had this scene in my head for a while now, and I just need to get it out, so I hope you guys enjoy this snippet 😄 (Also this is why I been so silent today, I been writing lol 😅)

---

Alan pov

He laid on one of the sunken lounges, already carded in his pyjamas, his leg bouncing every so often as he watched YouTube gaming channel videos on his tablet.

"Don't you think it's time you get to bed, young man?" Grandma asked, standing behind him with her arms crossed, looking at him with a raised eyebrows. "It's past your bedtime..."

"Five more minutes, please?" He gave her the puppy eyes, his blue eyes wide as can be, "this video is almost finished anyway, just five more minutes...pretty please?"

His grandma hummed disapprovingly but nodded, saying "five minutes only..." as she walked over to Dad's desk, opening a comm to thunderbird five. "How are the boys, John?"

"Virgil and Gordon are still dealing with at tanker, but they should be finished soon..." John reported, his attention slightly divided as he multi-tasked, his hands flying across multiple screens. 

But there was something in John's voice, an undercurrent that made him pause his video and listen in.

"And Scott?" Grandma asked tensely, having heard the same undertone in John's voice. 

And now that he thinks about it, he knew what it was. It was worry, but why was John worried? he thought as he straightens up, his eyes locked onto John's hologram.

John grimaced, "He's on his way home now but...the mission didn't go to plan, there were casualties..." John glanced over at him and lowered his voice, but he could still hear him, "one of them was a kid, about Alan's age..."

"Oh, dear..." Grandma gasped softly, gripping the desk lightly. "Is Scotty okay?"

The same question ran through his mind as he stared at John, his video wholly forgotten. Was Scott okay? He had to be okay, right?

"Scott's isn't answering his comms, Grandma..." John sighed tiredly, running a hand across his face. "He's still on course, he should be home in fifth teen minutes, but other than that I...I don't know..." 

John typed something on a screen, before looking at grandma again, his green blue eyes filled with worry, "He never takes losing children well and this kid, well-" John lowered his voice again, "-to add insult to injury, he looked like Alan..."

He felt an electrical change run down his spine, as he realised exactly what John was saying, tuning out the rest of the conversation. 

Scott wasn't okay, not even a little bit, he thought to himself, his eyes wide with worried and a good dose of fear, because this was his big brother they were talking about here. 

He didn't think he was going to get much sleep tonight...

Not unless he did something, he thought as his eyes filled with determination, a plan coming to mind.

He may be the little brother in the equation, but that doesn't mean he couldn't help in his own way, and maybe what he was planning was just what Scott needed.

---

Okay, this was going to be trickier than he thought, he thought as he laid in bed, pretending to be asleep. Instantly after Grandma's conversation with John had ended, she has herded him up to bed. 

So, here he was pretending to be asleep, waiting for Grandma to come and check on him before he could sneak down to thunderbird one's hanger.

He heard his door creak open, and then after a couple of tense minutes, close. 

He waited a couple of minutes before opening his eyes and getting up, making his way to his bedroom door on his tippy toes. He peeked outside his door, finding the hallway clear of people, and he took that as his cue to keep moving.

He was just about to enter the comms room when he heard Grandma's voice coming closer, freezing in place briefly before backtracked up the stairs slightly, hiding out of sight. 

He held his breath as Grandma passed him, not noticing his hiding spot as she made her way down to the kitchen.

He didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until he was standing inside Scott's launch lift, having to jump to reach the lamp poles.

He activated the lift to take him down to thunderbird one's hanger, disabling the suit up function. There were easier ways of getting down to thunderbird one's hanger, but he would have to go down to the kitchen level, and that would be nearly impossible with Grandma down there. 

He was surprised John hasn't appeared yet to scold and ask him why on earth was he using Scott's lift.

But he wasn't going to call John up and ask him why, because one that would be stupid and two, he was going to take John's silence as the blessing it was. 

If he had timed everything right, Scott should be home in five or so minutes, so all he needed to do now was wait and hope he wasn't caught before Scott got back, he thought with a sigh, sitting down on the floor, facing the area where thunderbird one would rest while not in use.

He could wait...

---

He must have dozed off for a minute or two because the next thing he knew thunderbird one was pulling onto her hanger and the launch platform was extending out to meet Scott.

He stood up and watched as Scott dismounted, his uniform dirty and filthy, but it was the truly drained, sorrow-filled look on Scott's face that took his breath away.

Scott looked like hell; he thought, biting his lip, tears gathering in his eyes. Scott's eyes filled with confusion and concern as he spotted him, stepping off the platform. "Alan? What ar-"

He launched himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around Scott's waist and clung on tight. He felt and heard Scott gasp in surprise and maybe something else. 

A second later Scott was hugging him back just as tightly, perhaps even more so. Scott's face was buried in his hair, his big brother trembling slightly as he held him, like he was scared to let go.

He felt more tears gather in his eyes at the thought. He didn't realise how badly seeing Scott like this would affect him...but he really should have known, Scott was the closest thing he had to a father and what child wanted or was okay with seeing their parent in this sort of state?

But maybe he could make these emotions work in his favour, he thought with a muffled sob, pulling away from Scott. 

He didn't know what exactly happened on Scott's mission, but he knew Scott had lost a kid, a kid that had looked like him and if he knew his big brother as well as he thought he did, 'What if that kid had been Alan?' would have been on his mind all the way home.

There was no way he would leave his big brother alone tonight, Scott needed him close, even if big brother would never outright say it. So he had to go about it in a way where Scott thought he was helping him, not the other way around...

"What the matter, sweetheart?" Scott asked, bending down slightly, so they were eye level, his tired eyes filled with concern. Even when Scott was barely holding himself together, he had the strength to care for them, for him. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He hated what he was going to do next, lying to his big brother just felt wrong, even if it was for a good reason.

"I...I had a-" He sniffled, roughly rubbing at his nose with his palm. "-a nightmare, can...can I spend the night with you?" He brought out the tried and tested puppy eyes; his tear-filled eyes make it ten times more effective.

Scott's eyes softened, "Of course..."

---

He sat on the bench in the change rooms, idly swinging his legs as Scott took a much-needed shower. He hadn't been technically entirely lying to Scott, because seeing that look on Scott's face was almost kin to having a nightmare, except while he was awake. 

He looked up as Scott came out of his change room, rubbing his hair with a towel, wearing an old shirt and pyjamas pants. Scott's eyes were filled with anxious energy as he looked around the room, his big brother only relaxing when he spotted him.

He jumped up and latched himself to Scott's side as he spotted that brief fear in Scott's eyes. He pressed himself against his brother in a side hug, cheek resting against Scott's chest. He could hear Scott's heart still beating faster than normal, the hidden fear not so hidden.

Scott gave him a small, slightly concern, smile, looping an arm around him, gripping him tightly. "Come on, let's get you, and me to bed..." Scott whispered, his voice only shaking a little bit as he leads him over to the lift that would take them to the upper levels.

He had a mental facepalm moment as they stepped into the lift and Scott hit the button for their bedroom floor. Why didn't he just take the main lift instead of Scott's launch? It would have made avoiding Grandma or getting busted by John nearly obsolete. 

If he could facepalm right now without giving himself away, he would be.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" Scott asked, looking down at him. His realisation must have shown on his face, not good. He didn't want to tell Scott how he had used his launch tube to get down to thunderbird one's hanger, that was sure to get him in trouble.

"Nothing..." He mumbled, snuggling deeper into Scott's side.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but decided to it wasn't worth it, especially at this time of night, "You're very cuddly tonight..." Scott mused softly as he nudged him forward and into his bedroom. "You're sure you're okay?" Scott laid the back of his hand against his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He shook Scott's hand off as he flopped down onto Scott's bed, crawling to the side of the bed. "I heard that your mission went badly..." He mumbled, giving Scott a half-truth, looking up at Scott with sad puppy eyes. "It scared me..."

The skin around Scott's eyes creased, "That wasn't what your nightmare was about, was it?" Scott asked as he laid down next to him, pulling him close, shifting the blankets of they covered both of them.

He didn't answer, because one, he felt terrible about lying about having a nightmare, and two his 'nightmare' in a way was precisely that. That exhausted, drained, anxious look on Scott's face, the way that even now Scott was clinging to him, afraid that he'll disappear if he let go. 

It was worse than a nightmare...

His silence must have been enough for Scott because he felt himself being pulled closer. "Oh sweetie, I'm alright..." Scott whispered, kissing his hairline. "I'm right here..."

"Then I'm alright too..." he whispered, unable to stop himself but Scott needed to hear it. He looked up at Scott, his eyes filled with love for his big brother. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere..." He snuggled deeper into Scott's chest, wrapping his arms around Scott's middle.

"I...." He felt Scott startle slightly, before relaxing, "-yeah, yeah you are..." Scott wrapped himself around him, burying his face into his hair as he held him close in an embrace. "Thank you..."

---

No one's pov

Grandma Tracy stood in the doorway of her eldest grandson's room, taking in the sight in front of her. Both youngest and eldest entangled in an embrace, both sleeping peacefully when, in reality, one of them really shouldn't be...

Grandma smiled, taking a photo for the family photo album.  

"Good job, kid..."

She left them to sleep, closing the door behind her with a secretive, proud smile. "Good job..."