#I can’t do it man…I can’t do perspective anymore

[metalomagnetic]

I re-read "it runs in the blood" and am now absolutely obsessed with the Bella/Rodolphus and Sirius dynamic. I definitely need Rodolphus' perspective on Sirius and Bella's relationship. How he would come to Lestrange Manor as a little boy just for Bella. Somehow, it feels like Rodolphus was a very distant older brother/role model (anti-role model) for mini-Sirius. If the age difference between Sirius and Bella/Rodolphus was bigger, they would really be like a very dysfunctional family (they do, but there is still a sibling relationship system there)

Not exactly what you asked for, but here is a little funny something:

----

As soon as he enters the manor, he hears loud, shrill laughter over the blaring music.

Rodolphus already has a headache, he doesn’t need this on top of it.

He makes his way towards one of the living rooms, the noise getting louder with each step, irritating him.

“Control your temper,” Orion just told him after the Wizengamot session that took forever, testing Rodolphus’ patience. “You are no longer a child.”

His brother is a child, however, a fifteen-year-old fool, and when Rodolphus peeks through the partially open door, he sees Walden’s sister perched on Rabastan’s knee, bottles of alcohol all around them.

Other little fools are drinking and dancing all around, and-

Fuck it, Rodolphus thinks, deciding against going inside and scolding them.

Fuck it. He’s tired of attempting to guard Evelyn’s virtue, or the Macnair’s good name, when clearly no one in that family bothers to do the same.

What a disgrace. The only girl in a gathering of boys, sitting there on his brother’s lap.

Bella used to be the only girl in-

Yes, but Bellatrix never behaved like this. Oh, she’d sit in a room full of men, but she commanded respect, with her back straight, her eyes narrowed, and she was interested in talking politics, not climbing into boys’ laps.

With a shrug, he decides not to waste his breath anymore, and he turns around and heads upstairs.

It’s already close to midnight, the session took hours, boring old farts loving to hear themselves talk, arguing over nothing. Even Lucius looked half asleep at Abraxas’ side by the end of it.

He heads to Bella’s room, instead of his. He rarely uses his own room, Rodolphus hasn’t stepped inside it for at least a few months, since the wedding.

Blissfully silent few months, with his brother at Hogwarts. Rabastan has only returned home for three days and already Rodolphus wants to strangle him.

He discards his annoyances, replaced with the anticipation of sneaking into Bella’s bed and holding her close.

Perhaps if she hasn’t fallen asleep, they could engage in more pleasurable activities.

Alas, when he carefully opens the door, and the room is shrouded in darkness, he doesn’t feel disappointed.

Just holding her close as he drifts asleep is a pleasure he still can’t believe he has the right to.

He walks to her dresser, where half of his clothes are, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He discards his clothes, decides against searching for a sleeping shirt, and heads to the bed.

Bella’s sleeping form, her back turned to him, her hair all over the pillow, already makes him smile.

Until he gets close enough to see she’s not alone in bed.

On her other side, snuggled into her-

“Fucking Blacks!”

Bella blinks awake, shifts her head, though her arms remain around her cousin.

This was sweet, two years ago, when Rodolphus would risk his head, and sneak into her room in her father’s manor, only to find her there with Sirius in her bed. It was sweet. He was a child, and it filled Rodolphus with longing, imagining what a good mother Bellatrix will one day make to their own child.

But Sirius is no longer a child.

He’s grown a lot since the wedding, it seems. When he pulls the sheets of them, Sirius looks closer to a man than a child, long limbs intertwined with Bella’s, twice as thick at her, his jaw, nestled into her neck, is sharper now, had lost all pretence of a boyish form.

At least he’s dressed.

Bella smiles at him, and half of his anger melts. Well, all of his anger melts, but the annoyance doesn’t.

“He’s a grown man!” he snarls, and Bella shushes him, as if her cousin truly is a baby, not to be disturbed from his precious sleep.

“He’s thirteen!” she argues, in a whisper.

“He’s as tall as you are!”

“Shh!” Sirius stirs, but doesn’t wake, only tightens his hold on Bella.

My Bella.

This is worse than Evelyn in Rabastan’s lap! This is a married woman in bed with another man. Man-child, fine, but Sirius and Bella walk around calling each other soulmates.

That was sweet, too, years ago, when he only came up to her bellybutton.

“I haven’t seen him in months,” Bella whispers, with a pout. “I missed my sweet boy!”

“I didn’t!”

“Shh!”

“Stop shushing me!” he demands, but to his embarrassment, he does so in a whisper, too.

“Climb in,” she offers, carefully extracting an arm out of Sirius’ hold, patting the mattress behind her.

“I’m not-! Kick him out!”

“He’s drunk. Your brother let him drink half a bottle of fire whiskey!”

“So what?”

Rodolphus cannot believe he’s made to whisper in his own house, so as not to wake the boy in his wife’s bed.

“What if he throws up in his sleep?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Shh! Come on, climb in!”

“I’m not sharing your bed with him!”

She shrugs. “Then leave and let me sleep.”

Unbelievable.

Rodolphus stomps out- though he takes care to do it silently. Oh, how he’d love to slam the door behind him, but…he doesn’t.

He sulks, once inside his own room. His bed looks cold and uninviting.

Perhaps he should go downstairs and yell at his brother. It’s his fault Sirius is in Bella’s bed, after all, if he got the boy drunk.

What he should do, is hunt Orion down and drag him here, to get his son.

But Orion is also probably in a bed he shouldn’t be in, and he wouldn’t be best pleased with the interruption.

He lectured Rodolphus enough in the past few hours, no need to expose himself to that cold glare of his for more than it is needed.

Twenty minutes later, Rodolphus carefully climbs into Bella’s bed.

He’ll just have to pretend it’s like two years ago, and that Sirius is still small and cute, and not this horrible tempered teenager he’s turning into.

He was never cute, he remembers. Always a little shit. But it was easier to suffer him back then.

Bella giggles when Rodolphus settles at her back. “You’re such a baby,” she whispers. “Men never grow up, it seems.”

“Shh,” Rodolphus admonishes, mockingly, and she only giggles harder. “When will he be gone?”

“He leaves for Greece in two days.”

Thank the gods. Now Rodolphus has to find a way to get rid of his brother as well, send him to visit some of their relatives in France, maybe, and he can have his wife and his manor and his peace back.

His irritation is gone, however. If he doesn’t think too hard about it, it’s as if Sirius isn’t there at all.

He rests his head against Bella’s shoulder, and he falls asleep relatively fast.

In the morning, he wakes with Sirius grinning above him. “You snore,” he informs Rodolphus, and before Rodolphus can throw him out of the bed, Bella comes out of the bathroom and gives him a warning glare.

[eleooooooo]

top tip for artistd: don’t stop drawing or you wont rember how to draw

[herenvibing]

cr3 is gonna end and the pc’s still feel like the same people to me :|

(crcritical content in the tags feel free to skip)

[bubble-you]

true bestiehood would be letting me make them watch mummy on the orient express with them and let me watch their reactions and listen to me talk about it and repeat this until they get the significance of every line

[tricoloreddango]

☆how to deal with possessiveness☆

Hsr men (Jing Yuan, Dr Ratio, Aventurine, Gallagher) x gn! reader

Cw: nothing but fluff with them being possessive and cunning bastards; slightly yandere depending on your perspective [BACK TO M.LIST]

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan, gardening boyfriend of yours, loved to take you to the market to help him pick out new plants for his garden, even if you had a feeling he did not need more.

While he was browsing through different options for his garden, you strolled away a little, as you found a stand with pretty, potted flowers, ones you think would decorate your room well.

A man selling said greeneries, was quick to offer his help, advising you which flowers are more and less easy to take care of. You were so enchanted by their pretty petals, you didn’t notice that this seller was a bit too eager to help you out. However, Jing Yuan observing you from the side, side eyeing you two as he pretended to look for plants, noticed culprit’s intensions, clear to him.

Right when you were about to buy one of the flowers, you felt a firm hand between your shoulder blades, and heard your boyfriend speaking up. “Hold on, darling. This flower, usually is not blue…” he advised with an apologetic shake of his head. “It’s dyed blue. It’ll be white again once it’s regrown.”

“Really?” you said with disappointment, as you picked the flower for this specific color. You believed your boyfriend immediately, especially with his gardening skills. You were even bit mad the seller didn’t bother to tell you that. Jing Yuan tried to not smile in satisfaction. “Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll help you find a real, blue flower, as pretty as you.”

When you smiled wide for him, so happy your plan wasn’t ruined, he led you away from the stand, as you complained a bit about the seller. “I can’t believe he was trying to sell me something so scammy!”

“I know. You can’t trust these sellers these days…” he nodded along with feigned disapproval, internally feeling glad you listened to his advice so easily. The flower wasn’t actually dyed and going to turn white, but in his defense, he’ll buy you a pot even better than the one you saw.

Dr Ratio

Veritas has been rather too busy for you lately.

You received a new PC part, one that needed installing and one that you couldn’t install on your own. You were ready to buy a service to let a professional do it for you, but Veritas, a genius he was, told you that of course he can easily do it for you.

And of course he could. But he didn’t, constantly telling you he’ll do it later, saying he’s busy. You understood that well, knowing his work often kept him busy, so you decided to not bother him about it anymore and finally receive help you needed from someone else.

Your luck happened to have your neighbor offer his help for free, finding it to be a quick and easy fix. You gladly accepted his help, and let him install your computer CPU when Veritas was at work.

Despite his offering being for free, you decided to thank him with a cake you’d bake. When your boyfriend came home, he was curious of your decision to bake. “Having a sweet tooth again?” he said calmly, as he greeted you with a quick kiss to your cheek. You smiled at him and explained it’s for your neighbor who helped you with your computer, thinking Varitas will be glad the issue was resolved.

Instead, his expression was one of slight shock and something like annoyance, though it was directed at himself.

He failed you. Despite acting nonchalant more often than he should be, deep inside, he wanted to impress you a bit—be your hero to install that damn CPU, have you thank him and kiss him and say how skilled he was. He felt utter defeat, losing his chance to fulfil his fantasy, because he kept evading your request. Some neighbor was better than him, the one to make you smile and bake cake for. Not him.

“I…I see,” he said with some disappointment. “That’s good to hear…hopefully your computer serves you well now.”

From that day on, Veritas has made sure to never ignore your ask for help.

Aventurine

Aventurine loved to dress you up and spoil you, making sure you always look good and represent him well during his visits to the casino. He quite often felt torn between showing you off, being so cocky and giving everyone the look that says “yes, this beautiful person is with me”, and having you look so gorgeous for his eyes only.

As he was playing one of his little games at the table, he had his arm around you not so nonchalantly, as he gladly showed you his cards, and, rather shamelessly, snickered to you about his opponents on the opposite of the poker table.

He enjoyed the occasional look of envy other people would send him, but his good humor died when he noticed one of them check you out, their eyes going up and down, before licking their lips.

You were so engrossed in calculating Aventurine’s next move, you looked at him only when he whispered into your ear. “How about you help me with staying motivated? Can you give me a little kiss for each time I win?” His request did not surprise nor fluster you. You were a level of shameless yourself, not afraid to show affection publicly. Worse things happen in casinos anyway. It was just his lack of losing that bothered you, contradicting the motivation argument.

“But you’ll win anyway,” you said bluntly, making Aventurine laugh, not at all offended by your dry humor he found only charming; at that, you were leaving his opponents feel embarrassed to hear it from someone they were attracted to.

“That’s true. But can’t your boyfriend have an excuse to kiss you?“ he said teasing you, and looking at you with both warmth and something more intense than usual, as he stroked your waist in a possessive manner. You were not stupid, and you were catching up with his feelings he tried to hide from you. And the loving partner you were, you decided to indulge your boyfriend in his scheme.

So you leaned in to kiss him when his next win came, leaving his opponents even more envious, and Aventurine as twice satisfied about flaunting his beloved being only his.

Gallagher

When your boyfriend’s shift in his bar was coming to an end, you came to him to visit. Sitting by the almost empty bar and sipping on your favorite drink Gallagher brewed for you, you had a man sit next to you. Nothing special should it be, just another client to catch a drink before the bar is closed.

As Gallagher turned around behind the counter for a moment, the stranger was so ready to take his chance and bravely hit on you. Before he could even have a chance to do so, your boyfriend, as if having a flirty people radar in him, talked to you first. He’s been observing the man entire time, being able to notice signs of eager men after years of working here.

“Do you want to come behind the bar? You said you wanted to learn how to make your favorite drink,” Gallagher said with an encouraging smile, to which you happily stood up, and walked behind the counter, unaware of his intentions of saving you from a flirt you wouldn’t want anyway.

As he taught you the recipe, he made sure to have his hand placed on your hip, and to turn around to send the man a look saying “sorry not sorry, buddy”, while you were happily making your mixture.

[misstycloud]

Haunted House

Ghost yan x ghost reader

TW: suicide mention

——————

It was with curiosity you stared out the window. A car had pulled up in the drive way. Through the car windows you sa two adults and three children in the backseat. Well, it was definitely not a maintenance company then. It always bothered you so when they came and meddled with your house; though it technically didn’t belong to you anymore you still considered the building as you home, and prison.

You watched as the kids ran out of the vehicle to inspect the house. You had to admit, they were rather cute. Before you hadn’t really thought about having kids and weren’t sure if you ever would, but now you found yourself wondering if you would have made a good mother. One always ponder about the choices out of one’s reach.

They seemed happy, the family of five. Perhaps you would be fine with them around.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” A voice interrupted your dazed thoughtfulness as your mood instantly soured.

“Nothing so you can leave.”

The man behind you sighed. “Do you always have to act like this whenever I’m around?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, fearing that the sight of him would send you into a frenzy. “I do when you’re the one who ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? We were happy together, in fact, I remember you telling me ‘I promise to love you even in death’ but I guess that doesn’t apply, not with the way you treat me.”

You nearly gasped at his audacity. The nerve some people had!

“What? Are you actually serious right now- you can’t be? The way I treat you? You want to talk about the way I treat you? You killed me!” You shouted.

You had turned around now. Your eyes took in the handsome man you had once called the love of your life. Despite the hatred for true actions and pain he caused you, a small part of you still felt something when you looked at him. Maybe it was affection? Maybe it was the anguished feelings of a happy life that could have been? You weren’t sure.

He stilled for a moment before speaking again. “I know, and I am sorry it had to go that way-“

“Had to? You weren’t forced to do anything. At least take responsibility for your actions!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you had just stopped flirting with those other men.” It seemed like it was his turn to become angry. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at them, how your eyes lit up when you saw someone you very clearly fancied.”

“Oh my- we’ve been over this a hundred times, they were just coworkers nothing more. Besides, they have wives and kids of their own!”

It didn’t matter how much you insisted, your (ex)husband did not relent in his accusations.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be loyal. You have no idea what a treasure you are, many would do anything to get to have you.” The man twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, entranced by your beauty.

“Oh, like you, you mean?” You fired back.

“Stop that.” He said. “I don’t want to fight with you, we’ve already done enough of that. I did what I had to do and nothing will ever change that. Now we’ll be together for ever, even in death, just like we promised each other at the altar. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that one day you will understand how deep my feelings for you go and see things from my perspective. I love you, I really do.” He turned to leave you to your lonesome. Before he left, he told you one final thing, “No one else will adore you as much as I, especially now considering no man will ever see you besides me. You’re nothing more than a ghost after all.”

The tear threatening to escape earlier finally welled up. You cried and wiped your eyes with you cold, dead hand.

——————

Just as you had imagined, the family did bring you a new sense of happiness. Whilst not exactly ideal, watching over(spyin on) the parents and the children made your days more fulfilled. They brought laughter and fun back into your undead life.

Unfortunately you weren’t able to look out for them unless they stayed in the house. It was a real pain in the ass, not being able to leave the building. If you could, you would have left decades ago- much to your (ex)husband/ dismay. You suspected he was relieved to find that you were both confined to your place of death. It meant you couldn’t leave him, which was his goal the entire time. He got what he wanted in the end.

After stabbing you out of jealousy, you died in his arms, crying and demanding answers to why he would hurt you. When you (surprisingly) woke up again, you were in the same position you had been when your life drained out of you. Your man was clutching you tight to his chest and he was stroking you hair. At first you had believed it was all a dream, then you thought you survived the whole thing. He was still petting your hair and rambling on how he loved you and how he would rather die than be separated from you. You hadn’t expected him to be so literal.

You were shocked when you had pulled away from him, only to discover a second version of him lying unmovingly on the floor next to you. Then you noticed the pool of blood spilling out from his neck, and the knife he stabbed you with in his hand. With disbelief you glanced back at the ‘living’ version of him. He smiled somewhat solemnly at you as you took in his too-pale skin and the large scar he had on his throat.

You tried not to think about it too much. No matter what he did, you would never forgive him for taking your life away from you because of his irrational fear of you cheating on him. Well, it was impossible for you to leave or cheat on him now. You were the only ghosts in the house and didn’t have the ability to take even a small step outside the front door.

Instead of spending your days avoiding him as usual, you now followed the family around the house. Mostly the children of course. They had the habit of getting into trouble whenever their parents weren’t around. You had forgotten how many times you had saved them from tripping or bumping their heads. You were lucky you could touch things in the real world for a short second. You couldn’t before so you assumed it was because you were a young and weak ghost back then.

The whole babysitting act also appeared to bother your husband, which you relished in. You remembered one day when he approached you after the family had left for the grocery store.

“Don’t you think you’re spending an awful lot of time with those children?”

“I like them so I don’t mind.” You answered and continued staring at the drawings they made that afternoon, right before begging called to get dressed and meet by the car.

“Well, I don’t think it’s right for you to do the parents job.” He sneered.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Like I said, I don’t mind.” Your wanted to leave it at that but your (ex)husband had other plans.

“Sweetie, I will be honest; I believe your getting too attached to this family, it’s not good.”

You sent a glare in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is I think you should let them be. They’ll eventually move on whilst you’ll be stuck here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You scoffed at the audacity he had again. “A little late for that, don’t you think? This is the only source of happiness I have, don’t take anything more from me, please.”

“I don’t make you happy, then?” He asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You could look him in the eye, choosing silence. He grumbled something incoherent. After another long minute of silence, he sighed. He did that a lot these days, you thought.

“Alright, my love. Continue to look after these living people if it brings you joy, but remember, it won’t last forever. I will be here when you’re done.”

Once more he left you alone to look out the window. Despite your will to disagree, you knew he was right. These people- this family- they were all still alive. You were not. Your time was over, your life stolen from you. It was only a question of when they’d leave. Until then, you’d be their guardian in this haunted house.

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 5•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Simon and Johnny talk.

-

The soft rain continues into the night, enhancing the petrichor of the city: metal and concrete and gasoline. You are tucked away safely in Simon and Johnny’s bed, your dress and virtue intact, where you will remain until the late afternoon if your quiet snores are any indication. Simon had slipped the shoes from your feet, rolled you onto your side, and covered you with a blanket just in time for Johnny to limp into the bedroom and ask him to smoke out on the balcony together. 

Simon doesn’t smoke often anymore; it makes his night terrors worse. But he misses the lazy, relaxed feeling it gives him while awake, so it’s no real harm to say yes. Buttoned up in their jackets, they stand out on the balcony together passing a joint back and forth, the very image that he could have walked in on earlier that week only with you and Johnny instead. 

Johnny opens his mouth. 

“Don’t,” says Simon. 

He throws his hands up, nearly dropping the joint. “How’d you know what I was going t’ even say?” 

“I know you,” Simon reminds him. Johnny has had that look on his face ever since you passed out asleep in the car ride on the way home: brows pressed together, full mouth pouting in a way that is entirely unintentional. Simon has been the cause of that look more times than he cares to admit—and tonight is one more time added to that list. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Hafta.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says I.” 

“Leave it alone,” he says. That’s as close as Simon Riley gets to begging: repeating something twice. 

“Do you believe me when I say that I would if I could?” 

Simon glances at Johnny. The light flooding from inside the apartment casts his face in warm shadows. There is a pleading in his eyes, a begging to be understood. Johnny’s never had to beg for that; Simon’s always been able to read him well, the other man used to wearing his heart on his sleeve and Simon used to seeing much more than he ever says. 

He sighs and impatiently reaches for the joint, taking a hit that burns his lungs. “Make it quick then.” 

“You don’t want me to fuck her anymore. You’ve changed your mind.”

“Haven’t.”

“Aht, aht—look me in the eyes and say it.” 

Simon does, and it makes Johnny frown. 

“Then what is it? You’ve got a bug up your arse, I just can’t figure out the species.” 

“I love your way with words,” Simon says, silently cutting himself off. He hands the joint back to Johnny, his head swimming a little. 

The truth is simple and devastating: Simon’s jealous. It’s not an emotion he’s used to (though self-denial is often in his repertoire). He doesn’t know what to fucking do with it, like a man who has given up smoking and now doesn’t know what to do with his hands. When you had first arrived on their doorstep, the attraction you felt for them had been obvious—except was that Simon fooling himself? Were you attracted to him at all, or just Johnny, Johnny with his pretty pale eyes and charming smile and uncanny ability to make even the most unpracticed of people fall in love with him? 

You smoke with Johnny, cuddle on the couch with Johnny, have movie dates with Johnny when Simon is away. The most interaction he’d had with you involved your anxious stammering and quick retreats. 

Yes, tonight had really put it into perspective for him. When it came to the two of you, Simon was likely only ever going to be on the outside looking in. 

“I’m losin’ yeh,” Johnny murmurs, his words tinted by smoke. 

“Never.” 

“Don’t put yer mask on, Simon Riley,” Johnny says with tenderness that Simon doesn’t deserve. “Not when it’s just the two of us. All that shite we said about her when we were fucking—it was just the sex talking, wasn’t it? You were talking out your arse.”

“When have you ever known me to do that?” 

Johnny doesn’t say anything for a while. The rain is soaking through their jackets. Johnny leans against him, looking for warmth, and Simon is happy to slip an arm around his waist and pull him closer. 

“I want her to want me,” he says at length, voice nearly lost to the nighttime city sounds. Somewhere, a siren is wailing. Simon sympathizes. “I don’t know why.”

“Everybody wants t’ be wanted.” The thought of being lumped in with everybody nearly makes him sick, but he supposes Johnny has a point. It’s human. Unfortunately, so is Simon. “She wants you, LT. Nay—it’s not up for discussion. For a man who sees everything, yer eyesight is broken.”

“It’s not worth the breath it’d take to argue with you.”

“Just how I win all our arguments.”

“Fucking her without talking to her first would be a mistake,” he says.

“I’ll talk to her. But I want you there.”

“When you fuck or talk?”

“In an ideal world? Both.”

“Keep dreaming, Johnny boy.”

“I don’t need t’ fuck her, you know,” Johnny reminds him. He looks up at Simon, all eyelashes. “You’re the only thing in this world I need. If fucking her puts any doubt in yer silly head—“

“It doesn’t. I know what keeps you coming back to me.”

“What’s that?” Johnny asks with a grin, feigning ignorance. He crushes the lit end of the blunt to ash on the metal railing of the balcony and tosses the roach over the edge. Finding Simon’s hand buried mostly in his jacket sleeve, he laces their fingers together, comfortable and lazy.

“My winning personality,” Simon deadpans. 

“Oh, obviously.” 

“My charming good looks.” 

“That one’s true.” 

“My cock.”

“She’s got one of those.”

Simon stares. The silence stretches on, Johnny’s smug grin unchanging. “Dunno how to break this to you, Johnny—“

“A toy, LT,” Johnny stage whispers. 

Simon’s eyes narrow. “How’d you get this intel?” 

“My own eyes. But it was an accident, swear to Jesus,” Johnny says, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t materialized behind him. “The other day when you were taking so bloody long in the shower and I had to piss—she was working, so I went into her bathroom.

“She didn’t have the curtain drawn on her shower and there it was, staring me in the eye, LT. Blue monstrosity with a suction cup on the end.”

“Fucking hell.” 

“Big as you, at least.”

“Don’t fucking tell me that.” 

“If I have to think about it, then you do too. Thinking about her in the shower, hands against the walls, bouncing away on that cheap bit o’ plastic, wishing it were one of us.” 

Simon lets himself picture it: the water sluicing rivulets over your skin, creating constellations of drops on your closed lashes. Your mouth wet and open, hoping the roar of water against the tile covers up the sound of your moans and gasps. 

“You’re a menace.” 

“One of my good qualities, what keeps you coming back to me,” says Johnny. He shivers, half of it for show. “Can we go back in?”

They go back in and strip off their damp clothes right there in the living room, balcony blinds wide open. Simon opts to take the couch, though he hardly fits, and Johnny takes the bed to be with you in case you are sick in the night. 

When Johnny slips into the dark bedroom, he can hear the soft sound of your snores. All seems well. A knot of worry in his chest unwinds, and he tugs on a clean shirt, determined not to look like an opportunistic bastard if you wake up in the night and catch him in bed with you. 

You are still there when the sun rises, and Johnny with it. No matter how many years it’s been since he’s left the SAS, the internal clock is ingrained in his subconscious. He lets himself roll onto his side and stare at you: the shape of your brows, your softly parted mouth. You’re drooling on Simon’s pillow. 

His heart throbs with fondness for you, and with anxiety. He’s nearly positive that you have feelings for Simon as well—he’s caught the way you stare, the way your eyes will track the other man’s movements when you’re all in a room together—but of course he can’t be sure. Not until you make a move or say as such.

Years ago, your interest in Simon might have made him jealous, back when all the attention needed to be his for him to feel anything at all. Maybe it was a sign of getting older, tamer; or maybe it was just about growing safe in his love with Simon, in knowing that they belong to each other absolutely and in perpetuity, but now it thrills him—the thought of sharing and being shared. 

It turns him on, too—sharing. A thought he should not be having while in bed with your half unconscious figure. 

Don’t do wrong by us, he thinks, reaching out to tug the covers up around your shoulders more. Give us a proper chance. Let us fuck it up for our selves, if we must—just give us the chance. 

Out in the living room, he hears the creak of the sofa; Simon is awake. 

Rolling onto his side, he shifts his bad leg out of the bed first, wincing at the early-morning stiffness which seems worse than usual. He’s limping more on his way to the bathroom, but left his cane in the other room. 

“Genius, I am,” he mutters, flipping on the bathroom light. “Just another reason why Simon keeps me ar—what the fu-uck.”

Sometime in the night, part of the ceiling in the northwestern most corner has fallen, wet bits of ceiling tile congealing on the tiled floor. Through the hole (big as two of his fists held together) he can see ceiling beams. Water continues to drip, creating a vast puddle that nearly reaches his toes. 

“Jesus fucking wept,” he says. 

-

Sometime during Simon and Johnny’s perusal of the bathroom, two calls to the maintenance superintendent, and numerous Scottish curse words, you wake. 

You have cotton mouth, your head practically stuffed full of the wooly substance. Your dress has ridden up around your waist, panties bared beneath the sheets and blankets. All around you are the scents of Simon and Johnny, and you have just enough time to wonder what they were doing in your bed before the bed depresses, Johnny at your side coaxing you further into wakefulness. You’re not in your bed; you’re in theirs. 

“What’s going on?” you mutter. 

“Maintenance is coming to look at the bathroom. Figured you’d want to be wearing something else when they got here.”

“What’s wrong with the bathroom?” 

“Ceiling’s caving in,” says Simon from where he leans in the doorway of the bathroom, his hip cocked against it, arms crossed and closed off. 

“Sleep well?” Johnny asks.

“Like the dead.”

“Never heard the dead snore like that,” he says, making your face flush with warmth. 

You grab his pillow and lob it at him half heartedly. There’s a knock on the door in the other room, startling you the way knocks and doorbells always do. The imminent threat of strangers in your space. Jerking down your dress to the proper length, you kick off the blankets and scuttle out of the bed, doing the shortest walk of shame in history. The last thing you see is Simon at the front door waiting for you to disappear before giving the maintenance person entrance. 

Heart thudding, you let your back rest against your bedroom door and wrack your brain to remember the finer details of what had happened last night.

There had been joy meeting up with your girlfriends for the first time in ages—you had saved for so long just to be able to afford a single night out. It was like old times—until it wasn’t. Then you were alone, single in a strange bar watching the last of your friends slip out the door with no more than a wave and a ‘what can you do?’ grin. You had shed some tears at the bar, earning the bartender’s pity. And the pity of a few others, though the name of the man who had given you attention for half the night escaped you.

After that, things got very fuzzy. You must have called to ask Ghost for a ride home. He had offered it, after all, before you had left the apartment in the first place. Even drunk, you had known better than to ask for a ride from a stranger. 

Then—God.

Oh God. Johnny. The backseat. You had come on to him. He had even tried to stop you, but you hadn’t taken no for an answer. The memories rush over you like a tidal wave, one after the other, bringing with them mortification, horror, dread. 

You bury your face in your hands, ashamed and terrified all at once. You had hit on your married friend, against his will, with his husband in the driver’s seat. There would be no coming back from this. 

You needed to talk to Johnny and Simon, urgently. An apology was due at the very least. You wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked you out of the apartment altogether. Stripping out of your dress, you drag on the first clean clothes you can find and slip out into the living room, stomach rolling, to find Simon and Johnny speaking together in hushed voices. They stop at the sight of you. 

“I need to talk to you,” you say to Johnny, before you can lose your nerve. 

“I need to talk to you,” says Simon solemnly. 

“Make that we need to talk to you,” Johnny amends, casting Simon a look.

“Well I need to talk to someone,” the maintenance guy says. 

The three of you jerk, having forgotten the stranger’s presence and no one very eager to be the one to speak with him. Simon heaves a sigh and tilts his head toward the front door in a silent order. The two of them disappear outside, voices just audible on the other side of the door. 

“We should wait fer Simon,” says Johnny. 

“Alright,” you give in, choosing to sit at the far edge of the sofa. You clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking, feeling just as likely to panic as you are to burst into tears. Simon’s disappointment and anger are the last things you want to face, but you suppose that you have earned them. 

After a moment of silence, Johnny asks innocuously: “While we wait—can I use your bathroom? Sorry, it’s just, since ours is out of commission—”

“Of course, my bathroom is your bathroom.” But then you remember... You stand hastily. “Actually, let me just…tidy up really quickly. It’s a mess in there.” 

Johnny doesn’t grin, but it is a near thing. “Alright, lass. Whatever you need to do.” 

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mention of abandonment issues, stealing, mention of abuse words -> 3k

abstract -> two hybrids... bonded were now separated, it could harm them both

y/n's perspective

It's officially been a year since I’ve had Wooyoung and San. He’s been getting better, but his memories are still hazy, even when he was in the ring. It wasn’t until that one day that he confessed that losing a few memories doesn’t seem like a bad thing, and he accepted it. 

He’s no longer scared of the elevator bell, still doesn’t like being around other hybrids, but doesn’t mind going out anymore. Doesn’t prefer crowded areas but is happy with his life. 

He’s… happier. Obliviousness is sometimes a blessing. 

He’s shown Wooyoung more love than before and even towards Yeosang. He even teases Seonghwa a lot, whilst he at first hated Hongjoong now follows his every order. He’s changed since I've had him and if he was happy that's all that mattered.

I wanted to fulfill my promise to make him happy even if he doesn’t remember it. 

“Stop eating like pigs!” Seonghwa scolded and I chuckled since we were finishing up on dessert. “You have chocolate all over your face,” Hongjoong teased and I smiled. 

The two were the oldest and so were very attentive despite only being with us for three months. They cared a lot and adjusted well, while Yeosang too was better than how he was. He was no longer scared of eating food and accepted presents without wanting to pay them back in return. 

I could’ve never believed in having five hybrids let alone one last year but… I was glad that I adopted San that day. It brought me more happiness than ever before.

“Here is your receipt ma'am I hope you had a lovely dinner. I would also advise you to be careful there's been pick-pockets recently stealing wallets and cash” the waitress said and left. That was still going on huh? 

“Here you go Angel” I heard and noticed Yeosang holding my coat. “Thanks, Yeosang,” I said as he helped me put it on. “They seem very happy,” he said and I chuckled as I saw Seonghwa wiping their faces from the chocolate dessert they ate.  “Yeah, yours is next,” I said and he smiled. 

I could hear San and Wooyoung already planning what they want next year, making me happy how excited they got for little things. “Ooh! Hongjoong we should do a Barbeque!” Seonghwa said excitedly. “Hmm? Maybe we should do that for me!” Yeosang said and I laughed at their rivalry. Yeosang walked ahead towards the two and Seonghwa only glared at his head. 

“Don’t worry, I know for a fact he’d ask for fried chicken in the apartment, '' I said and he chuckled. “Makes sense, he doesn’t like leaving home either way” Seonghwa said and I nod. Hongjoong was by my side acting as my bodyguard as the three other hybrids were walking ahead. “I can’t believe it's been three months already,” Hongjoong said and I nodded. It's been two months since our incident but everyone has grown from that. 

“SOMEONE STOP HIM!” I heard a familiar yell. I noticed a man now stop panting in front of us. “Shotaro?” I ask and he looks up to see me. “Ah, y/n… give.. me… a minute” he said out of breath. “You… and all your hybrids, you look scary” he said out of breath and I let out a chuckle before worrying for him. “What happened, are you okay?” I asked and he nodded but quickly bactracked. “Actually no, I got robbed!” he yelled, frustrated. 

“Oh, the infamous pick-pocket?” I sighed and he nodded. “Apparently, Doyoung has even lost money. Didn’t you lose your wallet?” he asked and I shook my head. “Just 200,” I said. “What?” Yeosang said confused and I forgot only Hongjoong knew. 

“I smell a dog hybrid,” San said and Shotaro looked more confused. “A hybrid stole from me? I better tell Kun about this soon” he said, still catching his breath. “How long have you been running, the shop is far from here?” I asked and he scoffed. “Too long, and now I've lost them,” he said and I sighed. “You’re going to have to report everything” I said and he nodded. “I’ll tell Taeyong-hyung about this tonight” he said but he still looked irritated. 

“You should go home, it's getting pretty late. You at least have a pack of hybrids to protect you” he said and I nod knowing I was okay. “You should go back to shop, be careful” I said and he nodded as he waved. 

“When did you lose money?” Wooyoung asked and I sighed. “It was the first time for the circus hybrid interviews and then the second when I got out of the hospital” I said and they all deflated. I smiled, “Don’t worry it's fine, they probably need it more than me” I said and they didn’t say anything. 

“Come on, let's go home!” 

yunho’s perspective

“Woah! A hundred! We haven’t gone this much in a while” Mingi said, happy to have increased funds. We haven’t found that since… that one girl. It still made me sick how I had to rob her while she was so… lost. “She’s been showing up with that tiger though” he pouted. “She has five hybrids so be careful, and don’t rob her,” I said and he nodded. 

I would sometimes see the different hybrids… a panther showed up once. A Doberman would show up rarely, while a fox was very hyperactive meaning he was one of the ones commonly accompanying her. Whilst there were two tigers… the orange tiger was always with her by her side and he would always glare at me. He knew…

“Do you think we can eat a good meal tomorrow?” he asked and I chuckled. “Hmm? What are you thinking?” I asked and he grinned. “Ramyeon!” he said excitedly. 

“Guess, we’ll finally eat some food at a convenience store!” 

We were picking out cheap brands of snacks that would hopefully last us a while. It wasn’t until I turned the corner to see her… I quickly turned around hiding in a different aisle. Mingi walked in front of me when I grabbed him. 

“Don’t go over there” I said and he looked confused while speaking but I flicked his forehead. “Ow! Hey, it's–" "No,” I said and he scoffed “Come on, she’s alone” he begged and I shook my head. 

“y/n you’re a lifesaver! I swear I'll pay you back” I heard… that voice sounded familiar. “Hey don’t worry about it! It's not your fault you got robbed” she said… that was the boy we robbed off of yesterday. 

“M-Mingi we have to leave… now… Mingi?” I said and looked at where he was. Where did he go? I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder scared but it was him… holding her wallet. 

“Give it back,” I said, feeling my heart stop. “What? No–'' “Mingi threw it on the floor or something was leaving,” I said and he didn’t want to. “Huh? I don’t have my wallet?” she said and I started putting things away randomly not caring if it didn’t belong. “Sir! Someone robbed her!” I heard. “We’re leaving!” I said as I tried rushing him but we were stopped by security.

“There's a thief in the store so can you please–” I pushed my out with Mingi while we ran. When I thought we escaped, I stopped as we caught our breath. 

“A hybrid thief sounds like the start of a bad kid’s story” I heard and I looked behind me… the tiny tiger. “Give it back,” he said with a handout and I looked at Mingi who didn’t budge. He was a wolf hybrid and in theory he looked intimidating but he wasn’t… despite his size, he was the runt of his litter, and he couldn’t fight. I couldn’t either… but the tiger was so small. What harm could he do? Right?

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he said as I saw his claws get bigger. 

“Yunho we can take him,” Mingi whispered but I wasn’t so sure. Something told me no… he was getting closer when I saw a familiar figure. “Hongjoong!” she said as he seemed to calm down immediately even retracting his claws “Hey! Thieves!!!” the boy we robbed yesterday yelled. 

“Huh? You’re the guy who always…” she said almost in a disappointed tone… if it wasn’t for my hat I would’ve surely looked like a kicked puppy.

“He has your wallet,” Hongjoong told her and her eyes widened… “Every time you talked to me wasn’t because you were comforting me… you stole from me each time” she said and I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t defend myself since it was true… we did steal from her.

“That’s what I get for trusting a stranger…” she muttered as I saw the tiger go to her side and rub her back trying to comfort her…

“I want my wallet back!” the boy yelled and I looked at Mingi who looked frozen. “Give it back…” I muttered and he took out the two wallets. “Yunho I’m sorry, this was my fault,” he said and gave me her wallet which I wanted to hand to her but the tiger got it instead.

“Kun is coming soon,” the boy said and I was confused… who was that?

“I'm sorry… I did try helping you” I ended up saying but she didn’t look at me. I was jealous of the tiger. She cares for her hybrids… I see her every time she walks down this street with a hybrid… Most people collected them but she didn’t seem to be doing that. She loved them… why wasn’t I that lucky?

It was a weird combination too… two tigers, a panther, a fox, and another dog. I felt most jealous of that dog…

“Why can’t we run?” Mingi whispered and I knew the two were waiting for whoever Kun was… “I don’t know… we’re caught red-handed Mingi. It’s over” I said and he shook his head. “No, it can’t be,” Mingi said as he stood up. “Look we’re sorry… we need to leave now,” Mingi said but the tiger… Hongjoong growled at the wolf hybrid. “Hongjoong don’t,” the girl said to her hybrid but the tiger scoffed. He went back to her side and before Mingi could do anything I heard sirens.

“Yunho? Hybrid control… I don’t wanna go back to them” he said and I shook my head. 

“I don’t either… I’m sorry Mingi I failed you”

y/n’s perspective

“He comforted me when my hybrids were in here… I know I didn’t know him but it feels a little bit like betrayal” I confessed and Kun nodded. “I know, both hybrids are code green. They have owners coming to pick them up soon,” he said and I nodded. 

“Why would they run away, though?” I pondered and he shrugged. “If I find any type of mistreatment then I won’t allow them to take them. However, we can’t assume the worst” he said and I nodded.

“Kun, the owners are here” I heard Haechan say from the door. “Yah! You two are eating lunch without me?” he pouted and I chuckled.

“Haechan you took a thirty-minute break already… also it's supposed to be fifteen.” he scolded and the young boy laughed it off “y/n you might also want to come,” he said with a worried tone… I followed him outside to see a couple and their two kids.

“Do tricks for us, tiger!” I heard the kids yell and I saw Hongjoong clearly uncomfortable… “Joong, come here,” I said as he was now behind me. 

Hongjoon definitely had some triggers, being told to do tricks was definitely one of them. Being recognized as a whole makes him quite anxious. 

“Oh, come on. Let the hybrid do some tricks” a woman asked and I chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t do this–” “I didn’t ask, darling. My kids want to play with him so I said let the hybrid do some tricks,” she said rather rudely and I scoffed.

“And who are you to tell me what to do? May I remind you that your two hybrids ran away?! They robbed me!” I yelled and she scoffed. 

“What did you have? A twenty?” she joked and I glared. “More like two hundred” I muttered and she laughed. “Two hundred is nothing here,” she said as she grabbed her husband’s wallet and handed me two hundred dollars and I scoffed. 

“I don’t want your pathetic money,” I said and she glared. She instead threw the money at me and laughed. “You look like you need it,” she said, and before I could say anything–

“Yuyu!!” I heard the children yell at the hybrid. I saw the golden retriever hybrid look at his owner fearfully and nervously. The wolf hybrid also stared at the ground…

“Are you okay?” I asked my tiger as I put my hands over Hongjoong's who gripped my hips. He nodded softly as he got closer and hugged me, trying to comfort himself. I could only pet his head as he hugged me.

“We only wanted, Yunho” I heard the lady say. “Please” I heard Yunho plead. “Who are you to ask for things? You ran away, you’ll be punished. Look doctor, Mingi is a violent hybrid he shouldn't even be a code green” she said making me scoff. 

I saw the kids pull on Yunho’s tail while the hybrid could only look at his companion. Was that why they ran away? They were being separated?

“You want to revoke ownership?” Kun asked and she nodded and soon looked at me. “How much for your tiger?” she asked and I scoffed. “You aren’t getting him,” I said and she smiled. “Honey, don’t you think he’ll give the kids such a good time?” she asked as the husband now looked at Hongjoong who tried his best to hide behind me.

“I can offer a hundred thousand?” he asked and I scoffed. “No,” I said and the wife’s eyes widened. “Oh please. Don’t you need the money?” she asked and I scoffed. “Look at his collar?” I heard the man whisper and the lady rolled her eyes. 

“Why does a stupid tacky collar matter at this moment?”

“His collar is a custom design. It costs a hundred thousand” I said and her eyes widened for a bit before rolling her eyes. “And how did you afford that? A kid like you can’t afford that without… selli–" "My name is y/n l/n '' I said and their eyes widened. “As in the daughter of the CEO?” the husband muttered and I smiled softly. “Yes, you wanna try again?” I asked and before the wife could say anything the man bowed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn–” “I want both of you to apologize to my hybrid,” I said and they looked at each other. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” the husband said while the wife refused. 

“I-I work with your parents you know?” he said and I laughed. “Maybe I’ll tell him to stop, come on Hongjoong. Bye Kun I hope they don’t cause too much trouble, if they do you have my number” I said as I left Hongjoong. I may not have the best nor closest relationship with my parents but I doubt they’d let their reputation hit a low if they heard that his wife was implying I sell–

“Thank you,” he said and I smiled. “I’d never let anyone treat any of you like that… I just feel bad for the two. They’re gonna be separated. You saw how desperate they were.” I said and he sighed clearly upset.

“I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if you decided to only adopt Seonghwa… even though I did ask you too,” Hongjoong confessed and I smiled. 

“You’ll never be separated from him”

hongjoong's perspective

I felt pathetic hiding behind her… but she did defend me. I guess this is how Yeosang feels about his ex-owner. We finally went back to the apartment when I saw the familiar orange-eared fox tackle y/n in a hug. “I missed you!! You said it’d be fast!! Why’d you take hours!” he yelled and pouted.

“Angel!” I heard as I saw the familiar pointy-eared hybrid. 

“Is everything okay?” I heard as I saw Seonghwa… he looked at me worriedly. “Hmm? What is the tiny tiger upset about?” San said and I looked down. “Don’t tease him… Hongjoong don’t think about it too much okay? You did amazing today, thank you for saving me and my wallet” she said with a smile and I nodded.

“What happened?” “It's a long story”

y/n’s perspective 

“Maybe the two hybrids ran away because they were gonna be separated,” Wooyoung suggested and I think he was right.

I saw how Hongjoong was being comforted by Seonghwa. The two got told to do circus tricks often… especially by kids and families when they were recognized. 

“Or they had snobby owners” Yeosang muttered and I sighed. “Even if that’s the case I already called my parents to not work with them anymore and even told Chenle to spread the word,” I said and Yeosang laughed.

“So what’ll happen to them?” San asked and I shrugged. “I guess they’ll retire early?” I said and the hybrids all laughed even though I did mean it.

I wasn’t gonna let them treat Hongjoong that way… not when he’s currently beating himself up for it and being comforted by his longest companion.  

“You should’ve taken the two hundred dollars back” Wooyoung suggested and I scoffed. 

“Trust me they'll need that money more than me,” I said and he chuckled. “Come on, we should eat before everything gets cold, '' Wooyoung said as everyone slowly went to the kitchen.

I looped my arm around Hongjoong’s side who smiled softly at me.

“Don’t worry, okay? I know you all want to protect me and you did! You got my wallet back and in return, I’ll protect you from people like that” I promised and I offered him a smile and kissed my head.

“Thank you, I’m lucky to have you”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[steddieas-shegoes]

you and all of your new perspective

for @steddiesongfics using 'new perspective' by noah kahan

also on ao3

rated m | 3,513 words | no cw | tags: rock star eddie munson, good uncle wayne munson, mutual pining, yearning, post-vecna, love confessions, idiots in love, first kiss, implied sexual content, getting together

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

He’s looking down at the letter and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to be normal about Eddie visiting him.

In Hawkins.

Where Eddie swore he’d never come back to the moment he got his ticket out of here.

“Starin’ at it ain’t gonna make him not come,” Wayne says from across the counter. “Surprised he didn’t call ya to tell ya.”

“He…he left a few messages,” Steve explains, setting the letter down and resting his face in his hands. “I just figured he wouldn’t come if I didn’t call him back.”

Wayne raises a brow, gives him a look that Steve’s perfectly familiar with by now. Four years of weekly dinners with a man that’s well aware of your feelings for his nephew leads to some knowing looks and light teasing.

“Only reason he’d ever step foot in this town again is for you and you know that,” Wayne says as he opens another beer. He has three every Friday night, but no longer indulges during the week. Ain’t so young anymore, son, and I gotta stay active to keep up with all your chores, he’d told Steve when he asked. Steve thinks the doctor told him to take it easier. “I don’t think he even told the kids.”

“Don’t see why he would. They’re all over. He’s probably seen them on tour.”

Steve tries not to sound bitter. He woke up in his own bed or whatever the saying is. He can’t blame Eddie for doing exactly what he said he would, following his dreams, getting the hell out of Hawkins the moment he could. The kids did the same, but at least they visited.

“Well, they’ve been houndin’ him to come visit you.”

Steve lifts his head. “They what?”

“They just worry ‘bout ya,” Wayne shrugs. “So do I.”

“I went on a date last week! Robin visited two months ago! I see you every Friday!” Steve stands and starts pacing. “I’m gonna go visit Dustin at school in a month. And Will has his freshman exhibition that we’re all trying to meet up at. It’s not like I’m lonely.”

“Son, I think the only person lonelier than you is Eddie,” Wayne gives him that sad smile he gives whenever they talk about Steve’s social life. It’s like he knows it’s pitiful, and he knows Steve knows it’s pitiful, and he’s making sure Steve knows that he knows. “And he’s stubborn as a mule, but he cares too much about ya to let you suffer.”

“Who said anything about suffering?”

“It’s implied by the way the kids talk about you.”

“How’s that?”

“The word hermit has been used a bunch,” Wayne explains. “Now, I’m gonna finish this beer and you’re gonna stop workin’ yourself up over something that’s still days away.”

Steve rushes over to his calendar, holding up the letter, then checking the calendar.

“He’s gonna be here in three days!” Steve yells. “I can’t be ready by then!”

“What the hell do you need to be ready for? It’s just Eddie,” Wayne is smirking again and Steve’s tired of his teasing, but he’s not gonna say anything because it doesn’t do any good to draw more attention to it. “He ain’t expecting a welcome committee. Maybe a balloon or somethin’; You know he likes the show of it all.”

Steve groans.

He does know. Eddie loves dramatics, that’s what makes him such a good performer on stage. That’s what makes him a great DM.

That’s what made Steve fall in love with him.

“I don’t even know where to get balloons,” Steve says, resting his forehead against the wall.

“The new Wal-Mart should have some,” Wayne pats his shoulder. “We watchin’ the game or standing around havin’ a crisis in your kitchen?”

Steve breathes in. He breathes out.

“I’ll have a crisis tomorrow, I guess.”

“That’s my boy!”

++++

The crisis does come the next day, but this time Wayne isn’t there to make it worse or better. He considers calling Robin, but he knows she’ll just tell him to use his good cologne and try not to be weird. He even thinks about calling Dustin, but immediately shuts that down when he remembers that Dustin is the one who called him a hermit to Eddie’s face.

He finds balloons at the store, and adds streamers to the cart on a whim. He’s sure Eddie will love it. Eddie loves that kind of shit.

He also grabs a pie crust and apples because he remembers Eddie saying how much he loves apple pie with vanilla ice cream one time nearly five years ago.

Okay, maybe it’ll be weird that he remembered that.

He goes to put the apples back when Joyce bumps into him as she’s reaching for a bunch of bananas.

“Sorry honey!” She throws her hands out to catch him, even though she’s the one who almost falls. “I wasn’t paying attention. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, how’re you?” Steve gives her a small smile, trying not to show how panicked he is.

“Sweetie, you look stressed. Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just preparing for a guest,” Steve says, unsure if Eddie’s told anyone else in Hawkins he would be visiting and not wanting to ruin any surprises if he intended on doing that.

He doesn’t even know how long Eddie’s staying; He didn’t say in his letter or voicemails. Wayne hasn’t mentioned it either, which means he probably knows exactly how long he’s staying.

“Oh, is Eddie staying with you?” She asks, brows furrowing. “I assumed he was staying with Wayne. I helped him find an apple pie recipe for his visit.”

Steve looks down at the ingredients in the cart, the evidence of what he’s going to make even more obvious now. Joyce’s gaze follows his and she bites back a knowing smile.

“Ah.”

“Ah?” He asks.

“Uh huh,” she says, nodding. “I would make sure to get the green apples. He likes sour more than sweet when there’s ice cream.”

Steve looks over at the green apples and back at the red apples he was planning on buying. Joyce winks at him before she grabs the bananas and starts to walk away.

“Enjoy the visit!”

Steve doesn’t respond.

He grabs six green apples and shoves them in a plastic produce bag.

He’ll make the damn apple pie and Eddie will love it. Steve will pretend the apple pie isn’t filled with the love he can barely contain for the man, and maybe Eddie will enjoy it and leave as if he never came.

Maybe Steve can make it through this visit with dignity.

****

Eddie shows up at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Technically, it’s 3:03, but Steve wasn’t watching the clock or anything. That would be ridiculous.

He looks just like he always did, just like Steve expected. He’s smiling, and playing with the ends of his curls. Steve is never gonna make it through this visit with dignity.

“Stevie!” Eddie rushes in for a hug, and it should be more awkward than it is. Eddie didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms with Steve. They really only spoke a handful of times over the last few years, and most of those were forced by Wayne or Dustin. But it’s like he never left, like he’s been hugging Steve every day for years.

Steve soaks it up, falls into it and doesn’t care how it looks. If Eddie has a problem with it, he doesn’t say so. He holds Steve tighter, his breath warm against his neck.

Eventually, Steve invites him inside and it does start to feel awkward.

Eddie’s a rock star now, and despite how normal he looks, he’s different. He’s here to see Steve, but is he here out of guilt that it took him this long to visit or because he actually wants to?

Steve talks about work, and his dinners with Wayne, and spends more time than he should explaining Robin’s degree program even though he knows Robin already talked to Eddie when she got accepted. He goes on and on about what everyone else is up to because his life is pretty boring in comparison and he doesn’t want to bore Eddie away.

“Sounds like everyone’s doing good, but I already knew that,” Eddie eventually says when Steve’s rambled for much longer than he planned. “How are you?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Steve says. “Kinda boring around here, honestly. How’s the tour been?”

Eddie laughs and Steve tries not to let it hurt. He doesn’t think he means it in the way Steve’s taking it and that’s a Steve problem, not an Eddie problem.

“I called you 37 times,” Eddie says instead of answering him. “Every city we had a show. The first few I figured you were just busy or asleep. I didn’t think about time zones. But then I started to realize you were avoiding me.”

He isn’t mad, or at least he doesn’t look mad, but Steve feels like he needs to apologize anyway.

“Yeah, sorry. After a while, it kinda…”

“Seemed worse to call since it was so long?” Eddie asks, small smile falling from his face when Steve nods. “It’s never a bad thing to hear from friends, though. You could’ve called the bus phone anytime. Left a message. We got an answering machine because Gareth’s mom always calls when we’re on stage.”

“Right. Good to know,” Steve says. Which, it is good to know, but he doesn’t plan on calling unless there’s an emergency. He can’t look as desperate as he feels and if he calls once, he’ll call twice, and then a hundred times. “What city was your favorite so far?”

Eddie tilts his head, looks him over for a moment before responding. “I liked Boston. All the kids were front row. Except El, she somehow got backstage. Still not sure how. Missed you, though.”

Steve feels his face heat up at the words. Eddie always said things in a flirty way, even though he doesn’t really mean it that way. Steve can’t let himself think that he means it that way.

“It’s a pretty big trip, so. I couldn’t miss work.”

It’s a shit excuse because he absolutely could miss work. It’s a grocery store in a small town, and he doesn’t care that much about it.

“They couldn’t find someone to cover a couple days for you?” Eddie sounds hurt now, and Steve can’t let him think that he’s the problem.

“I didn’t ask. I-” Steve has to be brave now. Wayne’s voice is in his head telling him to just tell Eddie why he’s been so distant, why he hasn’t been the one to reach out. “I was scared to go.”

This seems to throw Eddie off balance. His eyes squint and forehead wrinkles adorably as he tries to do mental gymnastics to find out why Steve of all people would be scared to visit him. Steve is known for throwing himself in the line of fire, being the first one to step in when everyone else is scared. Too bad this type of courage is different.

“Are you scared of flying? I didn’t know, maybe we could have figured out a hired car.”

“No, I don’t mind flying,” Steve admits.

“Then…why were you scared?”

“Because if I let you in, you’ll see how much I miss you and if you see how much I miss you, you’ll see how much I love you. And then you’d never wanna have me around and it would be just like everyone else I love who leaves because I’m not enough to keep them around,” Steve lays his head back against the couch. The Wayne voice in his head is suspiciously quiet.

So is Eddie.

Steve isn’t going to talk anymore; He’s said enough.

Eddie’s hand covers Steve’s. It’s warm and surprisingly soft, and bigger than Steve’s. He never realized that before, not even when he held his hand while he was in the hospital after Vecna or when he watched him play guitar for hours while he was trying to gain his confidence back.

“People don’t leave because you aren’t enough, Steve. They leave because the world is big and they want to be a part of it. Everyone wants you to do that, too,” Eddie says softly, carefully. “I think most of the kids hoped you’d leave Hawkins once they did. Dustin thought you’d come on tour with me.”

“Why would he think that?” Steve doesn’t remember ever having a conversation with Dustin that would make him think that, but his memory isn’t the best.

Eddie’s lips curl up into a smile and he leans forward.

“You know you’re incredibly obvious, right?” Eddie whispers even though they’re alone and there’s no need to be quiet. “You’ve always been easy to read.”

“What does that mean? Read what?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s been right there with Eddie written across it since I was in the hospital, sweetheart.” Eddie points to Steve’s arm. He looks down as if he would be able to see the heart Eddie’s talking about. “You’re an open book.”

The timer in the kitchen goes off and Steve jumps up. He rushes to the oven, grateful for the distraction.

“Is that apple pie?” Eddie asks from a few feet away. Steve really should’ve known he would follow him.

“Yes, it’s gotta be perfect.”

“You made apple pie for me?”

Eddie’s right behind him now, and when he turns, there’s no space between them at all. Steve smells the airport on him, the rental car, the cologne he’s worn since Steve bought it for him before he left Hawkins.

He looks up and sees the years that have passed in smile lines on Eddie’s face, in a single gray hair that Eddie’s probably keeping because it makes him look cool. Steve hasn’t found any gray hairs yet, but he’s only 25. Eddie always said Wayne went completely gray by 30, so his genetics wouldn’t be as kind to him. Steve kinda hopes he’s right. Eddie would be beautiful with gray curls.

“Just like I said: heart on your sleeve,” Eddie whispers, leaning in until his lips are just barely brushing against Steve’s.

He’s waiting for Steve, to see if he’ll finally give in after years of near-silence, after whatever flirty and semi-codependent friendship they had before Eddie left to be a rock star.

Steve’s spent enough time waiting, and he thinks Eddie probably has, too.

His lips press against Eddie’s, sure of their movements despite the anxiety crawling through his chest and the unfamiliar taste of him on his tongue.

It’s full of hunger even though it only lasts a few seconds. Steve’s wanted this, wanted him, for so long, he puts everything he has into this moment. If it’s all he gets, he wants it to be perfect.

“You’re kissing me like you’re sending me off to war,” Eddie says when they’ve caught their breath.

“Feels like I am,” Steve admits, corner of his mouth turning up in a sad smile. “At least a little.”

“I think the odds of me dying on stage are probably extremely slim,” Eddie laughs. Steve doesn’t laugh with him. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

Steve pulls himself away, ignoring the way his chest aches at the separation. He’ll have to get used to that when Eddie leaves.

“You have a whole new life. You’re a rock star, Ed. I can’t force my feelings on you now.”

“Who said you forced anything on me?”

“I made you apple pie!” Steve exclaims, pulling away so he can breathe again. Having Eddie in his space alters his brain chemistry, maybe his DNA. “I bought all your favorite things so I could try to convince you I’m worth staying for, even though I can’t compare to going on a world tour with your band. I cleaned out the guest room and made sure I put your favorite shampoo in the shower as if you would even notice that. As if it would be enough to keep you around.”

Eddie steps closer, but Steve steps back.

“Your life is different now. It’s good. I wouldn’t add anything to it, and I don’t know why I even tried to make it seem like I would.”

Eddie steps closer, and there’s nowhere for Steve to go. He’s boxed in against the counter, and Eddie’s face is red with anger. He’s not scared– he could never be scared of Eddie– but he does swallow around a lump in his throat and try to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“My life is different now, you’re right about that. My life doesn’t even feel like mine most days. I belong to fans, and the guys, and the record label. But you know what does feel like mine?” Eddie leans in close enough that his breath is hot against Steve’s face. “How much I love you. How much I have always loved you. You’ve always felt like mine, Steve.”

It’s a hell of a confession, and definitely not what Steve expected from this visit.

The Wayne voice in his head decides to speak again. Except this time, it’s something he’s said to Steve in person before.

He’s surrounded by people, but he seems pretty lonely. Kinda like he still needs a certain someone.

Steve’s brows crinkle as he thinks about the words Wayne said after a phone call with Eddie during the first part of his first tour nearly two years ago. The words were accompanied by a look that Steve has since come to recognize as his sad puppy look.

The same one Eddie’s giving him now.

Steve can’t help it; He laughs.

“You and Wayne could bottle that look and sell it to people who need someone to feel bad for ‘em,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cheek in his palm, rubs his thumb against the angry red that turns into a flushed pink. “I don’t know how you could love me-”

“Steve-”

“But!” Steve interrupts. “I know you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have taken the time to come back here at all, let alone stay with me. I won’t understand it, but I’ll believe it.”

“That was easier than Wayne said it would be,” Eddie’s smile grows slowly, lighting up his face and the room.

“He’s been buttering me up for years,” Steve shrugs.

“Doing all the hard work, more like,” Eddie leans forward, rests his forehead against Steve’s. “He must’ve been sick of hearing me yearn for your love.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, you could have come back sooner. You didn’t have to wait until I was convinced I’d be alone forever.”

“And you could have called me to let me know I could visit sooner.” Eddie pokes the tip of his nose with his finger, smirking as he leans away to look back at the apple pie on the oven. “Especially if I could’ve been having apple pie on every break.”

“It might not even be good,” Steve says as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Is there vanilla ice cream?” Eddie pecks his lips.

“Mhm,” Steve kisses his cheek. “And you can have some if you promise to sit down and tell me everything about the band.”

“You wanna waste time hearing about Gareth drooling over every woman who looks his way? We could be making love on the couch.”

Steve raises a brow. “We won’t be making love anywhere but my bed. And it won’t be until we’ve talked more.”

“Fiiiine,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but grabs for the pie cutter on the counter. “Cut me a piece of pie and I’ll do my best to resist taking all your clothes off.”

“I never said you couldn’t do that,” Steve grabs the pie cutter.

“So I can take your clothes off?”

“Shirt only. And after pie…we’ll talk.”

“I thought after pie we’d be done talking.”

“How long are you staying?” Steve asks as he puts the slice of pie onto the plate and hands it to Eddie.

“Four days.”

Steve tilts his head side to side, considering what he can accomplish in four days.

In any other situation, he might be worried about how quickly he throws off his shirt. In any other situation, he would probably insist on talking to Robin before throwing his heart on the plate next to the scoop of ice cream Eddie just put next to his steaming slice of pie. In any other situation, he would take things slow and get to know rock star Eddie who left Hawkins to be someone.

But he’s finding that he’s okay with speed-running things.

He’s got a new perspective on Eddie’s visit, and maybe a new perspective on what their future will look like.

Steve drops his pants. Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Eat your pie. We’ll talk while we make love on the couch.”

[grimm-writings]

I really like how you write. Can I have some Tall-man Chilchuck crumbs?🙏

don’t see, don’t think

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is having a crisis, reader’s race and race change is left ambiguous (but implied to NOT be a half foot)

…wc! 571

…notes! JUST IN TIME BEFORE THE EPISODE ITSELF GRAGGGGHH!!!! apologies for the wait anon!!! enjoy your crumbs

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it—

“Why are you staring at the wall?”

The deeper voice is so unfamiliar that it leaves you nearly leaping into the air like a cat.  You know it to be Chilchuck, and yet you can’t bring yourself to turn away from said wall you were fixating your eyes on.

“...Just coming to terms with this new form is all,” you awkwardly excuse yourself.  More like you’re trying to come to terms with Chilchuck’s new form.

You were close with the lockpick, more than you were with anyone else in the party.  Never in your life did you really come to think of Chilchuck as attractive.  Maybe it’s the difference in race?

Those damn changelings, if it weren’t for this new perspective on the man you would have been fine.  You wouldn’t find yourself thinking about how he has a stubble, slightly darker than his reddish-brown hair.  You wouldn’t notice the fact he’s definitely taller than Laios was as a tall man.  You wouldn’t be melting at how his voice altered, and you absolutely wouldn’t be trying your best not to be a complete mess around him.

Chilchuck doesn’t seem to notice, though.  At least with this sudden change, his senses dulled.  So seems to be the case with how observant he is.  “Figures,” he sighs, folding his arms.  “It’s definitely a lot to get used to.”

As his sentence draws close to a murmur, Chilchuck’s voice lowers a bit more in pitch.  You had to stop yourself from facing the wall and banging your head against it.

Good God, why did this have to happen to you?!

“Mhm!” You agree with a hum.  If you don’t open your mouth, there isn’t a way for you to say something you’ll regret.

That doesn’t stop Chilchuck from going, “hey,” and you find that he’s adjusting your bodies around in a way that you can be eye level, face to face with one another.

Don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it, don’t think it, don’t see it— 

His eyes are still that familiar colour, a dark brown with a slight shine to them.  The lines underneath them crease as he sends you a fond smile.

“Don’t let this freak you out too much, yeah?”  Chilchuck reassures you, but you’re hardly listening as you note now at the short distance he has a dimple on his chin.  How cute.  “We’ll find some way to get rid of the, uh, ailment, ok?”

He laughs a little at his own choice of words, and you try to do so too.  It comes out awkward and forced, but Chilchuck just gives your shoulder a squeeze to show that it’s alright.

He walks ahead, leaving you at your wit’s end.  This truly is the death of you.

Izutsumi doggedly (quite literally) reaches your side, if only to give you a judgemental sidelong glance.

“Didn’t think you’d have a thing for rugged guys you’d usually find in a back alley.”

You turn around and wrap your hands around Izutsumi’s snout, keeping her mouth shut as she flails in anger.  This definitely needed to be fixed soon, and quickly too, lest you lose your senses entirely.

Trying not to look at Chilchuck definitely isn’t doing you any favours anymore either; his face is etched into your mind permanently (and will be for days after.)

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Dating King Ben Would Include…

Holy shit,

This is a lot.

Def NSFW

Warnings: sex, language, not proofed, I’m a slut

- r u actually kidding this man

- Idek where to start

- How about this

VK

- the moment he lays eyes on you

- Fuck

- When he smiles at you for the first time???

- Bye.

- Falling for the king-to-be was NOT part of the plan

- But he’s so goddamn cute

- You slip into the stands at his tourney game

- He makes a great play and you let out a cheer

- Surprising everyone around

- And he just grins at you

- There’s a party that night

- You show up in your most flattering dress

- And Ben cannot take his eyes off of you

- (The beast inside is awakening)

- He asks you to dance

- his big hands fit on your waist so perfectly

- Your hands loop around his neck and your fingers play with his hair absentmindedly

- You’re so nervous

- He pulls you closer to him and whispers into your ear

- “Relax.”

- Hello???

- He’s so in love with you UGHHHHAGGGA

- not following plot anymore screw it

- “You coming to the game tomorrow?”

- “Why should I?”

- “I can think of a pretty good reason.”

- SHAMELESSLY FLIRTS WITH YOU

- “If we win, I get to take you out on a date”

- “And if you lose?”

- “We won’t.”

- Ben fucking winks at you and just

- Up and leaves

- Someone take the confidence juice away from him!

- You go see another one of his games and after he wins, he runs up to you, sweaty and grinning, gorgeous as ever

- Before you say anything

- His head dips down to your ear, hands slipping around your waist

- “My car is waiting for you. I’ll be there soon”

- The mf had no fucking doubts that they’d win

- He gives you another million dollar smile before jogging away

- Leaving you flushed and a little turned on?????

- The date is absolutely wonderful.

- He changes ur perspective on everything

- Makes you his queen eventually

AK

- He’s such a gentleman omg omg

- PRINCESS TREATMENT OMFG

- Opening doors for you!!!

- Pulls out your chair for you!!!

- Ur a cheerleader

- He’s def the kinda bf to score and point at you like

- “Scored that for you, baby!”

- You wanna roll your eyes but can’t bc of his damn smile

- Don’t even get Ben started on your fucking uniform

- He’s down bad fr fr

- You in the colors of his kingdom??? HELLO?!

- He’s gone

- Such a fan of public PDA

- will kiss you ANYWHERE

- seriously

- Always has to be touching you

- The beast in him tbh ur his

SEX

- everything this guy does is

- Always turning you on fr

- At the worst times too

- He’ll just look at you and give you the smile he only does while balls deep inside of you while at dinner with his parents

- And he knows it too

- The way you blush and look away?

- He KNOWS

- Please he gets weak in the knees when you say his name/title

- “Benjamin”

- “King Ben”

- “King Benjamin”

- “Your Majesty”

- Bye

- I imagine that he’s so sweet at first but you can tell that he’s holding back (beast boy HELLO?!)

- You have to convince him to finally just let it out

- What does that entail?

- Let’s make a list!!

- Scratch marks on your thighs

- So so many hickeys (he doesn’t fucking care who sees, he’s the king)

- Finger print bruises on your waist and hips

- BITE MARKS

- shit

- This man has a heightened sense of smell

- So like… beware

- Low key high key loves the way you smell

- Will not stop sucking and biting on your neck bc of it

- BEN IS A DOM IM SORRY NOT SORRY

- it’s such a stress relief for him!

- Seriously as king he needs to release his stress somehow

- You luv when he’s rough with you

- A full on Edward Cullen breaking the bed moment and he’s scared to even touch you

- And ur like “Ben do it again”

- He’s all 😮 “wut”

- “Please?”

- And bam thinking with his dick again

- You love it when he fucks you in his office

- In between meetings

- When anyone can walk in

- “Don’t want everyone in the castle to hear your dirty sounds, now do we?”

- BEN IM SORRY

- HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KEEP QUIET WHEN UR LITERALLY REARRANGING MY INSIDES ON YOUR DESK

- Riding him while he’s in his desk chair

- The staff is quite confused when he asks for a mirror to be hung as a decoration on the opposite side of his desk

- It’s so you two can watch obvi but they don’t know that

- OMG the two of you at formal events and he cannot keep his hands off of you

- The things he whispers in your ear my GOD

- looks like the two of you are just innocently dancing but if they really knew the dirty things he was saying to you

- “What would everyone think if they knew how turned on you are right now?”

- “You taste better than all the food here.”

- Like r u kidding me he’s the dirtiest guy

- MASSIVE DICK ENGERY

- Its unfair

- Him pulling you out of the ballroom to absolutely ravish you with his parents and subjects a wall away

- Him just fucking you while wearing his crown omg (cant stop thinking about this)

- He’s so needy all the fucking time

- Anyways back to office sex

- It’s his fav

- Literally you’ll be on his lap and he’s fucking up into you and he will get a phone call

- Motherfucker GRINS at you

- “don’t make a sound”

- And then ANSWERS IT.

- KEEPS FUCKING YOU THROUGH THE PHONE CALL

- NO MATTER HOW LONG IT IS

- Oh and def makes you keep eye contact with him the whole time with his hand on your throat

- Ben with a beard????

- Between your thighs??

- With the fucking fangs?????????

- DEAD

- DECEASED

- BYE

- GONE

- Is always down to eat u out

- Such a golden retriever bf about it

- Def fingers you in the car

- If ur driving??

- “Eyes on the road”

- 💀

- If he’s gone?

- You best BELIEVE he’s calling for phone sex

- “C’mon let me hear you. You sound so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

- Soft mean Dom soft mean Dom

- Will hop in the shower with you just so he can wash your body

- Also makes you come with the shower head

- Loves boobies

- Loves ass

- He can’t decide which he likes more

- Loves making you watch what he’s doing

- If he’s going down on you?

- Eyes on him at all times

- Fingering you?

- You better be watching it

- That’s why the mirror comes in handy

- When you lock eyes through the mirror?

- His crown is lopsided and he’s just

- He’s just

- You know

- FUCKING KING BENJAMIN

- And he’s always smiling at you

- He knows what that smile does to you

- Uses it to his advantage

- He knows he’s pretty

- He loves waking up before you after a long night of straight up fucking

- He sees the damage done

- By him

- And it just gets him going!

- You wake up with his head between your thighs

- “Morning”

- It was in fact a good morning

- his morning voice adds to it

- You loooooove to tease him

- Low key flirting with another guy, if it’s fucking Chad you better get prepared

- Wearing an outfit you know he loves in a public place when he’s with his parents doing his king duties

- Putting your hand on his inner thigh during a meeting

- I hope you know what you’re getting into!!!

- He storms into his room that night where you happen to be lying on the bed, oh so innocently

- Wearing his jersey or a button up of his

- You don’t bother looking at him, already trying to hide the smirk on your face

- You can feel the glare as he shrugs off his suit jacket

- And removes his tie

- And loosens his collar

- And pushes his sleeves up

- (your favorite Ben look)

- He knows this ofc

- Sets his hands flat on the bed and just stares at you

- Finally you look up, a giggle escaping immediately

- “You think it’s funny, do you?”

- His hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you towards him

- His knee settles between your legs as he leans over you

- “Answer your King when he speaks to you”

- “Yes, your majesty”

- His head drops back and something (THE FUCKING BEAST) ignites inside of him

- He laughs

- Not like his true laugh

- A dark, sinister laugh

- Coming from Ben?

- Noble, brave, and good Ben?

- When he’s about to fuck you into oblivion?

- Good. Fucking. Bye.

- What’s Bennyboo up for??

- So much

- He’s horny ALL THE TIME

- highest sex drive ever

- Esp with the fucking beast

- He can go for hours

- King (lol) of stamina

- “You can do it baby”

- “C’mon, one more for me”

- “Fuck you’re doing so well”

- “Good. So so good”

- He’s loud as FUCK

- not embarrassed about it all

- No fucks given

- Will walk out of his office he was just bending you over in to greet his father in the next room like MAN ISN’T PHASED AT ALL

- And you’re catching your breath like 😳😳😳

- On one hand, he’s so nice and genuine and so well mannered

- And then when it comes to you, he’s a cocky little shit who can’t keep it in his pants

[fizzyorange-v2]

just talking to my friend in dms about how at first when q!charlie started calming down from his rampage i was kinda upset cause i WANTED a full villain arc i wanted blood and rage and a massacre but then I kept watching and realised how much of a fucking idiot I was to underestimate charlie slimecicle’s rp skills like that. because charlie isn’t just playing a character hell bent on righteous revenge for his daughter, he’s playing a character actually grieving that daughter.

it’s obvious now that i think about it that the initial revenge plot to kill all the eggs and his repeated self affirmations that juanaflippa isn’t gone and that it can all just be reset are clearly just him entering the denial and anger stages. and that later scenes after the rest of the server finally backed him into a corner and calmed him down and he had that heart wrenching scene looking at juanaflippa’s photo, asking for a literal trial for her life and soul back and then that whooooole bar scene, that he has then entered the bargaining and depression stages.

Because the truth is, q!charlie doesn’t actually want to kill anyone (except Mariana lolll), he especially doesn’t want to kill any of the eggs! All he wanted was to be a good dad. And I think that that’s part of the reason he as a character failed so hard to actually tangibly hurt anyone during this stream. He was a mess, crying screaming yelling clawing trying to do something, anything to save his daughter. Anything to fix it all. That scene of him failing to break into Phil’s house haunts me.

But I think there’s something especially tragic that before Juanaflippa, q!charlie probably was the kind of character to hurt others without caring, he seemed to have no idea about empathy or healthy relationships before her thats for sure. He’s literally already killed TWO eggs before this, so causally and with such ease. But his love for his daughter improved him, and it changed him, and it made him just enough of a better person that when that daughter was taken from him, suddenly even to save her he can’t fucking do it anymore.

I also really appreciate how everyone else on the server reacted to him too. They didn’t at all treat him like some big bad scary villain like I originally would I’ve expected. Sure they were understandably wary and protective, but every single one of them weren’t so much angry at him as… WORRIED for him. And it really helped put it in perspective that this isn’t some guy going on a hashtag villain arc, but immersed me in oh fuck. This is a guy that just lost his daughter. And all his friends and fellow parents know. And they aren’t scared of him, they’re concerned for him. They aren’t full of fear… but pity. Because they know. They know what he’s just lost. And they understand. And they’re trying to be there for him.

And Charlie despite all the grand speeches and diabolical plots and not so carefully placed land mines… doesn’t really care how he gets Juanaflippa back, as long as she’s with him again.

Just man,,,, the way Charlie performed this character’s grief is so fucking stellar and SO fucking excruciating. The part that genuinely broke me was in that photo scene when he said: “i'm sorry flippa... i thought i could change something- i thought i could undo it, thought i could make it right... now i see that there's no way this can be made right...” which already fucking ow ow OW and clearly him finally exiting denial/anger straight into depression but then he whispers THIS FUCKING BIT: “it wasnt even on purpose… i know that... it doesnt make it better… what do i do juanaflippa?” LIKE FUCK!!!! FUCK!!!! OKAY!!!!!

Anyway massive props to everyone for the rp today but ESPECIALLY charlie for this agonisingly accurate and visceral depiction of grief that I somehow was NOT expecting. I thought we were going to get villain arc egg massacre angst and instead we got father mourning his daughter trying futilely to do anything to bring her back angst. I’m never fucking recovering from this one.

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Part 5 of Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Sorry guys this turned out crappy, I'm really unhappy with this one but I hope the next part will be better again. Finally we get to see readers perspective on things. Also name reveal of readers dog, finally. < Part 4 | COD Masterlist | Part 6 >

So there’s this new butcher. He’s kind of intimidating but he’s nice. At least you’re pretty sure he’s nice. He rarely speaks but the meat at that shop is the best so you power through the anxiety the big man induces (the first time you caught a glimpse of him you had to hide and gather your nerves before going inside).

God, he’s big. Built like a brick shithouse he looms over you even behind the counter. The fact that Wraith has to wait outside the shop makes you wring your fingers nervously on the regular. You’re happy that Simon, that’s what his name tag said, never gives off creep vibes.

Still, stepping into the shop always makes you want to curl in on yourself. Somehow the butcher has a way of taking up the entire room with his presence. The way he stands and moves makes you think he somehow got dominance drilled into his genes. Maybe if you go in often enough some of that will rub off on you, god knows you’d enjoy being a bit intimidating.

When he allows you to bring in Wraith with you, you reconsider. Simon isn’t just nice. He’s kind.

Sure he’s quiet and big and he could snap your neck with one hand (don’t think about that, don’t think about that) but he’s considerate. The consideration he showed for you also proved that he is scarily observant and you’re not sure you like that.

You hate being observed or looked at. You’d prefer to be a ghost, existing in the world but not being perceived. But since you don’t plan on dying anytime soon you got yourself your own personal bodyguard.

Wraith is the sweetest soul on earth and you’re not sure what you did to find him. He saved you in more ways than one and it seems you saved the scarred and tired dog too.

Being allowed to bring him into the shop with you helps a lot. As big and scary as the butcher is, Wraith could do serious damage to him if he so much as raised a hand against you.

So you’re pretty confident nowadays when you go to buy Wraith’s treats. Over time Simon has grown to be a new part of your routine and you don’t mind him anymore. He might be a goddamn intense man but he’s proven himself to be nice (you just pray that your intuition isn’t wrong with him).

You’d even say you’re more or less comfortable around him by now so when you walk in one day and hear one of your favorite songs play you can’t contain yourself. Maybe you’re making a fool of yourself in front of the butcher but the way he chuckles immediately soothes you. He doesn’t seem to judge you at all.

Still you’d be mortified by yourself (you can’t remember the last time you were yourself that much anywhere besides your own four walls) if Simon didn’t smile at you behind his mask and oh... His eyes are kind and sparkle lively with mirth; you’ve never seen him have an expression like that before.

Suddenly you realize how hidden the man keeps himself. Always behind a mask never any unnecessary movements, always controlled. To see his eyes so expressive is kind of a shock. But it’s a good shock, you decide.

It’s the first real conversation you have with him and it’s about music. That immediately makes you warm up to him even more. So much so, that you end up admitting that you don’t want to go to a concert alone.

You’ve barely recovered from making a fool of yourself and having the first real conversation with the butcher, when he pulls the rug out from under your feet:

”I’m planning on going to that concert, wanna join me? I’ll make sure you’re safe, sweetheart.”

[bam-bi-buck]

Something super interesting to me regarding the whole Enzo thing or our perspective as the audience versus TK’s perspective as Enzo’s stepson

TK probably has rose color glasses regarding Enzo, just like he does Owen, maybe even more so

We’re meeting Enzo for the first time

But Enzo helped raised TK

TK has even said that on multiple occasions that Owen wasn’t super involved when he was a kid and that Enzo played more of a role than Owen in some ways

Based only on what we know, it’s implied that Owen became a lot more involved in TK’s life once he was a firefighter

And even then Gwyn was the one we saw really involved in getting TK clean which happened after he became a firefighter

When we see Owen and TK in season one, it’s after TK has overdosed, he’s so worried his son will die if he takes his eyes off him (after he’s had to face losing TK with Gwyn taking the brunt of that)

But once TK’s not towing that line, he’s way more hands off

In season two, Owen tells TK, that he’s gonna get the surgery TK has been trying so hard to get him to do because “[he’s] going to be a father” like ???

He later tells TK that he’s so obsessed with making a big thing of TK & Carlos’s wedding because after that TK’s not gonna need him anymore - again ???

Because whether they acknowledge it or not, when they’re not at work, when TK isn’t hawing a milestone moment, when TK’s not in crisis, how involved do we actually see Owen?

We don’t really see it, them just being there with each other, as far as I can remember

I know it’s a drama show and so they want to push the drama but then the writers can’t complain when that’s how their dynamic get viewed

But from what we know about Enzo from what TK’s said, not Owen, not Gwyn, but TK

Enzo was there

And Owen wasn’t

But we’ve seen four.six seasons of Owen

Those seasons have made him sympathetic (for some, not all) despite his flaws

And we’re just meeting Enzo

So his parallels with Owen, his attitude, and arrogance, and pretentiousness is a smack in the face for us, the audience

But for TK I imagine all that would pales in comparison to the fact that he was there

We already have seen TK brush off all those poor behaviorisms with Owen, even when he confronts Owen, he usually lets it drop when Owen gets defensive, TK wants a relationship with him over anything else

Why would it be any different for Enzo?

Why wouldn’t he see the best in the man who was there when Owen wasn’t?