#credit rating upgrade

[defencestar]

Israeli defence company Rafael receives S&P Global's rating upgrade

S&P Global Ratings upgrades Rafael Advanced Defense Systems credit rating: Israel’s Rafael Advanced Defense Systems Ltd. (Rafael) announced a credit rating upgrade to ‘A’ from S&P Global Ratings, with a stable outlook. This upgrade reflects Rafael’s robust financial health, growing order backlog, and leading position in the defense industry. S&P Global Ratings noted Rafael’s improved…

[dancedance-resolution]

credit card companies are the most predatory mother fuckers. bestie I TOLD YOU that i make less than $1k a month after taxes, WHY did you automatically increase my credit limit to $2k a month without asking me first

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating

Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.

Author’s Notes: This is a repost from my old account! It's the first Choso fic I've ever written and I enjoyed it so much that I wrote a Part 2 and a Part 3 (coming soon)! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime.

You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him.

He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”

You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”

He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”

“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.

Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”

You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.

“Thank you so much!”

As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment.

It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.

You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside.

~~~

Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him.

“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets.

It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him.

“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”

Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe. 

“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”

Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.

At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?

Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely.

This isn’t his. It’s yours.

Which means…

By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.

She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.

Oh fuck.

~~~

It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.  

Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.

Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next.

“Fuck!”

An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…

You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.

Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.

Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”

He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”

You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”

He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it.

It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”

“You don’t have to say that – ”

“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”

This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”

“I’m not lying!” you urge him.

He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”

With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand.

When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”

He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”

You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”

“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. “Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!”

He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.”  It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering.

You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”

“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”

You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”

~~~

Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants.

“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.

He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows.

You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”

He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything  and –

“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more?

“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.

He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating.

“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.  

“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”

You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself.

“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly.

More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”

Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.

“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.

“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer.

“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”

Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!”

It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real.

He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”

At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”

This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you.

[beneaththehalo]

love and deepspace car headcanons

sfw ramblings about which cars i think all of the l&ds guys would drive. i don’t know much about cars, so this is entirely based on personality & aesthetic. the car is pictured below the description. 300 words. contains: rafayel, xavier, zayne, caleb & sylus.

rafayel — maserati

it’s been said he drives a fancy sports car and is referenced several times throughout the game. the logo of maserati is a trident, which i imagine stuck out to him right away when he was car shopping. he was never one for material items, and he’ll pretend to brush it off when you show interest despite how proud it makes him feel. no wonder he always offers to drive.

xavier — honda suv

out of everyone, he rarely ever uses a car. with his teleportation ability, it’s likely just a silly expense so i imagine he bought one to keep up appearances but just lets Jeremiah borrow it. he took the first one off the lot and got conned into all the upgrade features. however, since he’s been on earth awhile, i think as a passion project, he secretly has an old classic car that he tinkers with now and then.

zayne — audi

cardiologists are notorious for having luxury cars due to their impressive salaries, especially a cardiothoracic surgeon. i like to think zayne keeps it more on the humble side of ‘luxury’ cars and chose an audi. the audi has consistently received high safety ratings, so on top of looking good, it’s also an overall good car.

caleb — mustang + yamaha motorcycle

in the warm months, caleb rides a motorcycle. he loves the adrenaline rush of the wind flying past him. if you ever take him up for a ride, he’ll keep you safe despite laughing at your tight grip to his jacket. in the colder months, he drives a mustang to the airfield since he can’t take his motorcycle.

sylus — rolls royce

something about a mafia boss and a rolls royce. rolls royce screams quintessential antagonist in a storyline. they are sleek, luxurious, spacious, and private. perfect for doing shady business in the back seat, take that as you will.

beneaththehalo || est. 2024

divider credit: saradika-graphics

[techwrecker]

The Bad Batch Off-Duty Headcanons

✧Hunter

His favorite off-duty activity is fishing off the pier. Due to his heightened senses, sometimes he just needs a quiet break with a little action.

Sometimes will bring Echo with him when he wants a little company. Usually they sit in a comfortable silence.

Conversation includes the occasional complaints about the goings-on of the Marauder. ("Wrecker left his used blacks on my bunk, again.")

Can be coerced into going to 79's but only if Wrecker offers to pay for the first round.

Self-Appointed DD (Except for that one weekend but we don't talk about that one weekend. EVER.)

✧Wrecker

Absolute Bumper Speeder junkie

Will beg and beg and BEG anybody he can to go with him once they're off.

He knows exactly how to wear each of the batcher's down. (But crosshair always manages to disappear before he can get to him)

He does calculations on the fly all day to calibrate the correct elements for the explosive reaction he needs, so bumper speeders is a way to just let it all go

Wrecker doesn't have a hard time having a good time. He's a pretty happy-go-lucky guy on on and off duty.

His favorite waitress at 79's has a specially mixed strong brew for him. Because he's so much bigger, the alcohol content is way high. (But he’s on unofficial friendly probation for a few weeks by the 79’s manager because of that one weekend.)

At the end of the night, he's usually doing karaoke with whatever poor sap of a clone he was able to rope into it.

Can still carry everybody back to the Marauder on his shoulders

When he's not pal-ing around, Wrecker can be found sweating at the Republic-sanctioned Workout Station.

✧Crosshair

He typically stays pretty close to the Marauder when he's off-duty.

A surprisingly big reader. Prefers history holos or historical fiction. (One time Echo caught him with a historical romance holo, but in his defense, "the summary had no indication it was romance!") ((He secretly enjoyed it.))

Even though he's off-duty, he still shines and cleans his rifle every day. Can't have it crukking out on him mid-mission!

Depending on the planet they're on, he actually likes to go out with Wrecker and try the local cuisine and food stalls. Sometimes he'll try and convince Tech to go back to a planet just for a food he's craving. (Tech only obliges if Crosshair promises to clean his gear, too. Maker knows he is the least tidy out of all of them.)

79’s isn’t really his scene unless the whole batch is together & even still, he tries to stick to the outskirts to avoid unsavory company.

There’s a few buddies in the 501st that he’ll talk to occasionally because they share an affinity for artillery and sharp shooting (Echo introduced them)

Has to intervene when Wrecker gets too crazy (don’t worry, no fighting… except that one weekend…) and reassure his large friend that “yes, wrecker, everybody is your friend... whatever helps you sleep at night…”

✧Tech

Tech is never really “off-duty”. His projects and experiments are his hobby. Besides, if he wasn’t fixing the Marauder from the most recent mission on the off days, when would the crew find time to do it next?

But if the Marauder is (surprisingly) in complete “working” condition, he focuses more on his hand held technological upgrades by himself or weaponry experiments with Wrecker.

He and Wrecker were commanded by Hunter to yell an obligatory “CLEAR!” whenever they do a new explosion text (because of that one one weekend)

Spends his extra extra free time at the deep used markets on the lower levels of Coruscant to scrounge and barter for parts he needs for his projects.

"I hardly think a second rate, third generation circuitry coupling is worth fifteen credits. I could get better parts from the dumpster outside Dex's during All-Species Week."

Tech will typically just nurse a sweet drink at 79's because "why drink something that does not taste good? It would have little value beyond the mind altering effects."

✧Echo

Always visiting and making plans with his 501st buddies

79's is the place to be when Echo is around. He becomes the life of the party with his old command. (Everybody blames him for that one weekend we don't speak of...)

Prefers to get as drunk as fast as possible

Happens rarely, but Echo gets the WORST hangover and regrets his entire life. Not fun to be around when that happens. "WRECKER! I said. Shut. Your. Mouth." (but he goes out to buy him Mantell Mix as an apology.)

When they're not available, sometimes he will help Tech out with his mad scientist projects, but usually he gets worn out from Tech Talk after a couple hours.

Likes to go on whatever scenic route walks are available to him on the planet they happen to be on that week. (It helps reduce the feedback he gets constantly through his headpiece ever since Skako Minor.)

Will catalog new flora and fauna to the database for Tech on his walks.

Has definitely made a few furry little friends & always brings treats with him to share

Once he finds a great view, he likes to meditate for a few minutes and really soak it all in. It helps keep him focused & calm. (Especially since life with the Batch isn't exactly serene...)

When fishing with Hunter, he likes to create new lures for Hunter to see what the biggest fish he can get (Most impressive catch so far was 42lb/19kg at 10ft/3m) (And yes, of course, he scanned the aquatic creature and saved the records for Tech.)

His datapad background is either of Hunter holding up the latest, most impressive catch OR its of the most breath-taking scenery in the galaxy taken by himself.

[sasaranurude]

Okay. I've been playing Tokyo Debunker today, since the release happened to catch me on a day when all I'd planned to do was write fanfiction. I just finished reading the game story prologue (it was longer than expected!), so here's a review type post. If you're reading this post not having seen a single thing about this game: it's a story-based joseimuke gacha mobile game that just released globally today. It's about a girl who suddenly finds herself attending a magic school and mingling with elite, superhuman students known as ghouls. If you look in the tumblr tag for the game you'll see what appears to be a completely different game from 2019 or so: they retooled it completely midway through development, changing just about everything about it due to "escalating competition within the gaming industry."

I'll talk about how this looks like a blatant twst clone at the end.

Starting with the positive: The story is charming. I enjoyed it thoroughly the entire time and am excited to read more. The mix between visual novel segments and motion comics was really nice--it broke things up and added a lot of oomph to the action or atmospheric scenes that visual novels generally lack. I like the art in the comic parts a lot. the live2d in the visual novel parts is... passable. Tone-wise, I think the story was a little bit all over the place and would like to see more of the horror that it opened on, but I didn't mind the comedic direction it went in either. The translation is completely seamless. The characters so far all have unique voices and are just super fun and cute. Of the ones who've had larger roles in the story so far, there's not a single one I dislike. It's all fully voiced in Japanese and the acting is solid. (I don't recognize any voices, and can't seem to find any seiyuu credits, so it seems they're not big names, but they deliver nonetheless.) Kaito in particular I found I was laughing at his lines a ton, both the voicing and the writing.

He's looking for a girlfriend btw. Spreading the word.

The problem is like. The gameplay is the worst dark-pattern microtransaction-riddled bullshit I've ever seen. Hundred passive timers going at all times. Fifty different item-currencies. Trying to get you to spend absurd amounts of real world money at every turn. There's like five different indicators that take you to various real-money shop items that I don't know how to dismiss the indicator, I guess you just have to spend money, wtaf. Bajillion different interlocking systems mean you have zero sense of relative value of all the different item-currencies. I did over the course of the day get enough diamonds for one ten-pull, which I haven't used yet. Buying enough diamonds for a ten-pull costs a bit under $60 (presumably USD, but there's a chance the interface is automatically making that CAD for me--not gonna spend the money to check lmfao), with an SSR rate of 1%. BULLSHIIIIIT.

There's like a goddamn thousand-word essay explaining the dozen different types of character upgrades and equippables and equippables for the equippables!! Bad! Bad game design! That's just overcomplicating bullshit to trick people into thinking they're doing something other than clicking button to make number go up! That is not gameplay!

In terms of the actual gameplay, there is none. The battle system is full auto. There might be teambuilding, but from what I've seen so far, most of that consists of hoping you pull good cards from gacha and then clicking button to make number go up. There's occasional rhythm segments but there's no original music, it's just remixes of public domain classical music lmao. I'd describe the rhythm gameplay as "at least more engaging than twisted wonderland's," which is not a high bar

At least there's a cat in the rhythm bit.

And like, ok, I gotta remark on how derivative it is. Like I mentioned in my post earlier, this game is unabashedly aping twisted wonderland's setting and aesthetic. (That said, most of the stuff it steals from twst is magic school stuff that twst also basically stole from Harry Potter, so...?) However, it isn't exactly like twst: in this one, the characters say fuck a lot and bleed all over the place and do violence. Basically, the tone is a fair bit more adult than twst's kid-friendly vibe. (Not, like, adult adult, and I probably wouldn't even call it dark--it's still rated Teen lol. Just more adult than twst.)

Rather than just being students at magic school, the ghouls also go out into the mundane world to go on missions where they fight and investigate monsters and cryptids. Honestly, the magic school setting feels pretty tacked-on. The things that are enjoyable about this would've been just as enjoyable in about any other setting--you can tell this whole aspect was a late trend-chasing addition, lmao. So, yeah, it's blatantly copying twst to try to steal some players, but... Eh, I found myself not caring that much. Someone more (or less) into twst than me may find it grating.

Character-wise, eh, sure, yeah, they're a bit derivative in that aspect too, but it's a joseimuke game, the characters are always derivative. Thus far the writing & execution has been solid enough that I didn't care if they were tropey. If I were to compare it to something else, I'd say the relationship between the protagonist and the ghouls feels more like that of the sage and wizards in mahoyaku than anything from twst. There's some mystery in exactly what "ghouls" are and their place in this world that has me intrigued and wanting to know more about this setting and how each of the characters feels about it. I have a bad habit of getting my hopes up for stories that put big ideas on the table and then being disappointed when they don't follow through in a way that lives up to my expectations, though.

So, my final verdict: I kind of just hope someone uploads all the story segments right onto youtube so nobody has to deal with the dogshit predatory game to get the genuinely decent story lol. Give it a play just for the story if you have faith in your ability to resist dark patterns. Avoid at all costs if you know you're vulnerable to gacha, microtransactions, or timesinks.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main 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+)

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

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[daisynik7]

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever. 

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly. 

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives. 

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second. 

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be. 

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be. 

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a  couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town. 

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside. 

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond. 

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross. 

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you. 

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer. 

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on. 

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction. 

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.” 

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years. 

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax. 

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath. 

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out. 

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind. 

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.” 

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft. 

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever. 

[cynarisgayass]

Hello! Im playing Zenless Zone Zero right now and I saw that your fic request are open! I haven’t requested anything before so parden if this sounds weird.

Can I get a Mature/Explicit Billy Kid x Human Gender Neutral reader fic? Like a Netflix and chill scenario? Im guessing that the Reader is taking place of Wise and Belle.

Thank you in advance!

𓍊𓋼~Starlight knights and chill~𓋼𓍊

Type: Oneshot

Description: Omg, you're my people! Any excuse to write Billy and I'm happy, so hope you like this~~ And you don't sound weird, just so you know. This is literally netflix and chill but with silly Billy hehe

Rating: Explicit

Reader: GN, wears shorts (You didn't mention what the reader was at birth so I tried to keep things as vague as possible)

Warnings: He has attachments with sensors~, spooning sex, casual

Billy kid:

You shifted under the covers, your eyes trained on the flashing screen in front of you...but your mind....trained on something very different.

Billy was always so cool with how he asked you over, how he'd ease you into close encounters, just like now. Simple cuddles while watching his favourite show..right?

Well not entirely, the two of you were spooning yes, but your rear was entirely flush with his front bumb and you could feel his zipper push against your clothes every time you moved. He wasn't unaware either, because every time you moved, he'd move too. His metal hand would glide slowly down your thigh or he'd pull you closer and move his hips, like a soft thrust. It was all so heated, you were practically melting, you had to push it...just a little~

You shifted again as a fight scene played out, intentionally pushing your bottom against him and carefully moving it upwards while he groaned quietly against your ear. You could feel his grip on you tighten slightly when he pulled you back down against him, his patience lacking as always.

"You keep moving proxy, something making you... uncomfortable?" He whispered teasingly against your shoulder, making your cheeks flush as his hand tugged your shorts down. How was he still goofily charming even as he was getting you all hot and bothered...

"Just a little. Maybe, you could help?" You moved your bare ass against him and he moaned into your shoulder, happy to help you anyway he could~

Within seconds you could feel him manuevering himself, his metal tip drag against your entrance, prodding at your walls as fictional characters battled on screen. Your thighs rubbed together in anticipation as he lined himself up and then slipped inside of you, his attachment gliding deeper and deeper while you gasped in delight.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of this upgrade~" He chuckled, guiding your body to move in sync with his gentle thrusts as his face plate softly touched your neck. It was like he was giving butterfly kisses while his cock slid in and out of you, and it had your head spinning.

"M-me either mmmn~" You tilted your head back further and clutched the sheets in front of you as your cheeks started to smack against the bottom of his metal torso. Each thrust sending your body dizzyingly into a heat wave as they got rougher and rougher.

"Mmm, credits are about to roll proxy, better hurry~" He grinded himself into you as he spoke, making you choke on a loud moan while you eagerly moved your hips faster.

"W-will. Mnnnm, promise. Mnnaggh!!" You stuttered, feeling warmth seep between your legs as he wrapped his arms around your chest and forced himself impossibly deeper. It muddled your thoughts and you couldn't even begin to quiet yourself as your screamed in joy, your climax hitting you so hard your whole body shook against him.

You tried to catch your breath as the credits played out, but his hands were already on you again...

Please, this is so long but I NEEDED to do him justice okay!

[milkywayes]

dreamt a cipher - chapter 10: Pacemaker

a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.

rating: M pairing: female shepard/garrus vakarian additional tags: angst with a happy ending, slow burn (of sorts), fraught pining, reconciliation

fic link // chapter link

Teaser:

“And are you?” she asks. “A ‘Hierarchy turian’ now?” Garrus stops bouncing. Eases off the tips of his powerful toes, down to his regular height, and then crosses his arms. Jutting elbows. She must have stumbled her way onto a truly touchy subject. The sudden absence of his frenetic energy leaves her a bit woozy, though she rediscovers it a second later in the speedy tap of his fingers onto his arms, the slash of his fringe through the air. None of it bleeds into his tone; if anything, his voice is too smooth when he says, “In about as much as you were ever an… ‘agent of the Council.’” Her lip quirks. “So,” she lilts back, aiming for humor, “how’re the sidekicks? Still fending off my staff left and right? I think they might be due a raise.” He eyes her with some suspicion, but at least his arms drop back to his sides. “Don’t think I can sign off on that. They’d just spend the credits on an upgraded tactical cloak suite, and then I’d never manage to give them the chit.” She stares at him. “You mean, ‘the slip.’” “That’s just you repeating the word.”

-> read the whole chapter on AO3.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

[abbythewritor]

"Janitor" Fnaf Security Breach x Fem reader. *2*

Description: What happens when Y/n L/n lands a cleaning Job at the mega pizza plex? How will she handle all the Animatronics falling for her?

Warnings: Slight drama, blood, and jealousy, but other than that, none.

Rated: PG-13.

Other things:

-Bonnie and Foxie aren't dismantled, thanks to Gregory.

-Cassie and Gregory are in High School, working as security guards to keep Freddy and everyone else safe.

-I added a new Daycare attendant named Jester, who will be introduced later, and of course, the attendees got new Upgrades, thanks to Gregory.

-The OCs I will be using aren't mind, and the User names will be linked at the end of the chapter; the credits go to them :)

-Finally, no adult content will be included in this story.

Enjoy the second chapter :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wow! Good Job, newbie, we cleaned up in under 2 hours!" Dj's room was finally thoroughly cleaned, and thanks to you, your bright Idea of using some sort of Shop-vac to pick up toys, candy, and other stuff left by kids made this whole Job thing a little easier.

Cyrus, who had just finished putting the vac away, stood by as you sat on the floor, sipping a freshly opened juice box. Looking at his fazz watch, the time read 1:15pm, and a satisfied smile formed his lips. "If we keep this up, we can reach the daycare area by 5. You get the gist of things quickly, Newbie; I knew you'd get the hang of it. Plus, I think you went to the top of Mr. Dj's new friend's list." Chuckling, you sipped more of your juice. "I'm not his friend, Cryus; I just complimented his sunglasses." Cryus sat next to you, slightly nudging your shoulder. "Yeah, and everything else. I knew you didn't say anything, but I can easily see a person's body language when they're geeking out. So you're a robot fan, huh?" Your eyes rolled. "Glamrocks, actually." His eyes widened. "No way, really? Wow, is that why you took the job? Wait... you're not planning on anything weird with Freddy and the others, are you-OUCH!! Hey!! Hey!" He laughed when you hit his shoulder.

"Take your mind out of the gutter; I got this job for the money. Besides, I may be a geek, but at least I'm not like one of those Crazed fans who always kiss their posters." Cyrus nodded. "True, we had a fair of those people come here, not to Freddy, but foxy, surprisingly. Poor guy, we had to close his meet and greet early one day because an older woman came to him with his shirt off." "PFFFT" Apple juice came out of your nose as you and he began to die with laughter. Not believing him, you turned to him with surprise once you stopped coughing. "Really? You're shitting me." His head shook. "Nope, not kidding; I got the whole thing on tape if you want to see it later?" Sighing, your head shook.

"Can this place even surprise me more? First, the pizza here is actually good, Second, I meet a Gianormous spider, who's not a human-eating creature, and finally, I get told a story where Foxy almost got molested." Chuckling, Cyrus put his arms behind his back. "You'd be surprised at what happens at the daycare; Poor Sun has to deal more with the kid's actions than Jester and Moon." Your head tilted.

"Jester and Moon?"

"Oh, they are the attendants with Sun, but their moment to shine is when Nap-Time happens. Jester was meant for both morning and Day, but he takes Tag too seriously." Smirking, you leaned onto your right elbow, now fully onto the floor. "Sounds like me; I hate kids." "Same...but someone has to take care of them while the Parents are gone, the same as we have to take care of this place..." Standing up, he stretched.

"Alright, if we head to the Glamrocks dressings rooms now, we'll still be able to make it while they are still performing, which makes perfect timing for us to clean. Now, being the Geek that you are...I doubt they would be out now, but don't worry, I will give you plenty of chances to see them when that time comes." Nodding, you adjusted your hat. "No problem, not in a rush when it comes to that anyway; I know how busy they all can be. Especially Freddy." Cyrus smiled at you. "Glad you understand, Newbie; now come on. DJ! WE OUTA HERE!!"

"Right on! Thank you, Cyrus and little lady! Don't be a stranger, ok?"

Chuckling, your co-worker held a thumbs up towards the tunnel. "Will do! Say Hi to Mini Dj for us!! Come on, Y/n, let's head to the VIP area." Nodding, you followed behind as he began to walk, grabbing the mop bucket as the both of you headed that way.

In all reality, Mr. Dj's room was pretty neat, even though it was large and a lot to clean; you had fun getting to know the spider, the area, and Cyrus a little more.

This job won't be so bad if the other animatronics are excellent as Dj.

Just as long as you keep your head up and do not embarrass yourself in front of the Glammrocks, you should be fine...

Right?

..........

...........

...........

"Cyrus! What are you doing here?!" With a lot of walking, you both made it to the VIP area.

It was huge, right next to the entrances, as many different colored rooms were aligned inside a vast wall, each color representing a different Glamrock and their personalities.

Besides the rooms, you were taking in the mall itself, as the true size of it through your eyes was amazing. Multiple floors, stores, and people surrounded the structure, as familiar music from the Glamrocks played throughout the area.

Many children, adults, and teens walked passed the screen in many different directions, the camera focusing on you as you tried your best not to bump into any people, the mop bucket still being pulled by your grasp.

Not being bothered by Cyrus, he was heading over to a familiar yet older boy, who was shocked to see your Co-worker at this moment. "Gregory! My man!" Giving each other a hug, Gregory fisted his shoulder. "Look at you, man; Summer treated you well." Cyrus was shocked by his comment. "Look at me?! Look at you! You are all grown up! Just yesterday, you and Freddy were being chased by killer Vanny and the others! Just think of how it would go down now!." The boy chuckled while scratching his neck. "It was 8 years ago, Cyrus; Vanny's gone now, unable to hurt anyone again." "Thanks to you! Man, you Kicked that bunny's but! From the beginning, you knew she was involved with the Animatronics going a wall; now, none of them are shut down because of you. Look! You're even freddies personal security guard! How's that going?" Gregory slumped. "It's tiring; Freddy takes every chance of the day to see every. Single. Child. It's annoying enough that I must deal with the crying Kid's parents above it all. They say some...vulgar things..." Cyrus chuckled while his hands went to his hips. "That's Freddy for yah, and yes, sure, the parents suck, but hey, on the bright side, you get to spend more time with him, right?" Gregory shrugged. " I guess your right? But since he's always busy, I tend to hang out with Cassie more than anything. But enough about me, what about you? How's life going for you, and who is that? Is she your girlfriend?" He looked to you, who was being an airhead and was too busy looking around more, stars filling your eyes. Cringing at the sight of you, Cyrus turned to Gregory. "One, I still live with my mom; two, that is Y/n, the newbie; and three, no, she is not my girlfriend." "Huh." Gregory crossed his arms. "That's the Newbie? She doesn't look shy and timid to me-" "Yeah, Dean said that to Dj too...but she's a total geek; you should have seen her when I beat her at a race, anyway, are the gang still performing?" Gregory nodded. "The Guys are; Foxie and Chica don't perform until later tonight; they're practicing for their Duo downstairs. Do you guys need to clean their rooms right now?" Cyrus nodded. "Might as well, since we are on time; we just want to get it cleaned before they get done so fan girl over here....doesn't get too overwhelmed." They both looked to you, who was standing there like an idiot, who played with the ends of her hair and fiddled with your Tee-shirt. Gregory laughed at his statement, his hand lifting his hat up slightly. "I get that; I know Bonnie and Freddie can get a little touchy around new people, so I'll try to keep them distracted until you are done." Cryus patted his back. "Thanks, Gregory, always the hero; hey, Newbie!" Getting your attention, you looked at him as he motioned to you with his thumb. "Let's get started; follow me!" Nodding your head, you grabbed the mope bucket to follow him, walking past Gregory as he told you the plan, both of you heading to Freddie's room first.

Gregory, who just shook his head, sighed as familiar sounds of doors rang through his ears. Turning, he saw Freddy and Familiar animatronics coming toward him, which made him smile.

"Freddy!" He yelled, catching the attention of the bear, who was talking to Bonnie on his right side. "Gregory!" He replied, tail wagging as the boy ran up to him, latching himself onto the robot. "Look at Ya, boy, all dressed up and everything," Foxy spoke, referring to his uniform as the boy adjusted his hat. "Yeah, I never expected this outfit to be this fancy; it feels kinda weird." Monty glared at him. "You're making it feel weird, kid; it looks good on ya." Bonnie nodded. "I agree; besides, it's better than wearing those clothes daily, right?" Gregory huffed, his arms crossing. "At least those close were comfy." Freddy chuckled while putting a hand on his back. "Well, I'm proud of you, superstar; it's a rare opportunity for a high schooler to get this job; you should feel honored." The boy crossed his arms. "I'll feel honored when the stupid parents stop bullying me. Everyone besides him and Monty laughed, Freddy looking at him again. "Greggory, if I can ask, is there a way can we go to our rooms yet to recharge? There is a malfunction I need to check; my left eye seems to be a bit more blurry than usual." "I wish you guys could, but Cyrus has a Newbie with him; they're cleaning your rooms as they speak." Bonnie's eyes widened. "Theirs a new Janitor? Why isn't Dean here then?" Gregory shrugged. "Dunno, but Cyrus doesn't want to overwhelm her, so it's best if you guys do something else for now." Freddy nodded with a smile. "No problem, superstar, we'll think of something." Foxy did a stretch. "Yar...might as well be heading to my ship; I don't want Roxy putting her dirty paws on me, gold..." Bonnie's eyes rolled. "I told you, foxy, it's not roxy who steals it; kids sometimes swallow those things, you know?"

"Doesn't matter; my gold matters too much; I need to protect it." Watching Foxie walk away, trying his best to avoid crowds and kids, Bonnie just sighed. "Him and his Gold, I'm off to go play bowling. El-chip has bets of years of free tacos if I can get a perfect strike score; wanna join, Monty-Monty?" The gator just huffed, a pissed-off look hinting on his face as Freddy and the bunny grew concerned. He walked away from the group, probably heading to Gator Golf, as the three watched, unable to do anything else about it. Gregory sighed, looking at Freddy. "Did his guitar break again?" Freddy nodded sadly. "The instrument is not what it used to be, he got it before Vanny corrupted him and the others, and it was the only thing that could keep him calm. But now, it keeps breaking during performances, which concerns people and his fans." Gregory's brows furrowed. "Can't he just get it fixed?" Bonnie shook his head. "No, he doesn't trust anyone with it, especially when Cyrus switched to Daycare; he is the only one who can fix his guitar." "Then why not ask Cyrus to fix it himself? It's not like he'd turn Monty down, right?" Freddy sighed. "It's not that simple for Monty; he cares about Cyrus a lot, but since Cyrus switched to daycare, it made him angry enough to be a threat. When Vanny corrupted everyone, he went straight to Cyrus, doing something horrible that none of us can forget. " "Wow...and he doesn't want to hurt him again...I understand...Vanny caused him that fear, and to get rid of it must be hard." Bonnie nodded. "Yes, But I'm afraid for him..." Gregory tilted his head. "Why is that Bonnie?" sighing more, Bonnie looked to Monty, who seemed to be kneeling down to a Toddler, who touched the Gator's snout with pure love and fondness. Even the gator didn't show his genuine emotions; he tried to put on his best face for the toddler, not letting his Guitar or the past get to him. "Each day, that fear grows more and more, kids are getting ignored, he lashes out if nothing going right, and heck, even Roxy can't put him back in line. If something doesn't happen to help the poor guy."

"He'll just end up getting worse, day by day."

......................................................................................

"And finally, we are done!!!" It took a while, but the rooms of the glam rocks were finally cleaned.

Cyrus was impressed as you cleaned Montie's room by yourself, picking up every destroyed object, dirt, and even leftover presents from fans on the floor or the walls.

You ensured not to touch the robot's personal stuff, as everything in the room was essential and organized. This wasn't even a part of your payroll, but doing the extra stuff made at least your OCD ten times better.

Shocked as hell, his mouth was open wide as you stood up, whipping the sweat from your forehead. "It took a lot of elbow grease, but I think I managed to get it mostly cleaned-" "MOSTLY CLEANED?!" You squealed a bit as Cyrus's hands went everywhere. "THE WHOLE ROOM IS SPOTLESS!!!" You chuckled. "Yeah, guess I got carried away; I hope that isn't a problem, Cyrus." "Are you kidding?" You looked up at him smiling. "That isn't a problem, Y/n; it's a great skill to have, I wish I was like that when I was little, but of course, I had to be a pain in the ass." "Well, I am not like that; I get terrible OCD when things are misplaced, so cleaning Monty's room was basically therapy for me." You replied, feeling a hard slap coming from him onto your back. "I'm glad, newbie!" He chirped, throwing a towel over his left shoulder. "Monty can get pretty angry sometimes, even after the whole hacking incident; things have changed, and doing this for him makes the Gater a little bit happier each day." He then sighed.

"Though, that's all we could do; he didn't used to be like this." Your brows furrowed."What do you mean?" Cyrus was silent for a while before looking to the ground. "Before I transferred to Daycare, I was a mechanic for the Glamrocks." Your eyes widened. "Really? That's cool!" He chuckled. "Yeah, it was cool, alright, being able to hang out with the most excellent Robots in history, Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy, Chica, Roxy, Monty. Honestly, out of all six of them, I seemed more attached to Monty than everything; we were best friends. Whenever he malfunctioned, he came to me with the saddest eyes, or when Roxy or even Foxy said something wrong, we would always talk about the situation and work the stuff out."

He paused before pouting, trying his best not to cry just a little. "I fixed his damn guitar before every. Single. Show. His temper tantrum was the death of me of my time there, but somehow I always managed to fix it and make the gator happy. I miss that feeling....but when the glitches happened, and Freddy and the gang started to act weirder than usual, the company switched me over to daycare, which hadn't been touched by the virus at the time." Your eyebrows furrowed, and one of your hands was on his back as he struggled to get the following words out, his eyes looking at the guitar Monty o-so cares about. "He hated me leaving, and trust me, I didn't want to transfer either, but it was for my and other people's safety as well; Monty was like a brother to me. Sometimes when I try to talk to him now, I get an angry huff, and he walks away. It hurts, yes, but it's not his fault...I should have stayed when I should..." His hands ran through his hair, and shaky breaths and sad motions came from him, which made your heart instantly break. You don't know why he's telling you this when you only met him today, but hearing the story of his and Monty's bond is hard to ignore.

"Cryus...I-I don't know what to say..." He chuckled sadly, looking at you. "You don't have to say anything, Newbie....what's in the past is done, and now what I can try to do to lift his spirits is clean, clean, and clean....thank you for your help, Y/n, but, I think we should cut training today short." Your eyes widened with surprise. "A-Are you sure? We still have a lot to do-" Cyrus smirked. "Go home; night shift people will take care of the Daycare area tonight, just as long as you're ready to clean again tomorrow, alright?" Watching him get up, you were confused at first but understood since the Situation and tension were high right now; no, you nodded in agreement. "Alright, but at least let me finish up here; there are just some holes I need to patch up." He snorted at your stubbornness. "You don't quit, do you?" Shrugging, you smirked. "What can I say? You hired a germaphobe." Shaking his head with a smile, he rummaged through his pockets before throwing you something. "Alright, here." Catching it, you looked to see it was a pair of keys. "Monty's room will need to be locked when you are done; he rarely goes in here, so you don't have to worry about him coming in anytime soon." You nodded again. "Alright...thanks." "Just, when you're done, give the keys to Gregory; we don't want anything happening if those keys are found by kids or teens, okay, Newbie?"

Saluting to him, your face went cute. "Yes, sir!" He cringed. "Just finish up you doof." And with that, Cyrus left you in Montie's room.

Looking around and out of windows to see if no one was coming, your body turned, looking at Monty's broken yet elegant guitar.

Hearing his story replay in your head caused your heart to break while staring at it more, as your hands gently grasped the large instrument.

You play a little guitar at home, and you had a fair share of broken instruments, special ones. So hearing that story, knowing Monty's pain and anger, it's like looking in a mirror.

Everyone has bad days, but this Monty has been dealing with a lot of them for many bad days.

Yes, you are a Janitor, and Yes, you shouldn't be thinking this, and yes, it's only your first day, but if you were going to work here forever, you might as well start building a relationship with your co-workers and even the glam rocks. Feeling the guitar, every inch, string, and flaw this machine has, you knew exactly how to fix it. "Alright, Monty, you suffered enough days of anger......Now..."

"It's time to make things right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monty's guitar :)

[tangerinesgirl]

Kinktober 2024 - October 6th

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Herr König x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, omegaverse, breeding kink, voyeurism, threesome, monster fucking

Notes: So, this one was interesting as 1) I've never written omegaverse before and 2) figuring out the dynamics in the Cuckoo universe. Basically König is a beta, Reader an omega and the Cuckoo's are alphas.

I don't go into a lot of detail about the world, character decisions, or a lot of the backstories as I would be here all day. So I'm hoping everything makes sense and stands alone here, and is open to interpretation.

Kinktober List || Masterlist || AO3

The reception bell has a very satisfying old school ding. You look around and admire the resort, you imagine a lot of people would think it's dated, but it felt nostalgic to you. You can't help but think Shining though, but luckily it's the middle of summer and there's no evil twins (yet).

You turn back around and a man is suddenly behind the desk, without a sound. You jump, "Oh Jesus".

The man smirks, "Ah not quite my dear. Welcome to the Resort Alpshatten. My name is Herr König, how can I be of assistance?".

König has a very heavy German accent, it takes you a while to process what he's saying. He's about in his 40s, well groomed with stubble and a slight moustache, and the most piercing blue eyes you've ever seen. You almost get lost in them before you remember.

"I would like a room for two nights please".

"Ahh I see, you are omega, no?"

You nod, "Yeah... I uh heard you have special facilities here? I want to make sure this time is comfortable".

"Of course, we have whatever you so desire. I just need a quick signature from you and your ID or credit card."

You hand him your licence and start signing and dating the paperwork, at a glance it seems like any other hotel agreement, don't trash the room, etc.

König returns your licence and unhooks a key from the wall.

"Let me show you to your room".

He reaches down to grab your suitcase. You noticed he's a beta as you catch his scent.

You both walk together to a little secluded cabin.

"This is a very special room for a very special guest. We call it The Lovers Nest".

Internally, you cringe at the name. Even if this is a free upgrade, the facilities seem basic to you, cheap and cheerful. You nod as you take in your surroundings, "This is great".

"I will leave you to get settled in. Let me know if there's anything you need...any time."

---

The start of your heat hits you like a wall through the night. You were hoping this villa away from civilisation would help see through your heats. You were too tired of seeing them through on your own. But you trust König. The hotel had great reviews and has been going for years. You try to distract yourself with the television, having a bath, pleasuring yourself, but nothing seems to be working.

You wonder what else the hotel may have, so you ring reception. A familiar voice picks up the phone, "Alpshatten Reception, König speaking".

You breathe heavily down the line, "Can I get... uh... something, for my room?"

"Say no more, I shall be right over my darling", König hangs up the phone.

---

You throw on some clothes to look somewhat put together. About ten minutes later there's a knock at your door. It's König. He looks at you and notices your clothes dripping with sweat, "Oh this will not do."

You motion for him to come in. Your pheromones are through the roof you're almost dizzy from it. You need relief, stat.

"König, I-"

He catches and places you on the bed noticing you nearly fainting.

"Say less, my dear", his gaze drifts down your body briefly, then back to your eyes, as he kisses you passionately.

He starts to take off your clothes, and you help him. He removes your underwear, slick seeping from your entrance.

"Looks like you really do need my help", König starts to undo his belt, his cock bounces free. He starts rubbing himself with your slick around your entrance, before inserting himself into you.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to thrust inside you. Your hand drifts to your clit, searching for more, rubbing in the same rhythm as his thrusts. König nuzzles into your neck, he pauses a moment and looks at you. He's silently asking for permission to mark you. You pause a moment looking into his deep blue eyes. You've never heard of a beta doing this before, and it kind of excites you. Even though you've just met, you are extremely attracted to him, trusting him. In the heat of the moment, you hold the side of his face and nod.

You arch your back as you feel him bite your scent gland. His teeth dig into your neck while he continues thrusting into you. Your nails claw at his back, still searching for more friction. König licks your neck after claiming you, travelling down to your breasts, licking and nipping his way down your body. Bruises already start to form as he does so.

He picks up his pace, fucking you aggressively into the bed, before his hips start to stutter as he cums inside you. He groans as his seed fills you up, mixing with your slick...but it's not enough.

"König, I- I need more. I need an alpha."

He removes himself from you and nods. Walking over to his trousers, he sits down on a chair next to the bed, removing a wooden flute from the pocket. König begins to play it.

You squirm on the bed, body on fire, rubbing your hips against the bed sheets. Fucking König just made your heat worse.

Something stands at the doorway. The overwhelming alpha scent invades your nostrils as you exhale with relief. They're not like any other alpha you've seen, making a noise like a croaky bird when they see you.

They're on top of you in an instant, shoving their cock inside you, no hesitation. König watches from the sidelines, stroking his already fully erect cock, still coated in his cum and your slick.

You moan as you feel the alphas cock deep inside you, your heat already calming down from their smell and the friction. It doesn't take you or the alpha long to cum. You can feel the alpha's cock stretch you out as they start to knot you. Their cum mixes with the already existing fluids. Your body twitches as you reach your climax, feeling the seed hit against your cervix, filling you up perfectly.

König watches the spectacle, rubbing his cock in his hand. He stands up and walks over to you, lifting your hand to replace his. You stroke him a few times before you adjust your position to be more comfortable.

You roll over so the alpha is on the bed, and you're straddling on top of them, their knot still deep inside you. König can even see it from his angle, the sight making his cock grow harder.

You move over to the edge of the bed and take König's cock down your throat. He starts thrusting inside you, grabbing the back of your head to steady himself. His hands then trail down to where the knot is inside you. He presses down on it, feeling it pulsing seed into you. The sensation sends him over the edge as he cums down your throat. His eyes roll into the back of his head from pleasure as you rub his balls, milking him for all the seed he has. You moan against his dick, feeling the seed drip down you, some leaking out of your mouth, towards your neck and breasts.

You feel warm and satisfied, as your cunt clenches from the knot, when you cum again, moaning loudly. You look towards König who is transfixed on you, watching as you grind your hips down onto the alpha. They release another load of cum deep inside you. Slick seeping out of your entrance.

You have a feeling the three of you will be here for a long time.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

OMG IS IT HAPPENING OH SHIT I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED WATCHING THIS YET!!!

And now here's my live reaction:

Hey, wait a minute, yeah... where is Mr Puzzles staying anyway?

...uh Mr Puzzles, is this a bad time?

... no... I just... hmmm...

This reminds me so much of the YouTube Arc

AAAAAA THE FACE IS BACK... ahem sorry just Eye of Ra theory stuff

[*looks at my murder board and back to the screen*] ...do they know?

btw people have mentioned about the numbers on the board and I personally think it's a texture. Hmm, then again it could mean something so I'll try to see if I can figure it out.

OMG BOWSER AND JUNIOR I MISSED YOU GUYS

sorry Mr Puzzles, but there's unfortunately an audience for this

hey, kids can be terrifying

can I just say, these little bits of animation are so good!

correct me if I'm wrong but is that a new Mr. Puzzles face (animation)?

Hold up, is he in Karen's house?

HE IS

Karen, you should really upgrade the security of your house. First, Marty, and now Mr Puzzles.

somewhere deep down in my heart i still love you [yes, i did say this out loud]

Karen's kids my beloved ❤️ love it when they act like cute siblings

still the same SMG3 as always... uh, I mean it's totally not Three what are you talking about?

also I want to talk about my Ferris Wheel Wedding concept so bad

also pink…?

[*lays on the floor and zooms out of the room*] ok bye bye

LEGGY?!

[*ducktales theme song plays*]

damn those kids are fast bringing Mr Puzzles from 10 million to 39.7 million (why is that number so specific though, hmm...)

...oh ...oh ...now I feel bad what the hell

HE KEPT THE FLAG I KNEW IT WAS GONNA COME BACK IN SOME WAY

Mr Puzzles: "My ratings haven't moved?"

hmmm.....

please be the car please be the car YEAHHHHHHH

OMG HIIIIIIII

ok, the traffic scene got me lmao (i have no sense of humor anymore)

seriously tho how did he fit in that little car, but hey that's canon now

god I'm annoying but I just love this, found family my beloved ❤️❤️

Mario: "Do I join...?"

well, Mario, you did join Three back in the YouTube Arc (unintentionally) so this wouldn't be the first time...

WOAH WOAH WOAH

I seriously did not expect that, but it makes sense, I don't blame her having mixed feelings about this.

aww Mario and Four making sure Meggy's okay, family is found ❤️

Meggy: "Who does he think he is... thinking he can just roll up and ask me to join him-"

It's technically not out of the question Meggy, that's why we theorize

LEGGY 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

also I smell a redemption arc for Mr. Puzzles

well, Mr Puzzles, kids do deserve good stories and I'm sure they would've loved to know how you do things but looks like you picked that wrong your audience for that

NEGATIVE 1 STARS?!?!?!

oh hey Three :)

👀 "laughing stock" you say?

PFFT I was going to say, that was good cinematography

It's high noon...

wait, was that audio from AMPHIBIA? OH SHIT AMPHIBIA MENTION (timestamp 12:20)

hey remember what I said in my 'ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4’ theory:

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

The showdown is exactly how it played out at the end of the Meme Factory mini-arc, with the gun and everything!

"I thought we were friends." "You are not my friend(s) anymore."

oh shit OH SHIT

OH SHITTTTTT!!!!!!!

OMG WAS MY EYE OF RA THEORY RIGHT?!?!? HE'S RED AND EVERYTHING, JUST LIKE THE RED SUN DISK RA HAS OMG OMG

oooh that song at the end tho

damn Mr Puzzles really snapped. like, I know that's him breaking down, crying, but I can also hear it as insane laughter. he's broken broken...

....WHATTTTT

also congrats VerperrTea for your art making it to the credits, love to see it!!! 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

so uh, that was a lot to take in. It was good to follow Mr Puzzles in this episode. Love to see all the fanmade faces featured as well. Overall, a great episode! I'm surprised at how much it got me. Now that we know FOR SURE that WOTFI is coming, we're getting the little bits of clues we have put together. And the title did not lie, Mr Puzzles really did reach his lowest point. I also loved the bit of the channel acknowledging the "i want the old SMG4" fans.

Aw, my dear fellows, I'm just anxious but ready to see how Mr Puzzles will go all-out villain again. (please goop!4 please goop!4) I've checked the WOTFI website and nothing has changed so we're good... for now. Can't wait to see what happens next!!!

...what do you mean I have to wait a whole week for the next episode?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[xenon-demon]

giving you the side of me that i don't let show

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Rating: G | 5k words | Tags: established relationship, autistic Steve Harrington, autistic & ADHD Eddie Munson, the consequences of autistic overstimulation, set in one of those nebulous “everyone lives except vecna and jason” post-s4 AUs, so much fluff, mentions of Robin/Vickie. Title comes from Sloppy Seconds by Watsky.

Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have- wait. It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is their busiest night. Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights. or; Steve has a grueling night at work, and has nothing left in his tank at the end of it. Eddie helps him out.

[READ ON AO3]

Eddie’s so wrapped up in trying to find what the next chord should be in the song he’s writing that he almost doesn’t hear the trailer door opening.

Thankfully, the thing is worn in enough at this point that the hinges squeal like a pig every time someone comes in or out. Some government pay out they got; Eddie’s been scarred for life both physically and mentally (and he lost a nipple – a fucking nipple), and all he and Uncle Wayne got in return was a nearly identical replacement trailer with a door that doesn’t even last a year. Sometimes, Eddie’s grateful for how closely the new trailer resembles his old one. It’s familiar, homey and comforting in a way an upgrade never could’ve been. Most of the time, however, he’s just mad he couldn’t swindle the government into giving him a mansion. Apparently not being arrested for murders he didn’t commit and getting a place to live (plus an admittedly hefty nest egg, but Eddie doesn’t like to give the feds any credit) was enough that he should quit while he’s ahead – thanks, Uncle Wayne.

As much as he whines about their new trailer, the squeaky door does come in handy sometimes. Times like tonight, mainly, where Eddie has a few seconds of forewarning before someone just enters his bedroom. It’s not that he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne or Steve in his space – and it’s always one or the other, they’re the only other people with keys to the trailer – it’s just nice to have the heads up. It gives him a moment or two to prepare.

Time to prepare, and on nights like tonight, time to frantically find his alarm clock from wherever it’s ended up in his room and check the time. Eddie’s had one too many run-ins with Uncle Wayne where he’s gotten lost in his own world and still been up when his uncle finally came home from work. He knows it’s not really an issue – especially not now that he’s finally graduated from that shithole penitentiary masquerading as a high school – but he still feels a prickle of shame every time.

This time, however, his alarm clock says it’s only 1:27 AM. What’s more, Eddie didn’t even have to get up and look for it, as it was actually on his nightstand this time. Sure, Eddie had to move a bunch of papers from his campaign planning and a magazine or two he’d haphazardly dumped there to be able to see the display, but it was actually on the nightstand. Where it belongs. Eddie’s really winning in the game of life tonight.

His winning streak only continues as he hears the shuffle of footsteps and the squeak of the trailer door closing behind Steve. Because at this time, Eddie knows it has to be his boyfriend; Family Video closes at midnight on Saturday nights. Factor in the time it takes Steve to close up shop and then drive over to the trailer, and there you have– wait.

It definitely doesn’t take an hour and half for Steve to get home after work – even if Saturday is one of their busiest nights.

Eddie is suddenly struck by the realization that it’s one of those nights.

“Stevie? Sweetheart?” Eddie calls out. He stands up, gingerly stepping over the notebook and loose pages scattered around his feet so he doesn’t crush them. He’s got probably three half-songs’ worth of chords and tentative lyrics in there somewhere, he doesn’t want to lose them. By the time he’s done that, put his guitar down, and quickly scooped all his papers into a rough pile he can sort through later, Steve’s entered his bedroom.

He doesn’t even spare Eddie a glance before immediately collapsing face-first onto his mattress.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie coos, coming over to sit next to Steve on the bed. Steve makes a noise in acknowledgement, although it’s heavily muffled by the mattress. “Stevie, can I touch you?” Eddie gets another muffled noise in response to that, but this one sounds distinctly like an uh-huh. Taking that for confirmation – this is not Eddie’s first rodeo with nights like these, after all – he reaches out and rubs a firm hand up and down Steve’s back.

Steve sighs contentedly at the contact, some of the tension slowly leeching out of his muscles. They sit like that for a few moments, Eddie half massaging him and half just letting him know he’s there, before Steve says something else. He says it directly into the mattress, just like before, so Eddie doesn’t understand a single word of it.

“Wanna try that again, sweetheart?”

Steve lets out an enormous sigh, and then turns his head to the side to face Eddie. “Wan’ you to lie on me,” he says, and it still comes out a bit slurred. Whether it’s from the way Steve’s cheek is smushed into the mattress, or talking is just a bridge too far for his baby right now, Eddie doesn’t know and frankly, does not care.

“Sure thing. You want your work clothes off first?”

“Just the vest.” Steve’s eyes are shut, and there’s a faint crease between his brows. It’s adorable, and Eddie knows he’s going to do something stupid like bite Steve if he keeps looking at his gorgeous face, so he quickly busies himself with removing Steve’s work vest. It only takes the gentlest of encouragement for Steve to move his arms as needed, Eddie trying his best to take off the vest without making Steve feel unnecessarily constricted. As he does so, he hears Steve taking some deep breaths in and out, and he smiles. 

That’s one of the things they both find helpful, when they get overwhelmed like this; taking a moment to just breathe, as deep as they can. Slowly, in and out, and leaning into the feeling of their chest expanding with each breath in. It’s grounding – and plus, it’s harder to freak out about feeling so overwhelmed your teeth hurt when you’re forcing yourself not to hyperventilate. Eddie knows, though, that he and Steve have very different levels of success on that front.

Now that Steve’s vest is gone – and Eddie’s just flung it somewhere across the room, deciding it’s Future Eddie’s problem – it’s time for what his darling boyfriend actually asked for.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, and gets a positive-sounding mmhmm in response. Without further ado, Eddie swings a leg over Steve to straddle him, then lowers himself down until they’re lying flush, Steve’s back to Eddie’s chest. Eddie lets all of his body weight press down on Steve, and he’s positioned himself just right so he can tilt his head up a little and reach the nape of Steve’s neck. He presses a kiss there, soft and sweet, and hears – feels, really – Steve’s contented sigh underneath him.

“Let me know when you’re ready to move, baby,” Eddie whispers, before tilting his head to the side to rest between Steve’s shoulder blades. They stay there like that, breathing in the same air, as the stress of Steve’s day slowly melts away.

Eddie was so stressed the first time Steve asked for this. He was terrified he was going to be too heavy, or he’d lean on a sore spot of Steve’s, or his bad leg would play up and he wouldn’t be able to get up the very moment Steve asked him to. But then Steve had looked at him, with those big hazel eyes Eddie is absolutely weak to, and said please, Eds?

Naturally, Eddie went with it. It’s not like he had any option not to, okay?

Besides, after the second time Steve asked Eddie to lie on top of him like this, they had a conversation about what exactly the appeal is. Eddie didn’t ask to be judgemental, he was genuinely curious; in Eddie’s mind, wouldn’t the feeling of being contained make you more overwhelmed, not less? Steve had explained it as not feeling like being contained at all – to him, when he’s trapped in his own head, being tethered to reality like that feels like freedom. Something about the pressure, the warmth, the feeling of Eddie breathing on top of him and doing his little fidgets and taps with his hands and feet – it grounds him. It puts Steve back into his body when he feels like his head’s full of static, or he’s looking at the world through six feet of water.

That’s the other thing they both get sometimes. Sometimes, when it’s been a long day, or a lot has happened, or they’ve had to talk to one too many strange people in too short a time period, something in them just… shuts down. For the most part, Steve and Eddie have different things that set them off in this way; for Eddie, unexpected change is a big one. It’s one thing if he knows there are no concrete plans in place, or if he’s been warned that something might happen or change with very little notice. But if he’s made a definite plan to do something, or that something will happen a certain way, only for it to suddenly change? No dice.

Funny he should say that, actually – one time, he nearly canceled a session of Hellfire because they had to relocate at the last minute. Normally their sessions take place in the drama room, thanks to Eddie having a surprisingly decent relationship with the Hawkins High drama teacher, Ms Williams. This one time, however, a rehearsal for the senior play was rescheduled so that it clashed with Hellfire, and at such short notice that they didn’t hear about it until Eddie waltzed into the drama room fifteen minutes before the session was set to start. Thankfully, Gareth managed to find an empty classroom, so after a short delay to move everything in there Eddie was able to run the game as planned. He was, however, off his game for most of the session. Even worse, he felt decidedly off for a considerable time afterwards. The feeling didn’t really go away until after their next session of Hellfire, when they were back in the drama room where they belonged.

So yeah. Eddie can’t handle sudden change, big deal.

Steve can, for the most part; he's a lot more adaptable. No, Steve's weakness is people.

It took Eddie a while to realize it, and even then, he didn't truly understand until after they'd started dating. After all, how could the former King of Hawkins High possibly find socializing difficult? Eddie remembers all those bitter glances he used to shoot King Steve's way, jealous of how effortlessly he commanded the court of public opinion – not that he'd ever admit to it. But then Steve fell from grace, underwent more character growth than Eddie thought one man was capable of, and now Eddie knows the truth: uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. (Eddie is forever in debt to his freshman year English teacher for pointing him in the direction of the battered copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare in Hawkins Public Library. If only poor Mr Collins knew Eddie was only interested so he could use it as inspiration for D&D campaigns.)

Steve is absolutely charismatic; he knows how to tell people exactly what they want to hear, or make them feel special in a way that keeps them coming back for more. The catch is it's an intentional act. It's a mask that Steve used to be terrified he could never take off, as he mournfully confessed to Eddie one night while sharing a joint in the trailer. As it turns out, Steve just needed better friends; with Robin, with the kids, with Eddie, he finds it so easy to just be himself. He doesn't have to censor himself or fret over what image he's presenting to the world, and can instead relax and actually enjoy the company. Steve's joked around with Eddie before that it's actually kind of good for their relationship that Steve used to have to try so hard – now he knows how to flirt without even consciously thinking about it. What Steve doesn't know is that he could go into graphic detail about the shape of his toenails and Eddie would still be listening with hearts in his eyes.

Unfortunately, Family Video is one place where Steve has to put the mask back on. It is a customer service job after all, and while Steve and Robin often say that Keith would rather die than actually do his job as a manager, Steve really doesn't want to get fired. Keith doesn’t have the same endless patience for Steve that he does for Robin, much to Steve’s eternal frustration. Eddie has borne witness to many of the nightmare customers Steve has to wrangle, and it’s even become something of a game to them at this point. Steve tries to show Eddie how he feels inside without the customer noticing, and Eddie tries desperately not to laugh when Steve meets his gaze with the most dead-eyed expression imaginable.

That's probably what's bothering Steve tonight, actually; one too many annoying customers expecting him to grin and bear it while they chew him out about something meaningless, with the added nuisance of not having Eddie or Robin around to take the edge off. Normally Steve and Robin work Saturday nights together, but Robin called out early for a movie night with Vickie. They’re choosing to refer to it as “calling out early” and not “skipping the majority of your shift” because it sounds better, and what Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

Eddie went in to say hi like he normally does, but he was earlier than usual tonight. He waltzed in just after six o’clock to bring Steve some dinner – none for Robin, who was planning to eat with Vickie – and then shoot the shit with them for almost an hour before leaving with Robin to take her on her date-she-won’t-admit-is-a-date. He did ask Steve if he wanted Eddie to come back later before he left, and Steve said no, and Eddie kind of made a mental plan to come back anyway but then he got caught up trying to noodle out some new songs and lost track of time–

“Eddie.”

The sound of Steve's voice brings Eddie back to reality. Lifting his head, Eddie finds he can’t really see Steve’s face from this angle, so he readjusts himself and props himself up on his elbows to actually look at Steve. Steve's head is still turned to the side, so Eddie can only see half his face, but he definitely can see the way Steve's eyebrow arches up when he meets Eddie's gaze.

“What's up, sweetheart?” Eddie has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“You know that's the third time I tried getting your attention?”

“Well obviously I didn't, otherwise I would've responded the first time,” Eddie replies, but there's no bite to it. It brings a soft smile to Steve's face, more fond than anything else. When Steve doesn't respond, Eddie continues, “But seriously, what's up? Want me to get off?”

“Not tonight, honey, I have a headache,” Steve replies, shooting Eddie a lazy wink. Eddie rolls his eyes in faux-exasperation – as if he wouldn't make the exact same joke, were the roles reversed – and goes to nudge Steve in the shoulder. With the way Eddie's still lying on him, however, it just makes the two of them rock gently side-to-side on Eddie's mattress. Steve giggles a little at the movement before saying, “You can move now, if you want to. I feel better.”

“Yeah? Wanna talk about why you felt weird in the first place?” Eddie slides off Steve's back and onto the bed next to him as he speaks. He shuffles around until he's lying on his side, noting Steve has done the same and they're now facing each other. All Eddie would have to do to kiss Steve is lean in a few inches, so he does. Why deny himself one of life’s greatest pleasures? It's a very quick and chaste kiss, just a peck really, but Steve lets out a contented hum all the same.

“Of course I’m going to tell you about the annoying people I had to deal with tonight. Just not right now,” Steve says, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Eddie. In another context it could almost be sultry, but the clear bone-deep exhaustion clinging to Steve makes it clear he's fighting to stay awake. Eddie reaches over to cup Steve's cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow, repetitive pattern. Steve's eyes slowly drift closed with each pass of Eddie's thumb.

“Yeah, you're about to fall asleep on me, aren't you Stevie? You get stuck in the car on the way home?” Steve gives a soft noise of affirmation, with a twitch of his head that could be a nod if he had more energy.

That happens sometimes, when Steve is really out of it or at the end of a particularly draining day. He'll get in his car to drive home and just... not be able to make himself get out of the car once he gets there. The only people who know about this problem of his are Eddie and Robin, and that's only because they've each witnessed him doing it. In Eddie's case, it was back when they were still friends, that simmering tension hanging between them like a wild animal neither of them wanted to spook. He was waiting for Steve to come over after work, only to realize Steve was late and must be taking longer than expected to close up shop – so why not just go to Family Video and keep him company? When Eddie stepped out of his trailer, however, he saw Steve's BMW parked out the front, Steve sitting inside with head down and resting on the wheel.

They talked about it, but not until some time later, when Steve was no longer embarrassed about Eddie seeing him like that. In Steve's words, sometimes getting himself moving takes more energy than he can muster up at the end of a long day. It's worse when his parents are in town, the thought of going inside and interacting with them sapping the strength from his bones, but mostly it's just the act of getting himself out of the car and inside that's too much to think about some days. On those days, he just stays in the car until he can bring himself to move.

Steve makes do on those days; he has his tapes, and he's even started keeping a book or a couple magazines in his car, which he swaps out when he's finished with them. Eddie's not a huge fan of it, especially when it's cold out or when Steve's doing it out the front of Eddie's trailer – Steve's house is isolated enough that people won't see him just sitting there in his car. The trailer park is a different story.

Still, it's not like Eddie doesn't have his own share of less-than-ideal habits and coping strategies. He doesn’t actually mind that Steve does this sometimes, he just wants him to be safe. Besides, Eddie would rather have a rematch with the bats than make Steve feel like he can't talk to him about his bad days or like he’s being judged for the struggles he has sometimes.

Hearing that Steve's breathing is starting to even out, Eddie jostles his shoulder slightly. Steve frowns, and Eddie feels like the worst person ever for disturbing him when he looked so blissfully calm and peaceful, but he can't let Steve fall asleep in his jeans.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, drawing the syllables out in a sing-song tone, “We've got to get your pants off.”

“Told you I had a headache,” Steve grumbles, not opening his eyes. He does, however, start undoing his jeans, before rolling onto his back and lifting his hips to pull them off. He then takes his polo shirt off as well, both items ending up on the floor just like the Family Video vest did.

“Can I have some sweatpants, please?” Ah, Stevie. Steve Harrington has a way of making even the most benign statement sound bitchy if he wants to, and Eddie fucking adores him for it. Grinning to himself, Eddie roots around in the pile of clean (but unfolded) clothes on top of his dresser. Successfully locating a pair of gray sweatpants, Eddie turns back to Steve and gets on one knee next to the bed, holding the pants aloft and bowing his head as he does so.

“My liege's pants,” Eddie intones, pulling out a regal-sounding character voice to fit the moment. He hears a snort from Steve, so Eddie lifts his head to see Steve's shoulders shaking from the effort of holding in his laughter. Eddie smiles and gently throws the sweatpants at Steve's torso, enjoying the way Steve yelps slightly in surprise when the pants hit him.

As Steve maneuvers himself to put the sweatpants on, Eddie asks, “Can I get you anything before you depart this conscious plane? Water? Something to eat?” Eddie can see Steve thinking about it as he finishes putting the pants on, but he doesn't respond until he's wearing them properly and has made himself comfortable in Eddie's bed again.

“Water would be nice. I want to brush my teeth, but fuck going to the bathroom,” Steve says, cutting himself off at the end of the sentence with a yawn. He even does the old-man stretch with his arms bent as he does it.

Eddie is so gone for this man, it's ridiculous.

“Okay, water and a way of bringing the bathroom to you, got it. I'll be right back.” Eddie starts to head for the kitchen, but stops short in the doorway of his bedroom. He turns back to point a finger at Steve and says, “Don't fall asleep before I get back.”

“No promises,” says Steve, closing his eyes and making a deliberate show of wriggling around on the mattress to get more comfortable.

“I meant it Stevie! If you're asleep when I get back, I'm pouring water on you!” Eddie calls back as he turns and heads to the kitchen, hearing Steve's laughter behind him.

In the kitchen, Eddie puts his plan into action. He grabs two mugs and fills the larger one up with water before making a detour into the bathroom. He grabs Steve's yellow toothbrush and puts some toothpaste on the bristles before running it under the tap to wet it. While in the bathroom, Eddie's eyes land on the washcloth hanging up in the shower. He could dampen that and take it in if Steve wants to wash his face or something... Eddie could do it for him, even. Making his mind up, Eddie puts Steve's toothbrush in the empty mug before grabbing the washcloth and turning the bathroom tap on. He waits a minute for the water to run warm, and once it's reached a suitable temperature Eddie drenches the washcloth before ringing it out a couple of times. Once it's suitably damp, Eddie turns the tap off and drapes the washcloth over his arm, so he can have both hands free for the mugs.

Eddie's very thankful he left his bedroom door open, as he can just walk right in even though his hands are full. He's even more thankful that Steve is still awake, as he'd feel terrible waking Steve up, even if it was to give him what he asked for. Steve is now sitting up in bed cross-legged, watching Eddie as he approaches. His expression turns curious when he clocks what Eddie's holding.

“Here is your water,” Eddie says, placing the full mug and washcloth down on the bedside table. He then hands Steve the other mug with his toothbrush in it and says, “And here is your hand-delivered substitute bathroom. Plus I brought a cloth, in case you wanted to wash your face or something.”

“Okay?” Steve says, although it comes out more as a question, as he takes the mug from Eddie.

Seeing his confusion, Eddie elaborates with, “I figured since you don't want to get up, you could just brush your teeth here and spit into the cup when you're done. I'll wash it in the morning. I don't know, it might be stupid, but-”

“It's not stupid,” Steve says, interrupting Eddie as he starts to ramble. “It's actually really thoughtful of you. Thanks, Eds.” Steve smiles at him then, sweet and love-struck, and it feels like the sun is shining directly on Eddie's face.

Steve starts brushing his teeth, so Eddie takes the time to get changed himself. He's still in his jeans and t-shirt from his trip to Family Video earlier, so he ditches those and puts on an old Hawkins High gym shirt over his boxers. Normally he'd never be seen dead in such a garment, but this isn't any old gym shirt; this is Steve's old gym shirt. The joy of knowing he's wearing his boyfriend's shirt far outweighs any moral reservations Eddie may have about sleeping in Hawkins High sports merchandise.

By the time he's finished changing, Steve is spitting into the empty mug and swapping it for the washcloth next to the bed. He also drops his toothbrush into the formerly-empty mug, bristles-end first. Smart, Eddie thinks to himself, that way he doesn't get toothpaste foam on the handle. Steve gives his face a quick once-over with the washcloth, making a pleased noise when it touches his face. Eddie wants to think he's pleasantly surprised at how the warmth feels on his face, but maybe Steve's just enjoying the feeling of being clean. 

Once he's finished, he swaps the washcloth out for the mug of water and takes a long drink from it. Eddie can't help but stare at the way Steve's throat bobs each time he swallows, especially as Steve starts to tip his head back as the mug becomes emptier and emptier. This really is not the time, Steve is about two minutes away from falling asleep, and he's got the day off tomorrow so they can have as much sex as they want then-

Eddie is brought back to reality at the sound of Steve putting the now-empty mug back down on the table with a thud. His eyes flick up to look at Steve's face, and- oh. Steve's already looking at him, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says, eyes darting down to Eddie's lips momentarily, “I promise.”

“Cool,” Eddie says dumbly. He quickly follows it up with, “I mean, yeah, that sounds great, Stevie, looking forward to it.” Steve raises an eyebrow at that. Jesus, he could at least try not to look like he's holding back laughter, the bastard.

“I should hope so,” Steve says, before lying back down in bed and making himself comfortable. Fighting valiantly against the blush on his face, Eddie takes a moment to turn off his bedroom lamp. He's so glad he has an excuse to hide his face from Steve right now.

Now the room is illuminated only by the moonlight from Eddie’s bedroom window, Eddie hops into bed beside Steve and pulls the blanket up and over both of them from the foot of the bed. As soon as he's done that, however, Steve forcibly maneuvers him into the position he wants; Eddie lying on his back, with Steve lying across him and using his chest as a pillow. Eddie made a half-joke once, a long time ago, about how that can't be very comfortable with all his scarring. The look on Steve's face and the wounded tone of his voice when he disagreed made Eddie immediately decide to never make a joke like that again.

After a few moments of readjusting to get themselves comfortable, Eddie leans down to place a kiss on the crown of Steve's head.

“Goodnight, Stevie. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

“'night, Teddy,” and oh, Steve's tired if he's bringing out that nickname. Eddie feels a sloppy kiss to his chest and a muffled, “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie replies, and he really does feel like the luckiest person on Earth. He's forever grateful that he gets to see this side of Steve, that he gets to be the one who helps him when he’s struggling, the safe haven where Steve can recover after the world has been too much for him. Eddie had always wondered what romantic love felt like growing up, but now that he’s with Steve, he finds there’s no one right answer to that question; the way he loves Steve is constantly changing, growing stronger and deeper every day.

“Hey, Eds?” Steve says, drawing Eddie's attention back to him. Eddie makes a noise of acknowledgement, so Steve continues, “Remind me tomorrow to tell you who rented a bunch of things from our adult section tonight.”

“Oh?” Eddie whispers back. “Were they particularly scandalous pornos? Or- wait, was it someone we know?”

“Yep,” Steve says, “it was your favorite person in all of Hawkins.” Eddie frowns at that, genuinely unsure who Steve could be referring to. There's quite a few people in Hawkins Eddie doesn't get along with, but less so now that he's finally graduated; or at least, less that he has to interact with on a regular basis. After racking his brains for a minute, Eddie throws out the first reasonable guess he can think of.

“Officer Callahan?” 

Steve snorts.

“No.”

“Officer Powell, then.” Eddie's got his eyes closed now, letting the conversation wash over him. As interested as he is in whatever gossip Steve has, he knows they're not going to unpack it properly until tomorrow.

“It wasn't a cop, Eds.”

“Well then you're going to have to give me a hint, because I'm coming up blank, baby.” Eddie can feel the way Steve smirks against his chest at his words.

“It was Mrs O'Donnell.”

Eddie's eyes shoot open.

“What?” There's no response from Steve. Eddie groans, screwing his eyes up and rubbing the bridge of his nose with the hand that's not busy holding Steve against his body. “Stevie, baby, you can't just do this to me. You can't just drop that bombshell on me and refuse to elaborate.”

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve says, voice lilting in a way that proves he knows exactly what he's doing.

That bastard.

Eddie loves him more than life itself.

Tagging some people who might want to see this: @sailing-through-hawkins @stobinesque @scarcrossdlvrs @ghostlytimelord @steves-strapcollection @inairbinad @patchworkgargoyle

[lestappenforever]

Now since I’m tearing up for Charles. And this race was considerably boring. Here’s my quick analysis because there wasn’t much to analyse to be honest.

Kevin Magnussen is on THIN ICE. He’s being a track terrorist, that anyone near him is genuinely doesn’t feel safe. And Nico was doing good considering that penalty, slowly building his way into the race. So was Checo, but Kevin just had to go and ruin it for all 3, as well as any type of potential for a strategy race today.

Alpine was good, despite Esteban’s crash, but they are building. What genuinely concerns me however, is the fact that THIS was the racing incident not the other one. And Alpine should see that, especially since Esteban was the one who’s been taking the car places since the start and outperforming Pierre.

Aston were meh, not good, not bad, just okay, and I can assure you, VCARB are coming for them slowly but surely.

VCARB making slow but sure steps that are making the difference. Yuki being so good with strategically keeping Alex behind him. Daniel overtakes. The’re getting there and could be at this rate, competing for p5 in constructors.

Mercedes did well (unfortunately) with George specifically, maintaining those tyres, keeping Max behind him, Lewis also getting more confident in that car. A slow and steady rise.

Williams did well considering the circumstances. Alex points, that’s a huge leap, but also, Logan did really good in the race, with his overtakes and all in a non-upgraded overweight Williams. Getting better and not the bottom markers is surely good.

McLaren played the mind games really well today. With the way he fixed Oscar’s car in the Red Flag, to keeping Lando on Carlos’ ankle almost the whole race, yeah, they really are becoming a threat in the constructors.

Red Bull, my team. You know that feeling when you’re mad at someone but you love them and can’t stay mad or accept any backlash unless it was with the intent of love. That’s me with Red Bull right now. Like yes, the car was stiff and needs work, especially with Ferrari and McLaren being so close on their tails. But this weekend was one where all external factors worked against Red Bull, with Max hitting the wall at the worst ever time in Q3, Checo being 0.5 seconds away from Q2. The crash, that I am grateful and thankful that Checo was able to get up on both feet by himself after it became of how horrendous it was. And therefore fucking a strategy race. It was written in the stars for The Prince of Monaco that all of this happens to the team at the same time. But also, credit where credit is due, the pitting call from Hannah was chef’s kiss, because it made Max more confident and he didn’t loose places. On the topic if Max however. I can’t stand his ass (jk I love him but I’m mad) simply because he could have overtaken George, but I guess he wasn’t 100% with the car that he won’t end up in the wall. But what I’m sure if is that he’s mad with today, from his side, from his childhood rival’s side, I can bet my money that he’s proud of him. But now Red Bull will need to work so hard in those 2 weeks to Canada, to improve the car. And Checo will need to do better these upcoming races because another fuck up could be his seat. And the fight for this seat is fierce.

Finally the team of the hour, who did everything right this weekend, gave the boys a car they can trust, and gave their golden boy his dream win. Seriously we can’t say anything about Ferrari with the way they handled the weekend, and hats off to them. And of course our Predestinato, who made us all cry with his win, which was extremely emotional and no one could have been upset with it, he drive his heart out today, and luck was on his side to make it. So yeah, Charles was beyond amazing today, and so was Carlos who put pressure on Oscar to pay that Singapore debt that Charles did for him.

But yeah, the race again wasn’t an entertaining one, racing and strategy wise, but again another emotional one (that needed Max honestly on that Podium ESPECIALLY with Charles) but he did it, he broke the curse and made us cry. Now time to chill, regroup and onto Canada

Just going to leave this here in all its glory because it needs no additions.