#first magnitude spring

[starzzify]

i’m going to a spring tomorrow so that’s pretty fun

[clothedwthesun]

what i hate most about the dynamic aziraphale and crowley have is the way people somehow always seem to interpret it as crowley loving him more than aziraphale loves him back. and it's sooo frustrating because yes crowley is more open and honest about how he feels but aziraphale shows it, reeks of it. literally one of the things that fuel his internal conflict is that he cares for and trusts and loves crowley so much that for the first time something actually rivals his devotion to heaven, so much that he agrees to the fucking arrangement because he trusts crowley more, so much that he doesn't even know where to put it or what to do with it or how to admit to it

every single time he "chooses heaven" it's because he's allowed himself to sink too deeply into this love and that's what springs the catholic guilt into action. the final scene isn't even aziraphale choosing heaven over crowley, but him saying i can make heaven good enough for you, and he's so fucking happy because he thinks he's finally found a loophole, and when crowley says no he literally thinks he's the one being rejected. quite literally the entire show is aziraphale trying to find a way around it and explain it away and make excuses but my brother in christ he loves him so much he can't even bear to face the magnitude of it

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

--

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

--

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.  

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

[superbbirdofparadise]

Are y'all ready for a mildly unhinged character comparison?

(It makes sense when you think about it, trust me)

William Afton and Doctor Morocco. One is an undead serial killer from a mascot horror game. The other is a villain from a cartoon targeted to preschool-age children who doesn't even have a body count (at least, not one that's mentioned on-screen). On the surface, all they have in common are their British accents and general disregard for public welfare. But, these two are actually far more similar than you might think.

First, they are both inventors, and experts in robotics. While it is unclear exactly how many animatronics Afton himself built, we know from Sister Location that he designed the Funtimes by himself, and he worked very closely with Henry Emily for earlier animatronics (not even gonna try researching specific numbers because FNAF). Morocco is shown working on many projects, from submarines to a machine that controls ants, but his most famous invention is the MorBot, a non-sentient transforming robot.

Early in their careers, they both met fellow genius inventors; Afton with Henry Emily, and Morocco with Jules Verne. They became best friends, and began working together on projects. Unfortunately, both of these friendships were more one-sided than they seemed.

Admiration of Emily and Verne soon turned to jealousy, leading Afton and Morocco to betray them. Afton, either grieving the loss of his own child(ren), or just at his breaking point depending on what timeline you use, killed Henry's daughter, Charlie. After being gifted a prototype Verne device, Morocco disagreed with Verne on how the technology should be used, and disappeared to develop inventions which fulfilled his own selfish desires. Although they are not equal in magnitude, both betrayals hurt the recipients deeply.

At some point, both became obsessed with the pursuit of eternal life. This led Afton to continue killing children to harvest remnant from them, even creating the S.C.U.P., better known as the Scooper, to aid remnant extraction. Morocco used his Verne device prototype to create his Chamber of Youth, a glass pod with anti-aging properties. (Picture of Burntrap's charging pod included for comparison with the Chamber of Youth, and because I couldn't find a better place to put it.)

However, time waits for no man. Although Afton "survives" injuries that should be fatal, and Morocco barely looks a day over 40 at 200, neither of their situations are perfect. What's left of Afton is trapped inside an old Spring Bonnie suit, and Morocco must make frequent trips to his Chamber of Youth to avoid aging rapidly and dying.

Eventually, Emily and Verne decide to end their former best friends' reigns of terror. Emily builds a fake pizzeria to trap Afton, and all of the haunted and/or sentient animatronics, and burns them to the ground. Verne takes a (relatively) pacifist approach, erasing Morocco's memories of being evil and bringing him to future Paris, where he will hopefully live out the rest of his days in peace. So goes the ends of two great villains…

…until SOMEONE decides that the characters are too popular to die, so they're brought back, but it's not really them, it's just viruses that look and talk and act and think like them that were created by the real Afton and Morocco at an undisclosed point in time because why wouldn't they do that? These viruses appear in experimental VR games, Glitchtrap in the Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experience, and the Morocco virus in Griffin Rock Element Quest 2.0. They both have the ability to alter the games they originated in, Glitchtrap adding the tapes and Bonnie plush, and Morocco virus creating entirely new levels. They also have the ability to control other machines, and even humans, under the right circumstances.

Both viruses manage to transfer themselves into physical bodies, and continue to cause chaos. (For this example, we are assuming that Burntrap is the Mimic infected with the Glitchtrap virus and pretending to be William Afton, NOT Afton himself.)

Vanessa and Gregory trap the Mimic in an even lower level of the basement, and the rescue team traps Morocco virus in a block of ice. After they are captured and imprisoned, they decide that they should update their character designs at the earliest convenience to be more easily distinguishable from their human designers, sell more merch, and, in Morocco virus' case at least, grow more powerful. Mimic basically just stops cosplaying as Ourple Guy (and starts cosplaying as a circus creature amalgam depending on the ending), but Morocco upgrades to a MorBot, rivaling the Rescue Bots in every physical aspect.

It is unknown whether or not either of these viruses, or their creators, will be threats in the future. With the Morocco virus stuck at the bottom of the ocean, and the doctor himself nowhere to be seen in Rescue Bots Academy, the reign of Morocco has likely come to an end. It seems as though William Afton has finally died, too, being replaced by the Mimic as FNAF's main antagonist. To know the Mimic's fate, we'll have to wait until Secret of the Mimic, or maybe even a game farther in the future.

Aaaaand I think that's it! There are a few smaller details that I didn't mention (i.e. Morocco's shirt button/brooch thing is ourple?!?😱😱😱), but these are all of the big connections between these guys that I saw. I haven't seen anyone else make this comparison (for good reason lol), so I thought it would be nice to share my thoughts. Let me know what y'all think, and feel free to mention things that I missed, or let me know your own mildly unhinged character comparisons. So, uh… yeah. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Edit: I fixed the typo in the image description for the picture of Morocco and Verne meeting.

[rinixo]

aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

The fish of the day today is the devils hole pupfish!

The devils hole pupfish, scientific name Cyprinodon diabolis, is an endangered fish known to live in exactly one spot, Devils hole. Devils hole is a limestone cavern with a geothermal pool found in Nye county of Nevada, and a disconnected section of Death Valley National Park. The geothermal pool keeps the water at a consistent 33 degrees Celsius all seasons, and has low dissolved oxygen amounts. The surface of water at the cave is only 72ft by 12ft, but below that the cave descends deep into the earth. Below the surface pool there is a larger cavern descending to 150 meters at its deepest before branching into a smaller tube at the bottom, the depth of which is currently unknown.1965 two teenagers went diving in the hole with scuba gear, and were never seen again,  rescue divers sent after them found a dropped flashlight, and other scuba gear but the bodies were never found. One rescue diver dropped a weighted plate that fell a full 932ft without contacting a bottom to the chamber, describing the water below him as an "infinity chamber". Later scans of the cave revealed it is at least as deep as 1,247ft, although to this day the depth is still unknown. Another well known aspect of the cave is that it can be used to determine when there are earthquakes all over the world. The water surges and has displayed unique patterns during the 2022 Mexico 7.6 magnitude earthquake, along with other strong earthquakes further from the hole. Such as: the 2012 6.2 magnitude earthquake in Papua New Guinea, or the 2018 7.4 magnitude earthquake in Indonesia. Devils hole pupfish are known to live only in the first 80ft of the cave.

Devils hole pupfish are unique in appearance, getting only as large as an inch, and being one of few species that have no pelvic fins, however when raised in colder conditions these pupfish will regrow these appendages. As juveniles these fish are an off white color, and females retain some of this coloring in adulthood. This species has only ever been recorded with as many as 500 wild fish at its highest, hitting an all time low point of 42 fish in 2007. The more recent numbers are looking up however, and there were 263 pupfish observed in spring of 2022. The survival from egg to adulthood is small, but the likelihood with human effort that this fish will survive the test of time is high. Described as possibly the most isolated wild vertebrate species in the world. These fish live only 10-14 months, reaching sexual maturity at 8-10 weeks old and spawn year round with peaks in mid February-May, and a smaller peak in July-September. Due to the unique oxygen levels of devils hole, these fish have adapted to enter a state of tupor, similar to hibernation, where they can live anaerobically. This allows them to go without breathing for up to 2 hours, however they produce ethanol as a byproduct.

Most of the devils hole pupfish life is on the rocky outcrops of the surface waters of the cave system. Breeding, egg laying, diet, resting, and schedules surrounding the placement of the sun all depend on these rocky outcroppings of stone near the surface of the water. The diet of these fish is dependent on the rock outcroppings of the cave, as they eat anything they can find in the cave system. This includes: small freshwater crustaceans, beetles, flatworms, freshwater snails, inorganic matter made of small sections of the caves limestone, along with spirogyra and diatom algae, which grows on the rocks themselves and makes up most of the pupfish's diet. Due to their diet being mostly algae types, pupfish are incredibly susceptible to the seismic activity in the devils' hole, as it creates small tsunamis along surface water and washes away algae on the rocks, leaving them without a majority of their food source until it regrows. When these earthquakes happen the pupfish are known to flee into the deer waters of the cave until the water has stilled, and are thought to perhaps feel earthquakes before they happen, although not much research has been done on this yet.

Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

[mogitz]

Don't think about Lucien Vanserra witnessing the unspeakable: his world crumbling as the love of his life is ripped away from him and murdered right before his eyes. Don't picture his brothers holding him back, making him watch it all - every excruciating detail - as he's powerless to stop it.

Forget the image of him, broken and bleeding, dragging himself to the sanctuary of the Spring Court boundary, barely making it over the line before his knees give out beneath him. Don’t think about the emptiness that surely follows, nor the weight of his grief so heavy it's a wonder he could even stand to make it to safety in the first place. Don’t think about all the times on his journey he just wanted to give up altogether, but pushed on so that Jesminda’s death was not in vain.

Don't think about him having to turn against two of his own brothers, killing them in a twisted act of vengeance that feels nothing like the justice he sought. Resist the thought of him taking weeks, months, (years??) to mourn in solitude because Tamlin, though knowing loss to this magnitude as well, could not possibly navigate the depths of Lucien's grief. Thus, Lucien was left to weather his storm of sorrow and loss the same way Tamlin had weathered his own - alone - hiding away from a world that had taken everything from him

Don’t picture him upon the dawn-kissed roof of the Spring manor, where the dance of pinks and oranges and blues in the sky only seems to deepen his yearning for an Autumn forever lost to him. And don’t think about how in the Spring Court he has found some kind of solace... but never peace. How despite finding a home there, his soul remains restless, wandering, always running from the shadows of his past. Running from his future. Running from himself.

And please don’t think about how Lucien's gratefulness to Tamlin for giving him something close to a family results in a loyalty so profound that he'd walk into hell for him. Which he does - right into Amarantha’s clutches - only to come back less than whole, another piece of him stolen away.

That beauty he was known for? Gone.

Just like everything else.

Don’t imagine Lucien slowly piecing himself back together - inch by painstaking inch. Forget about the way he masters the art of sarcasm and humor, how he wields his wit like a shield to keep others at bay, to convince them, and maybe himself, that he's not hurting as much as he is. That beneath the quips and the easy smiles lies a well of pain and self-doubt so deep it's become part of who he is. That this levity he brings into every room is, in truth, the heaviest thing he carries.

And hey. Don't think about Lucien giving up any hope of being wanted, of being loved again. That his chance at having a mate, a true partner, was as dead as his former lover.

Or how, in a twist that must have amused fate itself, the Cauldron surprises him with a mate in Elain Archeron: his undeniable yet unwilling counterpart. How from nowhere, a bond snaps into place, redefining his destiny and sealing a connection that he'd long since given up on.

And don't think about how when Lucien's eyes meet Elain’s, somewhere beneath all the layers of loss and hurt and betrayal….  a spark of hope dares to ignite once more.

And then absolutely don't let your thoughts wander to his heart being trampled on, again, when he realizes that Elain - like everyone else - doesn’t want him. But at this point he’s not even surprised. It’s just another sharp sting in a lifetime's collection of disappointments and cruel irony. Don't dwell on how he's gotten so used to the taste of rejection and the feeling of being unworthy that he doesn't even think about trying to change her mind about him. Because, what's the point, right? Why bother when history has shown him, time and time again, that even just hoping seems to lead him to more pain?

Don’t think about how despite this, he still seeks her out just enough to show he’s willing to give it a shot if she is. How against his every instinct to protect himself, he keeps himself open to the slightest possibility of her, knowing it just leaves the door open to be hurt. And don't think about how every time Elain shies away from him, every time she looks through him or chooses to keep her distance, it just reinforces  his walls, makes him retreat a little more behind his carefully constructed façade. Because facing that rejection head-on, acknowledging it, would mean admitting to himself that he's still holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could see past the surface. That she could want him, not despite of all he's been through, but because of it. That she could be the one to see him, really see him, and not turn away.

So, yeah, don’t go there. It's easier to laugh it off, to pretend it doesn't matter, than to face the possibility of another door closing in his face. Easier to keep up the act, to be the Lucien everyone expects - charming, sarcastic, unbothered - than to risk showing just how much Elain's avoidance cuts him to the core.

But don’t think about it. 

Because acknowledging that Lucien's humor and charm are just his way of coping? That means seeing the depth of his loneliness, the real Lucien who's been hiding in plain sight, waiting for someone to care enough to look closer. And understanding that? It's realizing that beneath the façade, Lucien's just waiting for someone to prove him wrong, to show him he's worth the risk, worth the love he's convinced himself he doesn't deserve.

And Elain, with her quiet strength and her own hidden depths, might just be the one to see the real Lucien. To challenge the walls he's built around himself, if only he could believe, one more time, that he's worthy of being chosen, of being loved.

But perhaps Mor is right - they aren’t ready. And Lucien’s not sure he’s ready to gamble his heart on hope again. Not yet, anyway.

So, really, don’t think about it—unless you’re ready to root for them, to believe in the kind of love that could be their light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Because Lucien and Elain? They could be something epic, a testament to the power of second chances and the strength of a love that comes when you least expect it but most need it. That their path isn’t just about two people finding love in an unfair world that has taken the things they both hold dear; it’s a journey of coming back to life after being lost in the dark for far too long.

So yeah, just don’t. It’s a lot.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Requests: Steve adopting an abandoned child post earthquake in Hawkins after the spring break from hell. And him realizing all the ways he was hurt as a child due to his parents neglect. And how he overcomes it and raises his baby-child with gentleness, warmth, patience and love

OKAY GENUINELY I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS PROMPT AND IT STILL WASN'T AS MUCH AS I WANTED TO DO. FAIR WARNING: this is an emotional roller coaster. It ends HAPPY. But there are a lot of sad and bittersweet moments and feelings leading up to that moment. There is the mention of child neglect, and that can be difficult for some people to read, even with a happy ending, so please keep that in mind before starting this. Also, this is not how the law or CPS works at all, and it wasn't in the 80s either, but this is fiction and I do what I want. I hope someone can continue this idea somewhere because it is so special to me now. This is 6200 words of me not knowing how to wrap it up with a bow. I hope you love this my darling, thank you for this one. - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------

Steve spent the last 12 hours pacing the waiting room floor at the hospital. He’d promised the kids he would stay until there was an update on Eddie and Max, and their parents had insisted they go home after they’d been quickly attended to for their minor injuries.

Max was stable, but not awake. They weren’t sure if she ever would be again. Steve passed that on to Nancy so she could call everyone.

Eddie finally made it out of surgery, alive, but barely.

He’d lost a lot of blood and they weren’t able to give him a transfusion until Wayne got there to donate.

It was touch and go for another few hours in recovery.

But things calmed down a bit, his heart rate settling at a normal rate, his oxygen maintaining where it should be with the mask on, the bleeding stopped and his blood regenerating on its own.

He wasn’t awake, but he was alive.

That was enough for Wayne and Hopper to kick him out of the hospital and make him go home.

“Shower. Eat. Sleep. In that order, Harrington,” Hopper said, the gruffness in his voice overruled by the concern.

He was up to speed on everything he missed, and he wasn’t thrilled about how much Steve had put on the line for everyone.

So Steve left, even though he wanted to stay, needed to have eyes on Eddie, on Max.

He had to trust that they were being taken care of.

He made it home, did two of the three things Hopper told him to. His shower was long and hot, finally able to wash away the blood and dirt and Upside Down particles that clung to his skin for the last couple of days. His dinner was quick and unfulfilling, but frozen meals usually are.

And then he did try to sleep. He tried on the couch first, his usual go-to spot after crises. Then he tried to go to his bed, hoping the weight of his comforter would help lull him to sleep.

But two hours later, he was still wide awake.

So he got up, put on jeans and a sweater, and made his way to the school, where emergency services had been set up.

It was chaotic, still very little organization amongst groups. The firefighters had been dispatched all over town, and most medical professionals had been called into the hospital or to help EMTs on calls. A handful of teachers had been put in charge of the check-in process here, making sure anyone who came through was on a list of survivors first, then sent to help where they were needed if they were able.

Steve was able, so he put his name on the list and was told to stand with a group at the far corner of the gym. Everyone in this group was waiting for a dispatch crew of firefighters to come get them to help locate survivors.

They were given vests, gloves, and helmets to wear, and given quick safety briefings. They were told not to move any rubble, that if they suspected someone was under some, to call for the professionals. They were just extra eyes and ears because everyone was stretched too thin for a disaster of this magnitude and help from local towns was slow to arrive.

Steve figured this would help him, if he stayed busy and managed to help people, he wouldn’t think about how helpless he was when it came to Max and Eddie.

The first location they were dropped at was a small neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Most of the homes had been completely demolished, cracks in the ground swallowing pieces of them. If there were any survivors here, they would be in desperate need of medical attention.

But after nearly four hours of searching, only one person was found, their leg trapped under a large wooden beam. The leg was broken, but they were fine other than that.

Steve felt relief that nothing more serious had happened there.

But the second area was worse.

It wasn’t a neighborhood, just a small wooded area surrounding two homes a good distance apart. Surprisingly, the homes were still standing, but everything around them was destroyed. Fires had been only recently extinguished, downed trees and power lines blocking most of the driveway and road in front of them.

“This should be relatively quick, both homes are empty and cars are gone, so we think everyone managed to get out safely, but we do need to be sure,” the firefighter in charge of this group said before leading them forward.

The smaller of the two houses was empty, though a mess, like the occupants had rushed to pack necessities and threw anything else on the ground as they rushed to get out.

The other home, though, was surprisingly clean. Kept up in a way Steve wouldn’t have expected for the panic most people showed while escaping town.

Everyone assumed maybe the occupants hadn’t even been home when the quake hit.

But Steve decided to go upstairs anyway.

Something was telling him this wasn’t normal.

It felt familiar in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge yet.

No one else followed him, all of the volunteers congregating in the living room area to discuss their next location before heading back to the school for a break.

Steve followed his gut, and his gut told him to check the bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door, not surprised to see that nothing seemed strange at first glance.

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, under the bed.

He would’ve checked there anyway, that’s where he would have hidden in this kind of situation, too.

“I guess this place is all clear,” Steve said, quiet enough not to be heard by anyone downstairs yet, but loud enough to be heard by the person under the bed.

“Wait!”

It was a kid, Steve figured as much based on the items on the desk in the corner and the poster on the wall.

The small boy crawled out from under the bed, panic on his face.

“Are you gonna take me to my parents?” The boy asked, lips wobbling.

“I’m gonna try. I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

“Elliott.”

“Nice to meet you, Elliott. How old are you?”

“Nine.”

Jesus Christ. Where had his parents even been? Why weren’t they looking for him?

He hoped they were on their way back and just stuck trying to get into town.

But a part of him had already known that wasn’t true. A part of him knew the moment they pulled into the area that he’d find someone left here, someone who shouldn’t have ever been alone.

“Alright, Elliott, let’s get you back to the school. We can put your name on the list so your parents can find you easier, okay? I can stay with you until they get here.”

“I don’t know if they will.”

Steve’s heart stopped for a moment.

Sure, his parents never came back after the Upside Down bullshit, but he’d been a teenager and adult. They probably assumed he wasn’t involved in any of it and was fine.

But Elliott was nine. Even his parents would have come back for him at that age.

They never should have left him alone to begin with, but even they knew the trouble they’d be in for leaving him at that age after a fucking earthquake.

“Of course they will, buddy. It’s just hard getting into Hawkins right now, you’ll see on our way back.”

He placed his hand on Elliott’s shoulder, not surprised when he tensed up under him for a moment before he relaxed.

Steve hadn’t been used to casual touch until he met Nancy.

But Elliott deserved to feel cared for right now, so he kept his hand there, let him get used to it for a moment, and then guided him out the door and down the stairs.

Most of the group had moved back outside, but a few people remained.

One of the few women in the group looked over at his entrance, her jaw dropping when she saw he had a child with him.

“Oh my God!”

Steve held his hand up, knowing Elliott probably didn’t want to draw a lot of attention to himself.

“He’s okay. He managed to find a safe place to hide. His parents might be looking for him though so we should get him back,” Steve said calmly.

No one crowded him, but the firefighter waiting by the van that was transporting everyone checked his heart and lungs, made sure he didn’t have any visible wounds or injuries.

Elliott didn’t let go of Steve the entire time, his hand gripping his forearm like he was terrified to lose him among the group.

Steve didn’t try to pull away, not once.

He knew Elliott needed someone. He could be that someone for him.

—-------------

When they arrived back at the school, they put his name on the list, and since he was a minor, they had him go to one of the classrooms that was being watched over by security while they tried to contact his parents.

He told them they left for a business trip over a week ago, he didn’t know when they would be back, and his aunt checked on him every morning, but he hadn’t seen her since the quake.

Steve stood by as he spoke to the responsible adults, not letting Elliott out of his sight.

Elliott begged for Steve to come with him to wait while they tried to locate his parents, so he did.

He realized pretty quickly that Elliott must not have slept last night; He curled against Steve’s side on the floor almost immediately and fell asleep, light snores making Steve smile to himself.

The floor was hard, the wall behind him was somehow harder, but he wouldn’t move short of another emergency.

They stayed like that for hours, kids coming and going as more were found and reunited with their families.

Elliott was the youngest one left in the room, all the other kids high school age.

When one of the men from the group he was in earlier came in the room to get another kid, he asked if there was any update on Elliott.

“Nah, they’re still trying to find them. The aunt um…” The guy looked nervously down at the sleeping Elliott. “She didn’t make it. Was on her way to try to get him when another crack hit the road she was driving on, car crashed. They contacted the dad’s business and were told he’s out of the country and won’t be returning calls until next week.”

“How long are they gonna make him stay here while they figure it out?”

“No clue, man. I’ll ask someone.”

But he didn’t come back and Elliott deserved something better than the floor to sleep on.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve said, gently nudging his shoulder to wake him up. “Sorry, just gotta run and ask someone something real quick.”

Elliott grabbed his shirt, holding it in his fist tightly.

“Don’t go! Please,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

Steve’s heart broke.

He’d been this kid for so much of his childhood, practically begging people to stick around so he didn’t have to be drenched in loneliness again.

He knew he would be right back, but to Elliott, especially after the quake, he probably felt like anyone who left would be gone forever.

“Come with me. We’ll find you some dinner while I find out how things are going.”

He stood up, his legs numb from sitting on the floor so long, and helped Elliott find his balance after waking up so abruptly.

They left the room, the security nodding them on when he saw Steve was with him, and walked down the hall to the cafeteria area.

They were serving ham and cheese sandwiches, bags of chips, and water for everyone. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

If he could find a phone, maybe he could get Robin to bring him and Elliott more food.

Elliott shyly thanked the person handing out the meals, and Steve slowly guided him to an empty table while his eyes searched for anyone he recognized.

He almost did a happy dance when he saw Dustin and Claudia across the room.

“Hey, that’s actually my friend and his mom. Can you wait here while I grab them?”

Elliott nodded nervously, clearly only letting him walk away because he would be within his sight the entire time.

Steve ran over to them, wincing slightly when the bite on his stomach started pulsing. Probably should take it easier while that healed.

“Dustin!” Steve exclaimed as he got closer.

Dustin’s head shot around, smile lighting up his face as he realized it was Steve.

“Dude! Everyone’s been trying to find you for hours. Have you been here all day?”

“Kinda. I came to help with searching and I found a kid earlier. They’re trying to find his parents, but he’s been kind of attached to me.”

“Damn, I hope they find them soon. Phone lines keep going down. You seen Hopper come by yet?”

“No, has he gotten any sleep yet?”

“Doubt it. Ma, do you have any cookies left for Steve?”

Claudia came bustling over, digging through her purse as she walked.

“Oh, I’m sure I do! Hi, Steve, dear. Hope you’re doing okay in all this madness.”

“I’m doing alright,” Steve gave her a small smile as she managed to find the cookies and hand them over. “Hey, do you know the parents of Elliott Devers?”

“Oh, I know of them, sure. Only met them once, they never seem to be in town. He’s a sweet boy, his aunt seems to take care of him most of the time.”

Steve filled her in on what he knew so far, that Elliott’s aunt had died, that no one could reach his parents, that he’d been alone in the house for at least a full day before Steve found him.

That Elliott didn’t seem to want to be separated from Steve.

Dustin was watching him talk, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to think of something.

“Wait, his dad’s the guy who was under investigation for tax evasion, fraud, and identity theft, isn’t he?”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

His brain made connections that only children of rich parents can in a matter of seconds.

His parents ran to another country on “business” because that was the only way they were allowed to leave while he was under investigation. No one could reach them because they gave fake information so they could go into hiding. Because he was guilty of all of the things he was under investigation for and didn’t want to lose everything and end up in prison.

Fuck.

Claudia must have realized the same thing, a deep frown settling on her face.

“Elliott is the boy sitting at that table?” She asked as she pointed towards him.

He was watching them as he ate, eyes wide as he kept glancing around the room.

Steve nodded.

“If they ran, and they aren’t coming back, where will he go?” Steve asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be placed with a family who can take him until they can figure out a more permanent place, but that may be hard right now with so many people leaving Hawkins. He may have to leave town,” Claudia said, though Steve could tell she was trying to figure out how to take him in, even if only for a few days.

“What would I have to do to keep him while they keep looking?”

“Oh, that’s a question for Hopper, sweetie. I’m not sure you’d fit the requirements, even though I think he’d be very lucky to get to stay with you,” Claudia touched his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze in comfort.

“Is he coming by?”

“Hopper? Yes, he just got done at the hospital handling some things for Edward,” Claudia said.

“Eddie, Ma, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“The tone! Watch it!” Steve said before Claudia could respond.

She smirked at Steve, then gave Dustin a look that said she wasn’t going to listen to him and walked away.

“I gotta go with her, she’s bringing dinner to Wayne at the hospital.”

“Is Eddie awake?”

“Not yet, but they think it could be anytime. They said the drugs in his system are heavy enough to keep him out for a while.”

“But he seems okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Max?”

He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to.

“No news.”

Steve nodded once, acknowledging that Dustin didn’t want to talk about it right now, that it was tough to even think about how she was probably not gonna wake up anytime soon if ever.

“Hey, come by my house tomorrow, okay? We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Sure.”

Steve gave Dustin a quick hug before making his way back to Elliott, who looked like he might start crying any moment.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry that took longer than I thought, but…” Steve pulled the bag of cookies from behind his back with a smile. “I got cookies! Claudia makes the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. You’ll love them.”

Elliott relaxed a little, smiling up at Steve as he reached for the bag of cookies.

“Is she nice? She looks nice.”

“She’s awesome. She always brings me soup if I’m sick.”

“Is that what moms do? My aunt sometimes does, but she doesn’t know how to make the kind I like.”

Steve bit his lip.

“What kind do you like?”

“My favorite is tomato and noodles. She can only make chicken noodle. It’s okay, but sometimes it has a funny taste.”

Steve smiled at him, glad he was at least talking, even if what he was saying was heartbreaking.

“I’m sure Claudia can make you some tomato and noodles. I’ll call and ask.”

“But not now, right?”

Elliott’s voice filled with panic, his eyes widening.

“No, I’m staying with you right now. The chief should be here soon and we can figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“Like, the chief of police? You know him?”

“Yeah, Hopper’s nice. Don’t let his mean face scare you. He’s kind of a teddy bear.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a teddy bear. I’m a grizzly bear,” Hopper said behind Steve.

Elliott laughed, and Hopper tried to hide a small smile. Teddy bear.

“Are you Elliott?” Elliott nodded. “Can we go talk for a few minutes just us? I promise Steve can wait right outside the door.”

Hopper gave Steve a look that said he was about to ruin this kid’s day as if it didn’t already suck enough.

“Um, can Steve come in the room too?”

“If you want him to, sure.”

“I want him to.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Steve grabbed everything off the tables, throwing the trash away on the walk towards the teacher’s lounge area that had been set up for the cops to conduct phone calls and interviews as needed.

It was empty now, probably thanks to Hopper taking control quickly.

They sat down around a table, Elliott’s hand finding Steve’s quickly.

“Alright, Elliott, so I have a few questions and then I have some news,” Hopper started, his voice maintaining no emotion the way he’d been taught.

“Okay.”

“How long have your parents been gone this time?”

“I dunno. A week, maybe a little longer.”

“And you were alone that whole time?”

Elliott looked to Steve, like he needed help to answer, but Steve just smiled at him and mouthed ‘just be honest, you’re not in trouble.’

“Most of the time. My aunt came to check on me in the mornings and bring me food for the day.”

“Aunt Janice?”

“Yeah.”

“Bud, I’m sorry to tell ya this, but your Aunt Janice was in a really bad accident and didn’t make it,” Hopper’s voice started to show some emotion, but Steve squeezed Elliott’s hand so he wouldn’t focus on that.

“She died?”

“Yeah, bud. I’m sorry.”

“But who will bring me food in the morning?”

Steve couldn’t do this. Holy shit, he could not do this. How was Hopper able to do this?

“Well, we still haven’t been able to call your parents. Do you know exactly where they might be?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me where they go.”

Steve and Hopper looked at each other.

Hopper knew Steve had been in a similar position when he was younger, but no one checked on him. Hopper had often been the one to show up at his door during his early teens to make sure he had food and wasn’t hurt.

“What if he stayed with me until you find them?” Steve asked Hopper.

Elliott turned to him.

“I can stay with you?” He asked excitedly.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. There’s a process for this kinda thing,” Hopper began.

“Then start the process. He’s staying with me,” Steve said firmly, not caring if he sounded rude, not caring if Hopper hated him for it, just wanting Elliott safe and in a house instead of a school converted to a disaster relief zone.

Hopper eyed him up and down, and the way Elliott was holding his hand and bouncing excitedly in his chair.

“Alright, fine. But it’s a week by week basis until we can get ahold of his parents,” Hopper said directly to Steve.

“Steve, do you have a microwave? I make popcorn so good, like so good. I can make it tonight even!”

Steve smiled at him, and then at Hopper, who was watching with a fond smile.

“I’m sure I have what you need to make some popcorn, buddy.”

“You wait here, I have to get the release from CPS. They’re in the front office.”

Elliott went on and on about all the things they could do while he stayed with him, and when he found out Steve had a pool, he didn’t even stop for breath as he explained that he was the best swimmer when they took a field trip last year to the pool and that he could probably even beat Steve in a race.

Steve just smiled and agreed.

—-----------------------

A week with Elliott went by, and it was easy.

Steve was terrified how quickly he just fit in.

He fit in at his house, making it feel like a home, with his rambunctious energy and nightly popcorn making.

He fit in with the kids, showing interest in D&D even though he’d never heard of it before.

He even fit with Robin, who kind of hated kids, but thought Elliott was probably the cutest kid she’d ever met.

One night, while Dustin and Mike were showing Elliott how to build a character, Robin asked him the question he’d been dreading.

“What happens if he can’t stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming they’ll find his parents soon, and when they do, he’ll have to go live with them again. Or at least his mom since his dad will be in prison for life at this rate. How are you gonna handle that?”

He had no clue. He wanted Elliott to have parents who stuck around, and who loved him, and let him pop popcorn every night.

But realistically, even if they did come back, that wasn’t what his life would look like.

His life would be a lot like Steve’s was, sad and lonely, and he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m gonna fight for him. I don’t know what that means yet, but I know that whatever is best for him is what I’m gonna make sure happens.”

Robin wrapped him up in a hug, her arms squeezing him to her.

“You’re gonna be a great dad someday.”

No one had ever said that to him before.

But maybe he could believe it.

—-------------------------------------

Steve was the first person to come to the hospital when Eddie woke up, Elliott excitedly chattering from the backseat of his car the whole way.

It was helping Steve’s nerves, but he knew he wasn’t giving Elliott the attention he needed.

“Sorry, buddy. What was that?”

Elliott was quiet for a moment.

“Are you worried?”

Steve smiled at him in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the wheel tight.

“A little. You remember how everyone told you about Eddie? How he saved us all and almost died?”

“Yeah, he’s a hero!”

“He is. But he’s still healing and I’m just worried about how hurt he is.”

“Oh. So we can’t hug him or hold his hand to help him feel better?” Elliott groaned. “Oh man, I was gonna bring him popcorn!”

Steve laughed quietly to himself.

“I think he’s on a pretty strict diet right now, buddy. Maybe when he’s out of the hospital we can have him over for a movie and you can make him some.”

“When will he be out?”

“I dunno yet. I think it might still be a little while.”

“Will I still live with you then?”

Steve gulped.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Elliott said quietly, staring out the window as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

His mood was a bit somber as they walked through the halls of the bustling hospital, going to the fifth floor in the elevator where Eddie’s room was.

When he got to the right room, he knocked on the door even though it was open, smiling in at Wayne.

“Hey, come in, Steve. Eddie, Steve’s here,” Wayne said as he turned to Eddie, who was awake, but mostly horizontal still in bed.

“Steve?” Eddie’s rough voice asked.

“Hey, Eds. Hope it’s okay I brought my buddy, Elliott, to say hi. He’s heard a lot about you and Dustin and Mike and Will have been teaching him D&D for when you get out of here.”

Steve walked close to the bed, holding Elliott’s hand. He seemed shy suddenly, which wasn’t like him, not since he was living with Steve.

“Hey, Elliott. You keepin’ Steve company?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne snorted.

“Oh, son, you don’t have to be formal with Eddie. He’s barely older than you in his head.”

Eddie glared at Wayne, but smiled at Elliott.

“Seriously, bud, just Eddie is fine. So you ready for a campaign?”

“I dunno. Dustin said maybe I can play with you guys?”

“‘Course you can. I have so many ideas when I get outta here.”

Eddie turned to Steve and gave him a smirk.

“As long as we can host at your place?”

Steve blushed, remembering the last time he had Eddie’s full attention on him, back when his words “make him pay” sounded a lot like “I love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. When do you get out of here?”

Elliott was loosening his anxious grip on Steve’s hand as the nerves wore off.

“They said not for a couple weeks, but I’m gonna walk right out of here the moment I can feel my legs again.”

Elliott let out a giggle and Eddie smiled.

“You can help me, right? I may need some support to run for it.”

“No! You have to stay until you’re all better, goofball.”

“That’s exactly what I told him, Elliott. You’re much wiser than he is,” Wayne said with a roll of his eyes.

Elliott moved closer to the side of the bed, his hands folded in front of him.

“Um. Could I hold your hand? So you feel better?”

Steve was going to cry.

Eddie kind of looked like he might, too.

“Yeah, I could use a hand to hold, bud. Thanks for offering. Wayne’s hand gets sweaty, but don’t tell him I said that,” he whispered the last part to Elliott, but loud enough so everyone could still hear.

Elliott held his hand, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

He told Eddie all about the character Dustin and Mike helped him build, about how they might run a practice campaign with him soon. He told him about the popcorn he would make for the first time he came over.

Steve watched fondly, realizing quickly that this wasn’t something he could lose.

Not Elliott, and not Eddie either.

—-----------------------------

Elliott’s parents were still missing.

It’s been almost a month, Eddie was released from the hospital a day ago, and Elliott was still living with Steve.

The longer he stayed, the more it would hurt if he left.

They got into a routine.

School had been canceled for the rest of the year, so they mostly just made breakfast together, went in the pool, hung out with the kids, visited Eddie, played basketball, and had popcorn every night.

Steve knew Elliott was happy, he knew he was happy.

He was terrified it would end.

They were hosting Eddie for a movie night, and Elliott was more excited than ever.

Steve was a nervous wreck.

He was in charge of making sure Eddie didn’t overdo it, making sure he took his nighttime medications, and getting him to bed at a reasonable hour. According to Wayne, his pills made him tired and he would fight sleep if you didn’t force him into a bed.

Steve spent the day cleaning, baking, and preparing.

By dinner time, when Eddie would be arriving, Elliott was starting to question it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want Eddie to come over?”

“No! Of course I want him to come over.”

“So…why are you being like this?”

“I’m…”

“Is it because you love Eddie?”

Steve choked on air.

“What?”

“Or do you think Eddie doesn’t love you?”

“Elliott, gonna say a big kid word right now. What the hell do you mean?”

Elliott rolled his eyes.

“You want to make Eddie feel happy and safe here, and you always get this stupid look on your face when we visit him, and then when I asked Wayne if you two were boyfriends he laughed and said ‘probably soon.’ So you love him, right?”

Steve’s mouth was working open and shut, open and shut, no noise coming out.

“Two boys can be together, you know. Robin told me.”

“She what? When?”

“When she told me two girls can be together.”

Steve put his face in his hands and couldn’t help the laugh of disbelief he let out as Elliott touched his back to comfort him.

“Did you not know you loved Eddie?”

“Uh. I guess I didn’t know that other people thought I loved Eddie.”

“Oh. So are you gonna be boyfriends?”

“I…I don’t know, buddy. Maybe.”

“I think you should be. Then it might be like I have two dads.”

What?

What.

“What?”

Elliott pulled his hand away and suddenly seemed nervous.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Steve couldn’t handle the look on Elliott’s face.

“Elliott, look at me, buddy.” He waited for Elliott to look at him. “Is that what you think of me as? Like your dad?”

Elliott nodded.

“Come here,” Steve said, pulling Elliott into a hug. “You’re the best kid, you know that?”

Elliott nodded, and Steve let out a wet laugh.

“Uh, everything okay in here?” Eddie said from the doorway.

“Eddie!” Elliott let out, and despite the mood of the previous conversation, he was smiling from ear to ear.

Eddie smiled at him and pulled him into the least hurt side of him for a hug.

He looked at Steve with a questioning look. Steve just shook his head quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly.

“Can I make popcorn now, pleeeeease?” Elliott asked, bouncing on his heels.

“Yes, fine. But only one bowl right now. You can make more after dinner.”

“Okay, dad!” he yelled as he ran to the popcorn maker.

Eddie’s brows raised to his forehead as he looked at Steve, who was crying buckets at this point.

“What’s that about, Stevie?” Eddie whispered as he came up to him.

“I um, I guess he just feels like I’m his dad,” Steve shrugged.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I just don’t want him to go.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pulling Steve into a crushing hug that had to hurt him. Steve sniffled against his shoulder, letting himself cry for a minute. “Did Hopper say he may have to go soon?”

“No, but I mean, if they find his parents or if CPS decides he has to go to a real family, then he’ll have to.”

“Stevie, they wouldn’t just take him. Not when he’s safe here and wants to be here. I promise.”

“But what if he goes somewhere far away or to people who won’t let me see him?”

Eddie held the back of his head against his shoulder, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“He won’t. We’ll fight for him to stay here, okay? He’s got a family here, with us. Right?”

“Us?” Steve asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah. Us. Sound okay to you?”

Steve could only nod as he wiped his running nose.

How attractive.

“Hopper still doesn’t have any idea where they are, right?”

“Nope.”

“They’ll give up eventually. I hate to say it, but they won’t put more effort into a kid who has a safe place to go when they have bigger problems. Like how half the town is still homeless because of a fucking earthquake.”

“That’s a big kid word!” Elliott yelled from his spot at the counter.

“I’m a big kid!” Eddie yelled back, smirking at Steve.

“But I’m not!” Elliott yelled as they heard the popcorn machine starting up.

“Fine!”

Eddie placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead, then one against his lips.

It was soft, chaste, barely a kiss at all.

But it was a perfect first kiss for them.

—----------------------------

Another month passed with no news.

Eddie was at Steve’s house almost every day, spending time with Elliott, spending time with the party, with Steve.

Steve had converted the main guest room into Elliott’s permanent bedroom, but was scared to think of it that way still.

Eddie tried to reassure him, but even he was nervous that no final decisions had been made and the case remained open.

Until Hopper came by one night, well after Elliott went to bed. Eddie was doing the dishes while Steve was prepping some fruit for Elliott’s breakfast before his first day of summer camp the next day.

“Hop.”

Steve felt his stomach sink.

They were going to take Elliott.

“Steve. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Steve let him in, his face forced into casual calm, but on the inside he was already screaming and crying about what was about to happen.

Hopper sat down on the chair, gesturing for Steve and Eddie to sit on the couch.

“So.”

“You’re taking him aren’t you? He can’t stay.”

“What? No.” Hopper frowned. “No, Steve. The opposite actually. We’re closing the case. CPS said after interviews with him, even if his parents did get found or come back on their own, he wouldn’t be put back in their care.”

“But what about putting him with another family?”

Hopper sighed. He watched Eddie place a hand on Steve’s knee to calm him down.

“They’ve spoken in detail with him about his current situation. They believe that you’re the person he wants to live with and they aren’t going to disrupt his life any more than it already has been. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Steve felt like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

“He can stay? With me?”

“He can stay with you.”

Steve let out a sob and fell against Eddie’s side. Eddie was crying too, but trying to keep more control so he could comfort Steve.

“CPS has to do a home visit to finalize everything, but if you’re good with it, you can officially adopt him. He’s been considered abandoned by his parents, and since it’s been 60 days, they relinquish all rights automatically.”

“How quickly can we do that?”

“We? Both of you?”

“I mean, can we both even do that?”

Hopper shrugged.

“Don’t know. But they’re probably expecting just Steve for now. They’ll call tomorrow to schedule everything and give you a chance to talk to Elliott.”

Steve and Eddie both nodded.

“I’m gonna leave you two to it, but call me if you need me. Congrats, Steve. I know you wanted this. I know he wanted this.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper saw himself out, closing the door quietly so it wouldn’t wake Elliott up.

“Eddie, did that really happen? Am I dreaming?”

“No, sweetheart, you aren’t dreaming.”

“I get to be his dad.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to be his other dad?”

“I would love to, baby. Let’s ask him tomorrow, though. It’s up to him.”

Steve nodded.

It was up to Elliott, but he knew what Elliott wanted.

He knew what he wanted.

They were gonna be a family. A real family. No more worrying about someone deciding to take Elliott away from him.

He could finally use this house that had been left to him by his parents for something other than being miserable. He could keep it filled with love and laughter and happiness and maybe the occasional stupid argument.

Maybe Elliott would make friends at school in the fall and want to have hangouts here. Maybe they could both save up some money and take him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe someday they could get married and Elliott could be the best man.

Anything could happen.

Steve couldn’t wait.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 20]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

"Say hi to your parents for me." You smiled, leaning against the door. You were still wrapped up in the blanket you dragged from your bed to walk Seonghwa out.

"You can come with me, you know? They did ask you to tag along." Seonghwa chuckled.

"I know, your parents have always loved me more. But you barely spend any time with your parents now, Hwa. I'm sure they miss you. Just go and... be their son. Don't worry about me." You giggled. Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"I am still their son, I've never denied it." He scoffed.

"I know that. Tell them I'll be there next time." You said. Seonghwa nodded, reaching to to kiss your forehead and hug you before he left your apartment.

Mr and Mrs Park were there for you through it all. They were there for you after your mum passed away, they looked after you like their own daughter whenever you left home because of your stepmother.

"Oh, my soup!" You ditched the blanket by the doorway and went to the kitchen to check on your soup.

"Just what I need." You took home some seolleongtang from yesterday, wanting to add sliced beef and rice cakes for your lunch.

'Psst. Is your bodyguard gone yet? - Woo'

'You know I can't actually hear you through text, right Woo? And if you're referring to Seonghwa, yes. He just left to meet his parents not too long ago. - (y/n)'

'Perfect! I'll be there in 30 minutes, I'm going to buy some snacks first. - Woo'

You laughed, shaking your head as you put your phone aside. Reaching into your fridge, you took out more stock to prepare a portion of food for Wooyoung too. Wooyoung and Jongho both dropped by on their own from time to time to hang out with you, just like Seonghwa did.

"I'm here, jagiya!" Wooyoung announced loudly. You turned around to see him folding the blanket you left at the doorway earlier, draping it over his arm.

"Hi, Woo. And thanks." You smiled softly. He nodded and went to return the blanket to your room.

"What are you making?" He came, peering over your shoulder.

"Yesterday's seolleongtang. I just added some meat, rice cake and napa." You said, stirring the pot. He tugged you to him to hug you tightly, his arms circling your waist and chin on your shoulder.

"My jagi~" He giggled, giving you a loud kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

"You always do that to make Seonghwa angry." You snorted, turning the flame down for the soup to let it simmer.

"No. He's just jealous he can't do it." He rolled his eyes. When the soup was done, Wooyoung portioned the food out and you both sat at your counter to eat together. You topped your soup with red pepper flakes and spring onions.

"Bowl of comfort right here." He pointed at the bowl with his spoon as he chewed his food.

"That's what you say about post-Christmas split pea and ham soup." You laughed. After Christmas ham was eaten, you usually kept the bone to make pea and ham soup. It was practically a tradition.

"There are a lot of things that can bring you comfort, (y/n)." He pinched your cheek, making you wince.

"These fritters are good." You said, eating on a gimmari that Wooyoung bought.

"It's from the market near my place. A new stall run by an older couple but the food is always good. Crisp and fresh." He informed. You nodded, taking a vegetable fritter to eat.

"So, what did you think about yesterday?" Wooyoung casually asked.

"It went well. It was nice cooking at such a magnitude again, you know, cooking fancier dishes and stuff. With our small team, I don't think I can do it every night along with the morning bakes. But maybe we should do themed nights then. I'll suggest it to Yunho." You said as you leaned on one hand.

"That's nice and all. But I meant more... meeting the families." Wooyoung threaded lightly.

"I'm fine, Woo. I'm not gonna start spiralling just because I saw happy families. Was I envious? Yes, I'll admit that I was. But that's just how it is, nothing I can do about it." You shrugged.

"Okay, I just want to make sure you're okay. I am here for you." He slid his hand over yours.

"You know, I told Hwa that before we left, Yunho's mother hugged me. It... felt nice... In a familiar sort of way." You laughed bitterly.

"How so?"

"It's different from the hugs your mother, Mrs Park and Mrs Choi gives me. I may be going crazy but it just reminded me of my mother." You sighed.

"No, you're not going crazy, jagi. I understand. Like how my mother's hugs will always feel and be different. I get it." He giggled.

After the meal, you and Wooyoung did the dishes and cleaned up before sitting on the couch together. There was a random show playing on the television but it was mostly background sounds used to fill the space.

"Tell me something." Wooyoung started, taking a handful of popcorn and eating it from his hand. You hummed, fiddling with a stray string on your shared blanket.

"The dish you made yesterday. You chose galbi jjim because it's Yunho's favourite, right?" He asked. You remained silent.

"What's up with that? You and Yunho." He probed further.

"I... I don't know..." You shrugged with a soft sigh. Wooyoung was someone who was very in touch with his emotions while you were not. Maybe he could help you make sense of things.

"I need you to pick my brain." You confessed a little too honestly. Wooyoung's eyes widened.

"Jagi, I hope you don't mean that literally. Because you know I love you but brains..." He laughed.

"Be serious! I need you to help me understand things." You groaned and kicked his thigh, which was next to your food. He yelped and pouted at you.

"Try me. Tell me everything." Wooyoung encouraged. You took a while to try and form your thoughts into coherant sentences. He was patient though, Wooyoung always was, never rushing you or sarcastically commenting. You sifted through all your feelings in each situation you've been in with Yunho.

"How do you know if you like someone? Romantically. Rather than just, enjoying their company as a friend." You asked.

"Hmm. Well, what else do you feel when you're in that person's company? Yes, enjoying their company is one thing. Do you feel anything else?" He asked back.

"I like it, I don't want our time to end. But don't you feel that way with friends too?"

"Let's put it this way. When you are with Yunho, do you feel it's different than when you're with us?" He explained.

"Yeah. I feel like a different person entirely, more at peace. Like I want to get to know more about him and at the same time, I want to share more about myself. Which is rare." You said.

"There you go." Wooyoung nodded.

"I always thought it was just because you guys are noisy and chaotic, that's why Yunho brings me peace." You blinked.

"Yah." Wooyoung flicked a popcorn at you. You snickered, picking up the popcorn to pop into your mouth. Wooyoung's words sunk in, did you like Yunho? Romantically? It almost scared you at the thought of loving someone.

"Hey. Don't get lost in there." Wooyoung's hand slipped over yours, breaking your internal spiralling. You looked up and he sent you a gentle smile. He just knew you too well, all the boys did.

"What should I do? I'm scared of feeling this way, Woo." You asked in a whisper.

"What do you want to do? Do you want to tell him?" He asked.

"And then what?"

"Silly girl. If he likes you back, then you can try going on dates together. You don't have to get into a relationship right away. Try spending more time together." He chuckled.

"I know with everything you've been through, you are scared of your feelings. But I see how you are with him. He makes you happy." He smiled.

"I'm broken, you know? Yunho doesn't even know anything about my past. It feels wrong to hide it from him. But I'm afraid that he finds out and it scares him. He looks at life so beautifully while I can barely put myself together." You forced a bitter smile as tears started to form. Wooyoung leaned forward, cupping your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. Don't you say that about yourself. You're not broken, jagi. You're the toughest person I know. Life put you through the wringer and yet, here you are." His thumbs stroked your cheeks.

"It's all because of Hwa... And you... And Jongho." You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"No. It's because of you. You pulled yourself out of there. I'm sure Yunho can see what a beautiful person you are. Inside and out." Wooyoung said firmly.

"I love you, jagi." Wooyoung hugged you to his chest.

"You don't have to tell him everything at the moment. When your heart is ready." He stroked the back of your head.

"Thank you, Woo." You murmured, pressing your face into the material of his shirt.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'll always be here for you, jagiya. I just hate seeing you hurt." He promised, planting an affectionate kiss to the top of your head.

When Seonghwa came back from meeting his parents, he wasn't surprised to see Wooyoung's platform shoes there. Wooyoung and Jongho always dropped by to hang with you. He found the couch empty, only the blanket there.

"Sweetheart? Wooyoung?" Seonghwa called out but there was no reply. He sighed and folded the blanket, setting it aside.

"(y/n)?" He peeked into your room to see you and Wooyoung asleep. Your upper body was resting on Wooyoung's chest, the boy's arms wrapped around your shoulders.

With a soft smile, Seonghwa adjusted the blanket over you and Wooyoung before exiting the room.

"What should I cook?" He checked the time and went to the kitchen. He dug through your fridge to see what you had to cook for dinner.

*BZZZZ*

Seonghwa checked his phone and was surprised to see the message that popped up on his screen. After typing a quick reply, he put the ingredients back into the fridge and went to wear his shoes. Just like that, he walked out of the house again even though he had only been back for 15 minutes.

"Hey." Seonghwa greeted as he entered the cafe, seeing the person who sent him the text message sit at a corner booth.

"Hey, hyung. Thanks for meeting me so suddenly. It was probably surprising for you to receive my message out of the blue." The person said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Not at all." Seonghwa cleared his throat before sitting on the opposite bench.

"Berry smoothie, please." He raised his hand to order with the waiter. Seonghwa glanced at the man, who kept his head lowered.

"Yunho, what's wrong?" Seonghwa tilted his head. Yunho cast his eyes upwards to look at Seonghwa, like a puppy that got caught doing something bad.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I... I don't know how to say this... I thought about it the whole night until this morning and I don't know how to go about doing this but my mind told me I should be apologising to you first but I didn't know how-"

"Woah, woah. Slow down. What are you talking about? Why are you apologising to me?" Seonghwa frowned.

"I... I like (y/n)." Yunho confessed.

"Okay... I think I could tell that you like her... But why are you apologising to me? It's not like she's my property or my daughter." Seonghwa was still confused.

"Isn't it against the bro code to go after your friend's girl?" Yunho asked with a wince.

"Is that what you thought? (y/n)'s not my girl... I am extremely protective of her but girlfriend? No." Seonghwa shook his head.

"Wait, you're n-not together? But I thought..." Yunho's eyes widened. Had he misunderstood the whole thing? This whole time, he assumed things and they turned out to be wrong.

"We're not dating. But like I said, I am extremely protective of her. (y/n)'s bubble is fragile and I protect it vigilantly."

"Did something happen?" Yunho asked.

"It's not my story to tell. I don't oppose of you wanting to start a relationship with her. Frankly, even if I did oppose it, I have no right. (y/n)'s her own person and she makes her own decisions. Just don't hurt her, Yunho. She puts her heart and soul into everything. If you can't do the same, leave her alone." Seonghwa warned.

"No, no. I promise I won't hurt her. I can't even fathom the thought of her being hurt." Yunho said earnestly. Every time Yunho was with you, he just wanted to hug you and take care of you.

"Do you think she likes me back?" Yunho asked. Seonghwa knew you best and spent the most time with you. He would know.

"Not for me to say. I don't want to get your hopes up or give you any expectations. That's a conversation you should have with her." Seonghwa replied.

"All I can say is, be patient with her." Seonghwa advised with a kind smile. Just then, his phone rang.

"Hey, Wooyoung... You're cooking alone?... Oh, she's still sleeping..." Yunho sipped his drink, assuming 'she' was you.

"I actually ran into Yunho... Mmm, we're just having drinks... I'll ask him." Yunho straightened up when he saw Seonghwa pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Seonghwa asked.

"Oh but I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"Yeah, he'll be there. I'll come with him." The older said and hung up. Yunho's eyes widened, unable to say anything. Seonghwa chuckled and tucked his phone back as they finished their drinks. Yunho insisted on paying after asking Seonghwa out.

"Hyung, what if I can't act like myself around her? I don't want to be accidentally blurting things out. It already almost happened once." Yunho panicked slightly.

"You'll be fine. It's just dinner. Besides, Wooyoung and I will be there." He laughed, patting the taller on the shoulder.

"You know her address, right?" Seonghwa stood at his car door. Yunho nodded and the two split up to drive back to your house.

When the two entered the house, Yunho could immediately smell something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. Wooyoung hummed as he moved around the kitchen.

"Hey, you two." Wooyoung greeted.

"Hey." Seonghwa dropped his coat on the couch while Yunho bowed politely and draping his coat over the bar chair.

"She's still asleep, hyung." Wooyoung informed turning around to face the stove. Seonghwa nodded and moved down the hall to where Yunho presumed your room was.

"Don't stand around. Sit, sit. Make yourself at home. Want something to drink?" Wooyoung waved at Yunho. It was amazing how Wooyoung and Seonghwa, probably Jongho too, treated this house like their own house. They were so comfortable here, they knew where everything was.

"Ah!" Yunho jumped when he heard Seonghwa yell. Wooyoung didn't even flinch, cooking the food like it was normal.

"Is... everything okay?" Yunho asked.

"Oh yeah. (y/n)'s probably just trying to kill him for waking her up. Don't worry about it." Wooyoung shrugged. Seonghwa emerged from the room first.

"She's up." Seonghwa announced. Wooyoung opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh my god!" You yelped and the sound of your rapid footsteps were heard, followed by the sound of your room door slamming close.

"PARK SEONGHWA!" You shouted from your room. Yunho smiled to himself, he found you so adorable.

"I was just going to ask if you preempted her about Yunho being here... Guess not..." Wooyoung snickered. Seonghwa sighed and went back to the room.

"What is Yunho doing here?! Why didn't you tell me?" You hissed the moment Seonghwa came in. You were getting presentable clothes to change to considering you were wearing one of Jongho's shirts and really old, torn home shorts.

"I ran into him and invited him for dinner. I couldn't tell you because you were strangling me for waking you up." Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"Oh my gosh." You slapped your forehead.

"What?" Seonghwa blinked. You shook your head with a sigh and went to your bathroom, making sure you brushed your teeth and looked presentable enough.

"Sorry about that. Hi, Yunho." You greeted as you came out. Yunho got off the bar stool.

"Hi, (y/n). Not need to apologise. Sorry for intruding." He smiled kindly. You tied your hair up into a bun and entered the kitchen area.

"Smells good, Woo. What are you making?" You asked Wooyoung, opening the fridge and pouring yourself a glass of cold brew coffee.

"Whatever you had in the fridge. So minced mushroom and cabbage stir fry, sweet and sour pork collar strips, bavette steak and side dishes." He informed. You nodded with a hum.

"I'll do the bavette." You said, putting your coffee aside and grabbing your apron. Seonghwa took whatever kale you had left to make a lemony kale salad with feta cheese and chopped cashews. Yunho volunteered to help Seonghwa with the salad since it seemed like the item he would screw up the least on.

"Sorry, it'll be scraps. We usually just eat whatever is in my fridge with rice." You apologised to Yunho as you stood next to him, seasoning the steak while he crumbled the feta.

"Not at all, it's fun. I look forward to see what dishes you come up with." Yunho laughed.

"You massage the kale like this to break it down. Makes it easier to chew and digest." Seonghwa explained to Yunho.

"Ooh, that's interesting. I never knew you could do that." Yunho said, amazed. Standing at the stove, you couldn't help but snicker at Yunho's pure amazement.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho turned around with a pout.

"Not at all." You shook your head innocently. You heated up the cast iron and cooked the steak. Yunho helped to cook the rice to have with the other dishes while Seonghwa and you took out all the side dishes from your fridge.

"Set a timer for 5 minutes." You said to your phone to set a timer, letting the bavette steak rest on the cutting board before you could cut into it.

"Help me stir the cabbage." Wooyoung requested. Seonghwa grabbed the cooking spoon to stir the cabbage as it wilted further.

"I'll slice the steak." You grabbed your knife to slice it. With Seonghwa and Wooyoung by the stove, Yunho stood by you, silently watching you slice the meat in a 'fancy, angled' way.

"Even this feels elaborate..." Yunho chuckled rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it? We're just clearing the fridge. How do you clear your fridge then?" You laughed.

"Ramen?" He tilted his head. The two of you shared a laugh at your differences. When all the food was ready, the 4 of you grabbed a plate to scoop the food like cafeteria style before sitting in the living room together to eat. It was informal but not awkward with small conversations here and there.

"I'll bring the recycling down." You told Seonghwa and Wooyoung, who were drying the dishes Yunho just washed. Yunho grabbed his coat, ready to head down.

"Thank you for cooking." Yunho bid the two goodbye.

"See you tomorrow." They waved back. You and Yunho headed downstairs. Yunho followed you to put the recycling in the corner before you were to split ways.

"Thanks for having me." Yunho smiled softly.

"No need to thank. You can come over any time." You chuckled, a small smile on your face.

"Goodnight." He wished. You hummed to express the same sentiment. As you were about to turn back to head into the lift lobby, Yunho grabbed your wrist to stop you. You faced him in confusion.

"Yunho, what-"

"(y/n), I like you. And if you would give me a chance, I would like to take you out for dinner."

~

Series masterlist

[rosewaterandivy]

omg, imagine actor!steve! being spotted at rockstar!gf show (kinda like people are spotted at ts era tour in vip tent) and getting cute little bracelets from fans & him showing her them afterwards.

In honor of a follower milestone, here, have some modern!actor steve x rockstar!gf. Took the prompt and ran with it; enjoy! 💜

tender charm

🎶 baby the way you move me, it’s crazy, it’s like you see right through me and make it easier, you please me, you don’t even have to try 🎶

Steve’s not the type.

Sure, he understands these sorts of things. And for most of your fans, attending a concert of this magnitude will be a defining event in the course of their lives.

He simply was not prepared for the sheer amount of people wanting to give him bracelets. He’s much more used to your fans showing off their ink and tattoos of lyrics or your handwriting. And, as always, he felt ill prepared because he didn’t have anything to offer them in return.

Luckily, they didn’t seem to mind. He was, however, bombarded with shouts of, “Take care of our girl, Harrington!” or “Tell Cherry we love her!” and the occasional, “We’ve got our eye on you, don’t fuck it up!”

Steve didn’t intend on fucking it up. Well, not if he could help it anyway.

So when he gleefully shows you the haul on his arms and shoved into his pockets at the end of the show, breathlessly recounting fan messages he’d promised to relay, Steve doesn’t necessarily catch the mischievous gleam in your eye as you nod along.

“I ended up with a ton of these,” his fingers pinch the moody teal and emerald beads at his wrist, black letters of SHRIKE contrasting against the bright white plastic, “I guess they assume it’s about me, or us.” He concludes with a shrug.

“Yes, because I never write songs about you.”

“Oh yeah, that’d be career suicide.” He laughs and settles back against the banquet seat of the tour bus.

“Hmm, that’s weird.” You say with a twist of your lips, “You’re missing some.”

Steve furrows his brow, confused as you turn to rifle through your bag. Prizing the bracelets between your fingers, you roll them onto his wrist before letting your hands fall into your lap.

He reads the newest acquisitions quickly, eyes widening in realization.

Something simple and to the point. Had cost you all of a ten dollars and maybe an hour of your time. An understated color palette of earthy tones for each bracelet, accented with black text printed on white beads.

The first proclaims DADDY. The second declares 2 B. The third is simply a chord of leather adorned with a singular gemstone in the center.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you—“ Big hands cup your hips and drag you closer to him.

“Yes,” you squeak, clambering into his lap and resting your forehead against his. Eyes growing misty, you blink to clear the haze and get a long look at him.

Under your gaze, he attempts to duck his head and nuzzle into your neck and shoulder. Your hands, cool against his heated skin, cradle his head while your thumbs rub in soothing circles against his scalp.

“You happy?”

Steve nods, at an utter loss for words. Can’t imagine trying to speak without his voice breaking or, god forbid, bursting into tears.

“Good,” You sigh with a sweet smile. “Me too.”

It was touch and go after the shower incident, which ended up being a false alarm anyway. And then there was really no time for discussion between your tour and his filming schedule.

It wasn’t something you’d sat down and discussed, not really. Steve’s always wanted kids, but never quite let himself believed that it would happen.

Not until you barreled into his life, a whirlwind of talent and genetics with a tendency for entropy.

One look at you and he was a complete goner. Started ring shopping after your visit to Palm Springs, as a matter of fact.

So to say that he’s happy is an understatement. Overjoyed, yes. Bowled over, definitely. Synapses and neurons firing in rapid succession, far to fast for him to keep up.

All he knows is this: the brush of your skin against his, a cool balm to his fevered flesh. The scent of you—musk and salt and home— surrounds him, blankets him in comfort. Everything he could possibly want, right here in his grasp.

“We’re having a baby,” he says with a shudder. Because now he’s said it, now it’s real.

You gnaw the swell of your bottom lip, pearly white and plush pink accented by the delicious curve of your smile.

“You can say that again.”

Steve jerks up helplessly. “What—“ Sets you back a pace and eyes you up and down, “Is there—“

A slow nod as happy tears clump your lashes together. As if you can’t take his torment anymore, you smile wide and radiant.

“Twins,” you rasp, “We’re having twins.”

He fumbled with his awkward limbs, drawing you near once more, hands tentative and hesitant with newfound knowledge. Logically, he knows you won’t break— you’re built of sterner stuff, as you like to remind him. But he can’t help treating you with tenderness at a moment like this.

Graciously, you allow it. Soft hands and watery smiles, sweet murmurs that fall from your lips and pierce him all the way through—“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

A kiss planted on the tip of his nose as your hands stroke his form. Sliding smooth up his side and stoking heat into his arms and shoulders, up his spine, down his chest.

Steve’s eyes slip shut when your mouth returns to his neck. He takes your advice to heart, not that there was much convincing that was needed anyway.

It’s only then, your eyes both sharp and steady peering into the once empty parts of him, housed in the tender safety and warmth of your arms, does Steve bow his head and weep.

[zelinkcommunity]

Zelink Community is highlighting... @summonerluna!

"Hi, I'm Luna! I am new to the zelink fandom, though not new to LoZ as a franchise. Something about the botw/totk iteration just sucked me in and filled my head with stories that need to be told. I have two kids, a lot of cats, and earn my living as a photographer. I love the ocean and the mountains, drink far too much coffee, and have been writing fanfic long enough that my first fics could legally drink in the US if they wanted to."

Check out some of their work:

Tethered Link expects accompanying Zelda inside the spring of courage will be no different than the times he has stood outside as a knight of the royal guard. He is met with more than one surprise. [He knows, of course he knows, the daughters of the royal family are descended directly from the Goddess, but the magnitude of that truth has escaped him until today.] [Link, longing, and voices of the past. For the theme "ethereal."]

Vine & Tree Letters between Link and his sister, following the BotW memories. [Write me back okay? A REAL LETTER this time? Love, Aryll]

after all the dreaming (Rated Mature) One year ago, rumors spread of a great dragon emerging from the sky and chasing away the gloom. Zelda and Link return to Lookout Landing to mark the anniversary. [They aren’t scheduled to arrive until morning anyway, and maybe they left early because they both knew they would need this. Stolen moments, secreted away where they are not a Hero and not a Princess. Time to stop, and to doubt, before it once again becomes impossible to do either.] [Zelink, post-totk]

Find Them on Social Media:

@summonerluna can also be found on Instagram at @/summonerluna, and AO3 at SummonerLuna.

Have something nice to say about Luna and/or their work? Drop a comment or send them an ask!

[h3rmess]

COLLAPSE

-> 1✰Geto Suguru

LASER LIGHTS ☆

"ignore it 'til I feel alright."

I'm not really sure when it started. It might have been when Satoru and I were sent out on yet another mission, the gravity of which being way too much for people of our age to handle.

Or, it may have been on an earlier occasion when I was promoted to special grade following my evaluation after the exchange event. The gravity of that title held a great responsibility within it : to help the weak.

Gravity. The force constantly acts upon us on a daily basis. The vector quantity that holds both direction and magnitude. The magnitude of the situations only seemed to grow, and I only seemed to be moving backwards, deeper and deeper into a pool of depression.

"Your job as Jujutsu sorcerers is to help the weak. Save those who can't save themselves."

So what happens when I need help? Who's going to save me? Do I rely on another sorcerer to put me out of my misery?

Being the strongest is nothing but a curse. Living every day knowing everyone is counting on you to help when no one else can. Being the first and last resort in all situations. Having responsibilities that, if given to any other human, would eat them alive and leave nothing but blood splatters on the floor.

Why me? Why did I have to be the strongest? I can't save everyone. I can't save anyone.

Satoru seemed to be doing a little better than me. By a little, I mean a lot. He had become the strongest. He was able to laugh and joke so casually about these topics. Meanwhile, they cause my stomach acid to burn my guts. Thank a sheltered childhood for that. Being the family's pride and joy must have been great for him. Not having to climb his way up must have been amazing. Being born the strongest, never once having to doubt his ability because it came so naturally and effortlessly. He must love his life.

He was being sent on more missions on his own. Naturally, this meant that I, too, had to be sent on more missions alone.

Every day was torture for me.

We were unsure of how it came about, but the frequent disaster of the last year probably played a role. Cursed spirits were springing up like maggots.

Exorcise, absorb. Over and over. Exorcise, absorb.

The more curses we killed, the more I had to absorb to remain the strongest. Once you're at the top, you can't back down. Do you know what it's like to absorb curses? It's like eating a rag that's been used to clean up vomit and shit. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Exorcise, absorb. Who am I doing this for?

Maybe it was the pressure of being strong. Or, it could have been the frequency of our missions. Before I knew it, dark circles were forming under my eyes. Sleep became a foreign concept to me. Something that i yearned for dearly. So many people had died.

Soon enough, my meals started to look unappetising too. Revolting clumps of farmed rubbish put together to be consumed. Curses. Revolting lumps of negative emotions put together to be consumed.

Nobody understands.

I kept it under wraps in front of the others, remaining inconspicuous at all costs. The strong can't help the strong.

It seemed to be getting better for a while. But then, Gojo was evolving. He was learning things I knew I could never do. His pace was immense. He picked it up so easily. I tried to keep up. I was losing my speed.

Satoru had it so easy. He never had to think about anything the way I did. His technique was spoon-fed to him, served on a golden platter. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I had nothing. I was nothing. Amongst the entirety of Jujutsu society, not once would you hear anyone say, "Geto Suguru is so strong!" "He's the strongest!" It was always Satoru. Always him who would block my only hope at being the strongest. Always him who would block my chance at being a decent human being. Getting the recognition I deserve rather than being drenched in a boundless sea of tasks once one had been completed. I was never once thanked for my work. I thought I didn't need it. That was until he came and stole it all from me. I hated it. I hated being weak! I hated Gojo Satoru.

Or at least that was my justification for the events that occurred on that fateful day.

I had found myself at the lowest point in my life. I was heavily torn between being able to save one person or an entire population. It was a tough decision to make. Did I want to continue saving people indefinitely, or did I want to get it all done with in one go? To me, the more logical answer was the latter. Re-educating the entire country of Japan would be near impossible. What if there were people like Zenin who had no cursed energy? What, then? Would I be forced to save all the non-sorcerers again?

Then it hit me. The root of my problem. No matter how much I tried to stray from it, it was always right in front of me. The cause of all of my misery. The reason why I was so malnourished. The reason why I found myself in this position in the first place. Those non-sorcerers. The useless beings who couldn't do so much as defend themselves against curses that didn't even qualify for grade 4. The people with no cursed energy who lived their lives in ignorance, not knowing of the mental and physical torment some of us endured daily. Those damn monkeys. Those sub human creatures! They were the issue! The bane of my existence.

And so, my plan to rebuild the nation of Japan was put into action. I needed to wipe out all of the monkeys and build a new world ; a world of jujutsu sorcerers. That way, everyone could defend themselves. I would be putting the weak out of their misery. It would limit the number of deaths from cursed spirits. A small sacrifice like this in the grand scheme of things wouldn't hurt, right?

I killed an entire village. They all went up in flames. It felt amazing. Never once before in my life had I felt such joy, such untainted happiness. I knew that this was for the greater good, and that's what fueled me. That's what drove me to save two girls and build a family where we all shared one common goal - obliterate the monkeys and bring about a change.

Needless to say, I was expelled from Jujutsu Tech, and everyone was after my head. They really didn't get it, did they? They didn't see the bigger picture at all.

And that's when Satoru got involved. He had found out about my massacre and was not pleased, to say the least. Screaming at me on the streets like some uncivil beast. A savage dog spewing bullshit with every word he spoke.

"You know it would be impossible!" He screamed, and I stopped.

I had been blocking out what he was saying, but that combination of words was the straw that broke the camels back for me.

Impossible? He thinks it's impossible? Satoru Gojo, who, with his hollow purple, could wipe out the entirety of Japan. He thinks it's impossible?

Don't make me laugh.

That arrogant bastard. Saying that something is impossible even though he could do it with minimal effort?

How hypocritical.

It must be nice to be so sheltered that you have deluded yourself into completely disregarding your heritage and cursed technique when talking to others. To wholly be able to forget about being strong and try to make yourself appear as if you are anywhere near the level of ther jujutsu sorcerers.

It must be amazing.

He knows that he could do it, and yet he doesn't want to admit it.

Is this the power the strong have? All along, it wasn't about cursed energy or cursed technique, but your ability to manipulate those inferior to you.

Satoru was very crafty indeed.

But two could play at that game. If he thought he was the only one who could manipulate and alter someone thinking, he was dearly mistaken.

"Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?"

The words flowed from the deepest part of my heart, a feeling awakened by his ignorance to his own strength.

No, it wasn't ignorance. It was Satoru being pitiful towards the weak, sympathising with us as if he was anywhere near our level. We are merely lowly peasants compared to him.

He acted surprised at my words, telling me everything I needed to know. If I wanted to progress in my mission, I had to let go of my past self, strip myself down until I was nothing, and rebuild a better version of myself. Only then would I be able to achieve my goal. Only then would it be possible to wake up one day without feeling like the world could come crashing down at any second.

I left my best friend that day. The only one who understood me until that point. It had only been us.

I had to start anew, to build a world in which only sorcerers exist. That way, arrogant brats like Satoru wouldn't have free reign over the weak, and my mind would be at ease.

Just a little longer. Everything will fall into place.

m.list

navi☆

[humansofnewyork]

(22/54) “Dr. Ameli was elected to parliament in the same election, and was chosen by his peers for a leadership position. He was a unifying figure. A man without enemies. His words never cut. He attacked philosophies; never people. And he was one of the best speakers in parliament. He didn’t use slogans. He spoke with depth. And somehow, no matter how specific the policy, or how divisive the issue, he always came back to a place of unity. Our common destiny as a people. On the morning our first budget was presented Dr. Ameli approached me in the halls of parliament. He asked if I planned to give a speech. I told him I did not, because I had no specific objections. He leaned close to my ear, and with a soft voice he said: ‘Still, you must speak. To separate yourself from the system.’ That night I slept on a rug on the floor of parliament, and first thing in the morning I placed myself on the calendar of speakers. When my turn came I walked down the aisle toward the podium. My knees felt weak. There is a magnitude to speaking in parliament, a consciousness of history. I’ve never been a natural speaker. I’m never the one chosen to give a toast at parties. But if I believe a statement is true, I can say it. No matter how big the stage. Truth has power. Truth has a force. 𝘕𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘰. It doesn’t come from the tongue, it comes from within. And the moment I take my place at the podium: it’s like a spring has been sprung. That day I spoke about justice. 𝘋𝘢𝘢𝘥. I said that justice in society begins with justice in our budget. There was a proposal in the budget to build a new telephone system in one of Tehran’s nicest neighborhoods. I reminded the parliament that there were entire villages without a single phone. I said: ‘Before we give the wealthy a phone by every bedside, let us give a phone to every village.’ It was one of the most forceful speeches I’ve ever given. But there was no mention in the media; criticism of the government was not allowed. I at least wanted a copy for my own records. There was a person in parliament who transcribed everything, so I asked them for a copy of my speech. But they told me it was not allowed. They would not even give me my own words.”

 دکتر عاملی هم در انتخابات مجلس پیروز شده بود و افزون بر آن به ریاست کمیسیون آموزش و پرورش هم. از بهترین سخنرانان بود. هنگام سخنرانی هرگز فریاد نمی‌کشید. واژگانش آزاردهنده و خشن نبودند. او به فلسفه‌ها می‌پرداخت نه به آدمها. سخنانش ژرفای ویژه‌ داشتند. هرگز شعارگونه سخن نمی‌گفت. سراپای سخنانش به هم پیوسته بود. هر اندازه موضوع پیچیده بود، هر اندازه طرح و برنامه ویژه بود، همیشه آنرا به سرنوشت ایران و ایرانیان گره می‌زد، سرنوشت‌مان به عنوان یک ملت. در نخستین بامدادی که بودجه‌ی دولت ارائه شده بود، دکتر عاملی در راهروی مجلس به من نزدیک شد. پرسید که آیا قصد دارم در مورد بودجه سخنرانی کنم. به او گفتم که تمایل ویژه‌ای ندارم . نزدیکتر آمد و به آرامی گفت: «همیشه باید سخن گفت، ما سخنان خود را می‌گوییم.» نخستین کاری که کردم نوشتن نامم در فهرست سخنرانان بود. آن شب را روی فرشی بر زمین مجلس بیتوته کردم. وهنگامی که نوبت من شد پشت سکوی سخنرانی رفتم. سخنرانی‌های بسیاری پیش از این انجام داده بودم ولی سخنرانی در مجلس متفاوت بود. از اهمیت و شکوه خاصی برخوردار است. همراه با نوعی خودآگاهی تاریخی. من هیچگاه سخنرانی طبیعی نبودم. نمی‌توانم به شیوایی درباره‌ی موضوع‌های گوناگون صحبت کنم. هیچگاه در مهمانی‌ها مرا برای خوش‌آمدگویی انتخاب نمی‌کردند. ولی هرگاه به درستی گفتاری باور داشته باشم، آنرا به زبان می‌آورم. نیرویی هست که با گفتن حقیقت همراه است. از زبان نه که از دل برمی‌آید. هنگامی که پشت سکوی سخنرانی قرار بگیرم، مانند فنری رها می‌شوم. آن روز درباره‌ی عدالت و دادگری سخن گفتم. همانگونه که به دادگری در قانون، در بودجه هم نیازمندیم. به طرحی اشاره کردم که برای کشیدن سامانه‌ی تلفنی تازه‌ای برای یکی از مرفه‌ترین منطقه‌ها‌ی تهران بود. به مجلس یادآوری کردم، روستاهایی داریم که حتا یک تلفن هم ندارند. گفتم: «پیش از آنکه خط تلفن را به اتاق خواب‌های ثروتمندان شهرها بکشیم، بیایید نخست تلفن عمومی را به همه‌ جای کشور برسانیم.» سخنانم در هیچ جا بازتابی نیافت؛ هیچ انتقادی اجازه‌ی پخش در رسانه‌ها را نداشت. از منشی مجلس نسخه‌ای از آنچه را گفته بودم درخواست کردم تا سندی از آن داشته باشم. به من گفتند که اجازه‌ی چنین کاری را ندارند. سخنان خودم را هم به من ندادند

[puzzleemerald]

Please don't reblog!

I had to compress/scale down this beautiful piece so much in Clip Studio to make it fit Tumblr's 20 MB demands, hnnnnnng—

Coughs in complete absolute professionalism

The first of my OCs have officially had their links posted on my pinned Master Post! This is one of them: my beautiful, beloved, and tragic Inuyasha OC Amaterasu. This is a piece of art I commissioned earlier in 2023 from the lovely ItsNattie, from whom I've been commissioning art of many kinds for over a decade now! It's a massive poster-esque piece for Amaterasu's FanFic I've been slowly working on (it's one of uh... many... I have a draftaholic problem), and, if you hadn't guessed, she's a Sesshōmaru pairing!

That said, I consider an OC's FanFic version and their RP versions to be entirely separate for the sake of exploring ✨ infinite possibilities! ✨ So, while Amaterasu is paired with Sesshōmaru in her FanFiction, that doesn't mean I'll only allow Sesshōmaru RPers to exclusively pair with her romantically. I like to leave that up to vibes. If I feel like she's got chemistry with someone, you bet your zeros and ones I'm gonna ship it!

With that out of the way, allow me a moment to wax poetic about the weight and meaning behind this gorgeous piece of art to end the post.

Ahem.

TW: Death

Amaterasu is a character who, in essence, is supposed to be the sun goddess herself—the name isn't just for show. However, through the circumstances of her story, she's been sealed in a mortal body, and much of her power is diminished throughout the series. Like everyone else, she's out for Naraku's head. However, she ends up encountering Sesshōmaru. At first, they seem as if they'll kill each other. The reason is pretty straightforward. Sesshōmaru is an Inu Daiyōkai and the Lord of the West while Amaterasu is the Head Kami and Ruler of Takamagahara. Their very existences challenge each other and, by nature, they feel an instinctive loathing of the other.

However, due to their equally calm dispositions, instead of a fight, they have an interogation a conversation instead. Sesshōmaru questions who she is, and Amaterasu does the same. Jaken gives a fussy introduction on his Lord's behalf, and Amaterasu gives her name... before promptly telling them both to turn around so she can get out of the spring she was bathing in when Sesshōmaru sniffed out her divine aura.

They end up having several more encounters with each other, but Amaterasu has far more interactions with Inuyasha's party initially. At least until Rin comes into the picture. Then, she travels strictly with Sesshōmaru under the pretense of protecting Rin from him. Over time, the two become more tolerant of one another until they start checking over their shoulder to ensure the other is still there, using each other as a leaning post at night or entrusting the other with safeguarding Rin, Jaken, and A-Un when the other leaves for one reason or another. It borders that fine line of respect and affection; Sesshōmaru is aloof and apathetic, while Amaterasu unabashedly loves life and is compassionate. She learns through him that not all yōkai are out to kill humanity, and he finds a new warmth in life with her presence. Like winter in the face of spring, they need each other to complete a cycle or, in this case, each other. By "The Final Act," they are pressing their palms together to be sure the other is okay, staring each other in the eyes and covering each other in a fight.

However, I call Amaterasu a tragic OC for a reason. In the end, once Naraku is slain, Amaterasu's seal is undone, and her mortal body slowly breaks down. Without the seal, her power returns to her in total, and its too immense to be contained in such a shell. A kami of her magnitude cannot sustain a shape on the mortal plane. With what few hours they have left, she asks to return to the place they first met—the spring surrounded by sakura trees—which Sesshōmaru indulges. Flying her there in his arms with Rin and Jaken riding his mokomoko-sama. There, she has her farewells to each of them, praising Jaken's loyalty and courage despite his stature and weakness, telling Rin that she will watch her as she becomes a lady with the utmost warmth and character, and telling Sesshōmaru that he has changed her. That she can never be the same person she was before, but she wishes that she could, if only to relive it all. Because it was the happiest time of her life.

Under the shining sunrise, Amaterasu promises that, so long as their feelings remain unchanging, she will find a way to meet him there again. Every time he feels the sun's light and traces its beams, it will be her smiling and touching his hand, praying for him to live.

Finally, as her body crumbles into glowing flowers, they share a first and last kiss... until all that's touching his lips are cherry blossoms that fall through his arms to the ground of the clearing... blooming wildly with flowers and other foliage and surrounded by onlooking wildlife.

Thus, the feudal fairy tale of two tragic loves from completely opposite realms of existence concludes in the only way it ever could.

[iamsherlocked-1998]

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝

Summary: Only memories saved in.

Words: 1000.

Din Djarin x GN! Reader: Just something Sweet. Maybe some moral dilemma.

✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧*｡✧｡✧*｡✧

It was a hot day, spring weather was sliding inexorably towards summer, light filtered through the window, filling the room. Your duties at the Nevarro library had ended and you were unfortunately picking up Karga's dispatch after the Magistrate had recently passed away.

Grogu was in the other room playing with his friend IG-11, who had followed you inside after round against crime in the city. Then the sound of the boy's laughter filled the air.

You approached full of curiosity only to see how the droid was playing a scene like a holovid format, but instead of being a movie it looked like a recording, in which you could see the boy attached to his mechanical protector while itself shot at enemies. They had to be memories from before you met Mando.

-When is this from? It seems like a difficult situation (you asked with a remarkable question mark).

-The imperials attacked, my task as guardian droid was to protect the child.

The metallic voice filled the room, it was a predictable response, but the playback function was unknown to you.

-I didn't know that everything you saw was recorded, especially after…

You were going to say after being destroyed among lava as The Mandalorian told you, but it seemed unnecessary.

-It is the duty of a good guardian to pay attention to everything around. It also helped to know the extent of the Mandalorian's injuries in medical care.

-Di… Did Mando get hurt?

You had always been aware of the danger that the clan of two faced, especially when they first met and following months, but you did not know that the physical damage would have been of sufficient magnitude to be urgently assisted by a medical droid, nor that Djarin would lend himself to it...

-Yes, after the explosion the bacta was essential for his recovery, also the lack of presence of any living being in the reconnaissance.

That last one made your eyebrows rise to your hairline. The only time the hunter used those words was when he explained the importance for his creed of the… the only possible answer is that he took off his helmet in front of the droid.

-Do you have images of Mando without the helmet?

-Again, it was essential for his survival, I believed that it was well known in beings of your condition that to deal with possible concussion is necessary to access the nervous system in the back of the head.

You rolled your eyes at the attempt at sarcasm.

-Do you want me to play the images for any particular reason?

Your heart stopped dead at the mere mention of it.

-I can't do that, it would be against Mando's privacy… his creed forbids it and is very important to him.

-According to the Mandalorian creed in its literal sense, his members cannot remove their helmet or be seen by others, but he is not even present since it is a projection, it's not real.

Your lips parted, trying to refute that logic was extremely complicated. But it still felt like a betrayal. You and Din had known each other for months and shared almost everything that was possible between two people, but the helmet was always present, without a doubt everything worked very well.

You always had a bitter feeling in your throat as to whether he would really have that last act of trust with you later or things stay the same. Not that it was essential, he was too important to you and his personality meant everything, it was still tempting to use this as a last resort and not let anyone know.

-Play the images...please (you let out a slight resigned sigh).

At that moment the mechanism was set in motion. You saw how Mando was lying on the ground and a metal arm accessed the beskar dome to detach it. What you glimpsed was the last thing expected.

The most expressive brown eyes you had ever seen greeted you, anguish and pain were visible in the grimace of his face and was covered in blood. The state he was in broke your heart, but you smiled sadly. Despite everything, of course Din was beautiful.

He was a few years older than you, but he showed a vulnerability that made him look younger, despite all his experiences, an unusual innocence was observed. His unkempt hair curled at the edges of it, as if he had let it grow longer than it should, he had a faint trace of stubble and a small scar on the bridge of his nose. All of this was finished off by luxurious lips.

You heard how Din in the video mentioned something about his brain and the droid responded with a bad joke, making the man raise his eyebrow, but you couldn't process much more of the conversation as you were focused on the speaker of the words. It was incredible how all his thoughts were reflected without a filter to the outside by his expressions.

You hadn't realized but Grogu was next to you, watching with curiosity and his head tilted at the video of his father, a small soft squeal reached your ears. Suddenly the recording stopped.

-Do you already have the information you requested?

You nodded distractedly at IG-11's voice, which brought you out of your reverie.

-Yes, thank you, but no one can know this.

-You are an authorized person. Who and how the records are accessed is confidential.

________________

The three of you walked calmly through the city towards the small cabin, Din's mission was over and at the end of the day he picked you up to go home.

You were lost in thought as the little green one slept in your arms, you couldn't stop thinking about what you saw, looking at your partner in amazement. Of course the hunter noticed, your gaze was so insistent and intense that it burned him.

-Something wrong? (You noticed the slight amusement in his words, oblivious to the events of the day).

-Nothing, just...I'm glad to spend time together, with you.

Din ascend firmly but gently.

-If you want we can put those shows that Grogu likes so much, so you can rest.

-I would like that.

You said with a wide smile as the Mandalorian held your hand.

[jgroffdaily]

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From @theatre.ly @suttonlenore giving the most most incredible speech for #JonathanGroff as he receives his portrait here at @sardisnyc ✨

Sutton Foster’s speech:

Look at this turnout. Look at all of the people that love you!

Jonathan Groff you are so pretty and so talented. What took Sardi’s so long to put you on heir wall?

I think they really struggled to capture the magnitude of your beauty and brilliance.

From the first time I saw you on stage in ‘Spring Awakening’ at the Atlantic Theatre I knew you were something special.

You have gone on to tackle roles on Broadway, and TV and film, shining and spraying saliva on all…

Currently your star turn in Merrily has cemented your hold on Broadway’s landscape.

You infuse your characters with heart, depth, humanity, humour and a touch of sass, and incredible generosity.

You have made a character like Franklin Shepard one audiences root for and care for. Not an easy feat.

But it is your soul you allow us to see. Your rawness and realness of who you really are.

I am so proud to know you and call you my friend and Sardi’s walls will never be the same.

Congratulations!