#most of these are from rots sorry not sorry

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Thirteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort. Confessions.

The park is quiet.

You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.

It makes it easier. To look.

To watch.

To wait.

And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.

You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.

Deep breath. 

The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.

Easy prey.

You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Still, you watch. You wait.

You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.

And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.

It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.

Will he? Won’t he? 

Today, the answer is he won’t.

Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.

Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away. 

Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.

“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.

“Been waitin’ for you to call.”

“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.

Like Simon. 

“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.

“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.

He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.

You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone. 

You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect. 

You’ll always be this. 

Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared. 

Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.

Love and family and strength.

The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.

But still so far away. 

Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.

Deep breath. 

Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.

“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”

“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.

His hold tightens. “What is it?”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.

“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.

“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”

There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.

It’s easier to lie.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.

“Did ye eat?” No.

“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”

“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.

He takes it all away. Every time. 

“Johnny.”

“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

And then-

It stops.

He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.  

“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.

“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”

“Everything. All of it… I- I-“

“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”

“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.

“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”

“Who?”

“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”

“Johnny-“

“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.

The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.

Penny’s bedroom door is open.

The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.

“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”

“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.

It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.

“In a few.”

Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.

They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.

“A movie?”

“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.

“Umm… no?”

“What’s yer favorite?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”

“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.

“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.

“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong? “Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“

“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”

“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.

You can just… enjoy it.

The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.

Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.

You don’t know who it is looking back at you.

You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.

There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.

Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.

You’re playing house. Playing a game. 

It won’t last. 

It can’t.

You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.

“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.

“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.

You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.

“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.

When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.

You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.

“Will you show us?” He murmurs.

“Sh-show you?”

“The scars.” Oh.

Will you? 

Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.

You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.

A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”

“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.

This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more. 

“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.

“No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-

Lips. 

He’s kissing them. 

It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.

“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.

Are you really doing this? Could you really do this? 

There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.

So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.

“He liked to hurt me.”

“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.

“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”

“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.

“Yes.”

“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.

“And more.”

“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.

You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know. 

You trust them. 

Don’t you? 

“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“

“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.

They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t. 

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing. 

You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.

“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.

It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone. 

But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun. 

And maybe it’s time to accept it.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.

The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.

“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.

“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.

Only… intrigue. Warmth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.

“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”

The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.

The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”

“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”

“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”

“Ye said we.”

“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.

“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.

Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”

“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-

She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.

“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.

“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.

“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.

“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.

When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,

and the contents of the little black bag in the other.

You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser. 

Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.

Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.

A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.

“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.

“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.

You can’t stop it.

They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand. 

“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”

“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-

revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader

[jennifer-jeong]

[Fluff + Slight Angst] [Gojo Satoru x Reader] Kikufuku

GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM ROTTING DURING EXAMSSSSSS TAKE THIS DRAFT I FINISHED WHILE I WORK ON MY REQUESTS HEHEHEHEHEHE I WILL BE POSTING ALL MY STUFF SLOWLY MEHEEHEHHE

CONTENT

Going to get food everyday with Gojo bc he loves trying new places and he used to do it sm with geto and shoko ): Mostly fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, implied crush, lots of mentions of food, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES

Note that I can’t remember where I got this idea from (it's been sitting in a document for months and I only just got around to it) but I might've read it from somewhere (maybe a tiktok?) so I’m sorry if I've stolen someone's idea, please lmk so I can give credit if this is the case!

Word Count: 477

Satoru is your typical happy go lucky guy on the outside. He’s always walking around as if there’s not a single thought running through his mind. He’ll buy his favorite mochi while all the passersby swoon at his handsome self. You met the man not more than a few months ago when you joined Jujutsu High as a fellow staff member and you’ve gotten quite close. He’d always ask you if you wanted to get food after work and most of the time you'd say yes. But, for the first few weeks, sometimes you’d be busy or not feeling up to going out to dinner with your co-worker you just met. That quickly changed though.

Satoru gets quite lonely when you aren’t there with him and you've noticed after getting to know him. He's not anything he shows on the outside. He’s alone. He’s suffering. But he’s still so sweet. A month or 2 after meeting him, you’ve made it a mission to always get food with him even if you’re busy. If it’s not in person, you’re at the very least video or audio calling him so he can show you the food and talk to you while you both eat. Gojo loves trying new places because it feels refreshing. It makes him feel young again and you support it because you know his youth was robbed from him. You know that he used to get food everyday with Suguru and Shoko because he told you about it. You know he misses them by the way he talks about it and he knows you know. But, ignorance is bliss right? You're both just trying to live ignorantly happily while simultaneously healing from your respective pasts. What else could you really do?

Yesterday was takoyaki and Thai milk tea for dessert. Today was coconut curry and ice cream filled taiyaki. Tomorrow, Satoru is thinking Beijing style duck or maybe K-BBQ? Carbonara? Peri Peri Chicken? Enchiladas? Shawarma??? You always laugh when he goes on a tangent of what he wants to eat and try with you. You tease him by adding more options to the list and he clenches his fists dramatically and squeezes his eyes shut under his blindfold while whining that he can’t pick and that there’s too much good food. You occasionally have to reassure him that you have time and that you’re not going anywhere. You never fail to notice the blush on his ears when you soothe him like that and he never fails to see your fidgety hands as you say the gentle words to him. He feels so lucky to have your company and you can confidently say the same, in your thoughts of course. You wouldn’t tell him that out loud and he also finds himself too scared to try. At least, not yet. Maybe one day, over some kikufuku.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#jjk x reader #reader x jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #reader x gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo comfort #j's silly ramblings

[moon-rivr]

so real

part three of congratulations series masterlist

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: more angst 👹👹, depressive thoughts, use of a vape, drug addiction (rapture)

synopsis: miguel’s boss, tyler stone, offers him an.. alternative route to deal with his grief

author’s note: CAN I TALK MY SHIT AGAIN 🗣️‼️ anyways i’m sure you all knew by now but none of this is 100% canon :3

word count: 6.3k

Church bells echoed through his head time and time again, the relentless sound practically playing on cassette in his head. The sound was accompanied by the sounds of Tempest's screaming, screams of anger and fear combined. Screams that would engrave themselves into his very being, reminding him of his failures.  Why didn't you save me? I trusted you!

He patted the spot where you'd laid to him next to him, finding it empty. That was enough to wake him up from his restless slumber. He scrambled up to his feet, his mouth open to call out for you but nothing came out. All that was running through his head was the worst possible outcome, of finding you seriously injured or possibly even unconscious. The only thing he could do was listen as you called out to him: Miguel. Miguel. Miguel.

"Miguel."

"Miguel," his eyes snapped up open, realizing that was just another dream. He looked down to see that you were laying down next to him, your face grimacing as you wiggled. Oh shock. He'd clung on to you too tightly, practically almost squeezing you against his body. His grip immediately loosened, your body immediately relaxing. The loss of contact was evident even if you'd only moved a couple inches away from him.

His very being craved to be next to you, as selfish as it was. Your comfort was the only thing that he needed now, more than the very oxygen he inhaled.

"I'm sorry about that," he muttered, his voice hoarse from sleep and from all the crying he'd done just a couple hours prior. "It's okay, just go to sleep," you mumbled groggily, still half asleep. You rubbed your eyes, looking over your shoulder at him through half lidded eyes. You'd never seen him look so.. miserable. And yet, you had no idea who he couldn't save. You had no idea how to help, all that you could really do in this position was stay where you were and offer him your presence.

Sleep did not come back to him after that, despite how comfortable your body felt next to him. Every time he shut his eyes, the image of Tempest's rotting corpse came to the forefront of his mind. How no matter how hard he'd tried, he had nothing to account for that in the end. All that he had to account for the amount of effort that he'd put in was the amount of guilt within himself, the amount of blame that he placed upon himself for not doing more. Even if the rational part of his brain tried to convince him that he did the most he could.

He looked over at you, entranced by the small fall and rise of your chest as you slept comfortably next to him. The way your mouth slightly parted to let out a couple snores. Silently admiring all the little things he took for granted in the few times that he had you in his bed. Probably would be the last time that he got to see you in such a vulnerable position. "I love you too, chiquita. It's always been you," he whispered, kissing the top of your head before closing his eyes once more.

He was tempted to pull you back into his chest once he saw you stirring awake, a yawn escaping from your lips. "Morning," he spoke up as he saw you get up from the couch, stretching your arms out. You looked restless, probably from the uncomfortable position you'd been forced in. "Morning," you didn't even bother looking back at him, going over to the kitchen to get started on making a fresh pot of coffee.

Miguel leaned against your kitchen counter, his attention solely focused on every single one of your movements. The coffee pod that you'd chosen to put in the machine- a vanilla espresso. The amount of sugars and creamers that you'd set down on the counter. The slight curve of your body as you leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The way that you tried to avoid his not so subtle staring, your eyes flickering to all the small surfaces around.

"Why'd you come to me last night?" you decided to bite the bullet and ask the question that'd been rummaging through your brain all night long. For claiming to have nothing 'serious' with you, he was sure comfortable coming to your apartment at wee hours of the night. Not that you discouraged that activity by any means, though. Maybe you were more responsible than you would've liked to admit.

"Because I needed you."

"You can't do this to me. Treat me as if I'm nothing to you and then seek me out when you're at your lowest."

"I never treated you as if you were nothing to me."

"And yet, we were nothing serious? Or are you going to deny saying that?" You were expecting for him to have some kind of comeback to that, but he stared down at his coffee like it was single-handedly the most interesting thing in the world. The silence almost suffocating, you could almost see the gears turning in that big head of his.

"Look I don't know what happened but serio-"

"Tempest.. passed away last night and I couldn't save her. No matter how much I tried to."

Now that had stunned you into staying quiet, an apology at the tip of your tongue. For what, exactly? For making assumptions or to offer your condolences? Both, most likely. But before you even got the chance to open your mouth, he was already speaking again. "The engagement was a farce. She needed access to insurance and she only managed to get that through being with me."

"And you felt as though you couldn't be honest with me? I know that we've slept together and I don't know about you, but I've spent longer than that loving you," you told him, setting your coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. A stupid mug that he'd gotten for you, World's Best Girlfriend Situationship.

"Look Miguel, I get that you're going through a lot but you can't expect for me to be here only when you want me to be around. I think I deserve more than that by this point."

You were so right. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but how could he say that when he'd treated you just the way you described ever since you came back? Even if he said so, he knew that his words wouldn't be enough to convince you otherwise. He stared at you in silently, his face conveying the pain that he wouldn't dare to voice out loud. Don't fall for it. Don't. As much as you wanted to comfort him, as much as a part of you couldn't bear to see him so upset, you needed to put your own needs above his own for once.

"Finish up your coffee and grab your clothes from the drier. I'll be here when you're ready to treat me like I mean something to you, but up until that point, I don't want to see you."

Miguel tried to prolong the couple sips of coffee he had, taking a few drops every two minutes. Anything that would give him the excuse to be around you longer than he should've. "I'm sorry," he spoke up, watching as you paused in cleaning your mug before resuming. "What's the point of saying sorry if you haven't done anything to change it yet?" your words came out so hushed, his ears practically perking up. If you'd noticed that he wasn't finishing up his coffee, you hadn't bothered to say anything just yet.

Miguel lost track of how many times he'd passed the sponge by the mug, lost in his own thought. How is it possible that he lost two of the people he cared about in less than 24 hours? He could practically see his own reflection in the mug by the time he decided to put the sponge down, rinsing the suds away. He walked over to the laundry room, grabbing his clothes before making his way out of your apartment. "Bye," his words were barely audible, unable to look at you or talk to you after how the last exchange had gone.

This time around, Miguel drove with extreme caution. Almost as a way to overcompensate for his rash behavior last night. He didn't even bother slamming his hand against the wheel when a car merged onto his lane without using their turn signal. At least he didn't have to go into work until Monday, leaving him enough time to seep into his self loathing. And to think about the fact that despite the fact he'd dreamed about the day you'd move back to Nueva York to be with you, it was starting to become more and more unattainable.

He was tempted on calling out on work when Monday rolled around, saying that he needed some time to grieve. But all that he'd been doing at home was look up at the ceiling and think about different alternatives. Alternatives where he wasn't a screw up. Alternatives where his efforts actually counted towards something, where he was actually saving people. A different alternative where you didn't hate him, where he was less of an idiot to prove to you just how much you actually meant to him.

Sleep didn't come to him that easily either. He'd spend hours counting sheep and listening to white noise only to find himself groaning into his pillow. Every position proving to be futile in his restless nights, the image of seeing Tempest in that hospital practically tattooed at the back of his eyelids every time he closed them. His eyes burned from how long he’d kept them open, his head pounding as it urged for him to take at least a nap. Not that he would listen.

Awake or not, his life was starting to become a continuous torment. Every day was the same miserable cycle, though he wasn't making any effort to change it either. Maybe he deserved to feel the way he did right now. It's what he told himself anytime that he was starting to feel the numbness get overwhelming. That he didn't deserve to have some relief from this grief. The days blurred onto one another to the point where he couldn't tell the distinction between them until he looked down at his phone to check the date.

Get up. Drink coffee. Eat two bites of an overpriced sandwich he'd buy at Alchemax. Work. Close eyes. Repeat until exhaustion.

Upon grabbing a fresh lab coat from his closet, he caught a glimpse of the suit he was supposed to wear for the wedding. The wedding ceremony that would've happened tomorrow. Instead, it would now be his funeral suit. He pushed the suit to the back of his closet, pulling his dress shirts over it to conceal the fact. Just looking at it had proved to be an eyesore. He grabbed the first pair of socks that he found, not even bothering to check that they were the same pair before putting his shoes on. Spoiler alert: One was bright red and the other one was a dull purple.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, the action doing completely nothing to aid the bird's nest in his hair. Hairs stuck out from every end and there had even accumulated a gloop of dry hair gel on his scalp. He was a mess in every sense of the word. If that was even a strong enough word to describe his current state. He wasn't even sure when he bothered to take more than a five minute shower, maybe a week ago? Though he told himself that a couple days ago so he wasn't truly sure how much time had really passed.

"Puta madre," he grumbled, a couple of the comb's teeth falling from the sheer force that he'd exuded into just trying to run it through a couple strands. Miguel tugged on the comb with a bit more force, though it wouldn't go through no matter how much he wanted it to. He set down the black comb, rummaging through his cabinets to find a new one. He'd be lying if he said that the sight of seeing Tempest's stuff mixed in with his didn't make a couple tears run down his cheeks. From the halfway finished hair products to the new perfume that she was wanting to try out.

After breaking a couple more brushes, Miguel decided to give up on the effort to fix up his appearance. Not that he even needed to put that much effort, much of the interns didn't even bother to put on deodorant before they showed up. He'd completely forgotten about the work meeting that was set up for today, stepping into the room about ten minutes later. The attention of the room went to him immediately, the loud slam of the door behind him doing nothing to aid the situation. He muttered a half ass sorry before going to sit down.

Gloved fingers snapped in front of him, disrupting whatever little train of thought was coursing through his head. Miguel couldn't even bother to hide the irritation in his face as he turned to look at Aaron, raising his eyebrows as he waited for the shorter man to speak. He was almost tempted to laugh at the way that Aaron had to huff out his chest to put on an intimidating facade. Trying so very hard to present the small bit of authority that Tyler Stone had placed upon him. And failing, truthfully.

"Get your head out your ass and listen closely. Mr. Stone can't handle any mistakes in this project," Aaron's voice seemed so far away, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing that he did mattered, anyways. He couldn't keep the girl. He couldn't save anyone. Aaron's voice faded out into a low hum, a garble of technical nonsense. How the project at hand could put human lives at stake if done incorrectly and of how it could improve lives if it actually worked. Nonsense he's heard time and time again.

He didn't even realize he was dozing off, his body slumped against the rolling chair behind him. "Wake the hell up or you're fired in the next five seconds! Mr. Stone requested to see you in his office," that same damn voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard broke him out of his slumber, a large palm slamming on the desk in front of him. Miguel grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, willing himself to wake up before getting up from his chair. He ignored the small snickers that followed after he departed the room.

Miguel took the opportunity to step into one of the bathrooms, taking the opportunity to look over himself before he appeared in front of Mr. Stone. He didn't need to receive a lecture on unprofessionalism on top of the lecture he was probably going to receive already. Not that he cared all that much, but he wasn't sure just how much more yelling he could take with the steady pounding in his head. Rumors floated around people getting fired for even looking at Mr. Stone in a way that they shouldn't have, his ruling over the company an iron fist.

He splashed some cold water on his face, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep that lingered behind. The water did nothing to aid with the redness in his eyes, the sleep deprivation apparent to anyone who would spare a second glance. Luckily enough for him, Mr. Stone couldn't care less if his mental health was deteriorating. He grabbed a bottle of eye drops from his coat pocket, squirting some of the substance into his eyes before making his way over to Mr. Stone's office.

Miguel brought his hand up to the large wooden door, knocking on it twice. He looked up to see the camera hanging above the door now pointed towards his direction, the stare from it lasting for a couple seconds than what was necessary. A loud buzz came through the large doors before they opened to reveal the space that was Mr. Stone's office. If it could even called that. While interns were forced to work downstairs in cubicles with a half-functioning air conditioner, Mr. Stone had a tiger rug placed in the center of the room.

Miguel almost felt bad for getting the floor dirty, his eyes shifting to what else the office had to offer. Large windows that went from the top of the wall down to the floor, presenting a perfect view of the Nueva York skyline. The sunlight coming through the windows reflected onto the gold podiums that he had set up, the sight almost painful to look at. Mr. Stone turned around in the rolling chair he was on in a villainous fashion. Miguel was almost surprised that he didn't have a white cat on his lap to finish up the touch.

"O'Hara, right?" While Aaron tried so hard to exude power he didn't have, all Mr. Stone had to do was speak. He could almost feel the temperature drop a couple degrees from the sheer coldness of his voice. "That's me, sir. I heard you wanted to see me," Miguel spoke up, clearing his throat. He stood at a distance, not making the slightest attempt to move closer unless Mr. Stone asked for him to do so. Mr. Stone stayed quiet for a couple seconds, analyzing him carefully from head to toe before speaking,

"We're testing out a new drug at the facility. It's completely safe for consumption and I believe it's what you need to get over this grieving period."

"Excuse me?" It was the first time that Miguel had heard of an employer actually promoting the usage of drugs, though it was no secret that a majority of Wall Street in Nueva York was high off cocaine just to get through business meetings. He expected Mr. Stone to tell him that it was a test, to see if he would take the bait but all he got in return was more silence from the man. Suddenly, he stood up and dusted off his suit. A suit that probably cost more than his apartment building if he had to guess. "Please, follow me. I have something to show you."

Tyler unlocked a steel door with his ID badge, the temperature inside the room enough to make Miguel shiver underneath the thin white lab coat he had on. He wanted to turn around, tell Tyler that he wasn't interested in this anymore but a green vial was placed in the palm of his hand. "Look, I'm not telling you that you need to take it but just know that we have the resources here to help you," Tyler really was trying to amp up this caring persona up to the max with his soft way of talking.

"Just think about it, okay? You have full access to this center of the facility from now on in case you do end up taking it," Tyler finished up as the two of them stepped out of the room, leaving Miguel with a decision to make. A decision that had he been in the right state of mind wouldn't even be up for debate at all. And yet, here he was actually considering going through with what Mr. Stone had told him. By the time that Miguel came back to the conference office, he found the room void of anything other than the things he left behind. He stuffed the vial deep into his pocket before going to pick up his things.

Miguel held the vial between his thumb and pointer finger, analyzing what he could about the drug. From what he could discern from the bottle, the drug didn't seem too different from over the counter pain prescriptions. But he's seen things over the months, seen the way that Alchemax deliberately failed to mention certain ingredients just to get FDA approval. The way that they put human safety at the bottom of their priority list, funding for research at the top. Of the experiments locked away in the basement begging for some kind of mercy, for the chemicals to stop making every breath impossible.

And yet, with that doubt in his mind, he injected the drug into the first vein that he could find on his arm. The pounding in his head dissipated to a low hum, the pressure from his body relieved. He felt the best he had in days, the exhaustion from his body was something of the past. He felt like he was on top of the world, like he was able to run a marathon and win first place. Everything seemed much easier now, making him even wonder what he was even depressed about. There was truly nothing else that could replicate the blissful feeling inside of him.

Funny to think about how he'd gotten on his brother for having a vape a few years back. A 'Very Juicy Mango Pod' that was on the market for lasting longer than normal vapes. Half the school had been indulging in those substances just to get through the day, something that he hadn't dabbled in and quite frankly would never dabble in. He hated that feeling, the feeling of having no control over his body. Of only being susceptible to that temporary euphoria. The feeling of only having relief with one hit of those things.

"You know that stuff's gonna fuck up your lungs, right?" His tone was condescending, only because he truly did care about Gabriel. He wafted the thick smoke blown at his face, his eyes narrowing slightly upon seeing the stupid grin on Gabriel's face. "That's just a rumor, hermanito. You can't really say anything until you try it out," Gabriel retorted, dangling the small bar in front of him. Miguel took the vape from his hands after what seemed to the forth dangle, hesitantly bringing it to his lips. He inhaled, the smoke traveling down to his lungs immediately.

He coughed, his body immediately rejecting the substance. How anyone liked that stuff was beyond him. He practically tossed it back to Gabriel, the touch of the bar almost enough to disgust him. "Just.. don't get hooked on that stuff, I care about you too much to lose you," Miguel told Gabriel, sitting down next to him. It was one of the couple times where he expressed love for his brother verbally rather than letting his actions do the talking. "I know and I won't, I promise," Gabriel's voice was full of determination, an arm slung around Miguel's shoulders.

The next morning when he woke up to go to school, he found Gabriel's small stash of pods and bars tossed in the depths of trash can. Some of which he'd barely bought at an outrageously high price from a plug. Though when Miguel had asked him about it, Gabriel simply shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I don't want to give you reasons to worry about me. You do that enough as it is," Gabriel assured him, letting him know that he'd done him a favor. "I know it was hard but thank you," Miguel told him, the two going out for lunch after school that day.

The low hit him harder than he could've expected. It hit him when he was at home, watching the news on TV. The reporter was babbling about some robbery that happened on 54th Avenue, but all he could think about was when he would be able to get his next fix of the damned drug. His mouth practically salivated at the idea of having it in his system once more. Within that need however, there also resided a deep feeling of guilt. A guilt that was clawing him from the inside out, yelling at him to stop what he was doing. That Tempest, his mother, Gabriel, and you would all be disappointed in what he was doing.

"Shut up, shut up!" He yelled at nothing in particular, tossing his remote control at the TV with more force than necessary. The TV changed into an array of colors before shifting into black and white, the remote almost cracking the screen upon further inspection. He paced around his living room floor, the pounding in his heart difficult to ignore. Sweat dripped down from his forehead despite the fact that he turned the AC to the lowest he could without freezing to death, his body begging for just one more hit. Just one.

The urge to have more of that small green vial overwhelmed every sense of his being. Just five minutes without the drug made him feel like he was drowning. He thought he felt pathetic before but this was a new low even for him. Sitting down on his bathroom floor, injecting a fresh vial of Rapture just so he wouldn't feel like he was completely losing his mind. It didn't even feel pleasurable as it did the first time, but it did help with bringing back his body to stable levels. It helped him to forget the small voice in his head that was screaming at him to be rational.

The red beaming light from the camera placed on the steel ceilings of the laboratory seemed to mock him every time that he approached the storage room. Despite how many cameras were placed across the laboratory, he couldn't help but feel that this one was zeroing in on every movement he made. On every new vial that he grabbed. Almost as if Mr. Stone was checking up on him, checking to see if he fell for his carefully woven trap. And he did. His pockets were stuffed full of vials, trying to assure that he wouldn't have to go without them.

He was starting to become a brainless zombie. Coming into work with the illusion that he'd be able sneak in a couple vials of Rapture during his lunch break without capturing anyone's attention. Though, rumors had been starting to circulate. Hushed whispers about how the one with the most promise at Alchemax was now a drug addicted fiend. Not that anyone would ever said that to say his face, the whispers died down every time he was in close proximity.

“Hey, have you talked to Miguel recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and that’s just not like him, y’know?” Gabriel called to ask you around three in the morning. Clearly the brothers had a taste for waking you up at the ass crack of dawn. “No, I haven’t. I haven’t talked to him in like three weeks, I wanna say. Let me know if you hear from him though,” you responded, rubbing your eyes as you tried to stay awake for Gabriel’s sake. “I will, thank you. And please, don’t give up on him. I know he’s an idiot but his heart’s in the right place.”

You looked down at Miguel’s contact information, wondering if you should call him. You did tell him to leave you alone if he wasn’t willing to prove himself to you. And if he hasn’t answered his own brother’s phone calls, then why should he answer yours? After letting the thought seep in, you decided to dial his number. You were hoping for some kind of miracle, that you’d be the one he would make an exception for. “Please leave your message after the beep. BEEP!” Was the only response you received though.

“Hey, I know I said I wasn’t going to talk to you but please call me or Gabriel. Just let us know you’re alive, please. He’s really worried about you. Okay, well I hope you’re taking care of yourself. Bye.”

Calls from Gabriel went unanswered along with the thousand voice messages that he'd left, asking him how he was and expressing concern for him. "Llámame cabron, que estoy preocupado por ti.” I've asked around and no one's heard from you in a couple days. For your sake, I hope you're not dead in a ditch," was what the last message had transcribed to, Gabriel's voice a pitch higher. Usually, Miguel wouldn't have let his brother worry this much about him but he couldn't feign being sober to save his life.

He couldn't take it anymore. The urge that he had to feel that high, even for a couple seconds only to end up feeling like complete crap after he'd taken it. The lows were what got him to get up and inject that poison into his system, the thoughts in his head too much to bear. If he thought that it was bad before the drugs, it was much more worse now. The images of Tempest were much more vivid now, he could practically feel her cold fingers on his skin as she pleaded him for something. He couldn't make out what that something was, it was just an endless string of 'please.'

He was taking the drug more so out of obligation. His body goes cold after a few minutes of sobriety, trembling as his grip on reality starts to waver. The drug offered him shorter periods of relief with every new vial that he inserted into his body, but it offered him some kind of relief. Even if it was just fifteen minutes of letting him forget about the misery that his life was. It wasn't until he looked at his reflection in the mirror that he realized how truly screwed he was, how much he'd been disregarding his own health.

Miguel could hardly recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror. He let out a small gasp when he stuck his hand out, his reflection meeting him halfway. Was this what he had become? His eyes lacked any signs of energy, dark circles ringing underneath. He wasn't even sure when was the last time he managed to sleep more than twenty minutes at a time. His stubble was in patches, a couple splotches of red skin from the scratching he had been doing. He couldn't take looking at this stranger anymore. He punched the mirror out of fury, the pieces shattering below him.

What haunted him the most about looking down at those pieces is that he still saw the reflection of that stranger looking back at him.

After doing some extensive research on all the chemicals that Rapture contained, he came to a conclusion that he already knew at the back of his head. There was no way to break the addiction, not without death involved at least. The drug was unlike any others that he'd seen, the chemical components much higher than some of the hardcore drugs on the market. It changed his genetic makeup to the point where he needed the drug as much as he needed oxygen to breathe. Even slow withdrawals from the drug was a guaranteed death. Every treatment was futile against said drug.

Miguel didn't even want to think about what Mr. Stone was capable of doing if he caught whiff that he was trying to break loose from the viscous cycle he was in. He seemed so eager to get Miguel to take the drug, surely he must've known what effects the drug would take on his body. All the research that he did was on a private network in the safety of his apartment, where he could keep the information safe. He'd come up with one final conclusion, that he needed to change his genetic component back to what it was before getting hooked on Rapture.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so cocky in his own abilities. He really should've done more research on what the dangers of altering his DNA would be. Though, anything would be a relief from the constant nagging in his head for more. More. More. More. The straps on the side of the capsule he was standing in secured him into place, a low hum from the machine next to him indicating that it was ready to start. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, all while hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Though, anything would be better than what he was going through right now.

Aaron truly didn't expect anyone else to be at the lab at this hour, even the workaholics at the lab had their limits. He was there to pick up a couple files that he needed for one of the reports Mr. Stone had asked for, but how could he possibly miss out on this opportunity that just presented to him so perfectly? Even through the green rays of the machine, he could see Miguel O'Hara standing there in his full glory. Attempting not to grimace from the burning sensation coursing through his very veins. Oh, how'd he dreamed of this moment.

All the times Miguel poked fun at him, the times that he'd belittled his work, and all the times that he'd managed to outshine him were the perfect motivation for Aaron to code spider DNA into the system. See how he likes that. The studies on animal DNA altering humans wasn't promising, a 99.999% mortality rate as of yet. He didn't care. Nobody would find out about what he'd done, he knew Mr. Stone would remove all the security footage if it came to that point. He amped up the machine to the max, staring at the capsule eagerly.

Agonizing screams followed soon after Aaron departed from the scene, a traitorous laugh escaping from his throat upon realizing what he'd done. "AARON!" Miguel's yells echoed into the steel hallways, bouncing off the walls though Aaron was less the wiser. It was truthfully the best melody that Aaron had heard in his life, hearing one of the men he hated the most cry out for help without actually receiving any aid. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Miguel's voice was raw from the screaming he'd been doing. The machine beeped loudly, indicating that the genetic splicing was now finished.

Miguel stepped out of the chamber, wobbling and stumbling through the laboratory floor before touching what he assumed was a table. He gripped the edges of the table, blinking rapidly to ease the blurriness that clouded his vision. Everything felt odd. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him, it felt like it belonged to some monster. Long claws protruded from his fingers, scratching the table the harder he tried to hold onto. He ran his tongue through his teeth, letting out a small groan upon feeling a sharp sensation on the side.

Fangs..? No, he must be daydreaming. Some after effect of long term exposure to Rapture. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to wake up from this torment, he remained still. Footsteps pattered in the hallways, a reminder that someone else had been witness to this situation. Miguel ran faster than he was ever able to, tackling Aaron onto the ground in a matter of mere seconds. Miguel gripped Aaron's arms above his head, paying no attention to the sound of ripping flesh. All that Miguel knew is that he needed answers and he needed them now.

"What the hell did you put in me?!" The accusation didn't come out the way he expected it to, a lisp in his words. Aaron winced in pain from the prickles that Miguel was inducing with his claws, a self satisfied smirk on his face at seeing what he'd managed to reduce the man to nonetheless. "ANSWER ME!" Miguel's voice boomed through the empty hallways, echoing throughout the dead of night. He swore that the vein throbbing in his forehead was about to pop the second that he saw Aaron laughing.

Miguel tossed Aaron to the side without any regard to where he landed, going back to the lab to look for any hints of what Aaron had coded into the system. He went back to the previous code, seeing that some form of spider DNA had been entered into the system. He shouldn't even be alive right now. Not when all the other people who'd gone through this procedure morphed into a version of the creature before ultimately exploding. His head was spinning with the realization, not even bothering to notice the fact that he didn't need the drug anymore.

He looked down at his phone, his finger hovering above your contact name as he debated on whether or not he should call you. Before he got the chance to make a decision though, police sirens blared loudly out of the building. The sound seemed to rattle his head, his ears all too sensitive to the sound. Miguel got down on his knees, pressing his hands to his ears in hopes that it would alleviate with the pain. It did not. All he could do was hope that the sound would soon go away while he curled up into a ball.

"NYPD! Come outside with your hands up!" A man's voice boomed through a loudspeaker. Miguel looked around, trying to find a way out of the facility. He could hear the boot stomps from the first floor, every possible exit blockaded by the police. So he did the most logical thing he could think of. He jumped out of the window and swung? Wait, what? Sure enough, he looked down at his wrists to see a small pocket shooting out white webs. Though, he really should've been paying more attention to the sights in front of him.

THUMP

He crashed face first into a building, a measly web falling from his wrist next to him.

taglist 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @hislastbimbogff @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @mvlanchqly @tomalymme @boringpersonality @laysmt @scaryplanetdestroyer @crimin4llyins4ne @cheerrioeoz @peachey-pie @scaleniusrm @simpinonyouz @lauraolar14 @nediks @ayamaiis @iheartlinds (unsure if y’all still wanted to be tagged again so i just did. but pls lmk if you wanna b removed 🙏🏼)

#moon-rivr #Spotify #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara angst #miguel o’hara spiderverse #miguel o’hara self insert #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel spider man 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #angst

[runawaymun]

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

thanks, @eowyn7023 also tagging: @polutrope because you sent me an ask about this a while ago and I just haven't had the spoons to respond until now, sorry! <3

Elrond in Valinor + Second Flight of the Noldor

so this stems from three possibly spicy Opinions I have about LOTR: 1) The Valar kind of suck, actually, and it was wrong of them to bring Elves to Valinor in the first place and it went directly against Eru's plan. 2) Valinor is kind of liminal and bad for you if you were born in Middle Earth 3) Elrond sailing (and staying) in Valinor is makes very little sense for him as a character, and is more about Jirt's wish fulfillment than it is good writing.

Obviously, unfortunately, due to the narrative, Elrond must sail at the end of LOTR. He needs to recuperate from the absolute havoc Vilya wreaked on his system, and he also needs to reunite with Cel and get some closure about a few things, like Celebrimbor's death, Gil-Galad's death, and his relationship with Elwing.

So Elrond sails, as he does. He reunites with Celebrian. He spends some time meeting his various family members and spends quite a lot of time with Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor. He has exactly one (1) talk with Elwing to ask her some questions and explain what became of Elros, but in my head he is not really interested in pursuing much of a relationship with her. Elwing respects that.

He and Celebrian work on healing their relationship and re-establishing intimacy.

Elrond slowly recovers from the damage Vilya did to him.

He might need to spend some time in Lorien actually. He is very good friends with Este and Nienna.

After a while though, things just don't feel right. Valinor feels very static and strange to him, and he doesn't really feel like he Fits. And that hurts because everyone is so glad to have him there and they expect that he's just as glad to be here as they are.

Also he really misses his kids, and wonders about his grandkids, and the Dunedain.

Eventually he starts connecting with more and more people who feel like they don't Fit. Mostly Noldor and the few Sindar that sailed. Many of them are still dealing with PTSD from Middle Earth and Beleriand, or with scars that refuse to heal. Many of them are just Restless. Most Vanyar do not understand this, and it's hard to talk about.

He and Cel begin work on a second Rivendell, and this keeps them both busy for a short time. He still doesn't feel Right though.

Eventually he starts experiencing like a reverse sea-longing and it gets more, and more, and more painful.

Finally, he talks it over with Celebrian. And they petition the Valar, who are not very happy to be petitioned. And then Elrond starts preparing to sail East.

Listen listen listen. Everything that Elrond has ever built, worked for, or loved is back in Middle Earth. It makes zero sense for him to be happy in Valinor. He aligns overwhelmingly with the Sindar and with the Dunedain in the books, and the Dunedain also consider him as one of them. Rivendell is there (he left it in the care of the Dunedain). Arwen and Aragorn are there. Gondor, and what is left of Elros are there. His grandchildren are there. Elladan and Elrohir are still there. The people left for him in Valinor are all people he has already mourned and found closure with.

He's not really made for Valinor anyway. He's made to watch over Middle Earth, to keep its lore and secrets, and to caretake Elros' line. He made a vow, once, and sure Aragorn and his descendants are doing just fine but he still feels half-whole without them.

And he's not the only person who doesn't feel Right in Valinor, who miss the mold and the rot and the fungi and the sheer diversity of life, and the Men!!! The humans!!! The normalcy of pain and suffering and scars and disabilities!

And so Elrond sails with Celebrian, and many of the Noldor say 'fuck it' and they go with him. They're tired and restless and have misgivings about the Valar anyway. A remnant returns to Middle Earth, and this time they go for love.

Elrond retakes his seat in Rivendell and the Dunedain rejoice that the eldest of their race, their most beloved uncle has come home. Celebrian reunites with Arwen, and meets a long line of adopted children that she never got to see, and meets Aragorn and her grandchildren.

They live through the ages, quietly doing what they have always done: living as watchers and caretakers, carefully preserving memories and lore and history.

Rivendell becomes a place that is both mythologized and startlingly real, where it is rumored that anyone who needs it will find help and sanctuary.

Many of the Noldor live in Rivendell, but some set up their own small kingdoms or simply live alongside the men and dwarves. They're finally there to guide and watch over the Secondborn, just as was intended in the Theme.

Eventually, of course, Elrond must grieve Arwen and Aragorn, but he's there for his grandchildren, and his great grandchildren, and his great grandchildren, and all of his family thereafter -- and in Arwen and Aragorn and their line, it almost feels like he is reunited with Elros again.

Elrond is there to help.

#<3 #listen i know part of Tolkien's Themes are magic leaving the world etc etc. but I don't like it #and especially for Elrond as a character it makes very little sense #elrond #celebrian #lotr #i do like other people's interpretations of Elrond in Valinor and I enjoy Elrond in Valinor fics! #but this is the one in my head that works best for me and how I see him

[aliorsboxostuff]

Hi! If your requests are open I have one! Just saw ATSV yesterday and its rotting my brain agsisghagdh anyways-

An M!Spider!Reader who is one of Miguel's trusted agents with a tendency to overwork himself to make sure that his teammates are kept safe and ignoring his own health in the process. This understandably makes Miguel very concerned but this man cannot healthily express this are you kidding? What I'm saying is classic troupe of patching you up while scolding you in Spanish and then maybe they kiss a little bit and well if you want to make it a little spicy I wont stop you >:]

Thank you very much! Genuinely makes my gay little heart happy when I see writers like you who exclusively write for gn/male readers, y'all are the backbone of the x reader community fr 💜

A/N: im so sorry this took so long this was months ago but a mf forgot and wow here i am yippee!!!! As usual, if yall find any spelling mistakes pls inform me as i’m always praciticing this damn 2nd language lmao. Lets see if my writing skills is still any good LOL enjoy!! <333

Careless 

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Soft!Miguel, slight OOC, patching up, healing fic, non-graphic description of wounds, mentions of blood and cuts 

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

Ever since the new guy joined the team, he quickly rose in the ranks and became Miguel’s right-hand man. He’d usually go on patrol, jumping from one universe to another with the man as they capture and contain anomalies like the bugs they are. Miguel puts his trust in him, well, as much trust as a man like Miguel can put in someone. But despite the short time the newbie has been in the Spider society, he has managed to capture Miguel and most of the Spider people's hearts so easily. 

He’s a comet that passes by the compound. Each time he returned from a mission, the spiders would gather around him, congratulating him on another successful mission and inviting him to drink or eat together.  A aswarm would always gather around the portal they knew he would come out from and each time, without fail, he would emerge to cheers and smiles. It wasn't like everyone else wasn't doing a good job, they were all doing what they were supposed to, but somehow the newbie was liked all around, solidifying Miguel’s slowly growing infatuation with him. 

But despite the trust and praises he gets, a spidey doesn't come home unscathed, not every time. Sometimes he’d come back from one of his solo missions with a broken rib or two, bruises in more places than necessary, a torn muscle here a twisted ankle there. He’d limp his way into the infirmary, an army of other spideys following him in worry yet he’d dismiss them easily with a simple wave and a; “It’s nothing guys, I’ll be fine,”

Miguel hates it.

Whenever the man goes on missions with the leader of the society, without fail, he will come home with nothing more than one or two bruises that would heal in a couple of hours if not minutes. Miguel would roll his shoulders back and the man would simply shake his head furiously like a dog before prancing to greet his waves of fans. Miguel didn't need to pay attention to him unless they were doing teamwork. He would run around by himself, track down the anomaly with him, and they would contain it easily and transfer it back just as easily. 

He might not look like it, but when Miguel brings a teammate with him on duo missions, he’s expected to cover their back and vice versa. Miguel will break any skull that dares to hurt his team and he hopes for the same response from his teammate. The newbie never disappoints. 

Miguel would find himself enraged, almost cornered by an anomaly, and there come’s Prince Charming with a devastating kick towards the anomaly’s side which sends it hurling into another building. Miguel appreciates their duo missions, the main reason he puts himself with the newbie. 

Not to mention, he makes a great team leader too. He’s carried out several missions with the younger ones, mainly Miles and Gwen, and despite it all, they always return successfully and with a snack in hand. When he goes on missions with Hobie, they’d somehow come back with a new intricate playlist created and when he goes on missions with Pavitr, they’d come back with pockets full of trinkets ready to give them to the other youngins. All in all, a solid team leader.

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

—

You were on a mission with Miles. One of your duo missions with the boy, rare considering Gwen usually tags along. But today she’s got a mission with Pavitr and Peni, which leaves you and Miles for some quality Dude Time. 

It was a sunny day in the universe Miles and you dropped in. As the two of you swing from building to building, talking about Miles’ thing with Gwen and laughing at how embarrassed he gets, continuing the topic to buying a new Lego set for Pavitr and Hobie as the two of you swung past a Lego shop, when suddenly the anomaly reveals itself.

Another variant of Doc Oct holding themselves up with their extended metal arms. You can handle a Doc Oct alone, and with Miles helping you, the mission was expected to be so easy you were already thinking about what to have for dinner. 

But things don't always go according to plan, does it?

It strikes 8 pm when Miguel gets a notif from Lyla that an arriving portal was opened into the containment site of the compound. The man clicks his tongue, dropping from his platform before making his way to the site. Every step he takes he leaves his foul mood like a repellent, making the other spidey avoid him, cutting the middle path of the other spideys like a blade. His scowl is not helping his case either way.

The last portal should've been at 6 pm.

The door slides open, and a slight hiss rings out into the room. Inside the evenly lit expanse of the room, he easily spots yours and Mile’s spider suits in between all the other anomaly's dingy outfits. Miguel takes a breath before he stalks towards the two men, their backs to him.

“Ugh, my rib is killing me,” You groan, pressing in the code to store the anomaly in its cell.

“You're telling me, this bruise is going to be a pain in the butt to heal,” Miles sighed, holding his left arm. “But if it weren't for you, man, I’d be dead meat,” 

“Oh come on Miles, none of us knew the guy would send a gas truck our way,” You scoff. The terminal beeps and the thrashing anomaly is contained. 

“The fact that it burned on its way towards us was also something we didn't expect.” Miles laughs at what you said as you find yourself cringing. You knew there were going to be burn marks on your leg.

“No, but seriously, thanks for covering me back there, I thought we’d-”

“You thought you’d what?” 

Miles practically jumps into your arms as the both of you screams. You shut your eyes and it seems like Mile’s did the same before a stern cough makes you peek through your eyelids. There, in front of you, stands a solid wall of muscle and anger. Miguel has his arms crossed, eyes so sharp it could cut a mountain in half. The slight scowl on his lips would be cute if it weren't for the pure bloodlust as he gazes down into you, making you gulp.

“Heeeeeey Miguel,” Your pathetic excuse of a smile was met with nothing but him deepening his frown. Okay alright yup.

Miles awkwardly scuffles down your arms. He coughs into his fist, pulling at the edge of his suit. “Hi there haha…”

Miguel stares. “The last arrival portal should've been at six.”

Not a sound from you or Miles. Miguel holds back a growl. 

“You two are late.”

“Right, ‘m sorry Miguel, I promise this would be the last time, it was just that- See me and Miles here; we didn't realize that this Doc Oct was gonna be slightly more insane than the others-” You ramble, Miles quickly nodding along. 

“And haha, well, one truck lead to another and next thing ya’ now, bam! We got uh… hurt,” A nervous chuckle left your lips. Miguel replies nothing.

“B-but! I covered Miles from the fire! So he only got a couple of bruises, I promise the kid is fine and it wasn't his fault either so let’s just-”

“Enough.” He barks. You practically clamped your mouth shut. 

The doors hisses open again and Gwen comes running in, worry on her face. She sighs in relief as he spots Miles hiding beside you. “Miles! Thank goodness you’re okay!” 

Miguel turns as she runs and wraps her arms around the boy. “You came back so late!”

“I’m sorry Gwen, things got a bit out of control,” Miles pats the girl back reassuringly. “I just got a bit beaten up, nothing I can't handle,” 

Gwen pulls back and grabs the boy's face before turning it left and right and up and down, her eyes scanning like a hawk. She deems it enough as she stops, hands firmly holding Miles’ arms. “You always say that,” She sighs. 

You can't help the small relieved smile on your lips as you watch the two teens catch up with each other before Miguel makes a gesture with his hand.

“Gwen, go take Morales into the infirmary.” He says as he nods to Lyla that popped up on his brace. “And make sure he doesn't get out of bed for the next two days.”

“What?! But it’s barely a scratch-” 

“Now, Morales.” The man stares them down until eventually, Miles relents with a sigh and lets the girl usher him into the Infirmary's direction, the two of them shuffling next to each other, Gwen's arm around Miles. 

You hear something along the lines of ‘detention’ from Gwen as she laughs before the door slides close, leaving you with an enraged lion in its territory. You gulp as Miguel fixes his red eyes on you.

“You. Come with me.” 

And that's how you find yourself walking down the halls of the many living quarters of the compound. You followed silently behind Miguel’s broad shoulders, in any other day you would find it hard to resist not ogling those massive arms, but tonight Miguel was practically a walking beacon of rage. The smallest misstep would make him burst and thats the last thing you want to happen. 

“Miguel, I'm sorry, okay?” You try, catching up to walk beside him. “I promise this will be the last time I’ll come back from a mission late, plus, I won't bring anyone else with me too if I ever do it again. I swear this won't hap-”

His sudden halt catches you off guard and you bump against him. You scratch the bridge of your nose with a slight frown from the impact. The dimly lit hallway made it a slight challenge to read the nameplate but you managed to make out ‘O’Hara’ and with that, your stomach drops.

“Um… Miguel, this isn't my room…” 

The door opens. The room is pitch black. 

Miguel makes his way inside. His red eye glows before he commands; “Sit.” 

Fear brought you to sit on his bed, not a crease in sight which only struck your fear deeper into you. You could hear your heartbeat, terrified for what's to come. The worst thing Miguel could do would probably chew you out in the comfort of his room, away from any possible witnesses, and then maybe take you out of commission for a while as your punishment. 

You gulp as the man sets something beside you. It was a box, hard to make out what it was but it seemed heavy. Miguel clawed and the large hand extends towards you and you screw your eyes shut, hell did you pray to any god that was willing to listen to you so please please please-

“Bring your face closer.” 

Huh?

Cautiously, you open your eyes to Miguel’s face inches away from you, a warm light bathes over his features, making the lines of worry and fear evident. “Let me see your wounds.” 

You blink, once, twice, owlishly, making the man before you sigh and cup your jaw softly. He turns your face to inspect it before he brings his other hand which wipes your fringe away from covering any other possible wounds. 

He hums. “Looks like just scratches.” 

The mystery box turns out to be a first aid kit. Miguel flicks it open and rummages around in it before he pulls a couple of bottles and bandages out. 

“Take off your suit top, we need to treat that burn before it gets worse.” He demands. You cough before awkwardly peeling off what's left of your suit before dropping it on the carpeted floor. You need to get that repaired.

You couldn't bear to meet Miguel's eyes. Not when he’s kneeled in front of you, his usually intimidating body looking small as he’s hunched over. He looks tired, his frown is a mixture of worry and annoyance, but there is something beneath it. Something you don't dare to think about but you know. You always knew. From the first day, you finally managed to see that crack in Miguel’s hardened exterior, you’ve been scared to make another move toward him. Behind this wall of a man, is a heart guarded with spikes and what he has in his eyes right now as he’s wrapping a cooling pad around your arm is something that petrifies you. 

“Next time you’ll be doing missions with me and me only. I won't be assigning you to any other spiders until you learn to take care of yourself,” He huffs, unveiling another roll of bandages.  He pulls at your shoulder which makes you turn slightly. 

"Fucking hell, ¿cómo puedes ser tan descuidado? You run around saving everyone else but who’s going to save you, huh?" He huffs, wrapping the last of the bandage slightly too tight which makes you wince. He notices but does nothing. 

Once again, he holds your chin between his fingers as your gazes suddenly meet. Miguel growls with how you won't meet his eyes, firmly pointed anywhere but into Miguel’s red eyes. He sighs before letting you go as he takes out some ointments. He puts the substance on your cheek and under your slowly blackening eye, then down your jaw where you know a pretty bad bruise taints your skin. You feel his movement slow before his hand rests on your nape, sending jolts of warmth through your body.

“Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate." His voice devastatingly soft. 

Confusion and a steady wave of feelings start at the bottom of your heart, which only worsens as you finally find the courage to look at Miguel. To your surprise, his eyes are wider than usual, pools of crimson oozing with care as he scans your features. His thumb rubs at the base of your skull. “I can't lose my right-hand man.” 

He sighs. “Please, necesito que estés seguro por mí,"

You inhale sharply. Without realizing it, he's practically inches away from you. Your heart races, beats out of your control when Miguel rubs your nape again. 

“Miguel…?” 

A beat passes. Silence. 

Before Miguel growls roughly and promptly stands, taking the med kit with him. He makes his way to what you assume was his wardrobe. Panic rises beside you, making you wave around your hands. “I- Um- Miguel please I didn't mean to- Oof!”

Something was thrown at you. Something soft and large and is this hit shirt and… boxers?! 

“Change your clothes. You can't sleep in those.” Miguel points out, his scowl now a pout on his lips. 

“But-”

“I'm not saying this twice.” He growls before he slides into the bathroom and leaves you in his bedroom along with the pile of his clothes in your arms. 

You slowly look down at what you're holding. Carefully, you slide off what's left of your suit and drop them in a discarded pile before pulling on Miguel's clothes. To no one's surprise, you're practically drowning in the shirt. His boxers barrel fits you and the first goes over your tighs easily. You feel smaller even for your height and stature, but it feels… safe. 

The door of the bathroom slides open to reveal Miguel standing with slightly damp hair as he's drying it off with a towel and in nothing but gray sweats. Something grows within you and it’s definitely something else besides your heart. 

“Ah, you're done,” He glances toward you before setting the towel down neatly. He saunters to the side of his large bed, pulling the covers off before sliding in. An arm keeps the cover slightly open, before he raises an obvious brow.

“Get in here and sleep,” He huffs. 

You jump and quickly slide beside Miguel, careful to keep an inch of a distance. But that was deemed unsuccessful when the man beside you pulled you to his side, and his arm wrapped protectively around your middle which made you drape your hand over his chest. Before you can squirm, he locks his chin over your head with a content sigh. 

Shit, he really is a giant lion. You sigh. 

“Sleep. You need your rest to heal.” Miguel’s voice purrs through you while you're practically glued to his side. You chuckle slightly before pressing a peck just below his jaw.

“You sleep too.” You smile. “Good night Miguel.” 

You hear Miguel hum before he presses his lips to your crown. “Good night.” 

Translations:

how can you be so careless? = cómo puedes ser tan descuidado

Take care, huh? Take care of yourself. = Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate.

I need you to be safe for me, = necesito que estés seguro por mí,

Reblogs are appreciated <3

#miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x m!reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff

[xxsugarbonesxx]

Librarian Miguel x Flower Shop Owner

tags: tooth rotting amounts of fluff and some suggestive bits. No one is spider man in this AU, mainly just back stories and character set up stuff :3 and no gender is specified for reader any1 can read it

hopefully this will be me getting back into writing since i took a break from it lol (this was done in 30-40 minutes at 2am so sorry if it isnt too high quality) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In the little rural town of Nueva, there was a library, it was owned and operated by the single hottest man in town, and probably the whole state, Miguel O’Hara. 

Miguel O’Hara was a simple man really, he ironed his clothes, did sudoku on the train and ate a bagel with light cream cheese, an assortment of raspberries, blackberries and blueberries every morning every day for breakfast. 

He took his coffee dark with the littlest splash of cream and one sugar cube. Two sugar cubes would be just reckless. Coffee could be substituted with Camellia flower tea when he was out of coffee, peppermint for when he had a migraine.

All the women in town would sing his praises to another. Little was known about him besides that after the death of his daughter he moved to Nueva and opened his library. In front of his library was a small community garden and a bench dedicated to his dear daughter by the double doors. 

No one brought it up, no one asked, and he liked it that way. He liked the simplicity of Nueva. The air was cleaner, the people there warmer and the ringing in his ears seemingly disappeared when he moved there. 

He liked to keep his library neat and tidy, he had plenty of rules set in place to follow…children's books in the front and adult books in the back. The spicer content was shelved by the cook books so no kids found them. You are to only use the various lamps in the library, never the big light. It totally ruined the cozy atmosphere he had set up. 

Jazz, Frank Sinatra, and Selena Quintanilla was the only music allowed to be played, he didn’t like any other types of music. Coffee was free as long as you returned your mug to the table his coffee maker was on once you were done. No talking louder than a whisper, and only pet the library cat if you had all your shots. That was mostly a joke, but Miguel didn’t want people who weren’t up to date on their immunizations touching his cat.

It was almost closing time, and there were only a few people left. The familiar cast of characters Miguel had come to know now wandering the maze of shelves. Ben Riley was using one of the community monitors. Sending emails back and forth to his girlfriend in Canada. Only god knew if she was real or not.

When Miguel asked why Ben just bought his own laptop or computer to converse with his girlfriend, Ben explained he didn’t want to go through the trouble of setting up a laptop when he could just walk to the library to use one for free.

Miguel couldn’t help but hold back the fattest eye roll known to man when he heard that.

Peter Parker was looking for cookbooks for the dinner he was gonna make to win his ex wife back. Stressing over the perfect dish to make as young Mayday Parker debated whether she wanted to check out GoodNight Moon or Skippyjon Jones for her bedtime story tonight.

Then there was Pavitr Prabhakar and Gayatri Singh. Debatably his most adorable regulars. Miguel would watch the two teenagers stumble through their awkward study dates, he couldn't help but feel the littlest bit proud of Pav when he finally worked up the courage and kissed her. 

But his favorite, hands down, was you. You owned the little flower shop across the street from his library next to the bakery. On the opening, you had brought him a bunch of sunflowers tied with a pearl white ribbon as a gift. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he was actually allergic to sunflowers and graciously took the generous gift with a stuffy nose and kind smile.

You would come waltzing in, batting your eyelashes like you were auditioning for a mascara commercial. At first he had no interest in romance, but you were just so…kind, caring, loving, compassionate. You were so slow and soft spoken, giving him the space he needed while he grieved and was there afterwards to hug him and dry his tears. 

At the beginning, you’d only stop by and help him in the library or check out a novel or two, but as you became a frequent visitor, you stopped coming just to help him…and started coming just to see him.

He remembered how one day, you had arrived at the library as usual. A perplexed look on your darling face with your hands behind your back. You had spent all of the night before carefully crafting a special bouquet of lilies and tulips. Making sure there wasn't anything in it he was allergic to.

After dancing around the subject, you had slowly confessed her feelings to him. 

The next hour was spent in the back room of the library. Feverishly groping another and kissing frantically, your glasses kept sliding against each other’s as you both ran to rip each other's clothes off another's bodies.

Miguel was still that simple man he was all those years ago when he moved to the sleepy town of Nueva. The idea of building a real relationship with someone scared him from how many times he'd been hurt in the past and the fresh wounds from the death of his child.

But now he has you. He has someone to come home to besides the empty walls of his little cottage home. He has a significant other to fill that void and to lift him up, someone to be his lock screen picture.

Someone to tell all the things he’s learned from the regulars at the library. He told you about Ben getting catfished, Peter winning MJ over with homemade ratatouille and a promise, about Pav and Gayatri’s kiss while the both of you snuggled up on the couch over a bottle of strawberry wine.

You'd both started the relationship a little rocky, not knowing whether this was right with the things Miguel was working through then. But it soon proved to be the best decision either of you could have made. 

He had your wedding picture next to Gabriela's school picture day portrait on his desk. 

His favorite parts of his day were when you’d walk from your shop to the library on your lunch break to eat together, and in the evenings when he'd read the book you were currently reading out loud to you in the evenings, before going to sleep together. 

He was still that simple man, but now he’d share his bagels with you. He’d offer to iron your clothes for you, and even when you didn’t understand, he showed you how to play sudoku on the long train rides. Even though you were just nodding along to hear him talk about something he enjoyed.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #2099<3 #spiderman 2099 #writing #across the spiderverse #fluff #miguel ohara fluff #just cutesy reader being cutesy w their man #tooth rotting fluff

[kyberblade]

Back To You - (Din x Reader) Epilogue/Prologue for Close To Home

A/N: IT IS HEREEEEEEE!!! So sorry it took so long. So much happens. I was going to divide this and then I thought, “Hmmmmm…. No.” As one does. Another note at the end to avoid spoilers. Seriously. Don’t read it until you’ve read the whole thing. You’ve been warned. I have spoken. This is the way. Yada yada yada. …..You just jumped forward and came back didn’t you? 🙄 Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

There are parts of this you won’t understand if you didn’t read the Dincember 2022 Drabble Carry You With Me, but they are very small mentions, you will be fine as a whole if you don’t want to read it. But why wouldn’t you? 🥺

(This takes place two years after the other one, and goes to the beginning-ish of episode 1/5 of TBoBF, Return of the Mandalorian.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, (Nobody touch me he’s still here okay?) and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 😬 Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Return of past characters. Tears. Shenanigans. Lots of banter. Throwback to chapter one with dialogue repeats but in the best™️ way, and copious amounts of me trying to work in back to you as a normal thing in a sentence bc why not.

Word count: 16,655 (I said what I said.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

And for @fordo-kixed-rex, you deserve so much more than a shoutout for reading all 75 million iterations of this massive chapter from start to finish, and helping me in between. You’re a real one, friend. This series would not have gotten this far without you.

Also a shoutout to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @littlemisspascal for being a sounding board for me over this whole process. (Also to @deceiver-of-gods for all of your help over all the chapters with the Mando’a. I hope I got it right in this one.)

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Xxx

Two years later….

Tatooine was bustling. As always. Vendors with their wares, smells and brilliant sights everywhere you turned. Something new and exciting to pull you in and suck all your credits dry just like the planet's heat stole every drop of moisture…. 

But it was all nothing without the kid. It was dull and drab without Grogu at your side. His soft babbles, the odd ‘Patu’ he’d throw at the next snack he’d like to steal…. 

Dank farrik! Turning away from the hanging frogs at the nearest vendor, you swiped at the most recent batch of tears rising to the surface. Sniffling loudly, you melted into the warm hand that came to rest on your back, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s okay, mesh’la. I miss him, too.” The modulated voice at your ear carried unspoken sorrow of its own, sadness it’d never dare to even whisper into the universe, lest that make it real. If he kept it hidden, secret…. Like his face, nothing in the galaxy could use it against him. Somehow it made him stronger. And you both resented that and wanted to squeeze the life out of him for it at the same time. 

“It’d be nice if you’d show it once and a while….” You grumbled, turning toward him but keeping your eyes cast down to stare at the sand.

His hand fell to his side slowly. “What?” Head tilting to the side as he peered down at you in question, barely any space left between you, it leaned the other way when you shook your head with a sarcastic grin.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Your eyes lifted up to meet his visor finally, squinting against the glare of the twin suns. “Got everything?”

Din nodded. “Almost. Just need the-”

His words were cut short when the satchel across his chest suddenly dropped to the ground, the strap cut inconspicuously by a passing Rhodian seeming to casually bump into the Mandalorian only moments before.

You turned to try and find the culprit but Din tugged on your upper arm. 

“Forget about him. He’s just the-” Both of you looked down at the ground to find the satchel missing, “-distraction.”

You smirked. “I see.”

As Din’s head began to swivel in search of the thief, you attempted to reach out through the crowd with the Force, searching for the familiar signature of the contents in the satchel.

“How did you not get an alert?”

Now your head was on a swivel. Directly to the Mandalorian. “A what?”

“You know.” He wiggled his fingers like Cara always did when referencing the Force. “Why didn’t you know?”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, looking back to the crowd. “It doesn’t work that way.” The world weary words you’d said a thousand times felt like a mantra at this point. Then after a moment you added, “I’m not a security system.”

“Well that would be handy,” Din said offhandedly, beginning to walk purposefully in the direction the two of you had come not minutes before.

Stumbling after him, your face scrunched like you’d eaten something sour, you pulled on his upper arm to try and turn him around, but it only stopped him, his head still on a swivel. “Wait, what?!”

Din sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. I’m just looking for the thief. That bag has something impor-”

“Your old armor, I know.” Din’s full attention was on you now, his head tilted slightly in question. “Everything has an energy, that’s a really simplified way of how the Force works. Right now I’m trying to track the signature of your armor.”

“What is it?” He asked hesitantly, his weight shifting to one side.

Smiling softly, you took a step forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him down a side alley toward where you felt the signature grow stronger. “Nothing but goodness, Man- Din. Light and strength.” You stumbled over his name, still not used to using his actual moniker in public.

He chuckled at your fumble, shaking his head in disbelief. “From that dingy old stuff?”

“It’s not the quality of the armor that I’m reading.” You looked at his visor over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “It’s the quality of the warrior who wore it.” Turning back forward to navigate between the street crowded with lifeforms, one side of your mouth lifted in amusement. “That type of thing leaves an impression.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he finally grumbled quietly. When you looked back at him once again, your brow arched higher than before, he huffed. “How did you know it was there?”

Smiling softly as you held the gaze of his visor, you turned back to face forward, moving a bit faster. “You’re about as subtle as your new armor.” Din let out a soft, annoyed groan. “I saw you packing it back in Peli’s hangar.”

“I can be subtle,” he groused, slowing his steps slightly.

With your own groan, you turned to face him with a toss of your head for emphasis. “Yes. So subtle, Mandalorian. My big, shiny tin can. Now come.” Grabbing his hand once again with both of yours, you began to walk backwards, pulling him along with you. “We have a thief to catch.”

The alley had quieted down, the masses of beings thinned out so it was basically only you and Din, and maybe a handful of beings milling about, using the cross way as a shortcut to somewhere else. No one was lingering, their faces streaking by as they hurried to move on with their day.

“Hold that thought.” Din pulled you to a stop, planting his feet as he turned his head toward a crate on his left. On top of the box sat his satchel, untouched, his armor still causing it to look awkward and lumpy. “We may have just lucked ou-”

A surge of panic behind you caused you to turn toward the source, a small figure darting out of your line of sight as a familiar small voice muttered, “Oh shi-” before spinning around in Din’s hold, his grip around their forearm holding them tight.

“Okay, you little nerf herder, nice try- Sola?” Din’s voice dropped on the name.

You turned to fully face the pair, eyes going wide on the small girl now a young adult, maybe twelve, possibly thirteen years old now. 

She looked between the two of you, her expression a mirror of your own, as her body deflated in Din’s hold, her weight going slack in his grip while she cried in disbelief, “It’s you?!”

You couldn’t help the highly intelligent thing that tumbled out of you next. “It’s you?!”

Sola sighed a sigh worthy of a Mandalorian before she grumbled, kicking one foot at the sand path of the alleyway. “I knew I recognized that armband.”

Reaching up, you traced over the ribbons on your left bicep with the tips of your fingers on your right hand, eyes darting down to look at it briefly before they pulled back up to level a stern glare on the girl.

Before anything else could be said, heavy footfalls came racing up behind your little gathering. A female stumbled the last few steps, coming to a stop and collapsing, slapping her hands onto her knees before you could see her face, struggling to catch her breath. You opened your mouth to greet the newcomer, but she held up one finger before you could utter a sound. 

Din finally muttered in disbelief, “Cara?”

Your head whipped over toward the figure, eyes wider still. “It’s you?!” A hand came up to rest on your forehead, massaging back and forth as if that would help things sink in and make more sense. Your brows practically knit together in confusion with this new information, one arching up as you stared at the woman. “I’m so confused.”

Standing up, with one last heavy breath, Cara offered the two of you a tired smile. “Following up a lead.”

She held up a hand to stop Din before he could even ask, her eyes closing in mock annoyance. “Long story.” She opened them once again to land directly on you with a wink as Din sighed in exasperation before her attention turned onto Sola, her hand falling to gesture to the adolescent before landing at her side with a graceless slap. “And this little womp rat stole my commlink.”

Din looked down at the girl, giving her arm still in his grip a little shake. “This is Sola.” 

The girl shrunk under the stare of three adults. 

Cara’s gaze flicked up towards his visor, almost accusingly. “Friend of yours?” You nodded, and she sighed, hands going to her hips, weight shifting to one side. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Sola,” you tried calmly, going over to grab Din’s satchel before it was forgotten in the chaos. “Explain, please.”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I just grabbed hers by mistake, that’s all.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Cara leveled a look on the girl, her tone dry. “Off my belt?”

Sola tried a grin. “Whoops?”

The Marshal lifted the look to Din. 

“Don’t do that to me,” he complained. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“Don’t even pretend to look at me next, Cara,” you held up your hand to stop her before she even tried. “I only taught her good things.”

Sola rolled her eyes and tried to tug out of Din’s hold, but the Mandalorian easily held her in place.

“Have a seat,” you offered sweetly, pulling the crate the bag had been on toward you with the Force, and giving her a nudge to sit. “Talk.”

She stared over at the wall behind you, grinning in disbelief. “It was a dare, okay?” Her eyes pulled up to meet yours, their hard stare melting slightly once they did, revealing something vulnerable, something broken. Her voice softened just slightly, but still held the mock vibrato she started out with, making you huff as she continued. “Some kids dared me to take someone’s bag, and I was just unlucky enough to choose you.”

“And my comlink?” Cara tried.

Sola turned to her with a cheesy grin. “That was just bad luck on your end.”

“I’ll show you bad luck,” Cara grumbled, stepping closer to the teen.

You stepped between them. “Cara.”

“What?” She barked, trying to peer over your shoulder at the girl before looking you in the eyes.

“No.”

“She stole-”

“She’s a kid,” you corrected. “Tell me you didn’t do dumb stuff when you were her age. Hell, you do dumb stuff now.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cara grumbled.

You smirked, arms crossing over your chest as your weight shifted to one leg. “Ah, but I travel with a Mandalorian. What’s your excuse?”

Cara scoffed. “I knew him first, if we’re going that route.”

“I’m right here,” Din said, somewhat offended, reaching out to gently push Sola down by the shoulder without a second glance when she went to stand up.

You kept your voice even, mildly distracted as you spoke somewhat flippantly. “Mandalorians who shot their partner in the leg don’t get to talk right now.”

“I didn’t shoot you!” He protested, voice going up at the end in agitation.

“You shot her?” Cara asked at the same time Din spoke, turning to look at him with raised brows.

“I didn’t shoot her!” Din corrected before Cara could even finish, his visor swiveling back to you. “It was a ricochet.” His head tilted to the right as he stared at you. “On Gideon’s ship. The bolt bounced off the droid when she launched at it, and-”

You waved your hand dismissively, gaze landing on nothing in particular across the street. “Same thing.”

“It is no-”

“Ugh!” Sola threw her head back and groaned, staring at the sky with wide eyes, her voice went up with each following word. “This is torture!” Her head lowered back to look between the three of you, eyes narrowed to slits before they fluttered shut and she heaved another heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk.” She leaned back on her palms on the crate, her face finally relaxing to something more neutral. “Just…. Stop whatever…. This,” she gestured vaguely with one hand while her nose scrunched up slightly in disgust, “is.”

You turned back to face her, nodding for her to go on, but Din interrupted.

“Later.”

You rolled your eyes as he waved his finger at you in admonishment before landing them back on the girl, smiling softly. “Go on, Sola.”

She hesitated before taking a quick breath and letting it all out on an exhale, speaking quickly. “My parents are diplomats from a planet in the Mid Rim.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid!”

Sola glared at you, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath before speaking overly clearly the rest of her explanation. “We’re here to broker peace between the different ruling houses and our world.”

“Hey, if you’re going to have an attitude, we can just leave,” you warned.

“Great!” Sola beamed. “Bye!” She went to rise from the crate but both Din and Cara pushed down on a shoulder on each side respectively, earning a soft oomph! from the teen. 

She sighed resignedly before going on. “But as you can probably guess, that goes as smooth as sand in a hyperdrive.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not allowed to do anything. I have to keep up appearances, and stay inside most of the time now because we have gotten death threats after a deal gone bad recently.”

Din visibly stiffened beside her, Cara, too. A chill ran up your spine as she continued.

As she relaxed further back into the crate, her words seemed almost lazy, lackadaisical. “So I started sneaking out. Nothing major, just needed some fresh air, well, it’s Tatooine, so, air.” Her tone went rigid with her posture, the spark in her fading to a dull ember as her volume faded to a mere murmur. Her index finger traced lines along her knee as her eyes followed the invisible trails it made. “Then I met them.”

“Who?”

Sola met your eyes, almost startled when you asked, like she’d forgotten people were listening. She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes dropping back down to her lap, her tone still soft. “Doesn’t matter. A group of kids. They do petty crimes and stuff, I wasn’t going to do anything, but they said they were going to tell the people who had been sending death threats how I was sneaking in and out at night.” Her hand stilled, then began poking at the ankle of her foot tucked up under her absently, her eyes cast down at the ground. “They had been watching me, I guess. Let them know all our weak points in security. If I didn’t do a job for them, then they’d tell….”

“And one job turned into more….”

She nodded at your comment. Her eyes flickering up to meet yours for only a second before they pulled down again.

“Why didn’t you just tell your parents and beef up security?” Din’s voice was in planning mode.

Sola peered up at him, squinting against the suns’ light. “And prove I’d let them down?” She looked down at her lap, fiddling her thumbs. “Sneaking around, been committing petty crimes? Would you have done that?”

Din looked at the ground, his voice quiet. “Probably not.”

“Give me my comlink,” Cara said, holding out her hand toward the girl.

You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Really, Cara? You hear all that and you’re still banging on about your damned-”

Once the device was in her hand, she took a few steps away and spoke into it in a professional voice. “This is Marshal Dune. Please call off the search. It wasn’t stolen, I just dropped it. Sorry for the confusion.” A male voice you couldn’t quite make out garbled over static on the other end. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Cara replied, turning to face the three of you. “Also, I’m going to take off the rest of the day. Found some booths I want to wander through. We’ll pick up our meeting tomorrow. Yeah. See you then.”

She made her way back over, clipping the comlink to her belt. “I just bought us about twelve hours. What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Sola looked between the three of you with wide eyes.

You smiled. Her gaze was up and off the ground for the first time this conversation. And it was full of hope. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling gently. “Nobody messes with a member of our family and gets away with it.” Sola grinned at your words. You’d do pretty much anything to keep it there. “Now, let’s go scare some thugs, shall we?”

Xxx

“Now, I know that you packed it,” you said, standing in the fresher of the Crest, voice jiggling as you hopped slightly to pull the armor higher up your chest. “But I don’t know why.”

“Oh, the Jedi is stumped, is she?” Din’s sarcastic amusement was muted through the door, making you roll your eyes. 

Setting your weight to one hip, you pressed the button, and the durasteel barrier hissed open to reveal your Mandalorian leaning against the frame. His arms across his chest as he waited for you, his posture easy and relaxed, he looked like a growth on the walls of his ship.

Cara and Sola were out in the hangar with Peli, their voices faintly heard along with the annoyed bleeps and bloops of R5 as they echoed off the stone walls and up the open ramp. 

“Not stumped,” you countered quickly, walking around him to the middle of the cargo hold as you pulled your gloves on, chin held high as you chose your next words with care. His visor followed you as you went. “Just…. Curious.” You finally landed on with a huff, looking down at your hands as they fiddled mindlessly before adding on a mumbled, “And I’m not a Jedi.”

Din pushed off the wall, his head shaking gently in disbelief as he walked toward you slowly. “I was going to have Boba melt it down and forge it into something better.” He stopped somewhere behind you. You were purposely not paying attention, trying not to get distracted and make sure your armor was set up correctly, only faintly registering the absence of the soft thud of his boots on the metallic floor of the Crest right behind you before he went on. “I don’t know where the armorer is right now, and it’s not full beskar anyway, so any smith could do it, but I trust him.”

“Something better?” You turned to face him, head tilted to the side as you clicked your vambraces into place, their gears whirring to life. Stumbling back an inch as you startled, his chest plate brushing against your nose he was so close, you reached out to swat his arm lightly in annoyance, muttering a Don’t do that and shaking your hand out to the side with a grimace after it pinged off his beskar. Craning your head back to look up at him properly, you couldn’t help the small grin when you found him already peering down at you. “Like what?”

Din’s head tilted just so to the right. “Something for you.” He didn’t miss a beat. 

Your eyes widened slightly before they narrowed to slits. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He was smiling. You could tell by the lilt in his voice as he leaned into the tilt of his head, his body following and started down the ramp. “You know me so well.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his cape. “Nu-uh. Not so fast, Tin Can. Hold up.” Pulling him back to you, though he gave very little resistance, you leaned around to look into his visor when he was a few inches away, his hands on his hips in mock annoyance. “You don’t have to do that.” Your voice had gone soft. He turned to face you fully. “I know that armor is important to you.”

“So are you.”

You grinned. “Smooth, Shiny. Real smooth.”

Din shrugged one shoulder, his hands falling to rest at his sides loosely. “I have my moments.”

You nodded, starting down the ramp, and talking over your shoulder. “And they are few and far between.”

Din scoffed. “Lucky for you. You couldn’t handle me at full throttle.”

Grinning, you looked down at your vambraces and twisted them a bit. “That sounded like a threat.”

“It’s whatever you wanted it to be, mesh’la.”

“You look like a Mando.” Sola’s voice pulled your attention away from the man at your back before you could reply. 

“What? In beskar?” You gestured to the armor down your body. “No.”

The young girl rolled her eyes at you.

Grinning, you reached up to adjust your scarf tucked in to make the armor fit a bit better, and noticed her posture go rigid.

“You kept it,” she mumbled, pointing lamely toward the blue material around your neck.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just….” She pulled at her flowing poncho, revealing her bright pink scarf, still vivid as ever, tucked away underneath, close to her heart. “I have mine, too,” she amended softly. “I keep it hidden so it doesn’t get dirty or torn.”

“Kind of like my armband….” You mumbled, closing the last few steps between you before reaching out to softly roll the fabric of her scarf between your thumb and index finger as she traced the ribbon on your bicep with the tips of her own.

“I still have no idea what hyperspace looks like,” she mused, staring at the glittering fabric with a sad smile. “I was so little when we came here, and my parents wouldn’t let me anywhere near a cockpit. I’ve only ever been in a cabin while the ship was moving. No viewports….” She met your eyes again, hand falling to her side. “Supposedly we flew beside some purrgil and even then they wouldn’t let me look.”

Letting your own hand fall to your side, fiddling with the air aimlessly, you held her gaze. “Why not?”

Sola shrugged. “Not sure. They said something about safety at the time, and I just never pressed it, but now it just feels suffocating.”

“I know it’s annoying,” Din chimed in softly from behind you, his shadow looming over the young girl in the dying sun’s light, “but I would give anything to have my parents be overbearing one more time.”

Sola’s eyes flew up to the Mandalorian. “What happened to them?”

“A story for another time,” he said stoically, turning to the right and going deeper into the hangar. “Let’s confirm the plan.”

You turned with Cara and Sola on your left to head that way, Peli falling in step on your right as the droids followed along behind.

“They aren’t around anymore. It happened when he was very young, about the same age as when we met you. That’s why he became a Mandalorian. That’s all I’ll say,” you offered quietly. “The rest is his story to tell.”

The first stars were twinkling overhead as the sky said good night in brilliant shades of red and orange. 

Once your party had circled around one of Peli’s many cluttered tables off to the side, the top of it littered with ship parts, Din turned to you. 

“Gar beskar'gam jate slanar?” (“Your armor good to go?”)

You nodded. “Elek. An jate.” (“Yes. All good.”)

Sola turned her head slowly up toward Cara, one brow arched in confusion.

The Marshal slowly shook her head, eyes closed. “They do this….”

“Do what?” You asked, brows knit toward your friend.

Cara leveled you with a look. “Start speaking in any one of a thousand languages none of the rest of us know.”

R5 started beeping animatedly, trilling as he wheeled back and forth on his treads excitedly, and ended on a raspberry, making you and Peli laugh.

“Oh, great,” Cara rolled her eyes, “even the droid’s are in on it.”

BD and Treadwell made their way into the circle, the Pit droids not far behind, all of them chattering away as they approached you until Din sent a blaster shot pinging off of a piece of scrap pipe over in a corner.

The droids all screeched before going silent, freezing in their steps as Peli cried in protest, “Hey! Watch it!”

“Yeah, we don’t want another ricochet,” you mumbled, adjusting your armor for no good reason besides looking down and away from his judgemental visor.

Cara and Sola snickered from their spots across the table from you, the weight of Din’s stare beside you nothing short of stifling.

“If you stare any louder, Din, they may ask you to be quiet all the way on Coruscant,” you muttered quietly, adjusting your vambraces needlessly for the umpteenth time to hide the growing smirk across your face.

“I’ll just tell them it’s because of you, they'll understand. Garner sympathy.”

Only your eyes lifted up to glare daggers at his visor, his head tilting to the side teasingly as he held your gaze.

“The plan?” You groused, looking across the table with a sigh as your weight shifted to one side - away from the Mandalorian. 

His tone was light, as if it held a smile, while he laid out the steps of the plan one more time. “Sola said they would be meeting her back at the market in an hour. She meets them as planned. The three of us follow her, and stick around in the shadows, as inconspicuously as possible-”

“Says the man who’s a walking mirror.”

Din didn’t even bother to look at you, only sighing at your remark, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he went on. “From there, we follow them back to their base of operations. From what we’ve heard, shouldn’t be too hard to get into. We get in, cause a little chaos, get them to release Sola from this…. Contract, then we leave as quietly as we came.”

“No one dies.”

Cara nodded at your words, Din nodding once in agreement, his body going stiff at your next statement. 

“Even if we run into a Jawa.”

He took a deep breath to begin to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him, mocking his words from earlier.

“Later.”

Xxx

Spotting the culprits was easy enough. They weren’t sly about anything as they paraded through the streets with their puffed up chests, smirking as people scattered from them should they get too close. They hassled a vendor or two, shaking them down for a payout, and Cara grumbled beside you, gripping the buckle that showed she was a Marshal tightly through her poncho she wore to conceal it.

Before you could do anything, Din was hot on their heels, handing the vendors a stack of credits to make reparations as soon as the thugs’ backs were turned. They would try and insist he keep it, lightly shoving the money back into his hands, but Din somehow managed to sweet talk them into accepting every time, his head ducked down slightly, hand over theirs in a calming gesture. You wished you could hear what he said.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Cara muttered offhandedly. “Caring, soft almost. It looks good on him.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed softly. “That’s how he is with the kid. Grogu brought out a side of him I don’t think would have seen the light of day otherwise.”

She elbowed you. “Oh, I dunno. You’re pretty persuasive. Think it’d’ve come out eventually.”

You slid only your eyes sideways to look at her. “Why must you shit talk me?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll simply fade away. It gives me sustenance. I could go days without food, but teasing you? That simply wouldn’t do.”

Turning your head to peer at her incredulously, you spoke in a low voice after a long moment of silence. “I’m going to go stand over there,” you pointed behind you, “as far away from you as possible right now.”

Cara scoffed. “Good. Go. Your beskar'gam is drawing too much attention, anyway.”

With a grin, you began walking backwards down the street, keeping to the shadows. “Aw, you paid attention.”

Your friend glared at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A shit eating grin was across your face. “You’re speaking Mando’a….”

Cara huffed, her attention turning back to the street as she mumbled, “Last time I make that mistake.”

Stopping short, you stood up straight. “Aw, don’t be afraid to show your feelings, Cara. Feelings are a good thing. They make us human-”

“If you don’t stop talking-”

“Are you two done?” Din’s voice across the alley from the two of you pulled both sets of eyes his way. “They left a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, what with your bickering.” His head swiveled between you and the Marshal, judgment heavy through his visor. “Sola is with them, I gave her a tracker, slipped it to her when no one was looking while someone,” he looked at you pointedly, “wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was paying attention,” you groused, voice lowering as you kicked at the sand below your feet. “Just not to that.”

“She was talking about you,” Cara tattled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight, stretching like a loth cat.

“So were you!” You protested, also stepping into the nightlight, making Cara squint as she held up a hand as if to block the glare of the reflection off your armor. Swatting her hand down, you knit your brows at her. “It’s not that bright out here, don’t be dramatic.”

“Children. I’m surrounded by literal children,” Din muttered, turning and walking away exasperatedly.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you grumbled, following after him.

“Then prove me wrong,” he called over his shoulder. “Right now you’re worse than Grogu.” You gasped. “When he needs a nap.” Cara gasped. “And he’s hungry.” You both gasped.

“I take it all back,” Cara stormed past Din, her words brusque and aloof. “You’re the meanest person I know.”

“Person?” Your tone was incredulous as you sped up to fall in step with her ahead of the Mandalorian, head swiveling to land on him with a sly smirk over your next word. “Droid.”

Din stopped in his tracks and sighed, head tilting back to the sky just slightly with a gentle shake. “Oh, this mission is off to a great start.”

When both you and Cara kept walking ahead of him, the bounty hunter finally called out on a hiss, “Hey! Are you two done?”

“I don’t know, are we?” You turned on your heel to face him, hands on your hips as you planted your feet and arched your brows in question, almost accusingly. 

Din bit his tongue before he turned this into a whole something else before this entire endeavor even got off the ground…. again. For the third? fourth? time. He’d lost track of how many times they’d gotten off track in the last five minutes alone, let alone today as a whole.

With a jut of his thumb to his left down a narrow alley, he tilted his head that way for emphasis. “Thugs’re that way.” 

Both you and Cara hesitated for only a moment, weight shifting slightly from side to side before you dropped your hands from your hips with a huff and headed toward the alley, your Marshal friend in tow.

As you passed by Din, he muttered a low and amused, “Oh wise one.”

“I’ll tell Sola you said so,” you shot back in a low murmur. “She already knows I’m the smart one.” The alley was so small you had to form a single file line, and somehow you were in the front with Cara behind you, and Din pulling up the back. 

“She just lets you think that’s what she thinks,” Cara hummed. “We all know it’s me.”

Din snorted. “It’s neither of you.” He shook his head at the two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him over their shoulders as they came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “I’m the one with the map and the tracker, remember?” He tapped the right side of his helmet with his index finger.

“Oh, will you just get in front and lead, you overgrown Tin Can?!” You hissed, flattening yourself against the wall to let him pass, the heat of the day still clinging to the wall at your back.

Cara rolled her eyes as she squished herself, allowing him through, but it was still a tight fit all around between the three of you. When Din passed her, his back against the opposing wall, she grimaced though he moved quickly. “Will you just get out of my face, Shiny?”

“What, you mean you don’t want to get to know me this well?” Din relaxed his weight a little, leaning into her slightly. “I thought we were friends.”

Cara shoved him with one arm toward you, making him laugh as he kept going, stumbling slightly from the impact. “We won’t be if you keep on that thread of conversation, Mando.”

Din stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head sideways as he muttered softly, “Hi, mesh’la.” Leaning his forehead into yours, he chuckled softly at Cara’s over exaggerated gag in reaction.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you grumbled, fisting one hand into his cowl as you ignored Cara’s groans, elbowing her in the ribs with your free arm when she continued.

“What was that for?!” She cried in protest.

“Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean you need to moan about it.”

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked away at the wall across from her. “Go be happy somewhere else. We have a job to do.”

Din sighed. “She’s right,” and pushed off the wall to get in front.

You held on to his cape from behind him. “No. No, she’s never right.” Cara landed a swift kick to the back of your boot. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being so wrong all the time!”

“Don’t make me speak Mando’a to you,” you grumbled. “Or how about Huttese? I also know Shyriiwook now, too.”

“How about you speak silence.”

Din snorted at the Marshal’s words from his spot in front of you, Cara huffing out a laugh from behind.

“When all of this is over, you both are gonna pay.”

“You don’t scare me,” Cara scoffed.

Looking over your shoulder, you arched a brow, holding up one hand by your face and wiggling your fingers. “Well maybe I should.”

Her face went pale, her steps faltering slightly as understanding dawned on her features. “You don’t scare me,” she repeated, her voice softer after she swallowed roughly.

You chuckled, turning back to face Din’s cape once again. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before you could answer, Din cut in, without bothering to turn around, “It's just her way of threatening to trip you. Don’t read into it too much.”

He no sooner said that than he was stumbling forward down the alley, reaching out to brace himself on the walls with his forearms.

“Look at that? My boot also works in mysterious ways.”

“What happened?” Cara asked, oblivious to you tripping Din with the toe of your shoe.

“Gravity. Don’t read too much into it.”

Grinning up at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet where he had stopped in front of you, you let go of his cape still in your grip. “Careful, Din. There’s gravity there.”

“What did he even trip on?” Cara’s voice was incredulous.

“Air? His ego? Pride…. The options are endless….”

“The foot of an over eager Jedi that’s about to be in her mouth if she keeps talking,” Din hissed, barely looking over his shoulder at the two of you, arms falling from the walls to his sides.

“How do you mean?” You scoffed, following after him as he began to move down the alley again.

“We’re here,” he said with a flourish, the small avenue opening up to a wide street brightly lit with several buildings that dead ended down on the right. With a swooping gesture, he moved to the left, making room for the two of you to step forward beside him, his visor following you closely before tilting to the side. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s right,” Cara mused quietly. “Your ego is big enough for all three of us to trip on.”

“At least it’s well deserved,” Din groused. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“You followed a map. That was attached to a tracker. A blindfolded bantha wouldn’t have had a much more difficult time….” You said offhandedly, surveying the area.

Din stared at you for a long moment. “That armor makes you mean,” he grumbled.

“It makes me wonderful,” you countered, eyes across the street on a conspicuous crate, narrowing when it jostled slightly. “You’re just jealous that it looks better on me than it ever did on you.”

“Yeah. That’s it,” Din agreed sarcastically, his weight shifting to one side as he followed your line of sight. Pressing the side of his helmet, he immediately went into planning mode. “I’ve got two heat signatures.”

“Matches up with what I’m sensing. Two life forms. A whole mess more inside.” You took your blaster from its holster, its gears whirring to life. “Everyone set to stun?”

Hums of agreement came back at you along with nods in your peripheral.

“I’ll go in on the right while you two take care of whoever is lurking over there,” Cara gestured across the street with her blaster. “Sneak in that side door and start clearing until I find Sola and slip her a blaster, then we’ll find this boss.”

“I’m in,” you agreed, while Din nodded in agreement beside you. “Let’s go, Tin Can. We have some thugs we need to introduce to beskar.”

Xxx

Storming the place was easy. These thieves didn’t know the first thing about defending their home base.

Getting out on the other hand…. That was proving to be more difficult.

You pulled up behind a wall, tucking your arms into your chest as tightly as possible to make yourself a smaller target, your blaster held between both hands at the ready.

“You said this would be easy!” Din yelled from his mirror position across the hall. Well, almost mirror. He leaned on one shoulder, blaster held up in the opposite hand near his head. His whole body looked just on this side of casual. 

“I said no such thing. You did,” you countered, trying to mimic his posture subtly. “And on that note, Cara was the one who said you and I should go in together, so this is all-”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Cara’s voice carried from down the hall, the first word elongated as she slid across the floor on her hip to avoid flying blaster bolts to finally land next to you before popping up. “Don’t you dare drag me into this lovers tiff. Nuh-uh.”

Both you and Din spoke in tandem, “This isn’t-”, “We’re not-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sola said dismissively, jogging up easily behind Din, a singe mark on the shoulder of her poncho. 

Din stood up straight in an instant, took her arm in his hold gently to examine it, turning her every which way to get a better look. “What happened?”

“Told the boss I quit.” She grinned proudly before it melted into a grimace. “He didn’t take it so well.”

Blaster bolts zinged down the hall between the four of you, streaking the air in vibrant shades of purple and red, even an errant green here and there.

“If I could just use my saber-” you started, cut off by the unanimous voices of your friends.

“No!”

Letting your head lull back against the wall with a gentle thump, you rolled it in aggravation before facing the others again. “And why not?! I’ve saved your asses so many times!”

“Close quarters!” Cara was gesturing with her hands while she spoke, referencing the hall. “Too many people!” She gestured between the four of you. “Laser sword very bright! Very hot!”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. “I singed one corner of your tunic. One!”

“And that was one too many,” Din countered, popping around the corner to let off a barrage of shots before coming back for safety.

“This was my favorite,” Cara said forlornly, looking down at the smoldering fabric. 

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“No you won’t,” Cara scoffed. “You can’t afford my tastes-”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here!” Sola’s annoyed voice rang out louder than the blaster fire, pulling all three gazes her way. 

Din was the first to break, turning back to lay down cover fire once again around the corner. “Kid’s right,” he grunted, before letting off a shot that was accompanied by a pained scream at the end of the hall.

“I thought we were set to stun?” You hissed.

Din looked down at his blaster and shrugged meekly, flipping it back to stun. “Sorry. Old habits….”

“I know I am,” Sola said matter of factly, pulling you back to the topic at hand. “Now what’s the plan?”

Stepping a little closer to the corner you were tucked behind, you holstered your blaster. “The plan is for you all to eat your words tonight.”

“What are you doing?” Cara’s worried tone sounded at your back, Din’s incredulous one to your left. “Mesh’la, come on, don’t do something-”

“To save our skins?” You finished for him, looking up into his visor with a determined glint in your eye. “Watch me.”

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stepped out into the hall where the blaster fire had died down just slightly. The few earrent bolts bounced away from you as if they were hitting a force field. Confused whispers from the enemy preceded a pickup in the rapid fire, bolts flying at a new frenzy, none of which came anywhere close to touching you or your friends.

Lifting your hands in front of you, the bolts began to stop, hovering in mid air inches from your face, your hands, some several feet from you. The room glowed with multi-colored plasma bolts hovering above the floor. As the shots died out, silence filling in the blanks left behind, the corner of your mouth twitched up in an amused smirk.

With a small twitch of your index finger, all their blasters were disabled with a tink. 

When you opened your eyes, the blaster bolts that hung suspended all immediately flew the other way, back toward the senders, but in such a way that they wouldn’t hit anybody. 

Within an instant the group of thieves at the end of the hall were left cowering, curled away from the stranger approaching them from the opposite end of the hall. Some blinked wide eyes while others scrambled back, all of them surrounded by smoke swirling around from the black scorches left behind from the blaster bolts.

“I think we win,” you said calmly, walking toward them slowly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” One rogue thief said, jumping to his feet, blaster aimed at you.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, not even looking at him.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he looked at his blaster in confusion, pulling the trigger a few more times before shaking it incessantly. “Oh, well.” He shrugged. “I have this.” He pulled a spare from the back of his pants.

In two seconds flat Din had stepped forward and shot him with a stun bolt, dropping him to the ground.

“Like I said,” you pulled the active blaster to you with the Force, disengaging the firing mechanism like you had the others before tucking it into the back of your own pants. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t need another one,” Din groaned. “That makes what, seven now?”

You scoffed. “Not nearly.” With a dry chuckle, you shook your head. “Try three.”

“Including the knife?”

“Oh, yeah! The knife. No, that’s four.”

“Guys!” Cara cried, walking up to stand on the other side of you. “Seriously?”

“What?” You looked at her a moment before cutting your eyes toward the thieves still looking on in silence. “I’m just recounting the weapons I’ve won from our various missions! I see something I like, I take it.”

“These guys don’t care.” Cara gestured to them with her blaster.

“No…. But I do.” You turned to look at the punks with a broad grin. “And something tells me they want to keep me really happy. Right?”

They all nodded vigorously. All but one. He got to his feet as he said, “Oh, kark this!” He was no sooner on his feet than Din had hit him with a stun bolt, dropping him into a heap of limbs where he stood.

“At least you remembered to use stun this time,” you threw over your shoulder towards Din, never looking away from the band of thieves still looking on wide eyed at your little party of four.

“Yeah…. But I’ve been known to forget things real fast,” Din mumbled, shifting his weight just slightly to rest easily on one leg. The way he held his blaster would make anyone think he’d gone soft, but you knew if someone made a wrong move, they’d be down in an instant.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” Cara stepped forward, her Marshal voice in full swing. “Sola over here is out. I don’t wanna hear of any of you within spitting distance of her ever again, do you hear me?”

Most of them nodded, wide eyed at the Marshal. All but one. It’s always one, you thought with a smile and gentle shake of your head. 

“And what’re you gonna do about it? Marshal?” The way the punk said her name dripped with so much sarcasm and venom, you were surprised Cara was still standing. If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now. “You don’t even live here, so how are you going to enforce anything?”

To his credit, he looked slightly afraid when you and Din took measured steps forward while Cara spoke.

“I have friends all over. I don’t think you want to find out just how far my reach can go…. Young man.”

Cara winced slightly on the last words and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing. The way her eyes darted over to you, however briefly, with a mighty rise and fall of her shoulders told you she knew she’d never hear the end of this.

He scoffed. “Like I’d believe any of that.”

“But you’d believe blaster bolts levitating in space then flying the wrong way?” You challenged, taking another small step forward. 

The kid scoffed again.

“You believe this?” Din was striding forward, his vambraces whirring to life as the flame thrower charged up.

Reaching out with the Force, you disengaged his vambrace as the wall of fire just started to lick at the toes of the boots of the insolent kid.

“Not now, Mando. I think he gets it.” Shooting your eyes over to the kid before looking back into his visor, you saw him glance over to find the teen cowering behind the others, mumbling apologies.

Din strode over to you, keeping his body facing the group of adolescents to make them think he was still a threat, which he was, but you knew him well enough to know he was looking at you now and not them, his head turned just slightly.

“Turning off my vambraces now, huh?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You shouldn’t be frying teenagers, Din. It’s not nice.”

Leaning closer to your ear, his voice hummed through the modulator, something in his tone different this time. “Later,” he promised again.

You grinned, winking at Cara as she rolled her eyes and walked off with an over dramatically gagging Sola. “Can’t wait.”

Xxx

Back at the hangar, the four of you tried to move as quietly as possible, to not wake a sleeping Peli. 

“I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I could ever repay you-”

Placing your hand on Sola’s shoulder, you smiled down at her when her big eyes looked up your way. So much like the first time you met her all those years ago. “There’s nothing to thank. That’s just what families do.”

“We help each other,” Cara agreed, stepping up behind Sola and putting her arm around her shoulders. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she added with a grin, “And yeah, sometimes we want to murder each other, too, but….” She looked at Din. “It comes and goes.”

“Mostly comes,” the Mandalorian muttered, adjusting his belt before walking off toward the ramp of the Crest. He stopped at the foot of it, withdrawing a vibroblade from his boot before he turned around and walked back. “Hey, kid.” He offered Sola the blade. “Take care of yourself.”

“You bet I will,” she mumbled around a grin, flipping the blade in her palm with expert precision that had your brow arching. Upon closer inspection, she saw a mudhorn upon the hilt. “That’s the same symbol that’s on your armor….” She looked over at your saber. “And your….” 

“Like I said,” you pulled her into a hug. “We take care of family.”

“Where’s my mudhorn?” Cara groused.

Din extended a blaster with a freshly etched mudhorn he had tucked into the back of his belt to Sola as he looked at Cara, head tilted just so. “Hidden with your act of valor. Go find it.”

“You’re mean,” Cara shoved his shoulder.

“You’d get tired of us anyway,” you mused in response to Cara, wrapping your arms around Din’s waist in what seemed an innocent manner, then lightly pinching his side in admonishment, smiling at his slight groan in response. Before he could get his own arm around your waist in retaliation, you pinned it to his side with the Force, smiling up at him smugly when he grunted in unamusement. 

“I already have,” she agreed, looking down her nose at the two of you.

“No you haven’t,” Din countered tiredly as he turned back toward the ship, heading up the ramp.

“What do you know?” She called after him.

“Everything!” His voice came from inside the ship overlapping your muttered, “Nothing.”

“Not enough,” you amended with a grin, meeting Cara’s eye as she returned your smile. “He doesn’t know nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I love teaching, then.” She laughed, offering you a hug before she turned to leave the hangar. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You coming kid?”

Sola hesitated in her spot in front of you. “But I don’t…. I don’t wear armor.”

“Verd'ika….” You reached out and rested your hand on her shoulder. “Ad’ika. Cyare'se. Daworir’ika. Ka’ra’ika…. Almost all of my nicknames for you had something to do with little.” (“Little soldier. Little one. Loved ones. Little stink. Little star.”)

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can see that,” you smiled softly. “Tal tomad.”

She pulled a face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Blood ally.” You reached out and pinched her scarf between your finger tips. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“What…. What does that mean?”

You smiled. “I need to come with a protocol droid….”  She laughed. “Warrior greater than armor. It means armor isn’t everything.” Moving your hand from her scarf to rest on her shoulder once again, you felt Din come to stand behind you, his reflection beginning to morph in Sola’s watering eyes. “It’s who wears it.” 

Xxx

As you watched Cara and Sola walk out of the hangar, Din pulled you to the side gently.

“Speaking of armor, you don’t have any now, either.”

Looking down at the armor still very much on your frame, you looked up at his visor and blinked at him once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He shifted his weight, hands resting on his belt in his default I already explained this pose. “I’m about to meet up with Boba in a few minutes. Need the armor so I can give it to him.”

You matched his posture, ignoring his indignant head roll. “Oh right. For this super secret thing for me I can’t know about.”

Din nodded once. “You got it.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned and made your way up the ramp of the Crest, not bothering to turn around as you grumbled, “You’re awful.”

“I know.” His tone was nothing short of beaming.

Xxx

The next day, the two of you were up with the suns and beginning work on the Crest with a handful of Peli’s droids. 

The woman herself had appeared after a while, but she obviously was not intended for morning hours.

Peli had disappeared into the shaded depths of the hangar, citing paperwork of some sort, but her snores could be heard from the main landing area. 

One thing led to another, and the work on the ship was forgotten in favor of brushing up on footwork with two chosen weapons.

The hanger sung with the clashing of beskar on kyber, his spear standing resilient against your purple blade.

The pit droids were hard at work on the Crest to try and cover up the cacophony of battle sounds rising up into the air.

As it hit a new fever pitch, you and Din drawing close together after some particularly fancy footwork, the glow of kyber straining against beskar painting your faces in a soft illuminated glow as you pulled closer still, you smirked. 

“I think that means I win, Mandalorian.”

Din scoffed, his modulator popping with the sound. “Nayc. A’nuhunla,” he drawled, his voice low. (“No. But funny.”)

Pulling back from one another, you huffed out a chuckle as you began to circle each other in assessment, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Give it to me in Basic, Mando.” Disengaging your saber, you stopped dead in your tracks, arms dangling limply by your sides. “I’m too tired to fight and translate at the same time.”

“Gar Jetii’kad,” Din pointed to the now bladeless hilt in your hand. “Nau’ur kad.” (“Your lightsaber.”) (“Light up a saber.”) 

“Din-”

But he didn’t let you finish, his hands tightening around his spear as his weight lowered, ready to charge. “Kad’au, Jetii.” (“Lightsaber, Jedi.”)

“Ne'johaa,” you mumbled, igniting the blade and lowering yourself into a ready stance to match. (“Shut up.”)

Once you were set, you stood straight up again, smiling softly when Din let his lowered weight relax as well in aggravation, his modulator hissing in annoyance. “This was just supposed to be for fun. Some training, maybe. Not-”

“Kad,” he almost barked, before launching at you. (“Saber.”)

“Mir’sheb,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you blocked an overhead blow from his spear, squinting your eyes as sparks flew from the impact. (“Smartass.”)

He took a minuscule step closer, pressing his weight into you and making you bend back slightly. His voice was low and mocking, but strained to show his struggle against your strength as you continued to push back. “Only for you.”

With a shout, you pushed him off of you with a last reserve of strength.

“That’s it. That’s it. I’m done.” You held your hands up by your head. “No more.” Twirling your saber as you stretched your wrist, you tilted your head from side to side. “You’ve got some unresolved issues with only using the stun back there at the hideout or something,” gesturing to him with a swooping hand gesture, you ignored his snort and slight shift of weight, “but I’m done with all your nonsense.” Turning away you took a deep breath and disengaged your saber, mumbling under your breath, “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.” (“I want a bucket of booze.”)

The next thing you knew you were flat on your back, sand flying out around you as the Mandalorian stood over you, flipping his spear back to its resting position with a flourish. All you could process as you blinked up at the cloudless sky was heat, grit, and what?

“I think that means I win…. Manda Jetii.” (The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.)

Eyes flying to his visor, you had to squint at the glare of the suns off the brilliant metal. You could only blink up at him, taking his hand when he offered it and helped you up. After a shared moment of simply staring at one another, he turned to survey the hangar, repeating your words from earlier. “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.”

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face. 

Her very, very, very distraught face. 

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought. 

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit. 

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you. 

“No.”

Peli somehow materialized beside you, everything about her bewildered and distraught. You let the two arguing tin cans go as you turned your attention to your friend, the final zap from the droid to Din’s thigh before it rolled off not going unnoticed. 

Pointing every which way with each new statement, Peli began to protest. “I was- They were- You just-” Her hands slapped down to her sides, her face pulled determinedly. “That’s not fair!”

She turned to her pit droid crew. “Why do I get all the defective droids in this town?” They began to prattle but she cut them off. “You guys couldn’t fix the wrong side of a bantha.”

Reaching out with your mind, a twitch of your foot sideways ever so slightly, and one of the compartments at the back of the Crest flew off, the wiring inside plopping out like the ship had drunk too much spotchka the night before and now had something to prove.

“It’s alright, Peli. It wasn’t all you.”

“You bet your beskar it wasn’t!” She turned a look on Din. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that massive spear sticking out of the side of my ship.”

Din had the decency to look sheepish, turning his gaze to stare across the hangar, hands on his hips.

“Now I’ll have to track down the Jawas to find enough ancient parts to fix this hunk of junk.” She smacked the hull closest to her with her palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a panel fell off to her right with a clatter.

Leveling her gaze on you, a shudder ran down your spine as Peli stared at you in silence. Finally she spoke again. “You. You’re going to help.”

“And you,” she pointed at Din. He pointed at himself in question and she nodded, maintaining the accusing jab of her index. “Yes, you. Mandalorian.” Din tilted his head curiously. “You are going to go to the cantina to look for a job to pay for all of…. this!”

Peli gestured wildly to the sparking Crest behind her. 

You winced at the singe marks left behind by your saber, beside the puncture mark from the spear as it had let loose from his hands and flown across the hangar. Its beskar body still stood proudly from the hull, glinting in the afternoon sun.

Reaching up high above her head, Peli jerked it from the body of the ship with a grating screech of metal on metal. Green goo began to shoot from the new opening, coating the sand of the hangar around her feet in several inches in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at it before bringing menacing eyes up to glare at Din.

“I’ll be at the cantina,” he mumbled, turning to leave without anymore fuss.

“I’ll…. Be here, I guess,” you mumbled, catching Peli’s death stare out of the corner of your eye. “Pick me up some of those blue cookies on your way back?”

“Really?” Din stopped, cocking his head at you.

“Yeah!” You shot back. “The kid isn’t here, so I don’t have to share them.”

“Who says I don’t want some?”

You scoffed. “Experience.” Crossing your arms, you stared at him. “Besides, who says I’m sharing regardless?”

Din took a step back toward you, his voice lowering playfully. “I could make you….”

“Cantina!” Peli hissed.

You’d never seen Din move so quickly.

Xxx

Peli had dragged you out to the large rolling fortress of the Jawas after she had given her pit droid crew a stern talking to. 

You couldn’t make eye contact with them as you stood just behind her and listened to her admonishments. Their judgmental stares from their single ocular lenses could be felt even across the hangar. 

Looking over the wares, you were just glad Din wasn’t here. Jawas would be dropping like flies if he were. He really had a problem.

Bringing your scarf up to cover your face, wrapping it around your head to keep it secure and protect you just a layer more from the suns beating down and sand blowing in the rough winds, you squinted at an old astromech tucked away in the back near the ramp.

“What about that one?” You asked, pointing to it.

The little hooded figure helping you turned, exclaiming something when he realized what you were asking about, then began talking a mile a minute and gesturing even faster.

Holding up your hands, you cut in, “Yeah, yeah, hold on little guy,” your new Jawa friend grunted at the name as you turned to call for help. “Peli! Get over here!” Waving your hand to gesture her over, you hoped it’d help her find you a bit faster.

You saw her curls before you saw her, turning your way and quickly weaving through the junk as her grumbling got closer and closer, but the exact words were never quite clear enough to understand. “What?” She finally asked in exasperation when she was about ten feet away, a power coupling in one hand and…. Something else in the other, you didn’t know what it was, but it had a lot of exposed wires and reminded you of an eyeball on a stick.

Pointing to your little robed shadow, you smiled at her. “Translate. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she focused on your small companion, nodding as he went along. “He says you want that R2 unit.” She turned her focus back to you, hands on her hips, eye on a stick still tightly grasped in one hand, “Any particular reason? I have plenty of good droids back at the hangar….” R5 started tweeting and blipping in concern, making her roll her whole head over to look at the droid on her left. “Oh, keep your dome on. I didn’t mean you.” She gestured to the droid with the eye-stick lazily before her eyes cut over to you. “Unless….” R5 let out a mighty whoop before rolling away.

Chirping and blooping from the R2 unit pulled your attention back to the matter at hand, watching in amusement as it rocked from side to side quickly on two of its three legs. Its shiny dome twisted back and forth as it let out shrill beeps and whistles, a lone raspberry cutting off the tirade before it focused on a Jawa coming up to stand beside it. 

As the tiny cloaked figure reached out to adjust the restraining bolt on its front, one of the droid’s front compartments sprung open in the blink of an eye, a surge of electricity arcing through the air and making the Jawa scream. The little scrapper jumped back, stumbling as its cloak began to smoke, strings of Jawaese getting lost in the wind as the tiny thief marched back over to the droid and swiftly kicked it near its treads.

“Stop!” You ran over, holding up your hands to try and intervene, turning to Peli with a pleading look on your face.

She tossed the junk in her hands onto the ground, doing a double take for the eye on a stick before deciding against it and made her way over to you, thrusting the odd part into your chest as she passed by. With a roll of your eyes, you tucked it into the bag of parts to make its way back to the hangar that was slung across your shoulders. 

The bag was over half full, and getting heavier by the minute, but you’d yet to see anything resembling a part you recognized go into the satchel. At this point you think ninety five percent of what she had picked up wasn’t even for the Crest, she was just exacting her revenge on Din. And you had no problem with that.

Peli tilted her head as she listened to the Jawa go on a tirade. Eyes flickering between the tiny robe with eyes and the droid, she finally looked back over her shoulder at you. “He said this droid is just a problem. It’s memory hasn’t been wiped in too long, so it’s developed an…. Ah, well,” she quirked her eyebrows, her hands landing on her hips as she studied the droid. “A strong personality.”

The R2 unit blooped before zapping the Jawa again, a warbling whistle following after in what almost sounded like a taunt for more.

“Stop,” you said again, taking another step toward the feisty astromech. It was very hard to not smile as you studied the round dome, its light blinking red and white at you rapidly as it scanned you up and down, finding something it trusted enough to calm down. It didn’t zap a third time, but it kept the utility equipped, sending a surge down the line when the Jawa got too close again as a warning.

It reminded you of Din. It even kind of looked like him. You had to really try to contain the smile as you thought of his reaction if you said that out loud.

The head tilt.

The finger.

“Later.”

The body was the typical white of most R2 units, though obviously worn and aged, some pockets of rust peeking through here and there along the edge, along with carbon scoring like it’d seen some firefights. With a darker silver dome, close to the color of your vambraces, you could tell it had received repairs along the line, the contrasting metals denoting different eras in its lifetime. 

The bands along its body that contained the attachments and along the sides of its legs were a warm coppery color, while the panels along its head were a dark gunmetal gray that reminded you of the Crest. 

Altogether it was a patchwork of parts, but it made something beautiful to you. Like when the suns hit the sand just right and caused a reflection in the distance. This droid was a mirage, a shadow.

“What’s wrong with it?” You interrupted the Jawa currently on another tirade that made Peli look like she was struggling to keep up. Getting down on one knee, still a good distance from the droid, you stared into its lense as it studied you once again.

Your friend turned to face you more fully. “What do you mean, they just told you. It hasn’t-”

“No, why hasn’t it moved?”

Peli asked the question, turning to look at the droid as she listened to the answer, its lense now turned on her.

“He said the tread on the right foot is broken. They have it out here because someone is coming to pick it up to wipe the memory. Its-”

“Not anymore,” you said quietly. “It’s coming with me.” Getting to your feet, you began to walk away, stopping when several Jawa voices began to follow after you, each more insistent than the other. You looked at Peli, brow raised in question.

“They say you can’t do that. It’s already a done deal. Now they’re asking if you want any of the other droids, they have an-”

You turned, looking at the gathering of red glowing eyes blinking up at you expectantly. Keeping your voice even, you made eye contact with each pair as you spoke. “You will release the droid into my care.”

A string of Jawaese was mumbled back to you, which you assumed was just them repeating your words, so you went on.

“Remove the restraining bolt, load it in the speeder, and let us go on our way.”

As they mumbled again, they broke off into groups to do what you said. 

Tapping the leader on the shoulder, you held firmly when he turned to look at you. “And it won’t cost anything.”

He nodded before going to join the others.

“How did you….” Peli’s voice dripped with amazement. “Can you-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me-”

“No, Peli.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and facing the Jawas as they loaded the droid who whistled happily while they worked. “I’m just saying-”

She stopped when you slowly turned to look at her, brow arched.

“Yeah, no, forget about it. Not important.”

Xxx

As you unloaded the droid at the hangar, once it was down on the ground, you knelt down slowly to inspect its injured foot. 

“I’m just going to tilt you a little bit to get a better look, okay?”

The pit droids began lowering some type of harness down to help you, but the droid began to rock back and forth, protesting loudly as its dome swung back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands placatingly, gesturing for the other droids to stop. “No lifts. I’ll do it myself, but you’ve got to trust me. It’ll feel a little strange, but you’re completely safe, I promise. Alright?”

The droid bleeped in agreement after a moment of hesitation, and without further hassle, you nudged it slowly onto its side, floating at the proper angle, held just right by an unseen force. As it moved into the proper placement, the R2 unit blooped an amazed sound.

After poking at the tread for a moment, you wrinkled your brows. “This isn’t broken. What did they mea-”

You were cut short when the tread on the other foot whirred to life where it still rested on the ground, spitting sand in your face in a rapid fire. As you drew back quickly, swatting at the sting settling into your eyes, you just caught a glimpse through your squint of the droid falling the rest of the way to the ground with a screech, your concentration broken.

Before you could really react properly, the R2 unit had popped upright, all manner of Binary curses and colorful language beeping and whistling as it whipped out the zapper it had used earlier on the Jawa, sending a warning jolt down the spine while rotating in a circle to keep all the advancing droids and Peli at bay. 

Then it started to lift off with some sort of propulsion, a victorious squeal echoing off the hangar walls that was all too soon followed by the sound of sputtering exhaust. Its lense pointed down, watching it all unfold, a quiver of fear warbled out of its voice box. The flames keeping it afloat flickered then died, sending it hurtling to the ground with a scream.

You were just able to stick out a hand, focusing enough to catch it inches from the ground. “I got you!” As you lowered it the last few millimeters back onto the sand, you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing into the warm earth beneath you with a quietly muttered, “I got you.”

“Well, that was a first,” Peli announced loudly, amused, as the R2 unit looked at you, a spurt of oil suddenly spewing onto the ground as it moaned in distress.

“It’s about right on track for me, honestly,” you huffed, laughing as you got back to your feet. 

The droid quaked as you got closer, worried coos softly filling the hangar.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” you spoke softly, coming back onto your knees a few feet from the R2 unit. “That was actually kind of impressive.” You smirked, watching as the trembling stopped. The droid was silent and you smiled a bit broader. “I would expect nothing less, honestly. It’s what I would do in your situation. Hell, I have done it a few times….” The droid whistled softly in amusement.

You laughed, feeling victorious when it wheeled a bit closer to you.

“I have, too. I live a very extraordinary life, my friend.”

A questioning bloop.

“Yes, I said ‘friend’. I consider you that, not anything less.”

A series of beeps and whistles, the red light blinking much more slowly now.

“I do speak Binary. Very observant.”

A raspberry.

You laughed, and it was followed by the closest sound a droid can make to the sound, a series of trills.

“Can we start over?” 

The droid wheeled closer, bumping its front foot into your knee gently before wheeling back slightly as if to say, ‘go on’.

You introduced yourself, reaching a hand out toward the droid. A panel sprung open on its front, the zapper coming out without a charge, making you arch a brow at the unit as it tittered playfully. The panel closed before another opened, and a small three pronged metal hand extended, closing around two of your fingers and shaking them in jerky movements as it beeped and blooped away.

“R2-B4?” The droid whistled in confirmation, releasing your fingers and closing the panel. “Can I just call you Bee?” A beep that sounded like ‘yes’ and also meant ‘yes’ in Binary chirped happily, filling the hangar. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bee. How about we get you tuned up, into a nice hot oil bath, run a few diagnostics to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be, then starting tomorrow we can-”

Some angry bloops and bleeps filled the air, while she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“No, no, no! No memory wipe! That’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She stopped rocking, but her lense scanned you up and down rapidly, her light flashing between red and white faster than you had seen yet. “You don’t know me yet, so I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to do that to you. That won’t happen so long as you are here. With me. With us. That makes you you. I don’t want just a droid, I want you, Bee.”

Reaching out your hand, you rested it lightly on her dome and an affectionate beep came out quietly.

“I just meant to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be. You deserve it, friend.”

It was at this point Din came walking back into the hangar. He stopped short when he saw the new astromech snuggled up so closely with you, the disarray of the hangar floor with the spilled oil and obvious scuffle, and Peli with her army of droids behind her and new eyeball on a stick waving around animatedly as she greeted him with a smile.

“Mando! Finally!” She walked toward him. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

The look Din leveled on you through his visor was nothing short of stifling. “Try me.”

Xxx

Once Din had calmed down enough to not shoot the new droid on sight, and Bee had calmed down enough to not zap the Mandalorian on sight, you sat down to explain the situation to Din as the astro unit underwent an oil bath.

“I don’t know, Man- Din.” You pulled a face at yourself as he chuckled at the slip up. “It just felt like I was supposed to, and she….” You looked straight into his visor. “The voices stopped when I saw her. Everything did. I don’t know.” Looking down to the table top to your right, you began to fiddle your fingers aimlessly. “I swear you won’t have to-”

“Okay.”

“Now don’t just- what?” You shook your head to dislodge any sand that may be plugging your ears and causing you to mishear because you could have sworn he said…. “Okay? ….Okay? Did you just say okay?”

Din laughed softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward onto your knees, getting closer to him and peering up with scrutiny for an agonizing minute. “What did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he rested his hand on his thigh. “Got you a present.” His head tilted to the side as you sat up a bit straighter. “Still gonna look at me like that?”

Eyes going wide, you sat back and matched his posture.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a snort. “I met up with Boba last night, as you know, and after going to the cantina, he caught up to me with the finished product.”

Din reached over and pulled a tarp off a crate to his right, how you’d missed it you had no idea, especially since the item before your eyes still sang with the same signature as his armor had. 

A jetpack.

Raw beskar and durasteel glinted under the twin suns, polished to perfection and ready to earn their first scuff marks.

“Din…. No.” You looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Reaching for the pack, he groaned slightly with the effort, sighing once it sat in his lap. “I couldn’t look at you in that horribly fitting armor one more time, and it was just taking up space on the ship.” He set the heavy gift in your lap. “Now I don’t have to lug you around anymore.”

Scoffing, you leaned in closer to him, batting your lashes. “Don’t lie, you like lugging me around.”

He tossed his head side to side. “It has its perks, yes, but now….” He gently nudged you back with a finger to your shoulder so you were sitting normally in your seat again. “Lift yourself, mesh’la.”

Sitting up straight as you held the jetpack in your lap, you traced its curves with your hand. “I don’t know whether to be offended or say thank you.”

Meeting the gaze of his visor through your lashes, he simply nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, let’s get you fitted and flying - but first, I have to sync them with your vambraces, or else you might-”

“Let me guess,” you sighed, relaxing back into your chair with a thump. “Or else I might blow something up?” Din nodded once in confirmation, and you mirrored him. “Some things never change.”

“And some things change all the time….”

“Well that was cryptic.”

“Fennec found a contact for me that might know where the Armorer is. Where the covert moved to.”

Your eyes went wide and you froze, halfway to attaching the jetpack between your shoulder blades. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s a job, but I head there in two rotations-”

Your face fell flat, along with your tone. “Excuse me, what?”

“Are you broken?” You arched a brow in question at him. “You haven’t moved since I mentioned the Armorer and you’re repeating yourself.”

With a huff of disbelief, you let the jetpack to the ground beside you with a gentle thud, and faced him once again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re insane?!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“See?” You gestured to him. “A perfectly valid reaction.” Din huffed, his head tilting to the side in annoyance as you went on. “First off I was excited for you, but then you go and say something crazy like you’re going alone?”

“Well I just assumed….”

“Go on,” you deadpanned, smiling slightly when he trailed off, swallowing roughly.

When he never did, you sighed heavily and forged on for the both of you. “Since I’m your wife,” you began, eyes cast down to the sand, ignoring the way he tossed his head back with a groan, “I think it’s only right I go with you.” You looked up to meet his visor. “Not to mention I continue to save your skin daily.”

“One time. I….” He held up one finger. “That was. I let that slip one time with Peli and it was an accident.” He huffed, staring at you for a long moment. “You're never going to let me forget that are you?”

You grinned. “No.”

Xxx

The two of you landed at the front of Peli’s hangar when you saw an unknown droid approaching in the street from where you were training in the air.

“Oh! Pardon me!” The courier droid raised its hands up in surrender. 

Reaching out, you lowered Din’s blaster. “You have a problem,” you mumbled. “You need to ask questions first, shoot later.”

Din grunted. “That’s not how I work.”

“Well, maybe you need to upgrade your circuitry, Tin Can.”

Both Din and the courier looked at you.

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is a Mandalorian, not a droi-”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter. “What’s the message?”

“Oh. Yes.” The droid reached into a bag fastened to its hip. “You have a holo from a Greef Karga? It’s marked sensitive/eyes only. I suggest you watch it someplace private.” Leaning around to look behind you into the vacant hangar, the only other soul being R5 rolling past with an offensive blip, the droid then looked back at the two of you. “Or just stay here.”

Taking the device from the droid with a smile, you were surprised when it didn’t just leave.

It reached back into the satchel and procured another device. A puck. And handed it to Din.

“What’s this?” The Mandalorian asked dryly, looking at the small device in the droid's hand as if it were the most confusing puzzle in the galaxy.

“Courtesy of Greef Karga…. once again.” When Din made no effort to move, the droid looked between the two of you. “They go together. I assume they offer some explanation. Otherwise, I have nothing to tell you about them.”

Din sighed, taking the puck and shutting the hangar door before the droid could say another word.

A muffled, “Oh. Well, good day, then!” Came through before the retreat of mechanical footsteps was heard.

“That was rude!” You mumbled, turning to go deeper into the hangar, but freezing when you saw the info spinning above the puck in Din’s hand. 

No.

No it couldn’t be.

Quickly activating the comm, you let Karga explain what you already feared.

“If you’re playing this message, you’ve already opened the puck. Yes. I know. I was just as shocked, too.”

There, in letters as big as day was your name.

“It was issued by the head of some small town crime group on Tatooine. Said you decimated their numbers yesterday?”

Din grunted. “Nobody died. What do they mean decimated?”

“I’m not issuing the puck to anyone, but be on the lookout. It could make things…. Difficult.”

The comm went dead, and all you could do was stare at the puck in Din’s hand, the info being presented to you but truly not being absorbed as all you could do was watch and blink.

The puck displayed your picture, slowly spinning with all your details next to it. 

Name: Eesra Kesyk

Last known location: Tatooine

Known associates: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Peli Motto, Sola Kei, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker

Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan, Luke, Ahsoka? For some small time group on Tatooine, they had really gone out of their way to find info on you….

Your gut sank. 

Unless….

You shook your head. There’s no way this went beyond a small town crime lord on a backwater planet. No way.

Focusing back in on the list, you squinted to read the fine print it was in to have everything fit on the little readout.

The rest was just details, date of birth, previous work…. reason for bounty.

“Are they serious?”

Unlawful use of star cruiser in restricted airspace, failure to comply with law enforcement, breaking and entering, damage to public property, battery and assault….

Din thought this was all very funny. He was practically giggling by now, snorts of laughter trickling out of his modulator as he stood to your right.

He’d tried to stop under your glare, he really did, but it just wasn’t possible, little snickers escaping here and there. 

“Who knew I married such a horrible person?”

He did this from time to time. Brought up his little misstep with Peli where he’d called you his wife, leaning fully into the absurdity and embracing the silliness you often tried to pelt at him mercilessly by saying it himself first.

Rolling your eyes, but unable to contain the small grin climbing up your face,  you looked back at the puck and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into, Tin Can.” Tilting your head at the readout, you pursed your lips. “And we’re not actually married, no matter what you said to Peli. You’re not ready for all of this.” Making a swooping gesture to yourself, you ignored his mocking snort of amusement. 

You stared at the list for another loaded minute of silence before going on. “Besides, half of these aren’t even true!” Gesturing to the list with one hand, you turned to look up at his visor, brows raised. “Unlawful use of starcruiser…. When did we even leave the planet?”

He was still chuckling warmly as he turned to you. “Did I? Know what I was getting into, I mean? I don’t know about that, mesh’la.” His chuckle grew louder as your face fell into unamusement. “And are you sure? Only half?”

Turning to face him fully, you raised one hand to wag a finger in his face teasingly. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps coming back.”

Pulling you into his arms, he hummed contentedly. “And I always will come back to you.”

Copying his hum of satisfaction, you reached up and grabbed his cowl like always, tucking your face into the fabric and taking a deep breath before turning to the side to look at the holo once again with a sigh.

“They got my name wrong, though.”

“Did they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you smiled. “Eesra Djarin of Clan Mudhorn…. That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

He groaned softly. “I-”

Bleep!

Din grunted in mild annoyance as Bee rolled up the ramp, stopping beside the two of you and trilling animatedly. “Not now, Scrap.”

Bee let out as close to a matching grunt of displeasure a droid could make, flipped out the electrified arm on her front, and waved it at Din in warning. 

“See? This is why I don’t like droids,” Din grumbled.

Rolling forward bit by bit, backtracking just slightly in between, she pried her way into the small amount of space between the two of you, making you step back just slightly to make room.

“Well, hello there,” you mused quietly to the metallic dome whose lense was looking up at you, smiling back at the tiny bloop in greeting. “May I help you?”

She babbled away in Binary animatedly, charged hand still extended toward Din in warning as she rolled ever so slightly closer towards you, tilting forward just a bit and causing Din to grunt as the forward motion pushed the bottom of her housing into his shin guards with a ping.

“I’m sure R5 didn’t say all that. What are you getting at?”

More beeps and whistles, this time containing squeals as her lense switched between red and white rapidly, almost faster than her sounds, as she animatedly continued her story.

“Wow,” you finally said when the droid stopped, staring at you expectantly.

“What did she say?” Din tilted his head at you.

“No idea.” You looked up into his visor. “All I caught was something something BD said and then Peli, Jawas….”

Both of you started to chuckle softly, Bee looking between you as she rotated her dome back and forth, a bloop of disappointment before a raspberry of annoyance, and you couldn’t shake the growing grin on your face if you wanted to.

After a moment she reached out just a little further and zapped Din with the electrified arm, tittering a laugh as she rolled away at speed as Din chased after her after crying out in pain. “Ow! Get back here, you rolling scrap heap!”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the opening of the ramp to the Crest, and watched the scene unfold in Peli’s hangar.

Droids, a mechanic, and a Mandalorian all running in circles after a goal you weren’t quite sure of. All that was clear was Din was losing.

You were home, with the people you loved.

Looking to the side, you saw the bunk of the Crest open, the child’s hammock still strung across the top. The corners of your mouth pulled slightly down.

Well, almost everyone.

You were a clan of three.

No, it was more than that.

You were also a family.

And someday, you’d all be back together again.

Someday soon.

You’d find a way to bring it all back to you.

Adjusting your weight slightly, you bumped something on your vambraces in the process causing the jetpack between your shoulder blades beginning to whir with an increasing hum. Flames began to sputter at its base with a growing roar, sending a wall of heat down the backs of your thighs as it prepared to lift you into the skies once again.

“Din?” You called, quietly at first, staring over your shoulder at the new death trap strapped to your spine, then more urgently, “Din!”

He was already jogging up the ramp toward you, his posture easy and relaxed. “Calm down.”

A quick glance behind him showed an amused Peli and her circus of droids, all of them tittering in amusement. Bee rocked back and forth in glee at the foot of the ramp before rolling back to the others. 

“Calm down?” You repeated in bewilderment, watching him disengage the jetpack from your vambrace with a single button push, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Calm down?!” He began to chuckle, his hand skimming up the inside of your forearm to lightly grab your elbow and push you further into the ship as you went on. “I was almost a flying projectile and you-”

You hadn’t noticed the way he’d nudged you backwards completely out of sight of the rest of the hangar until your spine sealed along the bulkhead by the weapons locker, the lights of the cargo hold going to half brightness with a deft swipe of his hand over a control pad to your left. 

Half, but still plenty bright to see.

“Din?”

Taking in your new surroundings, you looked back up to see him taking his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. His helmet came next, the quiet hiss of the mechanism causing you to screw your eyes shut. The familiar sound of beskar thunking onto the metal floor of the Crest made them close even tighter.

Din chuckled softly, the unmodulated sound tickling your face with his warm breath. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly you blinked your eyes open, looking up to see warm brown eyes, and the sweetest smile waiting to meet you. “I still forget.”

Winding your hands up into the curls at the base of his head, you smirked when he let out a contented sigh through his nose. 

After a moment of simply holding the other’s gaze, you muttered quietly, “Hello, brown eyes.”

Din was on you in an instant, his groan of annoyance muffled against your lips as you laughed softly into the kiss. 

“You always have to ruin it,” he mumbled, crowding you further into the wall, his bare hands coming to cradle your face and making your eyes slip shut at the contact. “Nu-uh. Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

Fluttering them open, you tried very hard to keep them that way. “Sorry. It’s not every day a Mandalorian is half naked in front of me. I’ll try harder.”

“Half naked?” He tilted his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours, one brow arching up in question. 

“For you, a helmet and gloves is the equivalent of a-”

Din was back on you again, this time growling in mock frustration against your lips as you laughed a bit louder. The upturn of his lips gave his amusement away, though.

Pulling apart just enough that only your foreheads rested against one another, the two of you held that moment together for quite a while. Simply breathing the other in, and existing in this quiet moment before the storm. 

Before you left to find more Mandalorians. 

More Mandalorians. 

Now that was going to be interesting. 

After a moment, you rolled your head to the side slightly and peeked up through your lashes to find his eyes closed.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for you both to speak in tandem, “Open your eyes.”

“I will if you will,” you were quick to retort.

Warm brown eyes met yours once again as the setting suns’ light poured in through the open ramp somewhere behind him, painting the cargo hold of the Crest in vibrant shades of gold, orange and red.

Din smiled softly, pressing his forehead further into yours, using his hands at your cheeks to maneuver your head back a bit and into a better angle for him to lean his forehead into. “Only for you.” His fingers began to move up and thread into your hair. “Always for you.” It was hard to tell where he stopped and you began. “Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” He pressed his forehead even further into yours, his lips ghosting over your own with each word. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

“Gar cuyi ner yaim. Ner yaim'ol. Ner yaim'la.” The light of the day was fading, much the same as the two of you were melding into one another, practically becoming one being, all his hard edges blurring where your soft lines began. The Crest began to fill with long shadows as the lights in Peli’s hangar kicked on, filling the cargo hold with just enough extra light to see. (“You are my home. My homecoming. My comfortable.”)

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, and he melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your palm, his voice a low rumble. “Ni ratiin yaimpar gar.” (“I always return to you.”)

In the quiet moment, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek bone slowly back and forth before finally whispering with a smile, “Open your eyes.”

Once he was looking at you once again, you pulled your head back just a bit and tilted it to the side. “So, where are we going to find the covert?”

He went stiff. “We?”

You sighed, laying your head on his pauldron. “It’s been how long, and you still haven’t learned that I’m always going to come with you?”

Din looked at you with a matching sigh. He tilted his head at you, his weight shifted to one leg, his hands on your waist moving you along with him. “You sometimes stay here when I go out on a job and help Peli work on the ship. It’s almost done after what Gideon tried to do- er, it was until today.”

“Exactly. So after this last massacre, I don’t think Peli wants to see my face around here anymore,” you laughed, making him shake his head and let out a huff of laughter. “I think Boba would give us a lift to wherever.”

“And then how do we get back?”

You smiled as you closed the small space between you, speaking softer as the situation began to feel more delicate. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Why are your ideas usually half baked or somehow involve fire?”

You closed the distance between you yet again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, and pressing your forehead into his. “And yet they always work….”

“You get lucky sometimes,” he groused half heartedly before he returned the gesture, a warm ungloved hand spread across your back, the other moving up to the back of your head to tuck your face securely into the crook of his neck.

You weren’t about to pull away as he held you there gently. Turning your face towards him where it rested on his shoulder, your nose brushed against his neck, and his grip grew tighter. Glancing up towards his face, you thought back to a time in the bar when this all started when all you could see before the helmet obstructed your view was a small sliver of skin that bobbed as he swallowed roughly. 

Now you had an unobstructed view….

….Of unruly dark curls long overdue for a trim….

….Golden skin dusted with a light facial hair that had the slightest hint of grays peppered in….

….Kind, warm brown eyes that looked at you with so many promises….

….A nose that had definitely been broken once or twice….

….And a smile that took your breath away.

You turned your head up fully towards his face as you pulled away just enough to look at him straight on, and he turned his gaze down to meet you with a slightly playful tilt of his head like before.

“I’m just that good.” Your hands fell to rest on his chest plate. “Now let’s go find your people.”

“Let’s go find our people,” he corrected.

With a gentle nod, you pulled away slowly after a moment, turning towards the ramp with wide eyes as what just happened sunk in.

Our people.

Din walked past you, looking over his shoulder once he was on the ramp. “Are you coming?”

Our people. 

Turning your head slightly to the left, you saw he had stopped, helmet back on, gloves securely fastened, and every bit the Mandalorian you had met all those years ago, only now he stood waiting for you, hand outstretched in invitation.

Mine.

You smiled, walking forward and taking his hand. “Moff Gideon couldn’t keep me away.”

Xxx

Yes, I gave her a name. Eesra Kesyk. (Ee-sruh Keh-sick) Let’s face it, Mesh’la is still what’s going to be used 99.999999% of the time, and “you” the majority of the rest. But we’re going into a part of the story with a whole lot of other new players and I wanted to have something to call the reader besides “you” and nicknames. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sorry. But, it’s my story, and that’s what I chose to do. I have a plan, so if you’ll bear with me, thank you, and I hope we can see it through together. ❤️ Plus, Din still just calls her *sigh* or “stop it!” 99% of the time, so…. 🤭

Xxx

Tags to come!

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

It's okay, silly! Tbh I forgot Neuvi existed but hey it's fine-

Anyway! I wonder what Arlecchino would think of Fontaine (and specifically Neuvi and Furina) taking care of the creator post-failed execution and helping them heal! Maybe Father could bring a couple of the younger children to kinda soothe (and also emotionally manipulate a bit but it's okay-) the creator with like the innocence as if saying "Look at how they love you! You'll stay with them right? :)"

I'm so sorry i'm having a Furina/Arle/Noelle brain rot rn- (Just thinking about the angst potential in these three in both sagau and otherwise ahhh)

Anyways have a good day!

🍌anon

Oh good!

Omg wait Arlecchino...tbh I think she is probably why most deaths within Fontaine happened now thinking about it.

Because while I know most like to have the Fataui be the good ones that can see the truth in their aus...tbh it doesn't make much sense to me. Mainly because while they want to fight against the Heavily Principles, they still are influenced by them because of their laws. So Tsaritsa would definitely order all members to kill any imposters on sight. So they would actually help the hunt.

But if we're talking during the healing phase then Arle definitely would be contributing by potentially letting them let steam out via fighting. Of course she would keep a close eye to make sure they don't get hurt, even wouldn't hesitate to harshly take their weapon away if sensing even a hint of a possible self infliction of harm. But anyway, she definitely gives me vibes of "aren't you tired of being nice, don't you wanna go apeshit?" for some reason.

Also yes she definitely uses the children to manipulate the creator (post healing, so all good again if we ignore that fact that they're not hostage in Fontaine) to keep their attention away from others. Or even use the fact that the creator is physically attracted to her to her advantage (like me, she can step on me any day-*SLAP*).

Though if I think about it a bit, her reaction to finding out what was actually happening would probably make her seem more stoic then usual. I mean she would be devastated don't get me wrong, but I get a sense that she would move past it quickly for the sake of getting plan healing the creator set in motion as quick as possible. Like her, Neuvillette, and Furina are like the three masterminds over this. Though that's not gonna stop her from asking the creator for forgiveness (but after they heal, when they're sound of mind again).

I can't really say more? Mainly because I'm admittedly not caught up with the game at all dhekehfj I haven't played in months and idk if I will any time soon (though the fact that Arle coming soon AND Sethos being shown is tempting me). But I still love the characters and the, which is why I made the au both for my own creativity and become I like putting the characters I love in various situations.

#sagau #genshin sagau #death seeking creator #🍌anon

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

[sophieinwonderland]

People in Trump supporting areas who grew up impoverished are part of the same systemic issue. This is a controversial opinion, but they are worthy of compassion just like anyone else. They are a product of their circumstances and an intentionally awful education system intended to keep them from thinking critically so that they can be easily controlled and manipulated. Are there exceptions? Of course. But the exceptions are outliers due to the good luck of a higher IQ and/or loving and compassionate parenting and/or coming into other ideas at the right points of their development. It doesn’t mean we have to agree with them or tolerate their views. But we don’t have to hate them or be intolerant of the person themselves for those views. They’re mixed up and confused and likely grew up knowing only hate. More division is not what the world needs.

That anon said nothing about hating endo systems or being intolerant of them. They said this is why people with trauma histories might become upset when linking plurality as a whole to DID caused by trauma. They did not say endos therefore need to hide or shouldn’t exist. It is possible to be inclusive of both sides. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. You are putting words in their mouth by talking of hate as a way to further ostracize the viewpoint from your audience.

It’s disappointing and sad how unwilling you seem to hear other perspectives that don’t fully match yours. Granted, you’re not alone in that.

The internet is full of all these filter bubbles and it’s so very isolating and depressing.

Best of luck.

It's not being unwilling to hear it. It's just "a lot of sysmeds are sysmeds because bad things happened to them" isn't some brand new revelation to me.

The question is... what do you do with that information?

Actually changing the mind of just a single person so deeply embedded in bigotry requires a monumental effort and time investment that can feel akin to cult deprogramming. Except cult deprogramming only happens when you get someone away from said cult, while sysmeds will still be very embedded in their communities, and changing their minds can mean them losing long-time friendships. They are socially incentivized to not change their point of view.

Should knowing the cause change anything about how I behave towards them?

I mean, I'm already not someone going around harassing people. I'm not sending hate to their inboxes. I'm not throwing around profanities and slurs. I don't even call people stupid... even though some of their takes are so brain-rot-inducing as to make me want to rip our hair out.

I'm firmly against that sort of behavior because I find it counterproductive.

So what does this view actually change?

It is possible to be inclusive of both sides.

It's not.

Sorry.

You can't be tolerant to the intolerant.

Being inclusive to sysmeds gives them the opportunity to spread system medicalism. Maybe you can change their minds over a long period of time, but maybe they come into your spaces, spread toxicity, and even indoctrinate impressionable people with their hate.

Ideas can spread like viruses, and I think hate should be treated as a viral infection. At least when it's small enough to be effectively quarantined.

Moreover, a space that's inclusive towards sysmeds can't be a safe space for their victims.

This, for the most part, isn't personal. It's not about punishing people for being bad. It's just about ensuring their ideas can't spread further and harm others.

That anon said nothing about hating endo systems or being intolerant of them. They said this is why people with trauma histories might become upset when linking plurality as a whole to DID caused by trauma.

What they're referring to, specifically, is honestly a bit unclear. It was about why people with DID are "upset about plurality." And there are a lot of ways the can be interpreted. Although I don't think it's a leap to say that the "hurt people hurt people" line was alluding to people who actively attack and/or harass endogenic and pro-endo systems.

I didn't get the impression that it was about linking plurality to DID, but rather the plurality itself.

#syscourse #pro endogenic #pro endo #sysblr #multiplicity

[your-ne1ghbor]

My problems with Magnifico and Amaya and how I would rewrite them (TKoRaT AU)

GOD DAMN IT NOW I WISH MAGNIFICO AND AMAYA IN MY VERSION WERE GOOD PEOPLE AHHHHHHHHH-

Ahem..sorry..what was I gonna say?

Oh yea! Feeling like a long rant again, so prepare your eyes!!!💀

Sooo, I kinda have been off putting stuff again since I had school work and a bunch of ideas like this one, so I decided to just share it so I don't loose the idea (ik I can write it down but idk I felt like sharing it). Plus the fact that I've been more chatty lately lol.

Idk how to transition to my problems with Amaya and Magnifico so here.

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Magnifico and Amaya's Character in Wish 2023

Magnifico

Magnifico in the film is...well is a pretty stand up guy! Sure, he is paranoid most of the time and is pretty stubborn, but he is very selfless and a really generous person!

You can say he is more in line with the kings of original films that deeply care for their children, such as King Sefan from Sleeping Beauty, or King Frederic from Tangled.

In this case, he deeply cares for the people of Rosas. I mean yeah, it is weird that you forget what your goal is in life, but if I had nowhere to go and no roof over my head, of course I would go to Rosas to live there safely. Heck, in perspective, you have a chance of your wish getting granted, and don't have to pay rent to live there. It is a pretty fair deal, especially for families who want their kids to grow up out of harms way. Sure, he can't grant all of the wishes, but his reasoning is pretty valid. The only line I could get from the film that would support this would be when he commented on Asha's Grandfather's Wish (which is to inspire the next generation):

"To create what? A rebellious mob perhaps? Inspire them to...to do what? Uh, destroy Rosas, maybe?"

And a lot of people can argue that Saba's wish is very simple or isn't dangerous, but here is the thing. Simple things can have dangerous concequences no matter how small or big they are. Sure, you can start out small, like inspiring people, but it will cause a domino effect that can lead to something greater. Either for the better or worse. And example would actually be Walt Disney himself! He started out small, but without him, animation would not have gotten to where it is today. With his love and passion to art and story telling and taking risks, we WOULD NOT have gotten Puss in Boots, SpiderVerse, OR EVEN ANYTHING ANIMATION WISE. Walt Disney really pioneered animation and without those baby steps, there would not be an Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks, ect. It would just be...well...live action I guess. Hate the Disney company or not, Walt helped get animation to where it is today, and it sucks that his company, even after death, wont try anymore to push the limits of animation except for companies that isn't Disney.

Plus, I don't even blame Magnifico for thinking this way! Although it is sort of annoying that his backstory was told instead of shown (not that there is nothing wrong with telling, but showing for me is a more effective way of story telling for me. You can take the little mermaid for example), I personally understood where he was coming from. In his backstory, his home was destroyed from thieves and barbarians, with his family and possibly everyone he knew being dead. Its honestly tragic, so him making a kingdom for people to not suffer that pain again is very selfless of him and just...feels good in a good way you know?

But as everything in this movie is, it takes the good things and beats it over with a 30 foot pole and leaves it to rot.

He is turned into the villain. And no, it isn't because of Asha not getting what she wanted, and no, it isn't because Amaya, his wife died (she never did btw)! OH NO IT IS MUCH WORSE.

He opens up a mAgIc bOoK oF dArK mAgIc and becomes the bad guy...

...What the fuck. Actually no, applauds to you Disney! This is such a effective way of telling a story. 10/10 forever and ever. Great job! :D

(I am being sarcastic, this is legit the worst way for a good guy becoming the villain, its so fucking stupid-)

He is just simply stripped of his good qualities and only lets his bad qualities shine through. It kind of feels like he was being held at gun point here.

"OH PLEASE BELIEVE THAT I AM ACTUALLY THE BAD GUY. OH PLEASE GOOD CIVILLAIN THEY ARE GOING TO PULL THE TRIGGER-"

Seriously, there was no other way of making him the bad guy? Like legit? Simply remove his backstory and make him evil at the begining. I guess it would be weird if he took the wishes without reasoning, but even then, why give him good qualities when he is supposed to be the bad guy? He became more of a tragic hero than a tragic "bad guy".

I will go more into my problems with him after I talk about Amaya for a bit since talking about her character is more shorter than Magnificos.

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Amaya

The best I can say for her character is that she is like Jimmy Cricket but fell in love with Pinnocio (I know that sounds weird pls spare me).

She is like the voice of reason for Magnifico, and it is best shown when Magnifico FIRST concidered on using the book for "his evil deeds". This scene specifically:

Other than that, she wasn't really a character in the film AT ALL. It sort of sucks concidering what the original concept was (WE WILL GET TO THAT) and instead degraded her character to...well...nothing.

I can't really say anything about her since she just was "I am loyal to my husband" to "actually fuck you I will believe a 17 year old instead of the man I trusted for the amount of years it took to get the kingdom to it's feet." I want to, but I can't. SHE HAS NOTHING.

I wish I can say more about her character, but it would just be me ranting about how trash her is character and was handled. Speaking of that, lets get into why I dislike how they were handled.

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Why does their character bother me so much?

Well it is sort of hard to explain, but I'll do my best.

Magnifico was supposed to be the return of the classic villains. You know, on the levels of Jafar, Ursala, Evil Queen, Malificant, ECT, he just...wasn't. Although he had a bunch of Evil Queen inspirations thrown into his character, it felt like more of refrences to a better film than being apart of his character. Plus, I feel like I sympathized with him way to much. I personally felt more emotion when he was on screen instead of the main character because I understood where he was coming from. Its honestly baffaling to me, since if he didn't have his backstory told to us, I still would not rooted against him. Even without his backstory, it just sounds like he was doing this at the bottom of his heart and empathizing with people who are doing far worse than what he is going through. Its honestly heartwarming seeing a person trying to do good in the world and provide a safe place for everyone to be free from the burden of this world. And want to know something? None of the classic villains had tragic backstories. They are evil for the sake of being evil. There probably was some with sympathetic traits, but from what I recall, there is none. So going with the sympathetic rout is not on par with classic villains.

However, there is nothing wrong with giving your villains sympathetic traits. It makes them feel more rounded as a person/character, and you can get a lot of emotion from that alone. I just think that Magnifico being the villain doesn't make sense since as I said, they made him so generous and kind in the begnining and only destroyed it since "oh wait, we need a villain, so why not make the good guy the villain" and threw in the dark magic book and called it a day. Not even that, but he is not threatening in any way. What I mean by that, is that his powers don't really get an upgrade at all. His magic just sort of turns green and thats it! I even bet that he can crush wishes even without the powers of the magic book.

Going off topic, but making plushie..COUGH... star...(plusie = wish 2023 star) less "stronger" to make the female lead stronger just makes Magnifico's reason for going after plushie's powers even more useless. Even with plushie's powers, HE IS JUST THE SAME. I guess he can now create vines? BUT IT JUST DOESNT WORK. It makes more sense for Magnifico going after plushie when it is powerful because he could see that power as a THREAT to his own powers and his kingdom.

Now for Amaya, her turning against Magnifico is just stupid. Haven't you went through a lot with him? Why the hell did you give up after "oh he can't be saved"? I feel like she could have done a "true loves kiss" sennario which breaks the spell it has on him. Not only that, she barely contributes to the plot at all. The only thing she contributes to the plot is just "getting the teens into the castle so they can free the wishes" then disappears, then reappears at the finally when Magnifico got a little too silly with his drugs-I MEAN wishes haha... Then she becomes the ruler of Rosas. It feels weird and out of place, especially concidering her character MOST LIKELY went through so much with Magnifico only to turn on him when he gets a little mad. It is so stupid. Also, if you just remove her, nothing would really change except the first scene where Magnifico has the book, only this time, no one is there to stop him. And as I said, HER CHARACTER IS NOTHING. But here is the thing...

When concidering the concept version of Amaya, she would have been the villain along side Magnifico. Not as a selfish love relationship or they are together at ones expense (gaining something from one another for only themselves) no, THEY WERE MADLY IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. Something to note here is that there is barely ANY villain couple or ANY VILLAINS who are like this, let alone love each other for the sake of it instead of a "selfish love relationship and then one gets redeemed " situation (im looking at the mayor of paris from miraculous ladybug). So that, THAT RIGHT THERE, would have been a brilliant idea and brings something new and fresh to the table. Not only that, it is so brilliant that it would have respected all of the male/female antagonists we had for the past 100 years with the company. It is also A RISK. Walt was all about taking risks, even when his company would have floundered at the expense of making art. Snow White for example had a lot of money put into it that if it failed, well Disney would not exist in this timeline so to speak. So taking that risk is also RESPECTING Walt's legacy in a really good way.

I personally just see this as a fun way to explore their characters, especially when you can reflect their characters off of our main characters, Asha and Star (boy), if you want to of course. I can imagine Magnifico kinda be like Gaston from beauty and the beast with some Frollo flare to it (not the lust thing tho but yk what I'm getting at) and Amaya can be like Ursala or Gothal. Plus, it works as a power balance. In the original concept, Amaya was the potion maker while Magnifico does all of the magic. Its honestly a fun way to play with power set ups. Magnifico can just be for show and Amaya can just be a drug dealer (or basically Ursala).

But NOPE. WE HAD TO SHIT ON WALTS LEGACY TO GET THOSE SHINY DOLLAR SIGNS $$$$$$$$$$$$$

Here is the thing: I can get over Star Boy not being in the film, like I get it. We gotta have that girl power in Disney movies now, and they have to be emotionless people. But a Disney power couple? WHAT THE HELL??? LEGIT THE BEST IDEA YOU HAVE EVER HAD IN 100 YEARS. AND YOU GOT RID OF IT BECAUSE WE CAN'T TAKE RISKS ANYMORE??? BUT WALT WOULD HAVE TAKEN IT. YOU WANT TO RESPECT HIS LEGACY? THEN TAKE THE RISK TO DO SO YOU SELFISH, INSUFFERABLE, PIECES OF SHI-

(This section was removed because I went a little crazy there. Sorry about that. I'm not sure how I can transition into the rewrite section, again, soooooo here:)

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How I would rewrite the characters

There is no wrong or right way of rewriting a character, especially when a lot of people interpret them in different ways, and that is completely fine!

This will also fall into somewhat Asha's character and she will be mentioned to fit what I am going for with the characters. I will also leave out what they both do to the wishes since I am making a whole reimagined scene and it is going to include what they do to the wishes there. It will leave out some stuff I had with it here, but I will do my best interpritation of the characters the best I can, even when I can't really say much about it :)

Magnifico:

🌟 For starters, right off the bat, he does not have any of that sort of backstory they gave him for the original. For what I am going for, his backstory will not fit his reasonings for what I am going for, especially for his character.

🌟 He is more on par with the original personality from the original storyboard, specifically this one:

(This also goes for Amaya too personality wise)

🌟 Something that is very different from a lot of villains is that he has sympathetic traits. Although he has more negative traits than positive, he has more of a caring side. Mainly to Amaya, but Asha as well. When Amaya found Asha at their door steps (they aren't holding me hostage as I write out this specific part guys, I swear) at first he saw her as an opportunity to boost his and his wife's popularity that would have other people come more to their kingdom (its more of like they are seeing their "generosity" side and dismiss the problems the kingdom has). But as she continued to live with her adoptive parents, Magnifico became pretty close to Asha. Its mainly because of her passion to what she strives to be, to be like him. Probably feeding into his ego, but you know, nice to know he cares.

🌟 Just because he treats Amaya and Asha well, doesn't mean that the kingdom gets that same treatment. He doesn't care about the people at all. He actually has enjoyment when he hurts or breaks people's dreams. He gets all excited about it and you guys can ask him why he finds enjoyment out of it cause idk it would be more fun that way and gives you guys the chance to interact with him :D

🌟 The wishes boost his powers temporarily. It fades away after either a few days or hours. When his powers are boosted, he has more control over the people. And, to who he consumes the wishes of, can see through their perspective for a little while. It also makes civilians more compliment with him and not question his authority. This does not work with people who have not given up their wishes though. Only to people who have already given up their wishes. He can also make people forget certain memories (that might be Amaya's thing though but I'm not too sure) and can put on much more longer "light shows" (think on the level of: Playing with the Big Boys, but more flashy and crazier). He can also manipulate his surroundings with images, but not at a physical level. (Like hallucinations so to speak)

🌟 His powers without the wishes are more of what he uses to do simple things or put on small light shows. Not as flashy than ones when he has his powers boosted, but he puts on the smaller ones to "gain more people to comply when they have to give up their wishes", one might say, inspire them to do so. He also uses it to help Asha practice with magic (She can't even do magic STFU I KNOW.) It also can be used to take desires that you have deep in your heart.

🌟 If hair jell were to exist in his time period, he would eat it with no regrets (Amaya would make it so he can eat it without getting hurt)🔥

🌟 When he consumes a stars powers, he legit goes insane and can shape shift like one, but more corrupt with no consistancy to what he turns into since he legit gone insane. With a star, a star can shapeshift to whatever it wants or to express it's emotions. With him, it is all over the place. He can't control it.

🌟 Like Frollo, he tortures anyone who is against him, and will not hesitate to take it to the extreme if needed too (or that he wants to, to please himself).

🌟 What his wife says or does, he will willingly go through with it. After all, he loves her with all his heart.

🌟 He can't let Asha out of the castle often to make sure that the people will not take advantage of her generosity (thats what he thinks though, in reality everyone is just scared of the royals.. most of them at least) or learn-

Magnifico then breaks the forth dimention and destroys my house.

Ah...right...

🌟 He is such a silly goober!!1!11!1!11!1 o(*￣▽￣*)o

(He told me to write that or else he will kill my dog and cat. HELP ME PLEASE-)

Amaya

🌟 For starters, she is much more involved in the story than she is in the original. She doesn't have a backstory like what Magnifico had in the original, nor does she need too. Not sure how they would meet at the moment, but I'd like to think that they met and then were like: love at first sight and became more silly as time went on...including their insanity <3

🌟 As I said for Magnifico, she is more on par with the concept version personality wise. But she is more of an Ursala and likes to put herself as the victim to get more people to feel bad for her (MANIPULATION AT ITS FINEST 😜)

🌟 Just like Magnifico, she has sympathetic traits. And she only has it, because of our main character Asha! She just found her one day at the castle doors. She didn't understand why, but like Magnifico, only let her stay for as long as she did to post her popularity with the commoners, and grew closer to her as she became more of a mother figure to Asha. (Ruh Ro, anyone sensing Mother Gothal vibes?) Unlike Magnifico though, she uses her sympathetic traits to get people to comply with their ways better. Her main trait she is good at looking at the person's situation and understand it well, or aka being empathetic. She uses that to her advantage when manipulating them to do whatever she pleases.

🌟 She is more of a witch than anything. I imagine her somewhat like Ursala (yes a heavy load of Ursala), Evil Queen, and Yzma (Emperor's New Groove) when in terms to what they make. She does make a lot of poisons to use if anyone is getting a little too close to the close and they gotta...TAKE THEM OUT without anyone knowing. She can also use it for like a form of medicine too.

🌟 Some potions, like turning people into animals or certain poisons, requires people's desire. More so with turning people into animals as a form of punishment. She can also use her craft at potion making to have her wield magic for a certain amount of time WHEN NEEDED. (Gee I wonder what she will use that for). It can also be used like a drug, or to get someone to comply with what they want a little better than Magnifico. She can put on pretty shows too, but more smoke themed and is better at manipulating her surroundings.

🌟 Although Amaya would teach Asha how to make potions, she worries that the people of Rosas would take advantage of her kindness and use the skills that she would teach Asha to their advantage and form a revolt to take them down. (Which really, with them ruling, who can blame them?)

🌟 I would say she is more of a planner than Magnifico. She plans ahead and makes sure everything is in line with what they want and makes plan Bs or Cs even Ds in case anything would go wrong. Asha actually gained that trait from her believe it or not!

🌟 Magnifico is more reckless than his wife. Amaya is more so less confronting and tries to keep up their image. She actually have certain gestures that Magnifico would take notice too. And since he trusts her a lot, he complies and lets Amaya take lead in certain situations.

🌟 Yes...she also finds enjoyment of seeing people getting tortured. They actually made up a game on how they would torture a certain civilian 💀

🌟 When it comes to how she treats the people of Rosas, she is as I said, less confronting and puts on more of a fake smile and gaslights everyone that their kingdom is fine or whatever (It is not gaslighting when it is telling the truth. I feel so offended right know! DUDE LADY CHILL I AM CREATING YOU RN AND YOU ARE ALREADY TRYING TO GASLIGHT ME WTF😭)

🌟 When she has a star's powers, I feel like it would let her create whatever the fuck she wants at an insanity level. Wishing stars create items that would help users on their journey, so with her, she can use it to her advantage. Also she becomes just as insane as her husband. It also gives a difference in terms to what they would do when they have a star's powers. Magnifico would be able to shapeshift at a corrupt level, and Amaya can manipulate her surroundings that would become reality so to speak at an insane level. I chose this one since it fits her not being more confrontant while Magnifico is more so on that. She be lurking in the shadows like a cat :3

🌟 How she knows so much about the people, is by her cat! I think the cat would be called Custos. Idk the name yet, might go with the concept version of the name.

🌟 I learn more about my prey before I strike at their weakest point. (Nah that's very catnap of you. Unless you want to fall asleep for 100 years, I suggest you choose your words carefully. Bruh alright lady💀) And yes she wrote that in...

🌟 She is such a silly lil guy...AMAYA STOP LET ME BE SILLY U SON OF A BI-😡

Erm anyways...(she tried to eat my dog and steal my cat. GRRRR)

I feel like it would be fun if it is just expanding their empire for their main goal or taking over the world. Kind of like this song as their modivation:

I want this to be their goal since it kind of feels like some of the old Disney Villains, for me at least :3 (And I am having WAYYYY to much fun with their characters already hehe)

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

Final Thoughts

On a final note, I will mention that there is a possibility that all of this wont make it into the final version. And in all honesty, I'm actually shocked I was able to compose all of this together without mentioning what they do with the wishes, like what- 😭

I also am still debating if Amaya and Magnifico made the kingdom or it was passed down through generations. Don't know yet tbh :^

Also, Amaya was sort of difficult for me to jot down since I didn't know how to get her into the story, and I think I am slowly, but surely getting there :D

I also really tried to make it different and fresh from the other versions and I am very excited to show that "I DECIDE WHAT EVERYONE DESERVES" when it is done (it is now We decide what everyone Deserves).

You can also ask both Amaya and Magnifico questions regarding the info you know about them now and about how they feel with the other versions of them if you want to of course (and I can show off their designs HEHHEH)

And yes...I had too much fun with writing out how they would interact with the post. DW, they wont interact here in the Final Thoughts section hehe ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I might also do a post on Asha since I have been pretty quiet on her character design/rewrite and another post about Star Boy since I wanna get more in depth with the ideas of Wishing Stars in my AU.

Speaking of Au...

what to call this AU of mine hmmmmm

I'll go with The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns, or TKoRaT. Feels fitting to me, at least for what I am going for story wise and character wise. Might change it since I can't stick with one thing, but rn it rolls off the tongue nicely.

Until then, I hope you have a great day and I hope Magnifico and Amaya don't steal your dreams 💀

@oh-shtars @annymation @chillwildwave @signed-sapphire

(They are thinking of working with your versions of Magnifico and Amaya oh boy not good 💀)

#currently 10 pm at night and took me #5 hours #to compose this rant #holy fucking shit #my brain is weird #oh shit #magnifico #and amaya #are gonna murder me for revealing some of the stuff #ruh roh #pls dont kill me bro #sobbing #anyways tags #disney wish #fypage #tumblr fyp #explorepage #foryou #star wish #king magnifico #queen amaya #long post #story rewrite #wish #wish disney #wish movie #wish 2023 #asha wish #asha #TKoRaT AU

[inquisitor-apologist]

Thinking about how, at the end of the day, at the fatal moment, the sunset of the Republic, it wasn’t Yoda, or Obi-Wan, or even the Chosen One himself standing in the way of Palpatine. It was Mace Windu.

Mace Windu, the inventor of Vaapad and Master of Form VII, the Jedi's strongest duelist, the only person to ever defeat Palpatine in combat. Mace Windu, Master of the Jedi Council and the youngest Master ever appointed to it, the revered leader of the Order. Mace Windu, who forgave even those who tried to kill him, who risked his life over and over again for his troops, who, after 3 years of desperate war, tried to negotiate with battle droids. Mace Windu, who knew the clones were created by the Sith and chose to trust them, who saw every Shatterpoint in the Republic, and loved it still, and fought for it until his last breath, until he was betrayed by Anakin, who he believed in and trusted despite everything.

Mace Windu, High General and hero of the Republic, the embodiment of the Light, the last and greatest champion of the Order, the best Jedi to ever live.

#I’ve said my piece goodnight #don’t play with me Mace Antis I have receipts for every last one of these #pretty much everyone agrees that he was the best duelist there was and he obviously won the fight #Anakin's choice wouldn't make thematic sense otherwise #also vader did not defeat palpatine in combat sorry he just grabbed him while he was distracted #it literally had to be a fair fight and Anakin had to be the one to choose to create the empire that's what the prequels are about #Star Wars databank calls him ‘revered’ shatterpoint tells us he was the youngest (real) member of the council #Boba Fett (tcw) and Prosset Dibs (comics) tried to kill him and he asked for amnesty and forgave them #literally just watch the Ryloth arc he spends most of his screentime saving his men #in tcw season seven he pleads with the battle droids to surrender hoping that no one else has to die #there's the part near the end of tcw where the council realizes that the clones were created by Dooku but Mace and the rest of the council #trust the clones so much they're willing to ignore it #the scene from Mace's POV in the rots novelization talks about how much he loves the republic and how he was blindsided by Anakin's betraya #because he trusted him!! we see in aotc that he has more faith in Anakin's abilities than Obi-wan #and he defeated the most powerful sith of all time single-handedly #BEST JEDI EVER!!!!!!!!!!!! #sw prequels #star wars prequels #prequel trilogy #sw prequel trilogy #star wars prequel trilogy #sw rots #star wars rots #revenge of the sith #star wars revenge of the sith #galactic republic #pro mace windu #mace windu #pro jedi order #pro jedi

[dyingbuck]

true love

#fay draws #red dead redemption #rdr #rdr2 #karen jones #sean macguire #the second pic is based on a pic from pinterest #theyre white thrash 👍 #rdr 1999 #again like most of my rdr art this is modern au #sorry for the cowboy era lover. i love it too but i have modern era brain rot 😞

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

#liushen #cultivate #cultivate: slow life on a monster infested mountain #mu qingfang #tagging him as well since theres lot of focus on him lol #and shen jiu as well u have to excuse me I love them they're meow meows #there was gonna be more sj content also but he ended up being cut in the end #wait- hdfdfhkj probably shouldnt talk about cutting something and SJ in the same sentence lmao jhfksdhfk ok bad joke sorry #anyway aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa absolutely deceased with all that has been revealed and covered in the past few chapter #actually dead wonderful powerful talented incredible showstopping never seen before #my most favourite part of cultive is its mysteries without a shadow of a doubt they're so intriguing and the reveal is ALWAYS sooo satisfyi #so the chain reaction of so many answers of the big ones tm? chefs kiss MWA #speaking of mysteries i never mentioned it before because I didn't know how to incorporate it without it being awkward but #for the longest time one particular piece of info has been rotting in my brain #and it was the off-hand comment on of the aqueduct by LQG #it is SO SILLY but THATS the one that has been just spinning in my brain FROM THEN ON ALL THE TIME it is indeed not the actually much coole #checkovs guns that have been setup nooo it was THIS hjkjsdfhksd I HAD TO KNOW where that was going AND NOW I KNOW I CAN REST EASY jsdhfkd #so yeah absolutely wonderful chapters indeed beautiful powerful #also some of you may noticed that time and time again I keep switching up the seniority between bai zhan and qian cao #and i have to formally apologize for that it is in fact not out of lack of attention to the text I'm just shdjkas #if im not mistaken qian caos position is not set in stone in canon so its free for grabs to put it in any of the free spots on the list #so i should respect neonghostcats (beloved i am so sorry) list in this case but i physically couldn't bring myself to write mqf as shidi #HSAJHS im sorry i am so biased and from doctors family i cannot put him in my head in peak seniority so low I'm sry i am legally not allowe #so lets just pretend i wrote it correctly ok sadhkas eyes closed xD #OOF th etags got long this time but im just SOOOO EXCITED WITH THIS FIC AND GOT FEELINGS OK BYE #anyway neonghostcat godspeed recovery buddy!! #also i hope using neonghostcat isnt like....calling u by your full name hdkfh but no idea to which parts i should shorten it either so hah

[idontwantittobeunrequited]

i would never use a scrub mommy to wash my dishes because women! aren't! dishwashers! anymore!

(6'7 feminist btw)

#comes back with *the* most amazing “hey i'm alive btw” post #anyways hello! #hemali.txt #hemali thinks theyre funny #funny #haha #funny haha #lol #help #scrub daddy #scrub mommy #i got some scrub daddy's from the shops and i've been thinking #also been rotting on other social medias lately! sorry! i'm back here though (hopefully)

[warmsol]

apologies for not being around much, i truly havent had much down time or energy lately and sims stuff has been on the back burner :’( hoping i can come back in full force after the holidays. i miss you all and i want to shove all your wonderful posts into my chest and hug them tight mwah

#to say the last month and a half has been the worst of my life is an under statement ;-; #after i got covid i started having a ton of random health issues #about two days ago i went to the er because i had chest pain and long story short had a blood clot scare and now i’m just chilling #until we figure out wtf is going on. lol #and on top of that my personal life is just not great and my mental health has declined and yada yada! #but it’s the most wonderful time of the year huh! #your pal is truly struggling but we must go on. though most days i want to rot in bed ;-; #ok damn sorry for the depression dump. will be back when my energy comes back from war. love u #nonsims #delete later #ps pls don’t forget take care of yourself :’)