#i talk about star wars for hours then he gets to talk about time experiments its equality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiding-writing · 2 months

Note

i LOVE your angsts

you can write something about the reader and spencer being apart after a conflict, being childish and sarcastic towards each other afterwards, and then, one of the cases ends in an explosion and, or, fire in which one of the two is trapped and alone, and the other takes risks to save him

who knows, maybe one of the two in the hospital is still delirious and asking to marry the other? anyway, you choose

basically two idiots in love and proud who can't bear the thought of losing each other

thanks 🥺🫶🏻

commitment [ s.r ]

You love Spencer Reid more than anything in the world, but committing to someone for life was not something to be considered lightly. A life or death situation might speed up the decision process a little.

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 4.0k ll masterlist!!

WARNINGS: commitment issues, fire, major character injury, miscommunication, happy ending

a/n: happy 29th of february? is that something to be celebrated? anyway, kinda took this one on a rollercoaster ride, enjoy :)

Spencer Reid wanted a family.

He wanted to get married, have 2.5 kids and live in a house with two cars and a white picket fence.

But he didn’t just want that with anybody, he wanted that with you.

You weren’t sure.

You loved Spencer with your whole heart, you really did, but after your parents’ failed marriage and your negative experiences with romantic relationships in the past, the fact that you’d even been in a committed relationship with Spencer for the last four years was an achievement in itself.

You’d talked about it a few times, but you’d always come to opposite decisions. Spencer wanted to settle down with you, and you were afraid to do so.

Your most recent conversation on the subject ended less as a conversation and more as an argument.

“So you don’t really love me then?” You could see the betrayal in his eyes at you again shutting down the idea, his tone carrying more upsetness than accusation.

“No Spencer of course I love you what are you talking about?” You can feel yourself nearing tears at his question. He was quite literally the person you loved most in the world, and to have him shut down your feelings because you didn’t see eye to eye with him broke your heart.

You spent the next few days staying with Garcia.

You tried to not let your disagreement with Spencer influence your work, but the fact that you wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at each other during office hours tipped off the rest of the team about your situation immediately.

“So,” Morgan leaned his hip against the counter of the kitchenette as you fixed yourself a cup of coffee, neglecting Spencer’s mug on the shelf instead of making both cups at once like you’d usually do.

“So?” You raise an eyebrow at his incomplete sentence.

“What’s going on between you and pretty boy?”

You sigh before he even finishes the question. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,”

“Your lover’s quarrel is ruining the vibes, it is most definitely something for me to worry about,” You roll your eyes at his response. Trust Morgan to find the most unserious way to express his concern for the two of you.

Logically you knew it was because he wanted to tread lightly, but that didn’t make it any less eye-roll inducing.

“So,” He leans forwards a little. “What’s going on? Did you disagree on whether Star Trek or Star Wars was better or something?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he immediately surrenders, raising up his hands as he concedes.

“What else do you have to argue about? You guys are like the most boring couple I know,” Morgan shrugs nonchalantly, and you halt the stirring of your teaspoon in your drink.

Boring? You weren’t boring. Were you? Did Spencer think you were boring? Did he think your relationship was boring? Maybe he only wanted to tie the knot in the hope that it would ‘reignite the spark’ or whatever people said.

“Hey.” Morgan snapped his fingers in front of your face, effectively pulling you out of your internal spiral.

“Hm?”

“I asked if it was serious, Garcia told me you’ve been staying with her the last few days,”

Curse Garcia and Morgan’s no filter relationship.

“Everything’s fine, we both just need time to cool off,”

“You’re sure?”

You have to consciously suppress a sigh at his continued questioning. Morgan was great, but god did he push.

“Yes Morgan, everything’s fine,” You spoke with enough conviction that you managed to convince him of your truth, although whether you believed it yourself was another question.

“Good, because if you two ever broke up I’m pretty sure the whole team would fall apart,” His tone tells you his joking, as does his expression as he leaves you to your coffee, but your brain isn’t as kind as to just let the comment fly over your head, and you’re sent into another spiral as you make your way back over to your desk.

Do the whole team really think of your relationship with Spencer as a vital part of its inner workings? What if it really didn’t work out? What would happen then?

Would the whole team fall into chaos?

You didn’t want to break off your relationship with Spencer. But what if it did happen?

Your thoughts leak into your body language, your shoulders tense as you sit down and your eyes not quite focused on the papers on your desk.

It didn’t help that Spencer sat directly opposite you either. It was like the world was trying to rub your conflict in your face every time you saw his hair in your peripheral vision.

You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head, but you knew he wouldn’t say anything. It was one of the faults in his character, and yours you suppose, because even if he did ask you what was wrong you’d probably blow him off anyway.

The tension between the two of you was enough for Emily and Morgan to share a glance across the bullpen to each other, although they didn’t have enough time to corner you into asking what was actually going on as Hotch called the team into the conference room.

The silent feud between the two of you continued into the meeting, sitting on opposite ends of the table like you were two negative magnets being forced away from each other by an insurmountable pressure.

It was a little silly you think, to be so removed from each other after a single argument, but when Spencer put his foot down about something, he held his ground under any circumstance.

And so the two of you were destined to lie in a stalemate, sat seething in silent frustration with each other until one of you eventually caved under the pressure.

It wasn’t going to happen.

It was another fault of the two of you. You were both too damn stubborn for your own good, and it was beginning to affect your ability to work together.

You were supposed to be two sides of the same coin. Two gears intertwined and seamlessly rolling off of each other in perfect unison. Instead, you couldn’t even decide on the importance of a half-burned diary found at the scene of the last scene you’d arrived at, the fourth building set ablaze in Fallon in the last five days.

“This guy is clearly dealing with marital struggles, that could be our trigger,”

Of course he had marital struggles, because you couldn’t escape your own issues even when you were two-thousand miles across the country.

“We don’t even know if that diary belongs to our unsub,” You sigh exasperatedly as you slump back in your chair.

“It was a grocery store. Who brings a diary to a grocery store unless it’s something extremely important to them? It has to belong to our unsub.”

“Spencer-”

“You know that I’m more likely to be right about this,”

You can’t help but scoff at his statement, discarding your coffee mug on the round table and causing small brown droplets to coat the surface of the wood from the force. “You’re really pulling the intelligence card? Seriously?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Spencer shrugs his shoulders with a furrowed expression. “My intelligence is what got me here and it’s telling me that this diary belongs to our unsub,”

“And my experience is telling me that you’re fixating on this goddamn diary instead of looking for things that could be actually useful to finding this guy because you want to feel sorry for yourself by living through his struggles.” You gesture exasperatedly to the book in his hands, becoming increasingly frustrated with Spencer’s attitude towards you.

He might be smart, but you had almost half a decade on him in terms of experience. He had zero right to speak to you like that mid-feud or not.

“You’re angry at me, I get it. Don’t let it cloud your judgement.” You push yourself up from the table with a scowl, leaving your chair pushed out as you exit the station with the door slamming shut behind you.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” Morgan furrows his eyebrows as you approach the house, clearly run-down and looking as though no-one had lived in it in several years.

“I’m sure,” Spencer gave a determined nod as he un-holstered his gun, following the team into the house to sweep it for the suspect.

Despite your argument about the importance of the diary, Spencer had continues to fixate on it completely, leading to a partial name that Garcia had managed to identify and ultimately the house you were now running into.

You feel under-appreciated sometimes. Hotch always ended up going with Spencer’s choices, experience didn’t matter. It was like he had a tattoo across his forehead that read ‘I’m always right’ and everyone else took it as law.

But you’re not going to disobey direct orders, even if you did want to throw all of Spencer’s favourite books into a filled bathtub and watch him mourn over the ruined pages.

“Clear!”

You sweep the house room by room, you, Hotch, and Emily in charge of the ground floor whilst Morgan and Spencer went upstairs.

It was a complete ghost house. There was no electricity, no running water, smashed windows and moulded wallpaper, the furniture looked decades old and above all it just smelled horrific, a mix of leaking waste pipes and faulty gas lines. Were you seriously supposed to believe someone was living here?

“All clear up here,” Morgan emerged at the top of the stairwell with a shrug. “We got nothing,”

“Of course we don’t,” You mutter the words to yourself with a roll of your eyes, silently confirming your own victory at the obvious lack of human presence in the house Spencer was so sure belonged to the unsub.

“Alright, regroup outside,” Hotch called up to the two, gaining a nod from Morgan as he went to retrieve Spencer and bring him down as you exited the building.

“Nothing?” JJ tilted her head slightly as the three of you emerged, met with Emily shaking her head with a slightly awkward expression as she met your gaze.

“Nope, gross, but nothing,”

“Gross is right, it smelled like shit in there-” You clear your throat into your elbow like you’d managed to infest your lungs from the smell.

“Where’s Spence and Morgan?” You shrug your shoulders at JJ’s question heading back to the SUV to grab a bottle of water.

“Knowing Reid he’ll be over-analysing something,” Emily chuckles slightly, patting JJ on the shoulder as she follows you past her. “Morgan’ll get bored soon enough,”

“Are we going or what?” You call out from where you’re leaning against the car, water bottle being waved around in your hand as you gesture your impatience.

“Morgan and Reid are-” Emily stops as she spots Morgan walking out of the front door. “—Reid is still inside,”

“Of course he is,” You grumble to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“He’s refusing to leave until he’s found something,” Morgan shrugs as he reaches Hotch’s side. “He’s adamant that there’s something to be found in there,”

“God seriously?” You groan out your words as you rejoin the group. “It’s an abandoned shit hole, there’s nothing to be found—”

A loud crash from the house interrupts your complaint.

Loud crashes are never good.

Neither is the bright orange flicker of light you can see through the front door. Definitely not when you’re working an arson case and Spencer Reid is still inside the house.

It’s like all the hours of you pondering how best to make Spencer suffer for his actions completely disappear as soon as the flames are in sight.

You couldn’t be angry at Spencer if he was dead.

The way the wooden beams of the door frame collapsed under the heat really cemented that thought in your mind.

“Spencer—”

Your attempt at running inside is promptly stopped by an outstretched arm that collides against your waist, winding you slightly and causing your expression to turn from fear to anger at the person who’d interrupted your attempt to vacate Spencer from the building.

“What are you doing?!” You push Morgan’s arm away from you harshly as you attempt to bypass him, but you don’t even get two steps forward before his arm is again blocking you from running into the burning building. “Get off me!”

“You can’t just run into a fire-” You continue to struggle against Morgan’s grip as he pleads his case to you, causing his voice to strain from the exertion of trying to keep you in one place.

“Morgan if you don’t let me go right now I swear to god-” Morgan withstands your threats with his strength, and you’re becoming increasingly resentful at just how much effort he’d gone through to stay physically fit.

“The fire department are on their way-” JJ’s voice is soaked in concern as she speaks, both hands clenched tightly around her phone as she stares into the open door of the house and the yellow-orange light that is quickly enveloping anything visible inside it. “They’re four minutes out,”

“Four minutes isn’t fast enough-”

“Hey-” Morgan continues to struggle against your writhing, planting both of his hands firmly against your shoulders and shaking them slightly in attempt to get your attention. “He’s going to be fine.” The uncertainty in his gaze tells you the opposite.

By the time you hear the sirens of fire engines rounding the street-corner, you don’t have the mental energy to feel relieved. All you can do is stare into the raging inferno that encapsulates the entire ground floor of the house and pray desperately that it didn’t manage to climb up the stairs. You know you’re being too optimistic.

You barely compute the obvious when a stretcher is prepared in front of the entrance, only coming to when you hear a worried gasp emanate from Emily at your side as Spencer is laid down on it after being recovered from the house’s master bedroom, very clearly unconscious and less clearly still breathing.

“Breathing is shallow, pulse is weak, we need to get him on oxygen,” The EMTs converse between themselves as they rush the stretcher into the fire ambulance, leaving you and your team to stand idly on the sidelines as both the fire and Spencer are taken care of by the firefighters on the scene.

You pace the waiting room on your heels, the sharp contact of your feet on the marbled floor leaving small shock waves to shoot up your legs as you walk. You couldn’t just sit down, you weren’t going to relax in a chair whilst the love of your life was possibly dying of asphyxiation. You were worried, terrified, and you had to release that nervous energy somehow.

If Spencer was here right now you’re sure he’d reprimand you for your nervous habit, rattling on about how heel-striking is dangerous for the health of your legs as it compresses your entire weight into a single point that can have bad impacts on your bones. Thinking about it just makes you feel worse, making you pace more and ultimately creating a self-fulfilling cycle where the more you thought about what he’d say the worse your actions would get.

At least you were actually in the hospital waiting and not back in the station waiting for a call. God knows you’d be more of a burden to the rest of the team than a help right now.

“Visitors for… Spencer Reid?” The nurse checks the clipboard in her hands as she speaks, and the second you hear the first syllable of his name you’re diverting your pacing to walk straight up to the nurse’s side.

“He’s awake but dreary, and he’s refusing any medication to help with the pain in his esophagus,” The nurse explains his conditions to you as she leads you down the hallway, shrugging her shoulders slightly at the mention of his refusal of pain medication.

“He can’t take narcotics, do you have any substitutes? NSAIDs?”

The nurse nods slightly at your explanation, checking her clipboard once more as she stops you at a wooden door. “I’ll have a look and see what I can find,”

“Thank you,” You give her a small nod and a smile as she leaves you at the door, suddenly even more nervous than you were in the waiting room. Not only was Spencer now in recovery for smoke inhalation and minor burns, the last ‘conversation’ the two of you had was an argument. A stupid, petty argument because you were both stubborn assholes who couldn’t agree to disagree on anything.

What if he didn’t want to see you? You were probably the last person he wanted at his bedside right now after everything that’d happened. Maybe you shouldn’t go in and see him.

Your hand is already opening the door. Okay, well, too late to second guess things now.

“Hey Spencer…” Your voice is barely a whisper as you enter the room, door shutting seamlessly behind you as you walk towards his hospital bed, fingers ringing together as a work around to release all of the nervous tension in your body without bursting into tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate a campfire-”

His words are enough to break the small tension between you, and you laugh softly in a mix of relief and worry. At least he was alright enough to be able to speak properly. The burn on his arm looked pretty bad though.

“You look like you ate a campfire,” You approach his hospital bed slowly, taking a seat on the plastic chair at his side and gazing over him with an entirely pitiful look in your eyes.

“I’m okay…” It was like he could read your mind, then again your sure that most people would be able to see how distraught you were right now, but Spencer was always the first to notice, and he languishly reached his hand out to rest against your knee.

You started crying the minute his fingers made contact with your slacks.

“I’m so sorry-” It felt a little silly to be crying in front of someone who’d just been trapped in a burning building and was probably experiencing an insane amount of pain from the lack of medication, but emotions don’t always follow logical boundaries. “I’ve been so- horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it at all-”

You’re sure you look like an absolute mess by now, tears staining your cheeks from your crying, a blotchy complexion from your stress, wrinkled clothes and ruined hair from constantly messing with them to try and find a release for all of your anxiety, but the way Spencer looks at you would have you assuming you’d stepped right off a runway.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for,”

“But-”

“Nothing.” Spencer shakes his head to the best of his ability as he shuts down your rebuttal, and he shifts his hand upwards to lie over your two hands clasped in your lap. “I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into something that you’re not ready for, that was my fault, and for that I’m the one who needs to be saying sorry,”

“No I get it-”

“I made you uncomfortable and upset and that was never my intention,” Spencer continues to cut off your attempts to speak, something he’d usually rather die than do to you - or anyone for that matter - but deemed a necessity to stop you from lumping all of the blame on yourself when you had done nothing more than establish a boundary. A boundary that Spencer didn’t respect.

“I love you, and I want to spend every waking hour I have in your presence, I want to sleep with you in my arms and wake with you by my side. I want to experience every up and down with you and keep you safe and loved at every instance,” Spencer gives your hand a small squeeze as he looks at you, your reflection in his eyes one of pure beauty and perfection. “I didn’t do that for you in our last disagreement, and I can only hope that you’ll forgive me and allow me to make up for that moving forward,”

Spencer’s fingers ghost over the back of your hand, pressing small circles into the dips between your fingers and gently massaging your skin. “I want to do nothing more than love you, and a piece of paper and a pair of rings won’t change that either way.”

You swear that you melt with every word that leaves the boy’s mouth, and if he wasn’t currently hospital bound you’d smother his face in kisses until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

In respect for his condition you turn you affections to his hand instead, holding it up to your face and pressing deft kisses against the curve of each of his knuckles, silent tears still sliding down your cheeks. Tears of a different trajectory this time, filled no longer with guilt and frustration and instead replaced with the realisation of just how much you mean to Spencer Reid.

“I love you so much,” Your lips brush the back of his hand as you speak, his fingers dampening with the lingering moisture of your tears as you hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth. “So much.”

The smile that breaks out on Spencer’s face could cure any ailment in your mind within seconds. “I love you too,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

562 notes · View notes

letsquestjess · 12 days

Text

One, Two, Throw (Hunter x F!Reader)

Summary: You look incredible throwing Hunter's knives, and he decides to show you just how irresistible you are.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Smut! 18+! MDNI! Fingering. It's Hunter-is-horny hour!

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and I'm a little torn between feeling proud and wanting to hide in a corner. Anyways, if people enjoy it, I'm down for writing some more.

-- -- -- -- --

“There you go,” Hunter encouraged, his touch on your waist warm and reassuring. His breath ghosted your nape as he leaned close to your ear. “Concentrate on the target and visualise it landing where you want to hit. Feel the weight of the knife, the way it balances in your hand.”

“If there was an enemy in front of me, they’d have got me by now,” you chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a mischievous smirk. “I know what to do, we’ve been doing this for hours.”

With an amused glimmer in the flinty brown of his eyes, he stepped back and signalled for you to proceed. He had to admit there was a certain charm to witnessing your determination. You had a particular look in your eyes, a fire that didn’t burn or destroy, but kindled the very core of who you were, and it brought him an indescribable joy.

You returned to the target as you shuffled your feet in the grit and lifted the weapon. Your stare lingered on the silhouette framed by the shrubbery of the back garden. Scratches and dints marred the pale outline, hitting almost every place other than the one you wanted. You’d even managed to land a strike on the groin, which had earned you an instinctive wince from the sergeant.

“Don’t strangle the knife,” Hunter cautioned as you were about to make your shot. “It needs to move.”

Coughing pointedly, you rolled your shoulders. Hilt over blade, it rotated and revolved until lodging itself into the wood inches from your intended destination with a deliberate twang. You let out an irritated huff.

“Keep trying,” Hunter said. “You’re getting better.”

“Seems like I’m getting worse.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

As you recovered the knife, you granted him a firm nod and a warm grin.

Again and again you tried, each attempt glancing off the edge or striking a non-fatal spot. It felt as though you would never take it down. Despite any doubts, Hunter’s constant reassurances kept your confidence from faltering.

He asked a couple of times if you wanted to stop, but you adamantly refused. After all, you had suggested this to experience his world before he chose to settle down, and you were starting to understand him more.

He rarely spoke about the hardships he and his brothers faced during the war or the difficulties he encountered after Order 66. As curious as you were, you didn’t want to pry. Although you had been dating for over a year, you understood that lightly encouraging him to talk was more effective than poking at his past.

Hunter observed you with the intensity of a hawk, studying your posture, your fortitude, your concentration. By the stars, you looked amazing with a vibroblade in your grasp, staring down that wooden silhouette. Every time you squared your stance and locked onto your target, a flood of adrenaline travelled up his spine and exploded with anticipation as you unleashed your shot. In his ravenous gaze, you were magnificent.

Sneaking closer, he inched his hands over your waist as you readied yourself for your next attempt. His lips swept behind your ear, planting a trail of kisses on your exposed skin.

“Want to offer more tips?” you asked.

He shook his head against your neck and continued his ministrations.

“I see, you’re trying to throw me off,” you figured.

“In dangerous situations, there will always be distractions,” Hunter reasoned, his hips pressing into your rear and his enjoyment of the situation immediately becoming apparent. “You need to be able to block them out.”

“Oh, so the enemy will be getting up close and personal.” You gave him a tantalising, raised eyebrow, almost bordering on mean, the sultry lilt in your tone even more so. “Is that what you meant, sergeant?”

As if in a blur, he swiftly disarmed you, snatching the knife from your grasp and launching it. The vibroblade quivered in the chest of the wooden target.

Before you could catch your breath, he twirled you round and lifted you up, balancing you in his arms and latching his lips onto yours as he strode with purpose back into the cottage.

Your hands found purchase in his hair as he nudged open the bedroom door and lay you down on the bed.

“Such a tease,” he murmured, breaths intermingling between kisses.

His mouth moved slow and deep, savouring the scent of you and your mounting arousal as his tongue explored your lower lip and slid inside. Tasting him like this had you tilting your hips, and he let out a low chuckle as he guided them back onto the fluffy bedspread.

“Hunter,” you groaned.

“Do you have any idea how good you look with a knife in your hands? Never seen anything so tempting.”

When you searched his eyes, you found nothing but pure devotion in them, an unyielding desire to be by your side for as long as time allowed.

“You never gave up,” he continued, undressing you languidly and lavishing any stretch of skin he exposed. “I’m proud of you. You stood there, determined. Fucking incredible.”

His kisses grew hungry as he finished unclothing you and discarded his own clothes, throwing them behind him with reckless abandon. He’d clean them up later. For now, all he craved was you.

You smoothed his dark waves from in front of his face as he climbed back up to your lips. He slid his fingers between your breasts, massaging and playing with each in turn before he trailed lower. To say he was skilled with his hands would be an understatement; his caresses were gentle yet firm, creating masterpieces of bliss on your skin. With every inch of contact, your breath caught in your throat, a soldier’s hands but a loving touch, and a silent ‘I love you’ lingering within.

Need gripped you and your nails dragged down the ridges of his chest and abdomen, lifting your hips to get him to explore the one place that ached for his talents. This time, he skipped the teasing and dipped a finger into the wetness between your legs, finding his way to your clit. With each circle he traced, he delighted in the enticing sounds you made, grinning mischievously as you pulled away to gasp, your head pressed against the pillows.

When he gently slipped a finger inside you, your whimpers became moans. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back from begging him for more, but you did your best. You knew how he loved making you feel good and working you up for him, and you wanted to let him have this.

Hunter soothed the dip of your brow with a tender press of his lips, gazing at you as though you provided him with the air he breathed. He’d never tire of seeing you like this, sweat dappling your skin, body lifting and falling with each wave of pleasure. He craved to etch this view behind his eyelids to look at whenever he closed his eyes. “That’s it,” he whispered, spurring your rising bliss with another finger.

“I need…” You swallowed and released a purposeful breath.

“Tell me, sweetest,” Hunter cooed. “What do you need?”

His fingers worked their way in and out while his thumb circled your clit. Your core lit up and your hips chased the motion. You couldn’t stop it, even if you tried, and this time, he didn’t ease you back down with a steady hand. He let you grind against him, hunting that sensation only he provided as his hard desire pressed against your abdomen.

“Need you,” you whined. You brought him down for another kiss, determined for him to devour every single one of your senses.

“All in good time.” He curled his fingers and brushed that particular spot that had you panting and squeezing your eyes shut while his other hand prowled up and down your body in slow, deliberate caresses. His kisses turned feverish before his teeth nibbled at your throat and a rumble purred in his own.

He could smell you, you realised, the scent of your pleasure only heightening his own desire to sink into you.

The hunger within you built as he quickened his pace and your climax thundered ever closer. “Hunter, I…” you breathed. “I’m so…”

“Can feel it,” he practically growled into your neck as your pussy clutched onto him, the tip of his nose brushing yours with every thrust of his fingers. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That was all you needed, those three words spoken with such security and tenderness, and the tightening coil in your core snapped. White hot seared through your veins and covered your body in pure bliss as he coaxed you through your high. As your pleasure reached its highest point, you gave a soft groan, your nails digging into his shoulders to ground you.

Hunter kept you afloat, his movements inside you slowing. He hushed your whimpers and kissed the corner of your lips as you panted. “That’s my girl. You good?”

“Better than good,” you managed to get out. “Maybe I should practice knife throwing more often.”

You smirked at the muffled vibration in Hunter’s throat as his eyes fluttered shut, and you could almost see the image of yourself wielding his knives imprinting on his mind.

“Later,” he assured you. “We’re nowhere near done here yet.”

I'm going to start a separate NSFW taglist since I know that it's not for everyone. If you would like to be added, feel free to send me a message.

363 notes · View notes

martyfive · 2 months

Text

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

189 notes · View notes

echo-lover · 2 months

Text

Why are you watching this, it's for kids. Focus on life, find yourself a partner, have your own family. You are an adult. Grow up.

You don't understand it. This is not just a series...

This series gives me a chance to feel like a kid again. I find comfort, safety and care in the arms of characters who mean the world to me. I experience each of their moments of sadness, each of their smallest joys, as if they were my own. This is my home, my safe space. I love them with all my heart. Thank you Star-Wars for my beautiful family.

I love Wrecker because he always managed to put a smile back on my face, even when I was having the worst day ever. His cheerful personality makes it impossible not to like him. Sometimes he is just a child, trapped in a large man's body. Behind all this muscles and enormous strength that can easily hurt you, there is a soft heart made of gold. He can be gentle, soft, even quiet if he has to. He would do absolutely everything for his family. He is also way more intelligent than he might think. The way he takes care of Omega melts my heart every time. Kids love him and he loves kids.

I love Tech because he can quickly adapt to situations. His voice is so special... I could listen to him for hours and never get tired of his facts about everything he saw and heard on his missions. He showed me that being smart is not something I should be ashamed of. His voice is calming, gives me comfort... I love his little jokes and moments where he was just a little savage in conversations. Even though he processes moments and thoughts differently, he is still able to share his own feelings with Omega. She helped him open up and show the part of himself that he kept closed from the world, even from himself. He loved his family so much that he sacrificed himself for their safety, paying the biggest price. He is worth every tear I shed for him (and there were so many).

I love Echo because I see a part of myself in him. He has been with me from the very beginning of my journey with Clones, and is one of the most important characters for me. I relate to him for many personal reasons. Even though he has experienced so much evil in his life, he is still able to be gentle, caring and show love to those who were closest to him. I especially love his bond with Omega, they both understand each other through their traumas, and way more. Omega quickly became the most important to Echo, but he couldn't give up on fighting, even for her. He felt that he has to somehow compensate for all the lost years when he was a prisoner on SkakoMinor. His honor, loyalty and courage inspire me every day. And his tenderness and softness touch my soul deeply. I could talk about him for hours and never get bored. I wish I'd be able to give him the biggest and warmest hug, and tell him how important he is to me.

I love Crosshair because he's the type of character I could easily hate, but I don't. In fact Cross is very close to my heart, I feel sorry for him and I want to help him get back to his old self. He is so much more than what the Empire has done to him. This sniper who never misses, who doesn't have to use his muscles to hurt - words are enough for him - silent, yet sharp. Precise, accurate, always on point. Confident, knowing his skills. Painfully honest, but needing to prove his worth to others at the same time. I know there is this soft side of him, hidden, but it is there for sure. The side that loves his brothers and little sister more than his own life. He need some time to understand that he is worth all the love in the Galaxy and I hope that Omega will help him to realize, that his brothers never really left him. They would take him back, if he just wanted...

I love Hunter because he makes me feel safe. I can't put it into words, but he's a character that reminds me of home... a loved one that I lost some time ago. He is so much like my dad at some point and his bond with Omega is so special for me. I know he's not perfect, he makes mistakes just like everyone else, but he always wants to do the right thing. He is a leader, not the one that only gives orders, but he is more like the head of the family who protect them - a father. He always puts his family first and is willing to do anything for them. For any of them, including Crosshair. He often doesn't give direct orders, just suggestions. His squad is not just soldiers, but they are his brothers, his closest family. His priorities changed when Omega appeared in his life - a child in need of a family, who trusted him and gave him love that he had never received before. From a soldier, he became a father, who would give everything for his daughter's safety and joy. His relationship with Omega is the most important to me. I loved him from the first moment and I could talk about him for hours, just like about Echo. I will always defend him. No matter what.

I love Omega because she took the best parts of each of her brothers. She is fearless, brave, strong and ready to defend her family until the very end. She's just a sweet little girl who can't have a normal childhood. She's different, just like her brothers, and she's so proud of it. She is not afraid to show her individuality. But even though she is strong and brave, she is still just a child. She needs love, protection... family... and Bad Batch gave it to her... a home, a safe place, loving brothers... Words cannot describe how important she is to me. Now she has changed so much, she is no longer this little Omega from first season... I think she becomes so much like Hunter.

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #clones #never stop loving clones #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb #personal thoughts #i love bad batch

262 notes · View notes

moonschocolate · 6 months

Text

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

383 notes · View notes

shankschewtoy · 8 months

Note

Just went driving on a road it was scary ash. So anyway I was wondering how one piece characters would fair on the road. Ik for a fact that luffy is probably banned from every road imaginable. Have a good day slayer

a/n - ah yes I’m slayer 😂 (a demon slayer) jkjk thanks for your request anon and yes, Luffy is banned from driving forever. (Garp’s also banned but we don’t talk about that)

Warnings ⚠️ - modern au, g/n reader, crack, bro Luffy is so bad at driving it’s hilarious

- if you think you’re a bad driver no you’re not. Luffy’s 10x worse

- he eats when he drives and he steers the wheel with his toes 💀💀💀

- “You have to stop at the red lights Luffy.”

- “MFFMM got it!” *his mouth is full*

- bro speeds through red lights and somehow stays alive

- and this time he managed to fly through a literal building. A BUILDING.

- needless to say. You’re scared asf. (Who wouldn’t be-? I’d die the moment I step into the car 💀)

- “LUFFY STOP THE CAR AND PUT YOUR FEET ON THE BRAKES-!”

- “IM OUT OF FEET!” *feet on the steering wheel*

- “THEN USE YOUR FUCKING HANDS THATS WHAT THEYRE THERE FOR!”

- “IM EATING!”

- “SIDJEONRORNRKT STOP EATING OMFG-“ (you are about to murder your bf. i support that movement, do it)

- nothing can interrupt a meal 👍

- garp is just as bad except he gets more angry at dumb drivers. He’s also been banned by the city government from driving but he drives anyway

- Luffy is very close to being banned by the country government. That’s a whole new level of bad driving

- you have survived all the times and I commend you for that. If you didn’t worship god before you do now thanks to Luffy. You pray before every driving experience 🫶

- does zoro know how to drive? Yes

- is he good at it? Eh he’s ok

- does he use a gps? no.

- do you end up in Hawaii when you’re trying to go to Starbucks? Yes

- “HOW DID WE CROSS AN ENTIRE FUCKING OCEAN??” -you

- “I TOOK THE FREEWAY TF YOU MEAN?!” -zoro

- he’s a smooth driver don’t get me wrong, but he never ends up in the right place

- “zoro im gonna take a nap wake me up when we get there.”

- “k.”

- you’re on the right path, and it’s a straight way for a couple hours, nothing could go wrong! Right?

- when you woke up, you found yourself in the heat of a- battle?! WHERE TF WERE YOU?

- you saw stars all around you. NOT FIGURATIVELY. LITERALLY

- “Y/N PLS HELP.” (Zoro is dying rn)

- “WHERE TF ARE WE?!”

- “I DONT FUCKING KNOW?!”

- you’re in space. you’re in space.

- don’t ask me how you can breathe with no air it’s zoro’s fault

- you’re in the star wars verse btw 💀

- “IS THAT A ROBOT FLYING THAT SHIP?!” -you (this is a normal reaction)

“Oooo that guy’s sword is green! I gotta get one of those.” -zoro (this is not a normal reaction)

- “CAN YOU FOCUS??? DRIVE PLEASE!”

- you’re literally abt to get shot to death by lasers and zoro’s talking about lightsabers 💀

- afterwards.. yes. you drove while he took a nap instead. You’ve learned your lesson to never let this mossy bitch drive

- also yes. Zoro got a green lightsaber as a souvenir so don’t worry about him

- believe it or not he’s always drunk when he’s driving (omg it’s so hard to believe ikik)

- but fr he’s always driving while being illegally intoxicated 😭

- since he’s also missing an arm that makes it worse because he has to take his hand off the wheel to do anything else

- “Babe pls keep your eyes on the road.” -you

- “Yeah i got it don’t worry!”

- he doesn’t got it

- he’s swerving all over the place, getting honked at, getting flipped off, and most of all, getting angry death glares from other drivers

- “Hey babe I’m gonna take- a nap.” -shanks

- “Ok.” -you

- …

- “Wait what? SHANKS WTF-“

- bro fell asleep on the horn and made the car start swerving around all over the place. You couldn’t count how many poor trash cans the car ran over 💀

- you tried to take the wheel but his dumb ass was too heavy and big to move out of the way

- “SHANKS WAKE TF UP!”

- you ended up punching him in the nose, making it bleed, and he woke up in a daze. Bro stank ASS. HE SMELLED SO BAD

- bro was RANCID. Smelled like over fermented kombucha and that is not a good smell trust me

- “Oh hey babe what’s going on?” -shanks

- “PAY ATTENTION TO THE ROAD YOU IDIOT-!”

- idk how y’all didn’t crash but you didn’t so-

- you needed some therapy from Benn later but that’s ok 👍

a/n - i chose all bad drivers

224 notes · View notes

imabeautifulbutterfly · 1 month

Note

Alright I’m back for one more…

May I suggest 11 and 38 with our hubband Mayday?

@coffeeandbatboys I hope you like this one too, love.

Love oo.

Warmth

Warnings: Freezing, falling into a pond, nearly freezing to death, near death, fluff, kissing, comfort, cold, I think that's it. Let me know if I miss anything.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

The snow wasn’t letting up, each step you took only got heavier. You were cold, your body frozen from falling through the ice, who could’ve known there was a pond under all the snow. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep enough to prevent you from getting out, but you did lose your rations. Your hands felt as though they were going to fall off, you kept them hidden under your armpits, hoping they’d warm up a little, but it seemed to only make your armpits cold.

It was just another ten kilometres, you already walked an hour in this weather, soaking wet. At least, when you fell in, you had practically finished your patrol.

And as much as you didn’t mind Barton IV, at this current point in time, you wanted to be warm in your quarters, with Mayday’s arms around you. Holding you close, as he whispered sweet promises in your ear.

Keeping those thoughts going in your mind, was the drive you needed to keep going.

It was almost two hours later, when you saw the outline of the base. You let out a sigh of relief, as your steps faltered on the hard concrete surface. You kept moving, but now your feet somehow felt even heavier.

There was a blurry image of someone running towards you, someone shouted your name, it sounded so close and so far, you couldn’t even move anymore. Your knees crumpled under you as you fell to the ground.

Mayday rushed over to you, as soon as he saw you trudging towards the entrance he took off on a full run to get to you. Before you even hit the ground he wrapped his arms around your back and knees carrying you in his arms inside. He took you to the medics as soon as he could.

He sat beside your bed, his knee bouncing as he held your hand, pressing it to his lips, hoping the warmth from his breath would provide you comfort.

Your eyes slowly opened, you turned your head to look at the person holding your hand, smiling as you saw Mayday sitting beside you.

“Hey…” you whispered softly, unable to talk louder.

His eyes flung open to look at you, he let out a choked sigh, without a thought, he shifted from his seat, sitting beside you on the bed looking into your eyes. “Oh thank the force!” He pressed his forehead against yours, “Maker! Cyare, you had me worried.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“I was running away from some raiders, and … the ice broke. I fell into a pond…”

“You ran? Did you think they were gonna kill you?”

“Thought had crossed my mind” you offer a small smile, although your eyes were barely staying open.

“I want you to know something, cyare, the only one who gets to kill you is me. Trust me, when I say I will make good on promise if you don’t comm when you’re in trouble.”

“I tried, but the cold killed it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckled, as you slowly opened your eyes and looked into his eyes, smiling. “You know I didn��t do it on purpose.”

“I know. And that’s the only reason, I’m not yelling at you, or saying ‘You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.’ Understood? This is your one and only near death experience you’re allowed to have.”

“Okay, sweetie. I understand.”

Mayday pressed his lips against yours, needing to remind himself you were there, you were alive and you were safe now. Maker, how he hated the Empire, he hated how they didn’t care about anyone. Even if they wanted to shun him and his brothers, they should at least take care of you.

He lifted you with his arms as he wrapped them around you, hugging you close to his body. He never wanted to think about losing you again. Hopefully, with the new Lieutenant that was to be arriving in a few days, things would get better. At least, he hoped you’d all get some new equipment and supplies.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

57 notes · View notes

allicat0 · 5 days

Note

Based on your other Star Wars fics (made me weak in the knees) would you write a Bad Batch oneshot? In honour of the end being so near… either Hunter or Tech (I knowwww he’s not- but he IS) and plot relevance doesn’t matter. If the reader were a little tied up or restricted in a way and talked down to a teensy bit… whatever you would write would be incredible I’m sure. Love your work soooo much

Longing for Love

ans: Firstly, thank you so much for the request, and I totally agree Tech is a cutie and I adore him just as much as Hunter. I love the idea and I hope I could provide what you were looking for! I know you asked for oneshot but I believe I went a little over board. I got a little carried away

Summary: It had been quite some time since you and Hunter last saw each other.. So when he finally returns back to the Parlor he was quick to get his hands on you. (This also takes place season 2ish)

Content: MDNI!, 18+, afab, Dom Hunter, Restriction, tied up, degrading, praising, submissive reader.

A/N:I am so sad that TBB has officially ended Im so sad but so happy with the ending! Again sorry for any spelling, grammar, or punctuation mistakes. Enjoy!

They say falling in love can be like a whirlwind, sweeping you off your feet before you even realise what's happening. It's a rush of emotions, a rollercoaster of highs and lows compressed into a short period of time. You find yourself captivated by someone's presence, drawn to their quirks, and enamoured by their essence. In such moments, time seems to blur as you dive headfirst into a new connection. Every conversation feels like a discovery, each shared experience deepens the bond, and before you know it, your heart beats a little faster whenever they're near. Which is exactly how it felt between you and Hunter. It’s said, what makes falling in love so intense is the rawness of emotions, the excitement of something new and uncharted. There's a sense of vulnerability that comes with opening your heart so swiftly, but also a thrilling sense of adventure as you explore this uncharted territory together. While some may caution against rushing into love, there's also a beauty in allowing yourself to be swept away by the magic of connection, even if it happens in the blink of an eye. After all, love doesn't always adhere to timelines or expectations—it simply blooms when two hearts find resonance with each other.

When you were recruited some time ago, it wasn’t an awkward transition, not only were they quick to take you in and treat you like family but you and Hunter’s relationship grew fast. As time passed, you would find yourself noticing the little details that made him so unique—the way he would crinkle his nose when he smiled, the way his eyes would light up when he talked about the future, or the way his touch sent a flutter through your heart. There was a sense of ease and familiarity that came with spending time with Hunter and you were quick to realise you were falling in love with him, little did you know, he was feeling it too.

When he would arrive back to the Parlor after a mission you would talk to each other for hours. When you’re spending countless hours with someone you're slowly falling in love with, time stops.. It's in the small, seemingly insignificant moments—sharing laughter over inside jokes, engaging in deep conversations that stretch into the night, or simply enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence—that love quietly blossoms and grows. It wasn’t long until you and Hunter made your love for one another official, but when you did it made him leaving ten times harder.

When circumstances forced the two of you to be apart, whether due to missions or other obligations, you found yourself missing those moments of connection and intimacy that the two of you shared. Simple things like his comforting hand on my shoulder or the way he'd smile in a way that made your heart skip a beat, that became cherished memories that you longed to experience again. The distance highlighted just how much he meant to you and how his presence had become an integral part of your life. It was a test of patience and resilience, learning to navigate the feelings of longing and yearning while finding ways to stay connected despite the physical distance. So to keep yourself busy, you put your medical field to work tending to the wounds and ailments of those who come seeking help inside Cid’s Parlour as well as keeping the place nice and intact.

After being apart for seven long months, the reunion with Hunter was a moment you had been eagerly anticipating, like a traveller yearning for home. The anticipation built with each passing day, the thought of finally seeing him again filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Your heart raced with a mixture of emotions—joy, relief, and a deep sense of longing finally about to be fulfilled.

You heard the Marauder land out on the loading dock outside the Parlor, you rushed outside watching as the ship’s door slowly began to fall. When your eyes met, it was as if time stood still. You started running to him, the world fading away as you made your way over to Hunter. The feeling of his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. There was an undeniable sense of comfort and belonging in his embrace, as if all the distance and time apart had melted away in that single moment. You held each other tightly, savouring the feeling of being together once again, feeling the warmth of each other's presence after what felt like an eternity. Words were unnecessary as your actions spoke volumes, conveying the depth of emotions you had been holding onto during your time apart.

In your shared moment Hunter eventually broke the silence. “I’ve missed you beautiful” you could hear his smirk, your grip tightened around him, not wanting to let him go afraid he would leave once more. “I’ve missed you too” You said to him faintly. “I’m just gonna help the guys unload. . I’ll be in shortly alright” Hunter said, pulling away looking into your eyes. “Go. .I’ll be right in.” He waved you off and walked back onto the ship.

Having him gone for as long as he was, put not only a mental toll on you but a sexual one as well. You would be lying if you said you weren’t dying for his touch. Craving the feeling of being held close, melting into Hunter's arms and losing yourself in the moment. Waiting to feel the sensation of his body pressed against your own, the taste of his lips. The desire for Hunter’s touch has become a powerful force, driving you to seek solace in fantasies and secret desires. After the Batch finished their quick little debriefing with Cid, the two of you made your way into your shared room. Hunter wraps you in his arms, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he holds you close. His heart beats in sync with yours, taking everything in a moment to savour the warmth of your body pressed against his. He traces the outline of your features with his fingertips, feeling the texture of your skin beneath his calloused palm. With each stroke, he feels the tension in his body melt away, replaced by a sense of tranquillity and peace. His eyes meet yours as he pushes a piece of your hair behind your ear.

Hunter inhaled sharply as you looked up at him. “I’m sorry we were gone for so long. . far to long.” he said softly as he cupped your cheek, your face melting into his touch. “Why don’t you make it up to me” his demeanour changed quickly once you struct up the offer. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you're tired, you can rest inst-EAD!” Your words grew louder when Hunter swiftly picked you up and placed you down on the bed, it was safe to say you got your answer.

Hunter's lips press against your own and suddenly the world fades away, leaving the two of you in a moment of pure ecstasy. Feeling his lips on your own made you feel complete, and whole once again. Each kiss was laced with passion, each one getting sloppier than the last, being away from each other has been hard and like you said. Now he was gonna make these last seven months up to you. His hands trailed down your sides, firmly gripping onto your hips, pulling you closer. You felt his tongue push its way past your lips lapping with your own, exploring the depths of your mouth.

Pulling away just enough to catch your breath a trail of saliva breaking from your separation. Your eyes lock, only for a moment. Hunter began trailing kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips made their way across your collarbones, lingering for a moment before reaching your chest. He paused, his fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt pulling it up and off. Hunter took a moment to admire your chest, his fingers brushed along your skin gently. Leaning back down you felt his lips meet your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses that made their way further down. The warmth of his breath teased your skin, making you squirm slightly in anticipation. With each touch, the wetness between your legs grew, leaving you breathless and eager for more. He was teasing you, doing his best to work you up. . and it was working.

You looked down at him, your eyes pleading with him, he knew that this was what you desired, and he would give it to you. Gently, he lifted himself off the bed, and grabbing his silk rope, he tied your wrists together and attached them to the bedpost, ensuring your comfort while also restraining you. Your eyes never left his, the trust and submission evident between you. As he finished binding your wrists, he traced the rope with his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. Hunter leaned in and began to kiss his way down your body once again, savouring every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of passion and intensity. Each touch, each kiss, and each breath sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, knowing that you were completely in his control.

Hunter could hear your heart beating faster, the anticipation and excitement building up inside you. He ran his hands down your sides, feeling your muscles tense under his touch. With a knowing smile, he pulled your pants and panties down, discarding them to the side. He reached for another piece of silk rope, spreading your legs and began tying it around your ankles, then to each end of the bed. Still allowing your legs to have some mobility but, you weren't going far. The sensation of being bound sent shivers down your spine, heightening your desire for what was to come. He stood up and admired his handiwork, the sight of you restrained before him driving him wild with lust. He knew what came next would be even more intense, and he couldn't wait to lose himself in you.

"I'm going to make you beg for me, Beg me to take you, and to make you scream my name." His voice was deep and commanding, sending waves of desire through you. As Hunter knelt down between your legs, gently pushing them apart, giving him full access to explore every inch of your body. His hands ran up and down your thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You couldn't help but bite down on your lip holding in your sweet sounds, the combination of the restraints and his touch pushing you closer to the edge. As he reached your most sensitive area, he paused, looking up at you with a smirk, his eyes locked on yours, the power dynamic clear. "Say it," he commanded, his voice low and hypnotising. "Tell me you want it, that you need me." The command sent pleasure racing through you, making it nearly impossible to form coherent thoughts. "Say it, or I'll stop." His eyes were filled with both desire and a hint of playful cruelty. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you whispered, "Please."

Hunter raised his eyebrow “you know that isn’t good enough, use your words.” his words were stern once more. “Please touch me” you let out a soft whimper. The power dynamic between the two of you was driving him wild. He took you in deeply, his tongue began lapping over your wet pussy in a well paced manner, pushing you closer to the edge. As he continued, his hands held your legs open holding them in place, bounding you completely. His tongue dipped inside you, exploring every inch, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. Each touch was deliberate, each flick of his tongue designed to bring you closer. "That's it," he murmured, his voice low and seductive, vibrating against your pussy. "Beg for me, beg for the release I'm about to give you." You could feel yourself getting closer. "Please," you begged, "I need you, please don't stop." His eyes locked on yours, desire burning brightly, as he continued, you could feel the release building, the inevitable climax just moments away.

You felt the knot building up inside, getting ready to release just moments away, but you felt Hunter pull away. Your eyes shot down to look at him. “What are you?” He gave one last kiss to your pussy before lifting his head away from the inbetweens of your legs. “Not yet,” Hunter said sternly as he pulled the lining of his pants down, adjusting himself and freeing his stiff cock. His hand gripped around the base giving it a few pumps. “Mm please Hunter, please let me cum” You cried out to him, a smirk spread across his face. “Such a greedy whore aren’t you. Begging for me to let you cum.” He said as he positioned himself between your thighs, his deep brown eyes locked on yours. His large hands grip your hips, guiding himself into your pussy. The initial thrust is slow and deliberate, letting you adjust to his presence.

But It wasn’t long before he began to thrust deeper, you moaned softly, revelling in the fullness of his invasion. With each thrust, you pussy wrapped around him tighter causing your head to fall back into your pillows. Without your hands to cover your mouth you did your best to shield your moans into your pillows but failed doing so. Your sweet sounds echoed throughout the room, as Hunter continued to thrust into you having total control over your body. “F-fuckk Hunter” You cried out his name as he picked up the pace, his hands gripping your hips tight as he pounds into you. Your hands squirm trying to break free of the restraint you wanted to hold him, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen.

You did your best to move your hips in the rhythm of Hunter’s thrust as much as your restraint body would allow you to. “That’s it, fuck you’re such a good slut” he let out in a low groan. His thrusts became more sloppy by the minute, he was growing close and so were you. “Hunter!” you whined out your eyes locking on his. “What is it pretty girl, fuck, tell me what you want” his voice was horse as he spoke, choking back his groans. "You're so close, aren't you? So close to that release." His fingers dug deeper into your sides, making you squirm beneath him. "But you won't get it until I say so. Beg for it, beg to cum." His voice was low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine once more. You whimpered, the desire and need building within you. "Please, please, I need it," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please let me cum." He smirked, as he continued thrusting his cock into you, pushing you closer to the edge. "Not yet,”

“Fuck I can’t take it anymore, Hunter please!” he surrendered, allowing you to fall over the edge and into the abyss of pleasure, cumming on his cock. Your legs began to shake as he fucked your through your climax. “Shit, baby.” Hunter let out a low moan, thrusting into you a few more times before, sending his release into you. The two of you fell silent, doing your best to catch your breath. Watching as his chest would rise and fall rapidly trying to catch his breath. He pulled out of you slowly and leaned up, planting a kiss on your lips, before falling next to you. “Don’t ever leave for that long again” you huffed out, catching your breath. Hunter smiled looking over at you “I promise, if I’m ever gone that long again. . I’m taking you with me”

@allicat0 . .signing off

#the bad batch #fanfiction #smut #18+ mdni #star wars #starwars the clone wars #starwars the last jedi #starwars fanfic #tbb hunter #tbb season 3 #hunter bad batch #bad batch fanart #bad batch fanfic #hunter bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #sw tbb #tbb fanfiction #tbb fandom #tbb season 2

43 notes · View notes

romanarose · 11 months

Text

Gift Giving with the Triple Frontier Boys

Triple Frontier Master List All fanfic masterlist

Thoughts on the TF boys expressing their love for you through gift giving, and you returning it.

Acts of Service Word of Affirmation Quality Time Physical Touch

Warnings: Mentions of smut, pregnancy, nightmares involving death, drinking problem, addiction/rehab, past child abuse (sorry Millers lolololol), Not very smutty this time, lo siento.

************

Santiago Garcia

After Santi and Fish went back for the money in the canyon, they split it with the Millers, but that still eft each with a hefty sum. Anyone who grew up poor like Santi knows its easier to make money when you have money, and after a few smart monetary choices, Santi found himself in a good financial position. He still considered what he has somewhat blood money, although you frequently remind him that it was Tom that fucked it all up, so Santi makes sure to donate to charities close to his heart. However, Santiago adores you, and he'd me amiss if he didn't use that money to spoil you. Maybe it's dresses, maybe it's leather pants that show off your ass, maybe it's you're clothing taste is more simple but he indulges you in t-shirts from Star Wars, Doctor Who, and what's the stupid Marvel show? Moon Night? Whatever, he'll get you the goddamn Moon Night back back. If you like make up, fancy head coverings or wigs, he's got you, anything to make his girl feel special. You go to a concert, merch tent is yours. You don't even bring it up half the time, he'll catch you staring at a dress at the mall or 'recently viewed' will pop up on amazon and he'll just get it, as a treat. And if you have a fancy event, a quince, you're nieces first communion, or an Afghan wedding with multiple clothing changes, you bet you'll have the best. Oh, and you BET your wedding dress or suit will be the one you want, and you're ring? On point.

You and Santi took things slow. Maybe it's for religious reasons, maybe it's because you have had bad experiences in the past, or maybe you just wanted too, but you hadn't had sex yet. You'd slept over, keeping things modest but intimate, him holding you close and yeah, you maybe had to ignore a boner or two. He couldn't help it, it was biology, but he was nothing but respectful. However, when the time came you found you were ready.... you had a plan. It was his birthday, and after a very loud, very fun event with all his family and his friends ending with Will half-dragging his brother out because Benny kept saying goodbye for 40 minutes, you found yourselves alone.

"I've got a surprise for you" You gently push Santi back, lifting up your dress to reveal a lingerie set that made you look good and feel comfortable.

The dumbfounded look on his face and immediate bulge in his pants made it all the more impressive that he gulped, and stuttered out an "are you sure? you're absolutely sure?" before diving in on you. It wasn't the only gift you had gotten him, of course, but your body might be his favorite.

Benny Miller

It had been a bad day, but when you called Benny on your break and asked how he was, it was clear Benny was having a rough day at the gym. Benny vented to you, you listened, offered advice where he wanted it and allowed him to complain about the little things that nothing could be done about where he needed. By the time your hour was up, your food was ate and both of you felt better. Even just talking to your husband brightened your day, even if you didn't tell him that you were frustrated. However, work continued to suck ass. When you get home, however, you start on diner because you know Benny had a tough day and food made him happy. When he came home, however, he had a few things. In one had was his keys, water bottle and barely gasping a case of beer (jesus christ his hands are large) and in the other, a Hostess fruit pie from the gas station that he handed to you. "What's this for?" You ask, surprised by the treat. Benny shrugged. "I saw it and thought of you. You said you used to eat them a lot as a kid?" You did... you said that... about 3 years ago you made an offhand comment, and he remembered. Benny was nearly tackled by the hug, and you could not imagine having a better partner in this life.

Benny was a silly lil guy. Not to say he couldn't be serious. He was there for Frankie through his addiction, but Benny's best support was offered through his shinning personality, like visiting Frankie in rehab and making him laugh. Likewise, he was there to listen and genuinely help you with problems, he was fiercely defensive of you, and was serious when needed, but what you loved about him was how much you genuinely had fun together. None of this is to say Benny doesn't have his struggles. You told him he needed to get him drinking under control before you would date him, (although you supported him with that even through the 'friends for now' stage), and Benny clearly had PTSD from serving and from his childhood that he tended to bury under her sunny exterior. You notice him slipping, his nightmares getting worse; nightmares of his dad killing Will, someone hurting you or Santi or Fish, Tom dying... you figured you needed to make him laugh. So, you sit him down and gift with him with a pair of boxers that say "this ass belongs to-" with your name on it. Benny's face splits into a wide, genuine grin. He laughs so damn hard and hugs you so damn tight you feel a little bit better. You tell him you got him a gift because you've noticed he's been struggling lately, and open up a conversation about what's been going on... and maybe, if he's up for it, talking to a doctor at the VA about getting on some anti-nightmare medication.

Frankie Morales

When Frankie came into your life, you knew before you ever dated that he had a daughter, and none of that phased you. She was a good kid, and you had gotten along well with her. Frankie was slow to introduce you, of course, not wanting women in and out of her life, but as you and Frankie grew closer you met her, and were thrilled to be spending more time with her as Frankie thought was appropriate. It was still early in your relationship when you came over to his house only to find Fransico Julio Morales Andala with a tiara on his head, covered in glitter, sitting at a kid sized table with craft goods stone across it... girl dad life. You smiled fondly at him, and chuckled as him and Adrianna yelled at you to wait in the living room until they were done. So, you sat on your phone listening to the father-daughter pair whisper and giggle and argue before they bring their finished product. A Valentines day card, ugly as all hell... but so clearly both of them. Franki drew a helicopter, Adrianna drew a castle, Frankie drew you and him holding hands, Adrina drew a dead "bad guy"... you weren't sure what that head to do with Valentines Day but oh well. And together, they had glued on dried flowers, lace, Star Wars stickers, and a fuck ton of glitter for you. It was entirely too much, would glitter-ize you and your apartment for weeks... but god dammit you were crying and now you had to frame it.

You were nervous, as far as fathers days go... Frankie wanted this, he said he did, but less than 2 months of marriage seemed... soon? You did the math, and he knocked you up your wedding night. Still, you wanted to give Adrianna a sibling... Frankie had spent the day with her, but you really wanted to talk to him alone, and you really thought today was fitting... so Santi took her for diner. He was a father figure to her, after all. It took a while, but halfway through diner was when Frankie asked, worried, 'Something wrong, hermosa?' You couldn't wait any longer, and told him you were pregnant with his child. You watched as the shock filled him, tears misting his eyes before he came over to your side of the table and pulled you to your feet. Frankie picked you up, making you squeal and both of you giggled as he spun you around before setting you down on the floor.

"Best father's day gift ever"

Will Miller

It was a military ball, and although you tried to keep it lowkey... you were thrilled. You hardly got a chance to dress up, and when was the last time you wore a dress this fancy? Will knocked on the door before entering when you called him in, a move you thought was a bit silly considering you were married and it was his savings that bought the house, but Will thought you should be allowed your privacy either way. You turn from where you sit in the vanity mirror, finding Will blue eyes and soft smile trained on you. 'You look beautiful, princess. I'll never get tired of telling you, every damn day.' He kissed the top of your hair, very careful not to mess up your up-do and walked over to his drawer. He began a preamble that you didn't have to wear it if you had other jewelry plans, but you but him off. Whatever he gave, you'd proudly wear. Will walked back behind you, and you are struck once again by how such a large man can manage not to look the slightest bit intimating. not you at least. But maybe that's because you know him, and despite whatever he had done on the military, he was the gentlest soul you had ever met in your life. He pulled out a neckless, stunningly sparkly and bright, with your favorite jewel and fucking hell it must've been expensive. He clasped it behind you, sealing the act with a kiss on your neck, a hint of what no doubt will happen later tonight... And you will, in fact, be showing this neckless of all night, just as Will is going to show off you.

"Honey, I'm home!" You call as you step in and Will beckons you to the guest room where he is fixing the closet door. Will turns around to greet you, setting the tools down so he could take you in for a kiss, something you two promised to try and do every day, when he saw what you were holding, flowers. Confused, he kisses your cheek. "Are we visiting your grandma today, honey?" He asked, and when you said no, he had a few more possible reasons for the flowers, even so far as to ask if this was your way of reminding him he forgot an important date. You laugh, as if he would ever. You finally tell him, "They're for you, silly." The man was too stunned too speak. "For me? Why?". You explain you don't need a reason, that he's your special man and he deserves it. You explain how you were driving home and saw a pop up flower stand, and realized that your kind, thoughtful, gentle, hardworking husband had probably never gotten a bouquet in his 30 something years of living. And what a shame that was! He deserved flowers. Pretty ones, too. Despite the strength he held, and the way his arms wrapped tight around you, he knew his strength and did not squeeze to hard... but it was a firm hug, and as he buried his face in your neck, you swore it was a little wet as he whispered "thank you, beautiful." Even in his childhood, no one had treated him with such soft kindness as you did, and he'd do everything in his power to not let you go.

*************************

SORRY THE LAST ONE TOOK FOREVER i was uninspired but the oscar isaac discord im in helped me get on my feet.

If you liked this one make sure to check out the other 4 love languages!

@whatthefishh @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kittyofalltrades @luciannadraven33 @littlenosoul @jake-g-lockley @milkymoon2483 @howaboutcastiel @miraclesabound @bitchyglitterfox @missdictatorme

and bc

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #benny miller #garrett hedlund #charlie hunnam #will miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller x reader #will miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fluff #fluff #comfort

167 notes · View notes

xecutivecucumber · 26 days

Text

Executive Cucumber's Thoughts on The Bad Batch 03×12!

Spoilers under the cut

Let start out by saying holy heck that was the cool down episode I needed. My sister watched it before me and was able to tell me that Tech/CX-2 wasn't in it for a significant amount, so I was able to get past my disappointment and not be stressed out during the episode. Yes, I'm still on the 'Tech is CX-2 Bandwagon.' I do think they should have revealed him to the audience earlier, because I have to actively avoid Bad Batch social media (*cough*reddit*cough*) for my own mental health because of the negativity around the idea. It's really draining.

Anyway, on to the actual episode!

Today I realized that I might be triggered by Omega being trapped at Tantiss because of some past experiences. (And yes, if you've read my fics you know that I've done it to her too, but I have control over that and I think the problem is the lack of control I have)

Hi Tech! I love you! Please be un brainwashed soon!

I want to murder Hemlock. I don't know if I've ever hated a Star Wars villain like this before. It feels so personal.

It devastates me that they're going to take Omega's clothes away. Clothes that were given to her by people who love her. Ow.

Also you're playing a dangerous game, not keeping those binders on her, Hemlock.

'Is everything all right, Dr. Karr?' 'No, the Jango parent gene got awakened in me and that does not go away'

Why does Emerie think she HAS to do this?

I'm a little disappointed we didn't see Hunter find out about Omega. He's probably just in 'go' mode, honestly. Adrenaline and all that.

Crosshair is so proud of Omega oh my gosh.

PHEE MY QUEEEEEEEEEN

Oh my gosh Tech told Phee about Crosshair. That implies that had more time than we saw. That makes me so happy and sad.

Phee talks about Tech with such fondness. You can tell how much she cared about him. I feel like I'm watching a widow who's processed her grief but still talks about her husband because she loved him.

Also, looking at Phee, she doesn't really have any implied make up on. She's very natural. Good for her.

...Rampart looks kinda good with a beard.

Okay Tech would find the stunt Phee pulled extremely attractive.

This is the closest we've gotten to the original Batch we've gotten in a very long time. It feels good to see them go mission mode with Crosshair.

This is reminding me of Eriadu and I don't like it.

Crosshair asking Wrecker if he remembered whatever plan and then patiently waiting for him to remember lives rent free in my head he's so sweet.

WRECKER'S THEME IS BACK BABY

Also, Crosshair's theme is played in this really fun way?

Crosshair should be allowed to kick Rampart in the balls. As a treat.

Rampart you snake. Crosshair should have shot him in the leg instead of stunning him.

My sister pointed out that the juggernaut represents how the Batch is right now. You cannot stop them.

Man, it's nice to not to be as conflicted when the TK troopers die, as opposed to when clones were sent against them. Quick thought though, does Wolffe have all the remaining clones?

Man these guys get BRUTALIZED.

Them throwing around passed out Rampart is amazing and should continue to happen.

Okay Wrecker has his knife out HE IS READY TO TORTURE A MAN.

Frick you Rampart. He is the worst replacement for Omega.

Aww they probably didn't bring Batcher on the mission to protect her. (Plus she a half trained dog and it was a stealth mission)

And then the boys spent the next hour arguing over who has to call Echo and tell him.

Hemlock you FOULE you're giving Omega ALLIES. Also why are you telling her all this. She will use it against you.

Gall, I hate Hemlock.

Again, I really needed this cool down episode. Though I'm afraid the final three episodes are going to hurt. THIS IS MY FAVORITE SHOW WHY IS IT STRESSING ME OUT SO MUCH. ALSO WAITING A WEEK FOR EPISODES ALSO SUCKS. A LOT.

44 notes · View notes

sailorkamino · 2 years

Note

Could you do a blurb with our witch reader and the moon boys, where she’s attacked while they’re on a date🫣. Only if you want to of course!! ✨🫶

Star (Gazing) Wars

relationships: moon boys x avenger!witch reader, platonic!khonshu x reader [gender neutral]

word count: 0.8k

warnings: you go slightly feral when your bf's are threatened, mentioned terrorism/murder, alien death, marc is a star wars nerd, brief cashew cameo

a/n: my first request! i hope you like it (also this gif is jake's reaction to watching you fight)

chaos in us masterlist

You’re just sitting down on the picnic blanket beside Steven when a familiar tingle dances along your skin. “What do you sense, little witch?”

You don’t even flinch at the deep voice anymore, simply sighing in annoyance. One date night is all you want, one date without annoying gods or last minute missions. “What is he talking about?” Steven asks in confusion. You focus on the bird behind him. “Have you been following us?”

“I have better things to do.”

You've been feeling off for a few hours now but you can't detect why. Ignoring the god as usual, you reach out your powers but you run into a mental wall. Whatever is targeting you has psychic abilities too and is fortifying their mind. They’re good, but they can’t hide from you entirely.

Well at least the park is practically empty at this hour (you came here for stargazing after all.) “You might want to summon the suit, babe,” you tell him casually.

Steven tilts his head, sure he misheard you. “You want the soup?”

Then suddenly a F/C force field is around you both, deflecting a laser blast. The beam ricochets, ripping through the shooter. You hear an exclaim as a kree flickers into vision. They’re wearing an elaborate suit that kept them invisible before, but is now damaged, soaked with blue blood. You’ve never dealt with a telepathic kree before but you know they love to experiment on each other so you aren’t terribly surprised.

You get into a kneeling position as your clothes transform into your own suit. “Don’t freak out. Just a few aliens,” you attempt to soothe him. He looks even more overwhelmed then suddenly his eyes flutter. When they open Jake is fronting. You sense two more Kree. Realizing their mission is failing, their shield’s have started to weaken. “Get the shooter. I’ll handle his friends,” you order Jake.

You easily control both of the aliens, making them deactivate their invisibility suits and surrender. You put one in a comatose state but the other is doing everything to fight against your influence.

“Who’s your lover?” It manages to choke out. How dare this monster even mention your boyfriends. Your magic boils inside of you. Your eyes burn F/C as the kree wails in pain, clutching their head. You approach their crumpled form.

“Let me explain something to you. Your powers require focus, right? When you get upset they weaken. But chaos magic is the opposite. You make me mad, or hurt someone I love, I lose control.”

Their body sags. You take the time to look through their mind, sickened by what you see. Although you’re relieved to find the kree have no large scale plans of invading earth, they deem it too guarded. The three idiots who attacked you disagreed. They stupidly thought their psychic abilities would be enough to defeat you.

“Cariño, look at this gun!”

You turn around to see your boyfriend donned in his black and white armor. His uncovered face goes from excitement to concern when he notices your shaken state. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” He disregards the weapon he was so excited about to hold your face in his hands.

“I’m fine, baby. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good. It wasn’t exactly a struggle considering he already shot himself.”

You flash a small, relieved smile but then you notice the blue splatters staining Jake’s suit. “Did you kill him?”

He raises his brow. “Was I not supposed to?” He gestures to blue figures by your feet. “Are they not dead?”

You shake your head no. “Just unconsciousness. I needed to get some information from them.”

Jake suddenly looks nervous, afraid you’re going to judge him for being too violent. Too dark for you. You’re quick to reassure him. “Hey, these guys are terrorists. When I looked in their minds there was so much bloodshed. There’s no telling how many they’ve killed.”

He’s silent for a moment. “So can I shoot them with this?”

Despite the gruesome circumstances a faint smirk graces your mouth. “Yes, Jake. You can use the outer space gun.”

You choose to look at the pond as he sends a laser through each alien’s head. It’s a painless death. Much more merciful than the way they slaughtered their victims. With a flick of your wrist the bodies and their weapons evaporate into nothing.

When you look back at your boyfriends you're greeted with puppy dog eyes. “Let us keep it,” Marc pleads, clutching the stolen gun in his hands. You sigh in defeat. “Fine, but don’t let Steven use it. He’ll blow off a finger. And that counts as your Hanukah presents!"

“Hah! I get a blaster!”

“Wait, is that why you want it? Because it looks like a blaster from Star Wars?”

“... No.”

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #chaos in us #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight #khonshu #platonic khonshu #jewish moon knight #moon boys

948 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 4 months

Text

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Five

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 13,028 (!!) Rating: General Summary: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar... Content Warnings: Reader deals with some depressing thoughts and has a panic attack. Past sexual harassment of reader is mentioned but not specified or described in detail. Also I got a bit political with this one in terms of being a British Museum hater, but not sure that should be a warning when it's a pretty logical train of thought. Author's Note: Wow. This was an absolute MONSTER of a chapter and now over a third of the total word count so far! I have to give massive thanks to my beta @suresnips for making it through such a long chapter. My brain had melted after editing it and your feedback helped so much! As you read, you'll understand why it was so long. I knew it was going to be long when I came to edit it yesterday as it was already approx. 6k. Well, I more than doubled that, ha. I don't know if it's obvious but I'm a HUGE history nerd. However, I've only been to the British Museum once (for like an hour), and I was so disappointed with it. It truly is just full of things we looted and it did not me feel an ounce of patriotism, I was pretty disgusted. So I used reader as a mouthpiece for me! Also not sure if anyone remembers the absolute legend(s) who stole things from the museum but perhaps in this universe, it was our dear reader [for legal reasons this is a joke]. All the exhibits mentioned are real things in the collection and I'll link some information about them if anyone is curious: The Sutton Hoo helmet, Dürer's Rhinoceros, Lewis chessmen, Rosetta Stone Well, that's enough nerdiness for one A/N. Really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for reading and for all the kind words so far, it means the world to meeeeeee!! If you're enjoying it, please don't be shy! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

5. He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]

The first few days back in your routine after the convention had ended and Ria had gone home had been so desolate and depressing that it was difficult to make it through the day without bursting into tears. Real life could not compare to how incredible ForceCon had been. It was as though, for that long weekend, you had left the real world and inhabited the Star Wars galaxy. You wanted to stay there forever. Until you had been forced back down to earth with a devastating thud once the Dockside Convention Centre’s doors had closed for the final time on Monday afternoon.

You were grieving so many different aspects of the entire experience. You missed everything. Primarily, of course, you missed your best friend who was now a continent away, separated from you by an entire ocean. But you also missed the electric atmosphere that came with knowing everyone, no matter their age or where they came from, was there for one reason and had been united by their passion for the same thing as you. It was an incredibly special feeling to know that you were ultimately united with everyone you interacted with through your shared love of Star Wars. You felt as though you had taken for granted the amazing talks and stalls, just hearing people discuss their passions had been enthralling. And of course, you missed the cosplays. Not walking past multiple incredible Mandos every day was taking some getting used to. Being back in the real world was disappointing, uninspiring and lonely, and you were thoroughly miserable.

Things were not getting any easier as each day this week had seemed harder than the last. Mercifully, though, it was finally Friday and you only had a few more hours to keep it together at work before you would have an entire weekend to yourself that would consist of just you, your comfiest clothes and endless episodes of The Mandalorian. You had already rewatched it twice through this week, the series you so adored had once again been a crutch in your most desperate hour of need. Watching Mando traverse the galaxy had once again helped you to present to the world as a functioning human being, despite how awful you had felt every day.

Usually, you at least made it back home first before you completely fell apart and the weight of your emotions became too much for you to bear. Today, however, you had been unsuccessful in managing to keep a lid on your emotions and had practically sprinted to your favoured hiding spot – a bathroom in a back corner of the third floor – to finally fall apart. You felt slightly pathetic as you sat on the toilet and stared at the lockscreen of your phone, feeling the hot tears scorch your cheeks. It was the photo you had taken with the incredibly realistic Mandalorian cosplayer that you were sure was the same one from the panel. He had been incredibly kind, offering to take another photo with you, despite how flustered you were. You felt like you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, babbling about a cosplay competition that he was likely fully aware of, given how incredible his costume was. You were stunned when he stopped you from walking away so that he could pose properly and Ria could snap an even better photo of you. It was an incredibly kind gesture from a stranger and was something you could have imagined Mando himself doing in the show. As well as how realistic the cosplay was and the way he had moved that sent your pulse racing, the man had even sounded like Mando. The resemblance was truly uncanny.

As you sat there, clutching your phone, you were contemplating texting Ria. You knew that she would always have a comforting word of advice for you. But you also knew she was thousands of miles away, dealing with returning to work herself and overcoming jet lag. You didn’t want to bother her, so you took deep breaths and squeezed your eyes shut as you attempted to regain your composure so that you were in a position to face the world again. You thought back to the sequence of events that explained how you found yourself locked in a deserted toilet in the back corner of the offices of the museum, attempting to compose yourself before you faced the world once again.

It had been an awful day and you briefly wondered if you were in fact cursed. The weather had been miserable and rainy that morning, you were greeted with grey skies as you stepped out of your flat. You had learnt from your mishap the previous week though, and actually remembered to wear a coat. But that was where things stopped going right for you. Your tube line had been slightly delayed, resulting in it being even more crowded than usual when one arrived and you eventually boarded. The walk to work had been uneventful, aside from being slightly frustrated by the miserable British weather, but at least you had remembered your headphones so the soothing sounds of the Mando soundtrack could transport you to a distant galaxy.

You arrived at work, grumbling as you removed your headphones and were forced to face the real world. Ever since you walked through the ornate doors into the beautiful old building that you worked in, it felt as though everyone you encountered there had been conspiring against you to make your day as hellish as possible. It was one thing after another and before you knew it, you were at breaking point.

It seemed that today, everything had gone poorly. Your coworker, Tom, whom you had always had pleasant – if a little one-dimensional – chats about The Mandalorian with, was being a little off about your attendance at the con. When you arrived at the office, he approached your desk and asked you questions about the con and the jacket you had made, having seen it on your Instagram. At first, he had seemed genuinely interested but before long they veered into the condescending and that, in addition to the smug smirk on his face, made you feel intensely self-conscious. It reminded you of when the popular kids at High School would pick on the uncool kids, like you, for their enjoyment. As though your increasing uncomfortableness was a game to them. Tom's behaviour transported you back through the years to emotions that you never wanted to visit. Luckily, unlike in High School, this time you had somewhat stood up for yourself and asked him to leave you alone so that you could focus on your work.

After successfully getting Tom to leave you alone, there were various tasks to be completed. You had taken two days of vacation time for the con and despite how little you had missed, it still meant there was inevitably a backlog to catch up on. It meant communicating with annoying co-workers. After a weekend surrounded by people who just got you in the way people at the con had, it was incredibly frustrating to be back amongst ‘normal,’ people.

Unsurprisingly, you had found that you were able to hold more conversations with people when you were all there for a common reason. It was less daunting somehow, if the conversation fizzled out you had Star Wars to lean back on. Now, though, there was none of that. You had to make small talk with real people. Deal with their needs. Day after day. Working in a museum had been your dream job throughout High School and University. You had lofty dreams of curating your own exhibitions. An ambition that was, as yet, to be realised. Though you would not give up.

Instead of designing exhibitions, you had found yourself giving the occasional tours to school children and manning the information desk for any visitor questions. It was a more people-facing job than you had intended. Which was a shame because you loved the collection, but you hated people. You could stand for hours and talk about the intricacies of an Anglo-Saxon helmet, but making small talk with visitors was beyond you.

Which is why you found the thought of delivering an intimate guided tour to a rich asshole tonight deeply upsetting, despite the brave face you had attempted to put on when your manager had delivered the distressing news.

“We need you to stay late tonight. A client has booked an after-hours visit.” Julie, your manager informed you when you were taking your first break of the day in the staff canteen.

“Who are they? Rich? Famous? Single?” you replied jokingly. It had been a humorous reflex, designed to hide your true feelings about the situation. You were proud of yourself, despite the buzzing that you suddenly felt rising in your head.

Julie just rolled her eyes and smiled. She was well used to your sense of humour by now, she knew you weren’t seriously going to attempt to start anything inappropriate with the visitor. Besides, most of the time you hated them and reverted to insulting them in ways too subtle for them to grasp.

“Very funny,” Julie deadpanned. “You can leave to get some food and have a break after your shift, but be back here and ready to meet him at six.”

“Okay,” You sighed and nodded slightly. There was no point in getting mad at Julie, you knew these kinds of things were not her decision but came from the museum higher-ups who scheduled such tours and requested certain employees. You knew you should see it as a compliment that you were frequently requested, but instead, you saw it as a burden and something to be resented rather than celebrated.

Then Julie gave you a name – it was Dan or something? You couldn’t even remember – but your head was spinning with too many thoughts and trying to process the news, to be in a position to absorb any of the information your manager was telling you.

After Julie had finished speaking, you promptly excused yourself from the canteen and ran to your preferred hiding place when the world got too much – an old, enormous single toilet tucked away behind a staircase on the third floor, where no one ever bothered to go. There were far more conveniently situated toilets throughout the building than this particular one, with its heavy wooden black door, complete with brass handle, and plumbing that did not appear to have been updated since the Victorian Era.

But for you, it was a haven. A perfect place to deal with your emotions towards the whole situation. You were more than a little frustrated at the news, which was how you had probably come across to Julie. In fact, as you sat there in the toilet fighting back tears, you would say that you were devastated. It was so cruel; the one thing that had been keeping you going, the thought of comfortable clothes and Mando, something so simple, had almost been in your grasp. You could almost feel the soft blankets that you would burrow yourself underneath on your sofa, only to hear that for reasons beyond your control, you were going to have to wait even longer. It all felt so unfair.

All you had wanted to do after such a difficult week was return home, change into comfortable pyjamas and sloth out on the couch in front of an episode of The Mandalorian. Instead, you had to babysit some rich asshole who was inconsiderate enough to hire out an entire museum like this, without any care whatsoever for the workers’ wellbeing. I mean, if it was Beyoncé or someone, you would understand their need for privacy. But some random guy you had never heard of, an absolute Z-lister? Well, you hadn’t met him yet, but you already thought that he was pathetic and selfish.

The whole system was inherently unjust. These private visits forced museum staff, who were barely on a salary above minimum wage, to stay behind after hours just to accommodate their whims. It sickened you to think about the sums of money that would be exchanged. Dan Nobody – or whatever his name was – was throwing tens of thousands of pounds at the museum to accommodate his enormous ego, all the while you would never see a penny of. It boiled your blood with how unfair it all was.

With your desolation now replaced with defiance, you made your way back to your office to continue the work that you desperately needed to catch up on. You sighed as your footsteps echoed through the wide corridors of the stunning old building. It was an absolute honour to work in such a beautiful place where history surrounded you and you knew how fortunate you were in that sense. But it would be a lie to say that you were completely happy with the realities of working for such an institution. As much as excitement had fuelled your first few months working here… now, disillusionment lingered around every corner. Gone was the bright-eyed, enthusiastic girl who had strolled in here straight out of University, feeling as though the world was at her feet because she had just prevailed during a tough application process and would now have the opportunity to work with the largest permanent collection of any museum in the entire world. Instead, she had been replaced with a more cynical woman who felt disenchanted by the surroundings which had once excited her so deeply.

After returning to your office, you spent the rest of your day busy catching up with your work, albeit with a knot of dread in your stomach about the prospect of having to put on a smile and greet yet another out-of-touch, obscenely wealthy man. You really hoped he wasn’t another creep. Unfortunately, you had encountered more than enough of them for one lifetime. Inevitably, every few months, some minor royal or businessman with more money than sense would book out your museum and due to your knowledge and enthusiasm, you were usually selected to be their guide. You had long suspected it was certain other traits which made you a desirable tour guide, though. For instance, you thought it strange that your colleague Tom never got chosen for the tours despite the fact the two of you had started at the museum at a similar time, so had a similar position and level of experience. But Tom was never selected, and neither were pretty much any of your male colleagues. No, it always seemed to be the younger female workers who were chosen to show the wealthy men around the museum.

You loathed every single last one of them. You had never met a single one who you didn’t want to throttle within approximately five seconds of meeting them. You knew whenever you walked up to them what you were in store for, as they leered at you with their toothy grins and always pulled you in for a hug and kiss on both cheeks. It made you feel like just another exhibit for them to gawk at, not the intensely knowledgeable human being that you were. They always dressed the same way too, in ghastly chinos and loafers. They selected the kinds of outfits that made sure any onlooker could tell just by how they dressed, the extent of their personal fortunes. You hated every single last one of them.

It felt so wrong to you that these people – who probably had some connection, not too far back in their family tree, to the atrocities that led to the museum possessing such an extensive collection in the first place – could pay obscene amounts of money to close off an entire museum that was usually free to enter. That money would be much better spent in other places. And every single last one of them had always treated the young female staff as though they were a package deal. They seemed to have the impression that the money they had spent entitled them to sexually harass the staff. So, you weren’t exactly looking forward to when six o’clock rolled around and you would have to endure another creep.

For the rest of the day, you were somewhat grateful that you had things to catch up on. Oh sure, it was dull archival work with difficult colleagues, but it was better than having too much time to think about the horrors that awaited you in the form of a golden pinky-ring-wearing asshole at the end of the day. Plus, it gave you a chance to charge your social battery in preparation for the tour that night.

But the end of your shift at five finally rolled around and you had an hour to grab some food after the museum shut and eat before you had to meet the client at six. You thought, bitterly, as you marched down the steps that at the same time you would have to be entertaining a rich creep, you could have been well on your way home to sprawl out on the sofa in front of The Mandalorian. Unfortunately, the universe was really out to get you today. Mando would have to wait.

As you stood inside the noodle shop around the corner from the museum, waiting for your order to be freshly cooked by the friendly owner who knew your order off by heart by now – such was the frequency of your trips here – you took your phone out of your pocket to message Ria. You hadn’t heard from her all day and you just wanted to vent to her, not expecting her to reply immediately as although it was early afternoon for her and you were sure she’d be awake, she would still be adjusting to jet lag after flying over to London for the convention and probably working herself.

[ilovemando] 17:16 ugh ria i have to work late tonight. some rich asshole has booked out the museum for a private tour

Fortunately, the ellipses popped up to indicate that Ria was typing an immediate reply. You breathed a sigh of relief, absolutely thrilled that you had some virtual company in your hour of need.

[thisistheslay] 17:17: Nooooo bestie I’m so sorry! Do you get paid overtime?

[ilovemando] 17:18: yeah but that’s not the point. i just want to go home and watch my comfort episode on the couch. post-con depression is hitting hard :(

[thisistheslay] 17:18: Don’t worry, The Foundlings will still be waiting for you when you get back! I’m sure seeing Mando protecting those kids will cheer you up, even if it’s the thousandth time you’ve seen it!

You began to tap out a reply, but your order number was called before you could send the message. After grabbing your bag of noodles, you tapped out a one-handed reply:

[ilovemando] 17:26: soz was collecting my noodles lmao. but ur right i guess. i just want to watch it NOW. i wanna see my man kicking butt to protect a class of Mandalorian kids, not deal with some old creepy rich guy who thinks renting out the museum also entitles him to sexually harass me. ugh. Mando wouldn’t treat me like that!! sorry for the rant. hope ur jet lag is getting better. miss u :(((

[thisistheslay] 17:29: Awww that sounds awful. I wish I could be there for you and give you a big hug. Let me know how it goes, yeah? You can call me when you’re done on the way home if you want to rant. I’ll be thinking of you. I love you, you got this! <3

[ilovemando] 17:21: thanks ria. love you too <3

After reading and replying to Ria’s soothing message, you put your phone away as you walked back to the museum. You wanted some peace and quiet and sought out one of the break rooms to eat your food in and mentally prepare for the evening ahead. Fortunately, the museum had almost entirely cleared out of both visitors and staff by the time you made it back and you were able to enjoy your food in peace.

Ria’s words had definitely comforted you, but your heart ached at how much you missed her. You knew that you were incredibly lucky to have a friendship like the one you shared, even if it meant that you couldn’t always be physically close to her. Remembering how you had sobbed on the platform before you put her on the tube to the airport as you were forced to say goodbye almost made you cry again. Then, Ria hit you with a lovely quote: “How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” It had made you cry harder, but when she revealed it was borrowed from Winnie the Pooh, your tears had turned to full-on laughter. Trust Ria to pull that one out at that moment!

You smiled at that memory. At her sense of humour and how she always seemed to know the right words to say to you at precisely the right time. She was always there to build you up when you were feeling down, and boost your confidence when you needed it and in happier times, she was there to share in them too. All that, despite the distance. You missed her terribly. In some ways, you felt as though it might have been easier if your online friendship did not translate to the real world and things could have just fizzled out instead. Then again, you couldn’t imagine your life without Ria in it. Despite the distance, at least you could keep in regular contact thanks to the power of the internet. You were so grateful that she had been there to help talk you through the nervousness you felt about the upcoming guided tour.

You mindlessly scrolled through various social media apps on your phone as you watched the minutes tick by towards six p.m., looking at various pictures of Mando in an attempt to steady your nerves. You looked through all the messages that you had missed in the group chat, too. Although the second season of The Mandalorian had only finished airing in January, it appeared from various rumours that the third season was already in production. The details were always scant and anyone with any meaningful involvement in it was surely sworn to secrecy on account of the need to hide Mando’s identity. But a source had seemingly confirmed that production was beginning at The Volume, the studios that lay just a few miles outside of London.

The timing of the news really could not have come at a better moment for you. It was something to focus on and to look forward to. Although this tour would inevitably be as awful as those that had gone before, it would soon be over and you would be able to join in with all the excitement and theorising with your group of friends over what lay in store for Mando in season three.

So, with a mixture of emotions, you left the break room and made your way through the lofty halls of the museum towards the entrance. You were both bursting with excitement at the knowledge that somewhere – only a few miles from here – the next season of your favourite show was currently being filmed and filled with and trepidation for the ghastly man that you were certain you were about to encounter, You braced yourself for the awful man you were sure you would be tasked with showing around the museum. You were trying your best to stay calm but you were absolutely dreading the tour. You were not in any mood to engage with people, let alone a complete stranger, today.

As you neared the front entrance, you cast your mind back to the previous Saturday. Particularly, to the way you had stood up so passionately to defend Mando at the awful panel at ForceCon. See, you could do things, even in the face of idiots. You were a capable person. You would survive this.

But when you entered the entrance hall of the museum, you found that the man you were to give a tour to was unlike anything you had been expecting. Firstly, you noticed that he was not in the standard chinos and loafer uniform of the aristocracy. In fact, he was dressed rather casually, although still smart, in a high-necked brown jumper with dark brown trousers that almost matched the turtleneck sweater in shade. You noticed that he had brown boots on, too. The guy must really have a thing for brown. Then you noticed how uncomfortable the man seemed. He had not seen you yet, but he was standing there, glancing around the hall somewhat nervously, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. But there was something else about him that you found intriguing… because the man you were to give a tour to had a child at his feet.

You were surprised to see such a young child; he couldn’t have been more than two or three years old, clinging to the man’s leg. Even though he had initially seemed different from all the others, now you found that the sight of such a small child brought out feelings of resentment from inside you. You thought about what a waste of money it was, to book out an entire museum for just him and a child that would never remember it. But you were still intrigued at what his story was and in particular, why he seemed so anxious.

You were so transfixed by the sight of the man you were to give the tour to, that you almost didn’t even notice the fact that he was standing next to one of your friends. Mo was one of the few people you actually liked at the museum and the two of you always had conversations whenever your paths crossed. You shared similar interests and humour. Mo was about your age and was always open to your rants about the museum, given his background as the son of immigrants from Pakistan. You found him a breath of fresh air, even if he still hadn’t watched Mando, despite you repeatedly nagging him to.

As you had closed the last few steps between you, though, the man did something you found rather odd. He gave you a strange look, almost a scowl, before rapidly looking away and focusing on anything else in the museum other than your impending presence next to him.

“Hi, Mo,” you smiled at him cheerfully, in an attempt to diffuse whatever tension the sight of you had evoked for the man. Suddenly, you felt immensely grateful that he would be somewhere in the vicinity during your tour. Mo nodded at you as you stepped forward and introduced yourself. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’ll be your tour guide around the museum tonight. Dan, was it?”

But the man did not say a word. He just stood there gawping at you, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly as his brown eyes remained fixed on your face. You were a little unnerved, not least because of the strange look he had given you as you approached. For a brief moment, a look of recognition flashed across his features. But you were certain that you had never seen this man before in your entire life. You would remember if you had, you were sure of that. He was incredibly handsome, probably at least ten years older than you and presumably married, judging by the baby he had with him. Bizarrely, you felt as though the pressure was off, even though it wasn’t like a simple museum tour was going to be the start of a great love story or anything. Besides, regardless of how attractive you found him, this man was strictly off-limits; it would be completely improper to start anything having met at work like this.

The man finally seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he appeared to have fallen into and finally introduced himself.

“Oh! Uh, hi. No, not Dan. My name is Din… Din Djarin,” Din explained as he offered his hand to you, which you took and shook slowly.

The warmth of Din’s enormous hand as it engulfed yours, dwarfing your smaller hand as your fingers touched his palm and felt the rough calluses there sent a chill down your spine. There was an unmistakable shock of something there, caused by the feeling of his skin against yours. You tilted your chin up to look at his face as your joined hands hovered in mid-air.

You were first taken in by how brown Din’s eyes were as they gazed at you as your hands slowly stopped moving together. They were deep and warm, the colour of the wood panelling in some of the oldest rooms here in the museum. His prominent nose was perhaps his most striking feature. It was aquiline and achingly beautiful, it reminded you of some of the sculptures the museum had of Roman Emperors. Din unquestionably had movie-star good looks, but without being unapproachable in his attractiveness. Yet, you were still absolutely captivated and intimidated by him. As your eyes continued to traverse his face, you noticed too that he had a neatly trimmed moustache underneath his stunning nose. There was slightly patchy stubble dotted along his defined jawline and high cheekbones, too. But the moustache was captivating, sat as it was atop his plush lips… lips that looked so soft and inviting…

Woah! You were going too far. You dropped Din’s hand abruptly and cleared your throat as you mentally berated yourself for staring at the lips of a guy you didn’t even know – a visitor, no less! A visitor who you were about to give a tour of the museum to, a visitor who had brought his young son. It was beyond inappropriate.

“Pleasure to meet you Mr Djarin. I’m looking forward to showing you around all of the wonderful exhibitions we are so lucky to have here,” you smiled, attempting to ignore both the heat you felt on your cheeks and the confused expression on Mo’s face.

Upon hearing your voice again, Din looked slightly taken aback and that look that you had momentarily witnessed flash across his features, as though he remembered you from somewhere, returned. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the recognition was gone from his face, replaced with a stern scowl. His brows pointed firmly downwards, along with his lips that were oh, so plush. A little wrinkle in the centre of his browline above his nose suddenly became prominent, which showed his age. You thought it was cute and ached to smooth it out with your fingertips.

For heaven’s sake! You really needed to get a grip, it was ridiculous to be pining like a little lost puppy over a man you had just met. Especially one who seemed to have an aversion to you on the scale that Din clearly did.

You stood there, heart pounding as the scowl did not fade from his features as quickly as you hoped it might. Whatever problem Din had with your presence was lingering. Great, he doesn’t like me, you thought. How had you already messed it up? Usually, you at least managed to hold it together for a few minutes before the mask slipped and your disdain for the rich assholes became obvious. But this was a new record, even for you. The two of you had barely spoken. And you actually didn’t hate this guy, you were more intrigued by him than disgusted, even if he was behaving a little strangely in your presence.

You were just about to offer to get Din a different tour guide and apologise profusely for whatever it was about your existence that was so off-putting when he finally opened his mouth and spoke.

“Please, you don’t have to call me Mr Djarin. Just Din is fine,” Din said, brown eyes widening as he suddenly snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. Then, he nodded his head – causing a few brown curls to fall over his eyes – and added: “This is my son, Grogu. I don’t know if you were expecting him and I hope he isn’t too young for the tour, but wherever I go, he goes.”

“Aww, he’s adorable!” you exclaimed, unable to help yourself despite your usual disdain for children. You crouched down so you were eye-level with Grogu to greet him properly too. “Hello there, Grogu,” you whispered softly.

The little boy was dressed in a green onesie and his dark curly hair peeked out from underneath the matching green hood. You noticed too, now that you were closer, that he was fiddling with a shiny metallic ball, clutched tightly in his hand. It was a pretty unusual outfit for a museum tour, but you did not judge either of them. You noticed that Grogu seemed a little nervous, as he stood there, unmoving with a blank expression and contemplated you. The biggest brown eyes that you had ever seen in your entire life were staring right back at you, traversing their way across your face.

With his impossibly large eyes and deep bronze skin, even you who ordinarily disliked children had to admit that Grogu was a little charmer. Perhaps it was the fact that you had never really been surrounded by that many children which explained why you had never been particularly fond of them. Either way, even you had to admit: that Grogu was completely adorable. Even if he did not seem keen to acknowledge your existence in any meaningful way.

“He doesn’t always take kindly to strangers…” Din explained as you knelt there, waiting for a response that never came.

“Well, that’s fine!” you smiled at Grogu before you stood up straight. “As long as he takes kindly to museums, I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

“Thank you,” Din nodded and swallowed thickly, his voice full of an emotion that you could not quite place.

“How old is Grogu?” you asked, attempting to make some more small talk to put the pair of them at ease.

“He’s thirty-eight months,” Din said quietly as he looked down towards his son, who was still clutching onto Din’s calf with the hand that wasn’t grasping the metallic ball.

You usually found it obnoxious, the way parents measured their babies’ ages in months – just say he’s three! But there was something about the way Din looked at Grogu, the pride you saw there in those warm brown eyes, that stopped you from getting frustrated with him.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you both here. There’s no minimum or maximum age for loving history!” you said enthusiastically and then internally cringed. You had perhaps said that a little too enthusiastically to remain authentic to yourself. But part of being a good tour guide was giving your guests a little bit of a show and despite their somewhat mystifying reactions to your existence, you were eager to impress Din and Grogu. “Are there any areas that you are particularly interested in seeing? Unfortunately, the collection is so vast that we won’t have time to see it all, but if there are any specific areas of history that you are especially interested in, I’ll make sure that we see them!”

“To be honest, I don’t know that much about uhh… your history,” Din said, reaching to touch the back of his neck with his hand in a soothing motion.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place to learn!” you said reassuringly.

The man before you seemed somewhat embarrassed about his lack of knowledge, but you loved it when people came here as a blank canvas and you got to tell them about things they had never heard of before. It was one of the most satisfying parts of the job.

Ironically too, when Din had said he did not know much about your history, the man clearly had no idea that most of this museum did not even show British history. It was an inescapable fact that you had become increasingly sickened by during your time working here. The reality of just how much of the collection had been accumulated due to violent pillaging and plundering of other nations' resources had led to you becoming increasingly disillusioned by the institution as a whole. Although the museum boasted an extensive, impressive collection… so much of it was stolen treasures from the rest of the world.

You tried not to shy away from the fact, even though management would have been furious if they ever discovered you had brought such a truth up. So, you had to be tactful in your methods. After all, you were a firm believer that change came from within. Despite how tempted you had been to quit your job when you had first realised how little of Britain's history was here, and how the colonial past was gushed over, you had stayed, fearing that perhaps your replacement would have been ignorant to such a fact. You also remained, hoping that you could one day leave the museum in a better condition than the one you found it in.

“Enjoy the tour,” Mo nodded at Din. Then, he approached you and whispered for only you to hear: “Already gave him the stern, don’t-be-a-creep and don’t steal anything talk. Call me if you need anything,” Mo finished and handed you a walkie-talkie.

You placed the device in your pocket and smiled as Mo left, grateful that you had a good friend who would look out for you. Although it seemed that it would be unnecessary, given just how guarded your little tour party seemed.

“Right!” you exclaimed and clapped your hands together, unofficially marking the start of the tour. “If it’s okay with the pair of you, I would love to show you to the exhibition which contains the Lewis chessmen. It’s the oldest surviving chess set from the British Isles and it’s one of the most famous pieces in our collection.”

“Sounds good to me,” Din nodded with a smile as he leaned down to pick Grogu up. Then, he indicated for you to lead the way with his hand.

You kept your distance as you headed in the direction of the infamous chess set. Sometimes you would hang back and engage the guests in small talk or point out various features of the museum. But there was an unmistakable anxiousness present in both Din and Grogu, so you decided to give them space as they adjusted to their new surroundings.

You had intended to take them directly to the chess set, but then an idea struck you for how to get Grogu more engaged. Although you weren’t the biggest fan of children, the feeling did not appear to be mutual as the kids who visited the museum on school trips usually warmed to you surprisingly quickly. Grogu was proving to be somewhat more of a challenge though, but you dreamt up an idea to hopefully engage him a little more.

You stopped and turned around to face Din, who was carrying Grogu tightly in his arms so that the little boy’s chin was resting on one of his broad shoulders. Din came to a stop and glanced at you curiously.

“I know I promised I would take you to the chess set and we can still go there, but I was thinking first that we could pass through the wing which houses our Ancient Egypt collection?” you suggested. “I’m a guide for most of the school trips that visit us and it always seems to be the area that the kids most enjoy.”

“Oh. That’s very… kind of you,” Din rasped. “Thank you.”

You nodded and began walking ahead of your guests again, grateful that Din would not see the effect he was having on your ordinarily calm, composed demeanour. Although he appeared to be a man of few words, every time Din did speak, you felt the way your knees weakened. His voice was so low and gravelly, it was deep and rich. With a voice like that, you thought that it was a crime that he did not speak more often. Though you supposed, it was a good thing after all. His voice was so attractive that it was almost distracting.

Eventually, you made it to the Egyptian section of the museum. You really hoped that it would have the intended impact on Grogu, who was still utterly silent in Din’s arms. You knew that kids usually loved this exhibition most of all. There were sarcophaguses and all kinds of intricate patterns that all the school trips who visited the museum made it a priority to see.

As you walked through the room, you gave a brief history of this wing of the museum and drew Din and Grogu’s attention to the most notable exhibit: The Rosetta Stone. Afterwards, you told them to let you know if they needed any help. Then, you kept your distance as you wanted to give Din and Grogu some privacy to explore the collection and hopefully become a bit more accustomed to their surroundings. You sensed that Din was not particularly used to museums and it was perhaps making him a little uneasy to be in one. Which made you all the more curious as to why he had organised a private tour.

You maintained your distance but still stood close enough so that you could help them if they needed it. But as you stood back to observe Din Djarin moving between the cases which housed so many ancient treasures, you were struck by the way he somehow seemed oddly familiar. Just as there had been a small flash of recognition on his face when he first saw you, you felt as though you had seen him somewhere before yourself.

You wondered whether he was actually more famous than he was letting on. After all, he was handsome enough to be an actor or a model. Perhaps you had seen him onscreen somewhere before, even if it was only a minor role. At that moment, Din placed Grogu on the ground and the little boy began to toddle his own path through the exhibits. You observed the way Din followed him around, noticing that there was a certain swagger to the way that he moved and the way his arms swung by his sides that felt familiar. It was his gait, the way he held his arms, something about him gave you the strangest sense of déjà vu.

But try as you might, you just could not put it all together, even though it felt like you were missing something frustratingly obvious. You felt like you were continually chasing something that was just out of reach. Finally, you felt as though you were about to piece everything together and had almost figured out just where you knew him from when Din called your name and waved you closer. It was a stark reminder that you had a job to do, after all. Din was your visitor, your guest… you needed to get a grip on your emotions.

You approached the case Din was standing in front of, he turned to you with his mouth open, he clearly wanted you to ask you about something. You had expected him to question you on the collection of ornately carved, wooden cat mummies that he was currently standing in front of. But surprisingly, despite the treasures that lay just the other side of the glass, Din’s mind was seemingly elsewhere.

“Are you working overtime just for us?” Din said quietly, staring straight ahead at the display while Grogu toddled around at your feet.

You were utterly astounded by his audacity. You knew the rich and famous were out of touch but, holy shit! This guy was on a different level. Of course, you were working overtime! If it wasn’t for him, you would be back at home with nothing but you, Mando and lots of peace and quiet. But no, Din fucking Djarin over here had to get in the way of you and your comfort bounty hunter.

“I am,” you replied curtly.

“I hope you’re well paid for it,” Din offered, sympathetically. You were about to bite back with a sarcastic comment, but his next comment stopped you in your tracks: “This wasn’t my idea, by the way. I’m over here in London for work which means I have to spend a lot of time away from my home. It’s just my son and I,” Din continued and you noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his hands that hung by his sides into fists as he spoke. “So, my bosses like to book little excursions like this every so often to stop us from going crazy out of boredom. I just wanted you to know that. To be honest, this kind of thing sort of embarrasses me. I don’t feel good about all the trouble you’ve clearly had to go to, about you staying late and… stuff.”

“Oh…” you breathed. All the bitterness and simmering hatred that you felt for this man had completely disappeared. He was just a lonely single dad, staying far away from home. You wondered what Din’s story was and how Grogu came to be featured in it. There was blatantly a strong bond between them that went beyond words. Indeed, you had not heard the little boy utter a single word, even after being let loose in the Egyptian exhibition. You also, perhaps more selfishly, wondered whether Grogu’s mother was in the picture and whether he was adopted. But that was incredibly invasive, it was not for you to know such personal details. You were just here to show them around the museum and ensure that they had as enjoyable a time as possible.

“I really am sorry that you had to stay extra late for us. Perhaps I can speak to my bosses and the museum and make sure that all of you, the cleaners, security and the like are fairly compensated.” Din said earnestly as he turned to look at you. His words and face were full of sincerity and you found yourself almost lost in the big brown eyes that had been slowly worming their way into your heart since the first time you had stared into them in the entrance hall.

You were stunned, not only by how physically appealing you found him – if a man could be beautiful, you would deem Din Djarin worthy of such a description – but you were also floored by the beauty of his words. You were stunned by what a humble man he appeared to be, despite the enormous wealth that was seemingly available to him. Surely, if his bosses were so exceedingly rich, then Din himself must be, too? It was hard to believe that because, despite his affluence, Din seemingly still retained his humanity and cared about ordinary people. You were absolutely bowled over by this man. He was nothing like what you had been expecting.

“Thank you for apologising but really, it’s fine. Just one of those things that I have to do. You’re uh, actually the first ever person on one of these visits who has ever acknowledged that. So, thank you, Din. It means a lot,” you smiled at him, feeling your stomach flip at the way he was staring at you. “It’s not like you’ve interrupted much anyway tonight, to be honest. Usually, I just go straight home after work. I’d be lying on the couch in front of the TV by now. But you and Grogu have been a pleasure to show around thus far,” you admitted. You were unsure why you had told Din such a thing, usually feeling embarrassed about your preference for solitude. But there was just something about that man, with his earnest brown eyes, that made you want to tell him everything about yourself.

“I’m glad to hear that. Thank you for being such a great guide,” Din said appreciatively. And you knew he meant it. Din wasn’t speaking with the fake sincerity that so many of the other obnoxious rich clients that you were so accustomed to showing around the museum, either. It was genuine. You could tell that from the look in his eyes and how solemn his voice was that he meant every word.

“You’re welcome. If you’re ready, we can head to the next area that I'm going to show you to. It contains a stunning artefact known as the Sutton Hoo helmet and it’s perhaps the most famous artefact here that was not stolen from another country,” you observed, dryly.

Din raised his eyebrows at your statement and your heart dropped for a second, fearing that you had perhaps pushed things a step too far. After all, you knew nothing about this man’s background. Perhaps he was one of them. Before you could worry for much longer, though, he burst out laughing at your observation. You let out a sigh of relief and found yourself laughing along with him, too. His joy was infectious and the way the wrinkles showed around his eyes as they half-shut in mirth made your heart soar.

“I did notice that when I was reading the descriptions in this section,” Din nodded. “I don’t think Giza is in the UK. But it never says how the artefacts ended up here. They just act as though everything here magically appeared in London one day.”

“Yeah, of course. It was just raining artefacts in the Victorian Era,” you rolled your eyes. “But uhh… can I just ask that if you get asked for any feedback about the tour at all… please, please don’t tell my boss I said that. We’re really not supposed to acknowledge that part of the museum’s history,” you pleaded, despite how much you felt as though you inherently trusted Din.

“Of course I won’t,” Din promised as he shook his head, “I think it’s important to talk about it and it’s a shame if you cannot speak openly.”

“Exactly. I always think how can you not mention it, when it’s staring you right in the face? So I try to slip it in where possible whenever I give tours. I’ve made references to it in front of royalty before now, but they were too dense to notice. Didn’t get taught about what their ancestors did at their posh schools, it seems,” you admitted with a shrug, your blood boiling at the memory of how condescending the minor royals that you had never even heard of had been throughout your tour. “So that’s why I always try to talk about it, especially in future exhibitions I plan to curate. This is probably why none of my proposals have ever been selected, come to think of it. Colonialists don’t like it when you point out how many things you’ve stolen, it transpires.” you said with a wry smile

“No, they don't,” Din said, one corner of his mouth curling into a smirk as he regarded you.

For a few moments, all thoughts of where the tour was headed left your head. You felt immobilised by the way Din was staring at you. Gone was the scowl of earlier, you felt as though he was staring at you as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not in a patronising way that you were well used to, though. He was staring at you in the same way you had witnessed so many visitors stare at the assortment of wonders in the museum: in complete awe.

“Anyway, the helmet is this way.” you said, shaking your head as you stepped out of his gaze and turned to leave the room.

Once again, you walked a few paces ahead of Din and Grogu. You didn’t trust yourself to face him at that moment because of the way that he had just looked at you. It was difficult to remain professional after that. Having someone look at you like that was something you were incredibly unused to. Perhaps you were delusional, but you were certain that Din had just gazed at you as though he was mesmerised by you, taking you in and considering you slowly.

You suddenly felt a bit shaky after it, feeling the unmistakable thundering of your heart in your chest. Din had regarded you as if you were a beautiful artwork of some kind, rather than just the lowly museum worker that you were. It was enthralling to have someone look at you like that. You were not used to it… it had been years since your last proper relationship. But when you thought back to how your ex looked at you, you were certain you had seen that same admiration in Din’s eyes. But surely, that was ridiculous. Din was a few years older than you, possibly even married, given the child he had with him. You were probably just projecting your hopes onto a situation that was not there. It was a little bit desperate.

Mercifully, the helmet was not too far away from where you currently were in the museum and you made it there quickly enough that you did not have to dwell on the way Din looked at you for an uncomfortably long time. All you knew for certain was that the thought of him looking at you like that again was simultaneously the thing you wanted most in the world and a deeply terrifying and mortifying prospect. But there was no time for you to dwell on it or even really talk to him. There was, instead, an old helmet for you to look at and explain the history of to your visitors.

You showed Din to the glass case it was displayed in as your heart rate somewhat returned to its normal rate. Talking about Anglo-Saxon antiques was sure to help you in getting a handle on your emotions. Fortunately, your feelings towards the Sutton Hoo helmet had never lessened, despite any more general disillusionment you felt towards the entire institution. Indeed, it was a photograph of this very helmet which had captured your imagination many years ago and sent you down a path that culminated in you working here at the museum. There was something about it that captured your imagination every time you saw it, no matter how many times you had observed it up close. Just knowing that people many centuries ago had created it and gazed upon it with their own eyes somehow made you feel closer and further away from the past than ever.

The helmet was mainly faded to a brown colour now but despite its age, it was remarkably complete. It had a cap, cheek-pieces, mask and neck-guard. The nose detail and eye holes meant one could visualise where the warrior had once placed his head. The two strips of metal that hung around and down the face piece on either side always reminded you of the tusks of an elephant. The gold strip that went from near the top of the helmet towards the nose was an indication of how ornate the helmet had once been. You, Din and Grogu – who was nestled in his father’s arms – stood there for a few quiet moments, regarding the helmet quietly.

“Incredible craftsmanship. Remarkable too, how it has survived for so long. How old is it?” Din asked.

“We think it was made somewhere between the late sixth and early seventh centuries. So it’s well over one thousand years old, whichever way you look at it,” you explained, delighted that Din wanted you to share your expertise. “It’s a mixture of iron and tinned copper alloy. Some of the patterns have been lost but you can just make out some animals and warrior motifs. The nose and mouth-piece were cast as one and they have a silver inlay with some engraved details. It’s really a fine work and incredible to think about how old it is.”

“Fascinating, thank you,” Din said, before he leaned down and whispered proudly to his son: “See, Grogu, they didn’t make them the same way that we do.”

You thought it was a bizarre comment, but you had no right to press Din for details, given that he had probably not intended for you to hear such a thing. Perhaps Din was involved in manufacturing military equipment, or something. You did not doubt that there was a lot of money in that line of work, enough money that would allow bosses to rent out the British Museum.

Despite your longstanding admiration for the Sutton Hoo helmet, you found that every time you looked at it now, your mind was reminded of another helmet: the one that your favourite character wore. Since first watching the show, you found that every time you were here in the presence of the Anglo-Saxon artefact, you always thought of Mando. You marvelled each time at how people who lived so long ago possessed the technology to create such an intricate piece of art. Although much of the detailing had sadly been lost to time, it was nonetheless an incredible feat. It also made you wonder if, in the Star Wars galaxy, Mandalorian helmets were on display like this in museums just like the one you worked at. Or was the warrior race too secretive? Had anyone ever captured a Mandalorian to examine their craftsmanship?

You were so caught up in that thought, musing over the possibility of there being an equivalent to the Sutton Hoo helmet in the Star Wars universe, that you failed to notice that at some point, while you had been explaining the helmet’s history and quietly admiring it with Din, his son had toddled off. Neither of you noticed that anything was amiss until you heard the unmistakable sound of someone rapping on the glass of one of the displays. You spun around in shock, confused and disorientated, wondering what the noise was; but Din was on it right away.

“Grogu! No!” Din exclaimed as he ran towards his son.

The sound of the metallic ball clutched in Grogu’s chubby little hands went tap tap tap as it collided with the glass case which housed one of the most significant carvings in European history.

You turned around and smiled at the sight – you couldn’t help yourself, despite the fact you probably should have been delivering a stern reprimand – as Din scooped Grogu up and held him to his chest. At some point, while you had been explaining the Sutton Hoo helmet to Din, Grogu had got seemingly bored by your lecture and wandered off to explore something he found far more interesting.

“I’m so sorry,” Din said apologetically as you came to stand next to him.

“Oh, don’t worry. Those cases are designed to protect against chemical warfare, bullets, fires… anything you can think of,” you smiled, looking down at Grogu who seemed blissfully unaware of the panic he had just elicited in the pair of you. “An excitable toddler is no match. It isn’t like the movies, no red lasers are going to shoot out of the ceiling, I assure you.”

However, just as you were explaining you heard the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor outside, which probably belonged to a member of the museum’s security team as they sprinted to check what the commotion was. Grogu had probably unknowingly activated some kind of security system. The mystery security guard shouted your name and you realised it was Mo, who was clearly sizing the situation up and whether he needed to storm in, guns blazing.

“It’s fine, Mo!” You shouted in reply. “Just a little excited kiddo here, absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“Okay! Just checking!” Mo replied as his footsteps stopped. When they resumed, they grew more distant as he disappeared elsewhere in the museum.

“Thank you,” Din said appreciatively. He exhaled and turned to look at you, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude on his face that you hadn’t made this into a big deal.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “You know, we don’t have too much art here in this museum. I’m surprised he was so drawn to this, I wouldn’t expect a child to like it as it's pretty much just a technical drawing and there are no colours. The art we do have is great though, although it’s nothing like the National Gallery, their collection is amazing,” you mused.

“No, but it’s still a beautiful piece. I think he just likes the look of the armour. I really am sorry about all the commotion,” Din reiterated his apology.

“Oh, really, Mr. Djarin. It’s fine,” you said reassuringly, hoping that your choice not to refer to Din by his first name would place some distance between the two of you. “The security guys just get a little jumpy after hours, that’s all.”

“Please, I absolutely insist that you call me Din. Mr. Djarin makes me sound like an old man!” Din joked.

“Okay Din,” you giggled, but were desperate to change the subject. “You know, if Grogu is interested in art, there’s also the National Gallery, another museum here. It gets quite busy at peak times, as all museums do. The crowds particularly gather around Van Gogh’s sunflowers. I mean, I get it. He’s my favourite painter and I love that piece. But there’s so much other art that gets neglected, lonely at its expense. People just walk up to the sunflowers, snap their pictures and leave. The whole thing is very impersonal… they don’t take a second to appreciate the hours that the artist spent agonising over every little detail, you know?”

“It is a shame… that people cannot stop to appreciate beautiful things when they’re standing right in front of them…” Din’s voice had dropped to barely above a whisper as his brown eyes focused on you, smiling at you thoughtfully.

You cleared your throat and looked down, feeling the familiar warmth that came with embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your face. Your cheeks were suddenly burning. The look Din had given you when he said beautiful had made you feel slightly dizzy. You weren’t sure whether he was referring to the art or you. It made you feel slightly lightheaded. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like that, it had been so long since anyone had seen you in that way.

It was somewhat alarming to you, too, how quickly you felt comfortable around Din. Perhaps it was watching his interactions with Grogu but, despite his broad shoulders and muscular frame, there was an undeniable gentleness to him. It had been a long time since you had opened up to anyone as easily as you had to Din. Oh sure, you were only explaining that you sometimes enjoyed looking at art at a certain gallery and that you liked to lounge around in front of the TV. They weren’t your deepest, most intimate secrets or anything. But for someone who took so long to feel comfortable around others, it said something about how at ease you felt with Din that you were able to tell him these little things about yourself so soon after meeting him.

“Yes… it’s a shame,” you eventually agreed. “Anyway, sorry for going on a rant about selfish gallery-goers. Would you like me to tell you more about the artwork?” you asked, remembering what you were being paid for and attempting to steer the conversation back towards something that you were infinitely more comfortable with – historical artefacts.

“That would be great, thank you,” Din nodded as he placed Grogu down.

“The piece that captured Grogu’s imagination, as it transpires, is one of the most important carvings in European history. It’s a woodcut of a rhinoceros created by a German painter called Albrecht Dürer in 1515, who never even saw the beast. He carved it based on a description from an Indian writer,” You explained as you launched into a passionate lecture about the history of Dürer’s rhino, the two pairs of big brown eyes that belonged Din and Grogu watching you intently. “Clearly, the carving is not wholly accurate, as the rhinoceros looks as though it has plates of armour on its body, rather than the skin anyone from modern times knows that rhinos actually possess. But it was the best they could do. I always find it astonishing that people from such a long time ago were able to create such intricate pieces of art,” you marvelled, hoping to fill Din and Grogu with the same sense of wonderment that you felt when you thought about the past.

Sometimes, you felt embarrassed about the extensive knowledge that you possessed, that you could always launch into such detailed lectures at a moment’s notice. There were so many people in your past who had viewed your knowledge as patronising arrogance on your part, distorted by their inadequacies to believe that you were showing off somehow and attempting to make them feel inferior. But you were not, you were just passionate and enthusiastic about the world that surrounded you, particularly the past. You enjoyed sharing that passion and knowledge with other people. It was never born out of a desire to make them feel bad for what they did not know, but to help them to learn something new and perhaps open their minds.

But you felt none of that embarrassment as you concluded your lecture, still being watched intently by Din and Grogu: “As you can imagine, this would influence perceptions of rhinoceros for centuries, even though it was not accurate. Would be pretty cool if rhinos wore armour though, wouldn’t it, Grogu?” You finished, smiling at the little boy who had listened to you so patiently.

“Thank you for that. I’m sure Grogu would agree, he likes…. Uh… armour,” Din said, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck again, just as he had done shortly after you met in the entrance hall.

You smiled and nodded, appreciating the praise. But Din’s comment about the armour stood out to you, especially when you considered what he had said to Grogu about the Sutton Hoo helmet earlier. You were beginning to feel more certain now that Din probably had something to do with weapons, somehow. Perhaps it was his main line of work, or perhaps he was one of those enthusiasts who reenacted battles in his spare time… now that was a funny image.

But Din continued speaking before you could dwell on the comment any longer: “Grogu really likes animals too. I think he likes them more than the art and history aspect, as interesting as they were,” Din remarked.

“Oh, there’s a zoo here in London, you know? I think it has some rhinos, but if he likes animals perhaps it would be a nice day out for the two of you. I haven’t been for a while, usually, it’s full of tourists, but if I get a day off and it’s not the summer, I do like hanging out there,” you admitted.

“I would love to visit sometime, hopefully, Grogu and I can find the time while we’re over here,” Din said, touching his chin as if he were deep in thought.

“Yes, it’s definitely worth a visit. A lot of people seem surprised that London has such an impressive zoo with animals from all around the world. It often gets overlooked in favour of all the more touristy sights. You know, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace and shopping on Oxford Street. And don’t get me wrong, I do love going to those places from time to time. It never ceases to amaze me that I live in the capital city, you know. But I think there is just as much value to be gained from getting out in nature and exploring the natural beauty our world has to offer,” you said, thoughtfully.

“Me too. A lot of nature can be so… beautiful.” Din breathed, that look was back again as he used that word once more.

You felt that familiar skin-warming sensation creep back up your neck again and gazed down at the floor, moving away from his penetrating gaze as you invited them to follow you to look at some more of the collection. You roamed around the exhibition with the two of them for a little bit longer after you felt that you had spent enough time looking at the carving of the rhinoceros.

Eventually, after quickly looking at some of the art from the Arab world that was in the collection, it was time for you to draw the tour to a close. You ushered Din and Grogu back down the grand stone staircase in the main, airy room that was still lit naturally despite the late hour. It was late June so the sun did not sit till late, though the sunlight that streamed down in the day had begun to dim now.

Din’s brown hair and eyes looked golden in the sunset light, his eyes were glowing almost the colour of honey. He was stunning. You couldn’t believe how much you found yourself enthralled by this man, even though you had just met him. Throughout the tour, you had both connected over history and your shared values. It was nothing too deep though and you were only operating in a professional capacity, but it was pathetic how much you already felt drawn to him. You needed to get over yourself.

Fortunately, you soon would as you were about to say goodbye. You knew in your heart of hearts that, much as you had enjoyed your time spent with him, once you said your goodbyes and he left through the door with Grogu, that would be the very last you would ever see of Din Djarin.

“Thank you for being such an incredible guide,” Din said, reaching out to shake your hand again. “Grogu and I had the best time.”

You could barely choke out a reply. You wondered whether Din had felt the same spark of electricity that you felt when he had taken his hand in yours. His skin was surprisingly smooth and warm; if you weren’t completely deluding yourself, you swore that his hand lingered on yours a beat longer than it had when you had introduced yourself to him. Even though you had both left your hands on each other for a near-uncomfortably long amount of time even then. Din looked directly into your eyes, the brown of his irises was now flecked with golden streaks. You wanted to lose yourself in those eyes. What a shame you had to part.

“It was my pleasure. I hope you learnt something new on the tour, something that you take with you always,” you smiled, still looking into his eyes. “Enjoy the remainder of your time here in the UK.”

Din thanked you one last time and even got Grogu to wave to you. Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors and tall ceilings. You were left there in his wake. This enigmatic man, with kind brown eyes and brown curly hair, had been so kind to you despite all your expectations to the contrary. You knew that you would never cross paths with him again and that thought pained you somewhere deep inside. You felt as though Din had brought something to your life that you had not realised you were missing. What a loss, a loss of a man that you barely even knew.

Still, you consoled yourself with the thought that at least you had your comfy couch and endless episodes of The Mandalorian to go back to. Your favourite show would always be there for you. Mando would never leave you standing there, pining for him. It was ridiculous! You shook your head, trying to pull yourself out of the trance that Din had just left you in. You needed to get home before it was too late.

You grabbed your belongings from the office and finally began to head for home, several hours later than you had been anticipating but still grateful that at least the tour had not been an utter disaster. Perhaps that would have been better, though, you mused. Rather than leaving you with such a twisted, tangled mess of feelings.

To distract yourself from the impossibly noisy drunken teenagers who were heading for a night out – suddenly making you feel ancient – you passed your time on the journey home with your nose buried into your phone, texting Ria about the man you had just given a tour to.

[ilovemando] 20:42 - RIAAAAA i just showed the hottest guy around the museum for a private tour. dreamy brown eyes, deep voice, tall, broad shoulders. he was older though and had a kid but i think he called me beautiful at one point? dgsdhgs maybe i’m delulu but wow he was fucking HOT i am yearning

You stared around the carriage absentmindedly, waiting for Ria to reply as you wished your noise-cancelling headphones could make everyone disappear, especially the drunk dickheads on your train. Fortunately, Ria was chronically online and you didn’t have to wait too long for her to reply.

[thisistheslay] 20:44 - Omg bestie!!! Did anything else happen, do you think you’ll see him again? A private tour though ugh. Eat the rich!!

[ilovemando] 20:47 - nahhh i cant see him again, didnt get his number. would’ve been unprofessional lmao. we just spoke quite a lot, i guess. it felt more relaxed than a lot of the tours i gave recently actually. he was really sweet. works a good job so thats how he got the tour… not rich arsehole vibes at all. fuck im crushing on a man i’ll never see again. pain

[thisistheslay] 20:49 - I mean, better than crushing on someone who doesn’t even exist?

You threw your head back and snorted. That was a low blow, but probably deserved.

[ilovemando] 20:50 - RIA??????? UNCALLED FOR!!

[thisistheslay] 20:51 - Sorry, sorry. I know Mando is real to you.

[ilovemando] 20:51 - ur damn right he is lmao. gonna watch the foundlings when i get back. if no one else got me, i know mando got me… can i get an amen

[thisistheslay] 20:53 - AMEN! The only man who deserves rights.

[ilovemando] 20:54 - so true bestie. anyway gonna put my phone away and stare out of the window for the rest of the journey and listen to the mando soundtrack while imagining we’re flying through space in the razor crest together…. im so mentally stable. ill live text u my mental breakdown when watching the foundlings when i get home :))))

[thisistheslay] 20:56 - Hahah you really are, very healthy behaviour. Please do, I’ll look forward to it, work is dragginggggg

You smiled and put your phone in your pocket, doing exactly as you said. As far above you, the dense city turned into lush suburbia, you were elsewhere. Not even on this earth as you daydreamed about Mando next to you.

You almost missed your stop, such was the vividness of your daydream. You wished you could escape to that fantasy world and stop pining for a man you hardly knew. The time you had spent with Din had been the happiest you had felt since the convention since Ria had left. But it had been fleeting, temporary and now you were heading back to reality which, for you, was lying on your couch on a Friday night, watching your comfort episode of Mando for the billionth time.

You sighed deeply as you lay there, watching the episode. It was unhealthy to compare a fictional character to reality and you knew that. But you just wished that more men could be like Mando. You adored the way he took such good care of the children. He was so empathetic, and protective; so sworn to his duty that he got himself into precarious situations multiple times throughout the episode to protect the foundlings, who were strangers to him. But Mando did it without hesitation, without anger. He was just a good man.

You couldn’t help but be reminded of the interactions you had seen between Din and Grogu. There you were, again! Caught up yearning for a much older man that you were never going to see again. This episode was meant to distract you from him and replace your newfound pining for a real, unattainable man with a familiar yearning for a fictional man who was even more unattainable because he wasn’t real. But instead, everything you saw of Mando was causing you to think of Din. It had not been the evening you had planned.

You had expected to watch more episodes, perhaps having a mini binge. You always intended to stop after one episode, of course. But the reality was quite different. You found yourself unable to stop, no matter how hard you tried as the story always gripped you. You always found Mando’s presence familiar and comforting and you had watched an entire season in one sitting before.

But tonight, you actually did stop after just one episode. You were too distracted to enjoy it properly so when the episode finished, you headed to your room. That night, you fell asleep underneath The Mandalorian poster above your bed, trying to replace thoughts of the brown eyes and brown curls of Din Djarin by thinking about Mando and the way he took care of those children. Trying to replace memories of the tall, broad-shouldered man you had shown around the museum with thoughts of a hulking tin can man with a confident strut who was prepared to give his all to make the galaxy a better place.

Little did you know whichever way you thought about it, you were fantasising about the same man.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

39 notes · View notes

venusswhite · 2 months

Text

Above the Ruins | Seven

Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

masterlist

In a world devastated by chaos and the threat of the undead, two destinies intertwine in an unexpected way. Ghost, a hardened ex-military man haunted by the horrors of war, encounters [reader], a lost and desolate young woman. With his experience and determination, Ghost decides to help her, and together they embark on a dangerous journey in search of a refugee center.

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Six - Eight

[Travel Day to the Refuge]

We were already with our backpacks and ready to go. We would have to pass through the city to get to the forest, the only problem is the amount of freaking zombies roaming the streets.

The plan was to try to pass by them without attracting attention and hope that none of them see us. Another strategy was to go in a line: me, [name], and Soap.

I was good at reconnaissance and the biggest of the group. So, I would choose the least dangerous path since I could see farther. Soap was very attentive, so he would know if something was following us. [Name] stayed in the middle since she hadn't experienced the same things as us, so her senses weren't as sharp as ours and also because I worry. I can't stop looking back to make sure she's okay.

A few minutes later, we were near the city center, where we would head to a preserved forest area. It was a bit longer route, but also safer, as people crowded in cities.

Leading the group, I made a turn to reach the core of the city center when I saw a group of about 5 zombies walking irregularly down the street.

I step back, making [name] bump into my back.

"What happened?", She asks.

"Zombies. Get down!", I speak softly as I crouch and walk towards the rear of a car, followed by the other two.

"Shall we shoot?", Soap asks.

"No. Too risky. We'll have to kill them one by one. Soap takes two on the left, I take two on the right, and [name] deals with one in the middle.", I say, seeing her about to protest. "Show me you're ready for bigger tasks, and then I'll give you a bigger task. For now, no discussion."

So we walk slowly with our knives. I quickly take one down, hitting its skull with my knife, and see another one coming towards me. I quickly retrieve my knife from the first one and throw it at the second.

When I'm done, I see Soap finishing off his second one, and [name] finishing off one with her knife.

"Good job, guys!", Soap says.

Returning to our lineup, we continue down the street, trying to avoid the zombies as much as possible.

After a long walk, going through alleys, choosing longer streets, and crawling under cars and trucks, we finally reach the entrance to the forest area.

"I think we can stand side by side here, but stay alert."

✧˖°₊

We've been walking for hours. Luckily, we hadn't encountered any zombies, which was actually expected.

"I'm hungry. Can't we stop for a bit?", the youngest one asks.

"Just for a few minutes. We can't afford to waste time now."

We choose a tree with a larger shade and quickly eat. We couldn't waste time here.

I take out my map and try to locate us.

"We should reach the next river by nightfall if we keep up the pace. The sound of the water will keep us hidden."

They nod, and we return to the long walk.

It was all long and boring. We didn't talk much to avoid attracting attention and we were always alert.

When night fell, we were already near the river.

"I'll take guard duty first.", [name] says quickly.

"Alright", I say seriously. I still didn't like this idea, but I know I can't make decisions for her. "Any strange movement or trouble, call me."

She nods. We didn't have sleeping bags or tents, but the ground seemed like a 5-star hotel after hours of walking. We light the fire and eat again.

"I'd like to chat, but I'm tired. So good night!", Soap says, already lying down, using his coat as a pillow.

"I'm also going to rest a bit, but if there's any problem, call me, [name]. I'm serious!"

"Don't worry, Ghost. Good rest!"

Then I kiss her forehead and lay down.

✧˖°₊

[name]

The forest was dark, and only owls and crickets could be heard. It was starting to get windy, making me a little colder, so I moved closer to the fire.

Looking around, I try to pay attention to any movement or strange sound. Observing the surroundings again, I noticed Soap sleeping and ended up laughing. The man seemed exhausted. His mouth was slightly open, and he breathed heavily. Now I understood why Ghost wanted us near the river. I laughed at the thought.

He was still asleep, but he was completely quiet. Which wasn't strange to me since it wasn't the first time I saw him sleeping. He still wore the mask, but I imagined what his bare face was like under the balaclava.

He was one of the main reasons I kept going. He was becoming everything to me, and that scared and delighted me at the same time. I had never had anyone like him before.

Talking about family wasn't my forte since I didn't know mine. I bounced from orphanage to orphanage as time passed until I reached adulthood. I never told Ghost about this; he didn't ask, and I didn't think it was necessary to talk about.

Snapping out of my reverie, I noticed movement in a bush nearby. I quickly got up, grabbing my gun and cautiously approaching the noise with small steps. Until the culprit of the movement emerged from where it was, startling me.

It was a rabbit and it didn't seem infected. It hopped around and sniffed the tall grass before munching on it. Its fur was white with small brown spots on its ears.

These were one of those moments when we pretended everything was fine, even when it wasn't. But this little creature gave me hope that everything would be okay soon. After a few minutes, I watched it leave and returned to my position near the fire.

Its warmth comforted me along with the gentle sound of the river. I didn't realize the hours passing until I heard Jhonny calling me to switch shifts.

"Good rest, miss."

"Thank you, Jhonny."

I lay down near Ghost, resting my head on his shoulder and enjoying his warmth. He noticed my presence and pulled me into his arms. Then I ended up falling asleep with both of us facing each other, embraced.

✧˖°₊

I wake up in the morning with the sun starting to rise and some birds beginning to chirp. I look to the side and see Jhonny sleeping while Ghost is heating soup cans on the improvised fire.

"Good morning!", I say stretching.

"Good morning! Are you hungry?"

"Very", I say getting up and sitting next to him near the fire.

"Here. It's hot, be careful."

"Thank you!", I take the can of soup and start eating.

"Good morning!", we hear a sleepy voice behind us.

"Good morning, sergeant!", Ghost says, handing another soup to Jhonny.

"I'm starving", Soap says and then devours the soup.

I took advantage of my shift to find the best route to the refuge. Maybe there's just one problem…

"What?", I ask.

"Do you know how to swim?", I didn't know. I mean, I could manage in pools, but I wasn't the world's best swimmer.", I joke, making Soap laugh.

"That'll have to do", Ghost says, looking at the river.

"Please don't tell me the best route you found is through the river."

"Then I won't tell you", he says, laughing as he stands up and looks at the river not far from us.

"Don't worry, miss. We'll help you if you need it."

"Thanks, Jhonny."

"Alright. The river doesn't seem too deep, and the waters seem calmer than yesterday. Let's get ready!", Ghost says, putting his backpack on. Quickly, Soap and I follow suit.

Ghost goes first, entering the water, with Soap following soon after. I descend slowly, testing the depth, and Ghost notices my discomfort, holding my hands.

Reaching the bottom, I let go of his hands and feel the cold water hitting my shoulders. I was trying to ignore the fact that I couldn't see the riverbed because of its dark color.

"Do you think there are any creatures here?"

"Let's find out!", Soap smiles and starts walking.

"Can you manage on your own?", Ghost asks.

"Yes. Everything's fine!", then we follow Soap.

The river wasn't very wide, and on both sides, there were trees upon trees. The morning sunlight gave us a privileged view of it all. If it weren't for the muddy ground making our walk more difficult, everything would be almost perfect.

✧˖°₊

After half an hour of walking, we noticed the river changing. The water that had previously reached my shoulders was now close to my mouth, making it impossible to look forward without tasting that muddy water. Our bodies, which had previously walked at our own pace, were now forced to walk more due to the increasing force.

"Damn. This is getting dangerous.", Soap spoke loudly, as we felt a strong current passing by us.

The water pulled us with force, making it impossible to walk. Desperation took over me when the ground disappeared from under my feet. I tried to swim or at least not sink, but the water was too strong.

In a moment of panic, I let desperation take over as I felt myself sinking completely and water entering my nose and mouth. I thrash around and manage to resurface, trying to catch my breath, but I'm pulled back down again.

I couldn't think rationally anymore. My brain was screaming danger and my lungs begging for air. While my feet kicked trying to reach the ground and my hands reaching for any salvation out of the water. It felt like the water had swallowed me whole and that it would keep me there forever.

I was about to give up fighting for my life and surrender to the coldness around me when I feel strong arms pulling me and then a strong chest behind me.

Ghost had pulled me and was holding my waist, trying to keep my head above water. I gasp for air quickly, seeking comfort. My thoughts started to clear, and my brain clung to the safety Ghost transmitted.

"[name]!", my eyes opened, and I realized we were still in that shitty situation.

"Shit!", I look ahead seeing Soap swimming along with the current.

"LT, it's a damn waterfall!", Soap shouted, making us widen our eyes.

And there was the reason for all this current…

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #cod fanfic

34 notes · View notes

ohmyamor · 9 months

Text

grand theft autumn (where is your boy tonight?) | P.SH

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

Summary: New towns often mean new beginnings. But for Seonghwa, he’s determined to hate his new home until the end of time. Until you come along.

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: humor, some fluff, cursing, angst

author’s note: I’ve never really written super angsty stuff so this was a little experiment I took on to challenge myself a bit! please feel free to leave feedback of any kind and I hope you all enjoy~

where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman/maybe he won’t find out what I know, you were the last good thing about this part of town

Park Seonghwa is seven years old when he decides he hates his parents.

Not literally, but he’s mad enough to pout in the backseat of their little family sedan the entire eight-hour drive it takes to relocate their family from their old home to the middle of nowhere.

Again, not quite the middle of nowhere, but if seven-year-old Park Seonghwa is anything, it’s dramatic.

The day his parents had sat him down at their dining table and told him they would be moving was one of the worst days of his life.

That Saturday had been unlike any other. With both of his parents working full-time, Seonghwa was often left to his own devices. But this particular day, both of his parents had taken the day off. They took him everywhere he wanted, including the county fair that he had been begging to go to for weeks. They even bought him the Lego Star Wars set he had been wanting, but his parents deemed ‘too expensive’.

Seonghwa had often wondered to himself what the point of working all the time was if his parents never had any money.

After a busy day of doing nothing but things he wanted to do, Seonghwa was on cloud nine. Nothing could change his mind that this was the best day ever.

Until suddenly it wasn’t.

Packing had been a blur.

His parents had encouraged him to make piles of toys and clothes that he no longer wanted and would donate, claiming that the objects would make other little kids very, very happy. Seonghwa conceded, but not without a few tears.

After packing their belongings into a few boxes, his parents ushered everyone into the car and next thing he knew, Seonghwa was watching his childhood home grow smaller and smaller through the rearview mirror.

When they finally arrived to their new home, Seonghwa refused to get out of the car. He sat stubbornly in the backseat, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. His mom tried encouraging him to get out, telling him about how big his new room would be while his dad just sighed and stepped out of the car.

It wasn’t until both of his parents were out of the car and inside the new house that Seonghwa began to get a little freaked out by the unknown and hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt, bolting out of the car and into the new house.

As he sat in his new room that was empty and dusty and he’s pretty sure had homed a small family of roaches, Seonghwa vowed to always hate this new town.

Park Seonghwa is nine years old when a new girl arrives in his class.

Up until this point in his short life, Seonghwa would say he’s done a fairly good job at keeping his promise. His school is small and not many kids attempted to befriend him when he started. The teachers are old and don’t really care about anything other than making it through the day with their sanity still in tact. His mom found a job that allowed her to stay home most days of the week, but she was always more preoccupied with talking to the other moms in the neighborhood, while his dad continues to work all the time.

Although it was lonely at first, Seonghwa is resourceful, if anything. He knows how to keep himself entertained and he’s grown to appreciate the solitude, even as a nine-year-old.

It’s the beginning of the school day when his teacher stands up to make an announcement. Which will be difficult considering all the students are practically screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Class, please quiet down.”

Seonghwa pities the woman.

“Today, we have a new classmate joining us!” A small girl with short hair and choppy bangs stands next to the teacher, fumbling with her lunchbag.

“This is (Y/n) and I hope that everyone here does their best to make her feel welcome.” The teacher looks down at the girl and sends her a small smile.

“Go ahead and take a seat next to Seonghwa, sweetie. Seonghwa, raise your hand please!”

Seonghwa raises his hand and watches alongside the entire class as the new girl makes her way awkwardly down the aisle to her new seat.

Once she sits down, the teacher claps her hands and tells the class to take out their things so they can begin the lesson. Seonghwa says nothing to the new girl who now occupies what used to be his backpack’s seat.

It isn’t until the girl takes out a sparkly purple pencil alongside a Darth Vader eraser that Seonghwa says something.

“I like your eraser,” he whispers.

The girl looks at him through the corner of her eyes.

“Thanks.”

Park Seonghwa is twelve years old when he realizes how annoying people can be.

After your initial introduction in elementary school, Seonghwa had invited you to play with him at recess and lunch. After all, anyone who liked Star Wars was obviously a good choice of friend.

From then on, you and Seonghwa had become inseparable. Wherever Seonghwa went, (Y/n) followed, and wherever (Y/n) went, Seonghwa followed.

And although starting middle school was terrifying, Seonghwa found it easier with someone by his side. He had been a little worried that starting middle school would mean he would lose his best friend, but (Y/n)’s angry face and the way she slapped his arm and called him stupid when he voiced these feelings reassured him he had nothing to worry about.

Seonghwa had grown a little bit, so had (Y/n), and they had found new friends, but no one could ever replace the role they had in each other’s lives.

He’s sitting with some of the other boys in his class working on a science worksheet when a loud “PSSST” breaks his concentration. Seonghwa looks up, mildly annoyed.

“What?” he whispers.

The three boys that sit at his table grin.

“Is it true you and (Y/n) are dating?”

Seonghwa startles, dropping his pencil on the floor and, in an attempt to pick it up, knocks over his water bottle. The entire class stares at him and Seonghwa feels his neck and ears burn.

“What?”

One of the boys rolls his eyes.

“You guys are like, always hanging out together. Obviously you two have to be dating.”

Seonghwa makes a face.

“We’re just friends,” he replies, looking back down at his worksheet.

“uh-huh,” the boys say sarcastically.

“Besides,” Seonghwa continues. “Girls are gross. Why would I want to date one?”

Later that evening, when Seonghwa retells this story to you as you both sit on the grass in his backyard, he honestly should have expected the hard slap you deliver to his shoulder.

“Girls are not gross!” You shouted. “If anything, boys are gross AND stupid.”

You stick your tongue out at him and Seonghwa laughs.

As you two lay down watching the sun fade away and the moon takes its place, Seonghwa decides maybe he won’t always hate this town.

Park Seonghwa is fourteen when he has his first kiss.

Technically speaking, it’s both of your guys’ first kiss.

The two of you were older now, both in high school and simultaneously incredibly far away and way too close to being adults.

Seonghwa sits at your desk, working on his history essay while you lay across your bed groaning over something. You had been talking about something, but most of it had gone straight into one of Seonghwa’s ears and out the other. Not that he didn’t care about your problems, but at the current moment, he kind of didn’t care.

“So will you help me?” Your voice breaks his concentration.

“Huh?” Seonghwa doesn’t look away from his paper nor does he stop writing.

“Will you teach me how to kiss someone?”

Seonghwa’s heart jumps and now there’s a dark blue line running across half of his paper.

He turns around slowly and wide-eyed. You’re sitting cross-legged and staring at him expectantly.

Seonghwa says nothing.

You sigh and look away, mumbling a “nevermind” under your breath.

“Wait, no, I’m just-” Seonghwa stumbles over his words. “I’m just-confused? How do you want me to help? Why do you want me to help?”

He stares at you as you look down and fiddle with your hands. Seonghwa’s known you for long enough to recognize your fidgeting as nervousness and discomfort.

The thought of you being uncomfortable around him makes him frown.

You whisper something and Seonghwa leans forward to try and catch what you’re saying.

“Dude I can’t hear you-”

“I want you to be my first kiss!” You shout.

Seonghwa thinks he hears the windows error sound.

Apparently his silence freaks you out even further because you continue to talk, rushing and stumbling over every other word.

“It’s just, like, embarrassing, yaknow? Everyone else has had their first kiss, and I mean we’re in high school and I haven’t had mine yet and my friends keep asking me and I know they’re going to tease me when I tell them and I just don’t really want my first kiss to be with someone random which is why I figured I would ask you because you’re my best friend and I trust you but I also don’t want to make things weird so if you don’t want to that’s fine I just thought I would ask.”

“I’ll do it.”

Seonghwa wants to throw himself out of your window.

“You will?”

You look at him with such happiness in your eyes that Seonghwa knows he can’t back out now.

He nods.

“Thank you!” you beam at him before scooting over and patting the empty space on your bed.

“W-wait, like, right now?” Seonghwa stutters.

You shrug.

Seonghwa lets out a small “okay” before getting up from the desk chair. He’s sat on your bed a million times before, but now, it feels like the distance between the chair and your bed is a million miles long. Seonghwa’s suddenly very aware of everything as he awkwardly makes his way over to you. His legs feel too wobbly, his heart is pounding and his hands are sweaty.

He finally sits down next to you, but refuses to make eye contact.

“We can’t do this if you don’t look at me,” you remark dryly.

“Right,” Seonghwa clears his throat.

He turns to face you and now he’s even more hyper-aware of all the sounds and smells in the room.

Have you always had a mole next to your nose?

“Just so you know, I haven’t kissed anyone either,” Seonghwa blurts out when you close your eyes.

He watches as you open them and meet his eyes and shrug.

“I mean, I don’t care, that’s the whole point of this, right? Practice?”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Unless you wanted to wait for someone special, then we don’t have to do this-”

Seonghwa’s head shaking cuts you off.

“No, I wasn’t waiting for anything. I just wanted you to know that I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

The smile you send Seonghwa makes his stomach feel weird.

At age fourteen Seonghwa has his first kiss-with you, his best friend.

It’s clumsy and awkward and the two of you hit your noses more than you would like to admit, but something about it makes Seonghwa feel happy.

Content.

Park Seonghwa is sixteen when he admits he’s in love with you.

After that night in your bedroom, after a few too many times of the two of you awkwardly bumping noses or teeth or turning your head the wrong way, there was an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. Seonghwa believed it was because you were embarrassed. Maybe he was a bad kisser or maybe his breath smelled bad or maybe you thought kissing him was a mistake. Or maybe, just maybe, it didn’t mean anything other than just that.

Practice.

But that thought hurt the most.

See, because while to you it might not have meant anything, just a way to ensure you would never have to undergo the embarrassment of admitting you had never kissed anyone before, it had meant everything to Seonghwa.

After Seonghwa had gone home that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you.

It had been five years since he met you and all it took was one kiss to flip his entire world upside down. True to teen fashion, Seonghwa did his best to ignore these newfound feelings. How cliche, to fall in love with your best friend just because of one kiss. Like many other problems in his life, Seonghwa elected the easy way out. To ignore the problem and hope it goes away.

Except the problem, his feelings, never did.

In fact, they continued to grow and grow and grow every single time Seonghwa saw you in person (which was a lot, considering you two are best friends).

And it seems that ignoring the problem has come back to bite him in the ass as he watches you bounce around in your seat, the harsh lighting of the crappy little diner you two sat in doing nothing to compliment anyone’s features.

Seonghwa still thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, though.

“What?” he asks, eyes darting away from his chocolate milkshake to meet your eyes.

“He asked me out!” you squeal, reaching over to dip a french fry in Seonghwa’s milkshake.

He grumbles, smacking your hand away but not with any real hostility. He decided long ago he would let you dip as many fries as you wanted in his shakes, even if it meant giving up half of it.

Seonghwa stays quiet, eyes focused on the neon “open” sign that rests on the window behind your head.

“Hwa?”

He looks back at you, your head tilted slightly and eyebrows furrowed.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

Oh.

Right.

“That’s awesome (Y/n),” Seonghwa forces a smile onto his face. It feels wrong, saying those words and forcing his face to do something when his heart wants him to do the opposite.

Seonghwa’s thoughts are filled with nothing but if only’s.

If only you didn’t share a class with that guy. If only you didn’t think he was attractive. If only you never asked him to kiss you. If only you never moved to his town. If only he had the guts to tell you he’s in love with you.

But if only’s will get him nowhere.

Seonghwa can tell you don’t believe him, especially with the blank stare you send his way.

Nonetheless, Seonghwa can’t find it in himself to try and reassure you that he’s happy for you, because he’s really not.

You don’t say anything though, you just grab another fry and dunk it in his shake before plopping it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” you start through your chewing. Seonghwa grimaces. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know and I give you full permission to beat his ass.”

You grin and Seonghwa smiles back.

Right.

The date doesn’t end up going great.

“He was nice,” you had said, “but something about him is just, off, I guess.”

Seonghwa nodded silently.

He feels slightly guilty for the way his brain and heart jump with joy over the news.

Park Seonghwa is eighteen when he realizes he has no clue what he wants to do with his life.

Unlike other kids his age, Seonghwa considers himself to have a fairly good memory. He can remember most things that have ever happened in his life, ranging from good to bad memories, which often comes in handy when he wants to write sentimental gift cards or simply press play in his brain to make a diy slideshow of every moment he’s ever shared with you.

But sometimes the memories bother him.

Seonghwa vividly remembers being seven years old and sitting in his old family car after his parents uprooted his entire life. Seonghwa remembers vowing to always hate this town that he’s called home for the past eleven years.

And despite that vow, despite that hatred he still somewhat holds in his heart for this sad, old town the two of you live in, he can’t find any reason to leave it.

By this point in the year, most students have already applied to college. Some have chosen to stay, some have chosen to go far, far away, and some decide they would rather not continue school at all, which Seonghwa thinks is fair.

Unlike those other students, Seonghwa hasn’t even decided where he wants to go. His parents and teachers continue to ask him what he wants to do, what he wants to study, and his response is the same every time.

A small shrug of his shoulders and turning his attention back to whatever he was doing prior.

The uncertainty scares him, if he’s being honest. Not knowing what he wants to do with his life and not even knowing if he’s willing to follow through with the same vow his seven-year-old self made.

Seonghwa admits all of this to you one night.

Like many other nights, the two of you lay on the grass in his backyard. He offered to get a blanket, so you wouldn’t have to lay on the wet grass, but you waved him off.

“It’s part of the experience,” you had said.

The sun has long been set, but neither of you make any attempt to move from where you lay elbow to elbow, watching the moon and the stars.

Seonghwa is slightly out of breath by the time he finishes his rant. It feels good to get that off his chest, the heavy thoughts of uncertainty and disappointment lurking in his brain and weighing him down for the past few months.

You reassure him that it’s okay that he has not even the slightest idea of what he wants to do. That school and society are stupid for forcing literal children to decide what they want to do with their lives at such a young and complicated age, and you’re sure that there’s a million other kids out there who feel the same way.

Your speech is passionate and fiery, one of the many things Seonghwa admires about you, and he can’t help but feel grateful that the universe has given him the bestest friend he could ask for.

Seonghwa smiles at you, and links your pinkies together before turning his back to stare up at the sky. It’s quiet for a few moments before he hears you speak again.

“I want to leave.”

Seonghwa turns his head to face you, but you don’t look back at him. Your head remains forward, eyes flitting around to look at the constellations above.

Neither of you say anything else.

Park Seonghwa is 19 years old when he sees you for the last time.

Graduation had come and gone, and although high school was not quite as grand as it had appeared in the movies, Seonghwa couldn’t help but be proud of you both. You survived, despite everything, and you finally made it to the end (of this chapter, at least).

Seonghwa eventually realized he couldn’t quite find it in his heart to leave this town. It was small and old and didn’t have much, but something about it had wormed it’s way into Seonghwa’s heart until he eventually admitted that parting ways might not be the best idea. For now, at least. He was satisfied with getting a job, spending some more time with his parents, and taking some courses at the local college.

Up until now, you had never mentioned your plans about the future to Seonghwa. He would never tell you this, but that night when you admitted you wanted to leave scared him. After all, you two had been as thick as thieves for the better part of your lives. What would happen if you did leave? Who would Seonghwa be without you?

But, you never mentioned your plans to leave again, and so he allowed himself to sink back into the comfort of blissful ignorance and convinced himself that that would not be a problem, and definitely not so soon.

But now, as Seonghwa stands watching as you place your final box into your car, he can feel his entire world crashing around him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you say, standing in front of him.

Seonghwa says nothing. His eyes continue to dart back and forth between your face and the car.

“Why-” Seonghwa’s voice cracks. “Why would you not tell me?”

He swallows.

“I thought we were best friends.”

He knows his words hurt, but at this moment, Seonghwa can’t really find it in himself to care about the way you flinch at his statement. Words hurt, but Seonghwa can feel his life falling apart around him.

“We were! We are.” Your eyes look at every corner of his face.

“But I need to get out of here Hwa,” your voice is soft. “It’s so suffocating, being here and seeing the same people and doing the same things.”

Seonghwa tries to ignore the way his heart pangs at your choice of words.

“I just feel like if I want to live a happy life, if I want to be grow into a person that I’m going to be proud of, then I need to leave. I need to experience other things and meet new people.”

You reach out and gently grab Seonghwa’s hand.

“I think you of all people should know that feeling.”

Seonghwa swallows.

There’s a million things he wants to say, but there’s also nothing he can say.

He does know what you mean. He thinks he might know it better than anybody else. That doesn’t change the fact that part of him feels like you’re leaving him behind.

It’s quiet for a long moment as the two of you stand alone on the road with your hands interlocked.

Seonghwa clears his throat.

“You’ve always been the braver one between us,” he squeezes your hand. “Be happy.”

He sends you a big smile, but he can feel the tears slowly making their way down his cheeks.

Your own eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Until next time?” You ask, hopeful.

Seonghwa nods.

“Until next time.”

You let go of his hand and Seonghwa watches as it falls back next to his side.

He watches you climb into the driver’s seat of the car and listens to the engine as it comes to life.

With a final wave, Seonghwa watches as your car drives away, past the line of trees on your street, past the town line and away from him.

Standing alone in the middle of the road, Park Seonghwa makes a vow to hate this town for the rest of his life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa imagine #ateez x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa scenarios #kpop imagines #seonghwa x you

70 notes · View notes