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silverwings22 · 3 days

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Song of the Sea: Chapter 29: Teach Me How to Fight, I'll Show You How to Win

Chapter Warning: Child endangerment, giant spiders, questionable dietary habits, a possibly poor understanding of the Force on the writer's part Series Warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a

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Vanguard Axis was a droid controlled space station best known for its illegal smuggling operations. It had been setting off Shiani’s inner alarms since before the Batch had docked, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“This place is a smuggler’s paradise. Stay alert.” Hunter said firmly. “Echo, you stay with the girls on board while we make the drop, and guard the ship.”

Echo nodded, looking at Omega and Shiani. The siren was fidgeting, hanging upside down from the ceiling. Omega stayed by the ramp, saluting with absolutely adorable intensity at her assignment. “We got it.”

Once the others were gone, Omega looked at Echo. “This place gives me the creeps.”

He nodded. “Me too. I’m going to start the checklist so we can go as soon as they get back. I’m in no hurry to get stuck here… maybe keep your eye on Shiani. She looks as anxious as you do.”

When the corporal vanished into the cockpit, Omega went over to her favorite siren. “Shiani?”

“Yes, Baby Mega?” Shiani looked up from where her fingers were working rapidly on a small chain-code generator Tech had made. He’d left her specs to upgrade it, since selling forged chain codes had turned out to be very profitable.

“You okay? Echo said you look nervous.”

Shiani scrunched her face. “This station is uncomfortable. Like being too hot and too cold at the same time.” She flipped rightside up and rubbed the back of her neck. “Feels like it’s squishing right here, makes my eyes feel like they’re gonna pop out.”

Omega patted her hands. “Me too.”

Both of them froze when they heard a faint roaring sound. Shiani set her little project on the work table and stood upright. “What was that?”

“I dunno. Sounds like the recordings of wookiees Tech had us watch for lessons.” Omega reached for her bow.

“Wookiees were friends of the Republic. We should check.” Shiani nodded. “This station is a bad place, someone could be in trouble.”

Omega nodded, grateful Shiani was always willing to get in trouble with her instead of advising her against it like her brothers did. She loved that they wanted to keep her safe, but sometimes she needed a partner in crime. They slipped off the ramp without further ado, heading deeper into the station where the cry had come from. When they turned a corner, they found a duo of droids with electrostaffs laying into a young reddish-colored wookiee who was trying to cover his head to protect himself.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Omega shouted, horrified.

“Do not interfere with Vanguard Axis business.” One droid said, raising its staff to hit the young one again. Omega drew her bow and shot the staff out of its hand, Shiani’s blaster rising at the same time and shooting it in the head. The distraction let the wookiee grab the staff from the second one and smash the droid to scrap. As soon as it stopped moving, he gave a quick little bow.

Shiani poked Omega gently. “Quick, hide. More droid are coming.”

The three of them tucked themselves behind a group of crates and the wookiee started digging through them hurriedly. “What are you doing?” Omega blinked.

He made a quiet roaring noise, still shuffling through the box. He was startled when another voice addressed Omega. “I could ask you two the same question.” Shiani and Omega both poked their heads around the crates.

“Echo.” Omega sighed with relief.

“We rescued a baby wookiee.” Shiani explained. “Droids were hurting him.”

The young wookiee peeked around Shiani at Echo and immediately got hostile, snarling at the older clone. Echo held his hand and scomp up. “Easy, kid. Easy. I’m with them.”

Omega nodded. “He’s my brother, you’re safe.”

Shiani looked at the wookiee thoughtfully. “You’re very afraid, baby wookiee. It’s okay, I’ll protect you too. Promise.”

His paw wrapped around her hand, nodding as more droids came around the corner and Echo got behind the crates with them. Shiani half-closed her eyes, listening to the bolt of fear that snaked around her from him, and squeezed his paw gently. While Omega watched in fascination, the siren and wookiee seemed to be having a silent conversation in glances and nods.

“The others will have heard the blaster fire.” Echo muttered. “They’ll come looking.”

Shiani nodded, pushing Omega’s head down as the droids crowded them. Her eyes locked on the belt of one of them, pointing him out to the wookiee. He nodded, growling softly as the rest of the Batch came in the opposite door.

“I suggest you take your team and leave.” The lead droid said, flat affect but with an unmistakable threat implied.

“No! They’ll hurt him, Hunter.” Omega yelled, head popping up into the sergeant’s sight line. “They were hurting him when we found him.”

“The wookiee is worth more to our buyer alive.” The droid’s head swiveled back towards the boy, who scrunched down nervously next to Shiani. Her hand moved to his back and she bared her fangs in a hiss, instantly protective.

“People aren’t cargo.” She snarled, skin populating with blue rings.

“On the contrary, anything can be smuggled for sufficient credits.”

She brought her blaster up faster than Tech remembered teaching her, slamming three shots into the droid’s chest and another in the head. The silver cylinder she’d been eying, tucked into the droid’s belt, came flying off and into the young wookiee’s paw. She pushed him forward, pushing him and Omega together. “To the ship. Go!”

Omega grabbed the other child by the paw and took off, the batch moving to flank them and run for the Marauder as the cylinder ignited into a column of green light that deflected blaster shots. The clones all did a double take but kept running, bailing into the ship and taking off before the droids of the station could close the hangar doors on them or mobilize fighters to pursue.

The young wookiee moved to a corner and curled into a furry ball, watching the clones suspiciously. Omega looked curiously as Shiani crouched beside him, holding out her hand for him to touch. “Is he okay?” She whispered to Hunter.

“He’s a Jedi, if that laser sword is anything to go by. He must have been through a lot, and he’s probably scared.” Hunter explained. The wookiee was just a kid, after all, and every day since Order 66 he had probably been hunted and running for his life. Hunter had been on the receiving end of a scared Jedi kid once, when Crosshair had been trying to kill General Billaba’s padawan on Kaller. He always felt guilty he couldn’t do more than let the kid run and lie that he was already dead… but if he’d tried to rescue the boy, Crosshair would have finished him off.

Shiani sang a few notes to the wookiee child before smiling. “Don’t be afraid. These clones don’t work for the Empire. They don’t hurt babies.” She gestured to Omega. “See?”

He nodded nervously, glancing at Omega as she brought him a tray of rations. “Are you hungry? Here.” She smiled kindly, and he decided to trust her after a moment and quickly shoved the food in his mouth.

Shiani scooted over so she was sitting beside him, and Omega climbed into her lap. “I don’t speak wookiee, you have to tell me in the Song what happened.” The siren cooed. “Why were you on that station, Gungi?”

The young one poured out his story in rapid Shyriiwook, Omega listening intently while Shiani listened beyond the roars and growls. The men listened as well, though it had been a while since any of them had spoken the language. Still, it was a sad but predictable story. Gungi had survived the massacre of the Jedi, and had hoped to try to make it back to his birth planet of Kashyyyk when he’d been captured by the smugglers and held on the station. He was terrified, alone, and distrustful of clones after seeing so many Jedi killed by their hands.

Shiani smoothed his fluffy head gently and looked at Hunter. “Can we take him home?”

Hunter smiled faintly, that glaring soft spot he had for children widening to include someone other than Omega. “I don’t see why not.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been to Kashyyyk.” Wrecker beamed.

“The Empire could have set up outposts by now. It’s not safe.” Echo frowned.

“He’s a Jedi. Nowhere is safe.” Hunter shook his head. “But this is the best thing we can do for him. It gives him a fighting chance if he’s back with his people.”

Tech glanced over at Shiani, who had laid her head on top of Gungi’s and was humming to him as he and Omega snuggled with her. She looked peaceful among the young ones, but the irony of the situation was not lost on the man that loved her. A queen with no people of her own, escorting possibly one of the last survivors of a genocide back to his birthplace, with the help of clones who’s own brothers had carried out that very slaughter. It was a lot to take in, but he knew she’d only tell him it was the right thing to do.

Who was he to tell his queen no?

“The village is in the sector.” Hunter had his holomap up as Tech brought them into sight of Kashyyyk. Even from her seat on the floor further back, Shiani could see how beautifully green and lush the planet looked from orbit. She wondered if there would be time to explore it, even just for a little while. So often their missions were hurried, and the worlds she’d dreamed of seeing when she was stuck on Kamino passed by in a blur of necessity. She tried not to complain about it, but she wanted so badly to be able to extend her hands and touch some part of this green planet. There were things she’d never seen here, and just once she wanted to know how it felt to climb a tree or pick flowers. There was never time in the race for survival for little things like living.

“I’m picking up heavy smoke and deforestation in that area.” Echo cut into her thoughts, his brow furrowed around his implants. “Be careful of Imperial outposts.”

Tech nodded. “I will proceed with caution, I assure you.” He moved to the landing zone as Shiani got up from her impromptu cuddle puddle with the kids. She stepped up to his side, watching his descent carefully. “Everything alright, cyar’ika?”

“Just watching. I need to pay more attention about flying.” She smiled fondly. “It’s almost time for you to teach Baby Mega to fly, so I should make sure I know what I’m talking about. She always has questions.”

Tech smiled fondly. “Fair enough.”

Hunter lightly patted Gungi on the shoulder as he came to watch the landing as well. “Hide that laser sword, kid. It might draw attention.”

It was a reasonable request and the kid nodded, tucking it away and letting out a polite little roar at Shiani, who smiled fondly. “No, I don’t have one. Not a Jedi.”

Gungi looked a little confused at that, but patted her arm as the ship touched down.

When they stepped out, both Omega and Shiani were wide eyed at the massive trees and rugged beauty of the planet around them. “It’s amazing here.” Omega whispered. “I see why you wanted to come home.”

Gungi nodded, waving his paws. Shiani smiled brightly. “Just as pretty as your dreams?”

“Dreams?” Omega frowned. “What do you mean, dreams?”

Tech listened to Gungi’s explanation and nodded. “He was brought to the temple very young. He has no recollection of his life here, but he remembers through his dreams. A sort of vision, if you will.”

“Tidedreamer.” Shiani said confidently. “A better one than most, too.”

Omega slipped her hand around one of Shiani’s tentacles as they followed Tech towards the village the Batch knew. “How come you know what he’s saying when you said you don’t speak his language?”

Shiani patted her hair. “Did some research about Jedi after Skara Nal. The powers they have come from something called the Force. It’s all around the galaxy, and holds it together. Everyone is a part of it, not everyone can interact with it.” Shiani explained. “You have to be… sensitive, to feel it and make it do things. The more about Force I read, the more it sounds like what my people call the Song. Their light and dark sides are my Melody and Harmony. The difference is all sirens can feel it. We use it to sing and scream, to find love, or sense danger. I can’t understand his words, but I feel his hearts.”

“So you’re like a Jedi?” Omega peeped.

“No. Jedi think entirely differently about it than sirens do. Nothing wrong with that.” Shiani chuckled. “I feel the Song all over this planet, though. Trees are so old, so alive here… no trees underwater on Kamino, and young ones aren’t strong enough to sing like these. Sirens perception, on a flooded planet like Kamino, might be diminished.”

“How’s it different?” Omega frowned, scooting closer. Gungi did too, looking at her curiously.

“Jedi thinking is… linear.” Shiani said politely. “In everything I read, there’s a lot of talk about Light side and Dark side. Jedi and Sith. Sirens don’t have those things. All Song is Song. There is Melody and Harmony, but neither is better or worse than the other. No… morality to it. It all just is, like day and night are.” She explained. “Not saying Jedi are wrong or right. Just different. For sirens, it’s as much a part of us as our voices. Scream and song.”

Omega nodded, brow furrowed as she tried to understand. Gungi patted Shiani’s arm again, pleased with the respectful way she’d tried to approach the differences. They stopped just short of walking into Hunter’s back, the clones looking up at a series of thick webs in the trees. “Spiders?” Omega frowned.

“Too big to be spiders.” Shiani blinked. “Much too big to eat.”

“Probably kinraths.” Hunter waved Omega closer to keep an eye on her. She was small enough to be a kinrath snack, and not carrying a lightsaber.

Wrecker pulled his large knife and started cutting them a path through the webbing, everyone falling into line behind him. Shiani nudged Tech lightly as she felt something circling above them. “Kinraths watching. Six of them.”

He looked up, spotting the massive arachnids coming down on silk threads with their mandibles clicking. Shiani wrapped herself around his arm before he could draw his blaster, while Gungi held his paws up and roared for the clones to keep their weapons holstered. “He says they will not attack if we do not provoke them.” Tech translated, glancing at his wife. She was looking up at the creatures curiously, humming to herself. Five of the kinraths seemed to accept Gungi’s truce through the Force, though one scuttled over and patted at Shiani’s head with its front legs for a moment. She cooed a note at it, and it retreated after its kin without further fanfare. “What was that, cyar’ika?” He asked

“Just wanted to see. It thinks I’m funny looking.” Shiani chuckled.

Tech sighed, putting an arm around her. “The mountain ridge is this way. According to my telemetry, the village is close by.”

Echo looked uncomfortable. “You mean where all the smoke is coming from?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Tech sighed. “This does not bode well for what we will find.”

Gungi jogged ahead to where Tech had pointed, cresting the hill a moment before the clones and siren. When they got to him, he’d dropped to his knees. The village the Batch had been familiar with was razed to the ground, leaving behind only smoldering ashes and what remained of a few huts. Hunter sighed, crouching to examine the dirt. “Tanks came through here. This was deliberate.”

Shiani winced at the memory of Tipoca City, belching smoke into the Kaminoan sky before collapsing under the waves. “The Empire did this.”

Omega put a hand on Gungi’s shoulder and he turned to look at her with a hopeless expression. “The Empire destroyed our home too. We’ll help you find your people, I promise.”

The rest of the Batch nodded, unable to deny her endless kindness. They helped Gungi to his feet and walked towards the village, searching for any sign of survivors and where they might have gone. Shiani found herself face to face with a set of carved stones, fingers outstretched and brushing the engravings. There was something sacred and beautiful about the monument that reminded her of the Temple beneath the waves and how she’d always pray there for a route to the stars…

“Tanks.” Hunter hissed, and the Batch plus Gungi ducked into the undergrowth. Shiani simply turned around, facing the repurposed Separatist Incinerator tanks coming towards her. They were operated by a gang of trandoshans, dragging a cuffed wookiee prisoner.

Tech’s stomach dropped when he realized his wife wasn’t hiding, just staring at the approaching enemy with her eyes narrowed. She had armor, but she wasn’t fireproof. He couldn’t get to her fast enough, and she’d already been spotted.

“What the hell are you?” One of the trandoshans, the leader, asked as the tank stopped a few feet from Shiani’s boots.

“You go away now. Leave Kashyyyk.” She ignored his question, arms outstretched to protect the monument behind her. “Let the wookiee go and leave.”

“You’re a gutsy little thing. But I’ve got orders to destroy the carved stones, and I’ll roast you too if you don’t move. If you do, you’ll probably fetch a decent price.” He reached for a blaster, flicking it to stun and leveling it at the siren. “Whatever the hell you are will make a nice chase, at the very least.”

When Shiani jumped, so did Gungi. He went straight for the driver of one tank, Shiani running for the captive. She tore the binding around his wrists with her teeth, handed him her blaster, and slid under the nearest tank with a wrench from her gear bag in her hand faster than anyone had seen her pull it out. Gungi put his saber through one tank’s repulsarlift, and the fuel pump came flying out from under the other with Shiani right behind it.

Tech caught her by the hand and helped her up, the last of the trandoshans scattered or dead. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, putting her wrench back in her bag. “I couldn’t let them break the holy place.”

Before Tech could either complain she’d scared him half to death or praise her bravery, a pair of furry arms wrapped around her and she was dangling off the ground in a fierce wookiee hug. The freed hostage was roaring in her ear, thanking her.

She smiled and patted his arm. “Hello. Let’s put out the fire, then make friends?”

He nodded and set her down, the group scrabbling for makeshift shovels to put out the lingering flames before the forest could catch. Just as they finished up, three more wookiees on brightly colored mylylas arrived. The former hostage explained what they’d done, and they were waved to follow.

“Where are they taking us?” Echo whispered.

“Their village.” Tech translated. “They want us to speak with their leader.”

The wookiee village was built into the living trees, a part of nature without harming any of the surrounding life. It was a series of treehouses, and the clones were invited to climb up by the warriors who’d escorted them. An elderly female was waiting for them, and looked delighted to see Gungi the minute he appeared. The wookiee they’d rescued ran to her, explaining and pointing at them until she waved them over.

“She says her name is Yanna, and she is their chieftain. She wants to know why we helped her people, and if we are soldiers of the Empire.” Tech explained.

Hunter shook his head and took his helmet off. “No ma’am. We were a part of the Republic, but not the Empire.”

“We helped because it was right.” Shiani peeped, bowing her head and giving her siren salute. “We brought Gungi home because it was right. We don’t know what village he’s from, but he wanted to come home.”

Yanna nodded and waved the young one to come to her, putting her hands on his shoulders to take a long look. Then she waved for the group to come inside and the other wookiees happily offered them food and drink to share while making friends. Shiani was a curiosity for the littlest ones, and let them play with her tentacles and examine her claws while she sat on the floor. She and Wrecker both were delighted to try wookiee food as well, while Echo tried to politely as possible decline the drink he was offered. Gungi and Omega seemed to have made fast friends and were sitting together and giggling as the rest of the group tried to socialize.

Shiani was surprised when Yanna waved her over, getting up from the pile of furry babies to sit at the older Wookiee’s knee. They looked at each other, Yanna speaking and Shiani singing back in little chirps and coos until they had come to an understanding. Then she got up and bowed her head before scuttling back to the Batch. “The Empire is destroying Kashyyyk. They sent the trandoshans to strip resources and enslave people. Many villagers fled into deep parts of the forest, but the Empire keeps coming.” She murmured, slipping her hand into Tech’s. “Scouts already say a convoy is coming. Wookiees need help.”

“They’ve been our allies for years.” Echo nodded. “We should give them any aid we can.”

Hunter nodded, eyes drifting over to Omega and Gungi again. “Taking out that convoy might be the only way to protect the kid.”

Shiani smiled. “The want us to come out and pray to the tree.”

“The tree?” Tech raised an eyebrow.

“Yanna says Kashyyyk belongs to the Wroshyr trees. Trees are alive, I can feel it. If Wookiee’s are our allies, the trees are theirs. Making friends with all allies is a tactical decision.” She beamed, getting up and waving them to follow her as a group of wookiees went outside. Omega joined them, next to Gungi, and put her hand on the bark beside his paw. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it felt right. Shiani knelt too, closing her eyes. The clones watched, Tech the most curious, as the group prayed together.

When Gungi looked up, he roared happily back at them and Shiani made a high, joyful note that echoed over the forest. “Did you talk to the tree?” Omega asked.

“Yes. Trees sing to us, and they have a plan.”

The forest was dark as the group waited, watching the Imperial convoy marching on the village. There were clones with the trandoshans, and it was a heartbreaking reality for Shiani that some of these men would die. Men with chips in their heads, who had no choice and no one to come find them when they needed help. She had to swallow that bitter truth, hanging high in a tree and waiting.

At Yanna’s signal, the Batch rolled detonators under the tanks. She watched the lead trandoshan, one she’d heard called Venomor, giving orders. His heart was beyond selfish, it was vicious, and he was telling someone that in exchange for capturing Gungi alive he’d give a hundred Wookiee pelts. A hundred lives he’d be willing to snuff out for a chance to torment a child… Shiani had never been a mother and wasn’t even sure if it was something she’d ever want, but she felt a visceral need to protect Gungi has much as she did Omega. Every child needed someone to protect them, and those two had been given one sharp-fanged siren with everything reason to aim for Venamor’s throat.

When the detonator went off, the tank listed over and he ordered his men to press on, giving chase to the Wookiees on their mylaylas. Other Wookiees, and Wrecker who’d been adopted into the warband, were pounding on trees and luring the Imperials the way they wanted. The way the trees wanted, towards the kinrath nests deeper in the woods.

When Gungi dropped onto a tank and cut the barrel of its main weapon off with his saber, Venomor spotted him. Gungi took off, luring the vicious commander into the forest. Venomor had a flamethrower, and set one of his own men ablaze in his haste to go after the Jedi child. Before Shinani could drop in and tear his throat out, both Omega and Gungi ran off together into the darkness with the monster on their heels.

Shiani swore softly and followed from the tree tops, chasing after the licking flames until she was in the middle of a kinrath nest and her little charges were getting further away. The giant arachnids clicked and chittered at her, so she held her hands out the way Gungi had, and tried to make herself understood.

The little ones are in danger. Help me help them. Help me help Kashyyyk.

The kinraths dipped and patted at her with their front legs before getting behind her, expectant sets of eight eyes waiting for her to lead the way. She nodded, taking the forward position and finding a ring of flame with Omega and Gungi trapped and Venomor circling. Shiani whistled sharply as Gungi took a leap, slicing the flamethrower’s nozzle and rendering it useless. Then he jumped back, extinguishing the blade. Shiani dropped down, wrapping her tentacles around both children, and shot back up into the trees as the kinraths descended, wrapping Venomor in silk and dragging him upwards into the foliage. She turned their faces inwards, to her chest. “Don’t look.” She said softly. “Will only upset you.”

Omega clung to her and looked at Gungi, who made a faint roaring noise to cover the crackling static sound of the kinrath legs until it stopped. When all was quiet, Shiani plopped the three of them on the ground. “The fire.” Omega tugged at her arm and pointed. The raging flames were licking up the trees, heading for the thick foliage that would go up like tallow.

“Cover your ears.” Shiani nodded and pushed the young ones behind her.

Both Gungi and Omega slammed hands over their ears as the siren screamed, turning in a circle and letting the force of the blast put the creeping flames back out. When the Batch followed the shriek and found them, they were stomping out the little bits the scream had missed.

“Shiani!” Tech called, and she turned around with a grin. “Are you all alright?”

“We're okay. Venomor, not so much.” She giggled.

“What happened to him?” Hunter frowned.

“Remember what I wanted to do with the irling? Well… kinraths don’t have Tech telling them no!” She pointed up, where the trandoshan had vanished into the silken canopy.

“Is it bad that I’m hungry now?” Wrecker asked.

“You are always hungry.” Tech sighed, but pulled Shiani’s hands into his. “You did very well, cyar’ika.”

She leaned up and put her forehead against his, beaming.

Shiani sat on the porch of the Wookiee tree house, watching the morning winds clear the smoke from burning trees away. Yanna had given her a drink and behind her she could hear Wrecker and Echo sharing drinks with the Wookiee warriors. She kicked her feet, admiring the view despite the evidence of last night’s battle.

She’d wanted to see Kashyyyk up close, and she’d gotten to.

“You seem to be in a thoughtful mood.” Tech said mildly, sitting down beside her. “How are you feeling this morning? You inhaled quite a bit of smoke.”

“Coughed some. I’m okay.” She smiled, looking at him. “It’s pretty here.”

“It is.” He nodded. “Wroshyr trees are picturesque, I believe… I had hoped to bring you to worlds like this when the war was over.”

“War never really ends, does it?” She leaned her head on his arm. “Doesn’t mean there’s no time for good things. Look at the babies down by the roots. Baby Gungi is teaching Baby Mega to meditate. He’s finally home with his people, and they protect him like we protect her.”

Tech considered her face. “I was concerned about the toll bringing Gungi back to his people would take on you. Are you sure you are alright?”

She lifted her head again and looked at him, cocked to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Gungi was able to return to the people he had been estranged from. He missed them, despite having few memories of living here among them. You, however, grew up among your people. You cannot return to them… I was concerned it may be bittersweet for you.”

She nodded. “Maybe a little. Sometimes I think about home… the temples and the singing. The good parts I miss. But Kamino isn’t home anymore. It wouldn’t be home even if I had stayed and been queen. Home is where family is. My family is the Bad Batch, and my home is the Marauder. That’s all I need.”

He put an arm around her. “Even if you would be a queen and out of exile?”

She snorted. “What’s the point of being queen if your kingdom would drown the king? I’d rather be on the run forever with you than on the throne without you.”

Tech smiled. “I am relieved to hear you say that… I cannot imagine my life the way it was before you any longer.”

Shiani turned her head and kissed him softly, cuddling into his chest. “Melody and Harmony made me just for you.” She whispered.

“You were born before I was, so I believe if there was divine intervention then I would have been made for you.” He chuckled. “I would be more skeptical of such things, if I had not seen a plan concocted by trees come to fruition last night.”

She giggled, holding her hands out in front of her. “Trees of Kashyyyk will remember our names forever now. Shiani and Tech Illumai. Queen that never wanted a crown, and a king who can’t ever see the palace.”

“Those are terrible and excessively long titles…” He began, then paused. “Do I… have a surname now?”

Shiani nodded. “I earned my name back when I beat Kashae. As my mate, you get it too. Tech Illumai.”

Tech smiled faintly, listening to her sweet voice on the syllables. Names were so important to clones, after a rushed childhood of only numbers. CT-9902 would never sound as real or as personal as this name, spoken by the woman who had turned his entire life upside down in the best possible way.

“I think I like it. Tech Illumai.”

#explict #original character #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars #fanfic #tbb tech #song of the sea

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iwishtobeastorm · 3 years

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Congrats on 200!!! Can I p’ease have “on my lap. Now.” with Din 💕

A/N: Thank you so so so much for requesting, Padi! It means so much to me. I hope this won't disappoint!

Feathers - Din Djarin/Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, meantions of someone trying to hurt reader, fluff, innocent reader

Words count: 1500+

Celebration | Masterlist

Din didn't want it to go like that. It was supposed to be an easy job. The bounty was some wealthy kid, running away from his parents, who wanted him back and hired Din. He didn't want to take you with him, but you begged for it so sweetly he eventually subdued and that was a mistake. He should've known you'll be a distraction, he should've known his feeling for you will get in a way. You two waited for him to appear at one of those shady bars, which made Din uncomfortable since the first moment you two stepped in. All the people were gazing at you as if you were a peace of meat. He wanted to turn around and lead you back to the ship, but you gave him one of your little smiles, assuring him everything is okay, and it gave him comfort, at least for a while. Until he went after the kid into the back of the bar, leaving you on your own. He almost had the boy, when the scream echoed through the whole building, and Din knew it was you. He let the kid run away, storming back into the bar, his heart thrumming wildly in his chest. What he was met with when he entered, made him see red. This huge man was dragging you out of the bar, kicking and steaming, the Baby crying in your arms from distress. Din moved before he knew it.

"Let her go," he uttered through clenched teeth, pointing one of his blasters to the temple of the man's giant head. "Or what, tinman? I can take you down anytime," he chuckled, yanking you closer to him, making you fight against his hold again, but it was hard when you had to hold the Child too. "I said, let her go. This is your only warning," Din felt his blood boiling at the sight of your teary eyes, opened wildly in fear, while the baby clutched to you, hiding from the man, who dared to put his dirty hand on his clan. That's not something he could get away with alive. And he didn't. Din gave you a nod, which you understood, pressing the baby closer and closing your eyes. What happened next played through your head for hours. The sound of blaster shooting, a choked grunt and heavy thud, as the man collapsed to the ground, his big hand finally releasing you. You opened your eyes again, just to find Din, rushing into his arms, hiding your face underneath his chin. He pulled you close tightly, stroking your back, while whispering softly to you to comfort you, his eyes scanning the room, sending a clear message to anyone who was inside, staring at the three of you with unhidden surprise. Do not mess with Mando's clan. You've been unusually quiet on your way back to Razor Crest, darting behind him with the baby, who was already back to his coos and babbling, waving his arms and tugging on your hair. Din wanted to do something to make you feel better, but he was always so lost when it came to offering you comfort or any sign of affection in general. You were the one good in that. You always knew what to say and what to do. Not him. So he stayed quiet and when the hatch closed behind you, he hid in the cockpit like a coward. He was desperate. He wanted to do something, pull your close and assure you that he'll never let anything like that happen to you again, that he'll always protect you, but he knows he won't be able to get the words past his throat. Every time he's in your presence, he somehow loses his ability to speak. You enchanted him ever since he first met you, hiring you as the baby's caretaker. You are everything he isn't. Sweet, gentle, bright and innocent. You bring so much light into his life by just simply existing by his side. Your laughter warms his heart every time he hears it, the songs you hum get stuck in his head until he's humming them under his breath too, your touches burning at his skin for hours, driving him crazy. But you're not his. He would love it, Gods know he would. Just the thought of it makes him delirious. But there's no way a girl like you could ever want him. Or at least he persuaded himself that's true a long time ago. Maybe that's why he ignored all those glances you give him, all those wannabe brief touches, all your need to be close to him and please him. You don't have

enough courage to confess your feelings for him and definitely not when you think you know he doesn't feel the same. You would lose everything if you did, you're sure about that. Din and the baby are the best things that ever happened to you, there's no way you'll let yourself ruin it.

You two avoid each other for a few hours, until you calm yourself down enough to face him again, climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, your nervousness and anxiety growing, making your chest feel too tight, while your heartbeat thunders in your ears. You slowly step closer, until you stop a few feet away from his seat. He's casually sitting there, facing the white tunnel of hyperspace, pushing some buttons on the control panel. You bite on your lower lip, clasping your hands in front of you and squeezing tightly to control your nerves. "Uhm- Din?" You murmur, trying to get his attention, which works immediately as he turns in his seat towards you, his dark visor meeting your gaze. "What is it, mesh'la?" He can't help but worry. Your expression is full of anguish and turmoil, which squeezes on his heart with need to comfort you. "I- I came to apologize. I should never go on the hunt with you, I'm sorry the bounty escaped because of me. And- I- I apologize for all the troubles I bring your way. I-I-," you take in a shaky breath, trying to hold back your tears, head tilting down to hide your flushed cheek, embarrassment coursing through you. "It was stupid to think I could ever handle it. I just- I wanted to be by your side. I- I get lonely here on the ship with the baby while you're away, you know? And I thought that- you said it'll be an easy bounty so I thought I could just be there with you and watch but I- I ruined it all for you. I'm so sorry," you whisper, hot streams rolling down you pretty cheeks and Din could scream. This is not what he wanted. He didn't mean to make you feel bad about his own mistake. You were attacked by some di'kut and now you're apologizing for things that are not your fault at all. How could he ever let it get this far? "On my lap. Now," he mutters and you tense, not sure if you've heard it right. "What?" You murmur, wiping away your tears. "Come here, cyar'ika," Din says, patting his knee. Your nervousness could match his anytime as you approach him. You look up at him for confirmation, when you stand right in front of him and once he gives you a gentle nod, you straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders. You gaze at him through the visor of his helmet, your eyes meeting his as always. He puts his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, the blush on your cheeks mirroring the one Din hides underneath the helmet. "You did nothing wrong, ad'ika. I'm sorry I left you there alone, I should've known it was a dangerous place for you. But please, don't blame yourself," he states, cupping your cheek, making you lean into his touch as you close your eyes. "So you're not mad at me?" You assure, voice little, making Din's hand squeeze tighter on your waist. "I could never be mad at you, mesh'la," he states, making you smile, as you wrap your hand around his wrist, planting a kiss to his gloved palm. It makes Din's heart do a little jump, the print of your lips setting his body on fire. You open your pretty eyes, looking at him, before you let go of his wrist and your hands find his shoulders again, pulling yourself flush to him, your forehead meeting his helmet, making Din hold back a gasp. "Thank you for saving me today. I don't know what I would do without you," you whisper, closing your eyes and biting on your lower lip, your heart racing in your chest. "I will never let anyone hurt you again, cyar'ika, I promise," he says, his baritone rumbling through your body, making your insides tingle. "Okay," you murmur with a smile, making Din smile softly too. You both yearned to be like this for months, dancing around each other like two feathers in the air, until you finally collided, ending up in the safety of each other's arms. Neither you or Din could be happier, because even though you both want so much more, you know this is just a beginning of something amazing, something greater. So even though Din didn't want it to go like that, he won't complain about it now.

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

Text

Wonder- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: Hi Lordy! okay, so I got and a request idea and was wondering if you like to write it (no stress if you cant! :) ). I was wondering if you could write something based off of the song "Wonder" by Shawn Mendes? I think i would be great from either point of view and I know you will write something absolutely AMAZING because you are AMAZING! <33333 -🪐

A/n: Hello lovely! I am so happy to see you!!! I hope everything has been going splendid for you! I absolutly love this idea and I hope you like what I came up with! Thank you for stopping bye and I love you a ton! (Also this song is like one of my top ten favorites)

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He can’t move. He’s stuck in place. He just stands in the doorway, unmoving and no thoughts running through his head.

You are standing in the hull, child falling asleep in your arms as you rock him back and forth. His little hands grip at your shirt and his eyes open and close in his fight against slumber. The arm not supporting his body rubs his ear and tickles his forehead. A faint melody flows through the room from your mouth.

The strong and comforting wave of love flows from your soul into his own, sparking thoughts he should never have.

Thoughts of how it would feel to be in the little ones place. To have his head resting in your lap while your fingertips comb through his curls. How your nails would lightly run along his scalp, sending shivers down to his toes. The soft rhythmic swell of your chest as you breathe in and out. He would let his eyes fall shut as you sing down to him.

He starts to wonder. Silently, he asks the universe what you would do if he walked over and wrapped his arms around you. What you would do if he rested his heavy head on your shoulder. Would you shove him off and cower? Or would you let him sink into your flesh and hide from the world?

These thoughts plague him daily. Every little detail and action you have gives him a new idea. Just this morning when you padded up to the cockpit with your eyes still half closed, he would have given anything to be able to pull you into his lap. To have you curl up against his chest; he’d even take the armor off just so you could stay warm. He would cup the back of your head and tuck you away into his embrace, happily listening to your soft snores.

Everytime you blink and your eyelashes flutter, he wonders what they would feel like against his skin. The soft wisps of hair sweeping across his cheek just in the way you do to the child. “Butterfly kisses” you call them.

He yearns to be able to rub his nose against your own. To press his forehead against your own. To be able to hold his lips against yours. He stares at them. Those pillowy plush lips that terrorize his every thought. He hopes you never notice, but at the same time, he wonders what you would do if you knew.

He wonders what it would be like if he had the liberty to love you. To be able to grab your hand wherever he pleased or so desired. To be able to shield you and protect you from the world. It always pains him whenever you’re scared and he can’t do anything but stand there. He wants… needs to reach out and make sure you're okay. But that would only make it worse.

That night the storm happened. The Crest moaned and creaked as it’s walls were pounded with rain and wind. Thunder boomed and long bangs sounded outside as trees and rocks fell. He had heard you. He had listened as your faint cries and sniffles flowed. In a panic he had stood and ran out to your bunk. But when you saw him you brushed away your tears and smiled up at him.

“Big storm out there, huh?” He hated that you tried to put on a happy face. “Sorry, did the little guys' tears wake you? I just got him back down.” You gesture to the child fast asleep in your arms, his cheeks shining from fresh tears. “You can go back to bed.”

You turned away from him to put the child back in his hammock. And his heart crashed to the floor, shattering into millions of pieces. The hand that was going to reach for you stopped and fell back to its place on his side. He only nodded as he walked back to his own bunk, but as soon as the door closed shut his helmet was ripped from his head.

His own tears poured from his eyes as his heart clenched. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have got his hopes up again. His fingers gripped at his chest. Why are his emotions always so much more powerful when they are about you?

What would it have been like if you tried to find refuge in his arms? He would have given anything to have just reached out and held you. Even now, he still wonders what it would have been like to comfort one another that night.

When you smile at the child, he smiles under his helmet. He can’t help it. He can’t help but to imagine what it would feel like if you smiled at him. If your eyes would sparkle for him just as they do for the child. He wants to be able to reach out and pinch your cheeks, and trail his fingers across your skin.

He wonders what it would be like to be able to trail his hands across your form. He wonders what it would be like to be able to worship you. He would kiss and rub every single inch of your skin, paying extra attention to the areas you despise. Especially the soft swell of your stomach. He knows you hate it, but he loves it. That soft flesh that ensures him you're healthy. The urge to lift your shirt and press his head against that swell grows more intense every day.

What if you finally let him hold you? He’s not quite sure what he would do. No, he does know. He would pull you as close as he could and wrap himself around you. He would overwhelm his senses with you. He would never let go.

He wonders what it’s like to be loved by you. What’s it like to see your face light up when you spot him. For you to bound over to him and hug him, not caring if anyone notices. For you to call him yours, and gleam when he calls you his.

But now, as the child finally falls asleep and your melody ends, he can only watch. He can only stand there as these questions and feelings swirl through his mind. And as you turn to him and nod your head with a small smile he shoves these sentiments down as far as they will go and climbs back to the cockpit.

He can only wonder. Because he knows they are only dreams and that you would never be able to love such a broken man like him.

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Sequel: Reality

Excuse me while I cry. This got a lot softer than I originally expected.

As always, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

I love you guys so much, Lordy :)

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

hey babe you’re the best ily very much, not to be wild but ah ha ha... may i make i request please? 🥺🥺 i’m feeling extra self indulgent so maybe just a bit of fluff? (with whatever pedro boy you’re feelin) where like, fem! rc is rlly insecure about her laugh (like i snort and laugh so loud it’s not even funny i get so nervous laughing around people skdjdjjd) so because of that he’s never really seen her let go so he’s like “no i really wanna make you laugh” and yes. stay hydrated and you’re wonderful :D

Mesh’la Kaab (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: You confide to your Mandalorian that you hate your laugh. That sets Din on a mission to hear your real, true laugh.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of food, but that’s all. let me know if I missed any or you’d like me to tag anything in here. Reader is called “mama” in reference to Grogu, din is called “daddy” but in reference to being Grogu’s dad.

A/N: you guys, this is the cutest fluff ever. I love Din with my entire soul. Sunny and I worked together a little to add a few things unique to her but it should be relevant to anyone! I hope u guys like it :))

mesh’la kaab- beautiful sound

A giggle rings out throughout the Razor Crest, pinging off the walls and making its way into the cockpit.

There was a lot of other noise going on down there, Mando could tell, but it’s your laugh that makes his face warm under his helmet. He listens more carefully, trying to tell exactly what’s going on.

What was going on, exactly, was chaos. Mando’s little green son had gotten hold of your ukulele and was deciding to mimic his mama, you. You often sang and played the ukulele around the ship, bringing music and light into the cold, metallic space. It was part of what Mando loved most about you, what brought him comfort when you thought he couldn’t hear you.

Mando had brought you on board a few months ago, and your soft and warming nature caused him to let his guard down almost immediately. He’d never been a touchy man, never one to cuddle or give keldabe kisses, but you stole his heart the moment he saw your smile.

Over time, your relationship with Mando had warmed. He’d press his hand to the small of your back as he walked past, let his ungloved fingertips brush over your hands. You were soft and kind and all he wanted.

He gave in a few weeks into your stay. He told you he cared for you, that he liked you, and a relationship had blossomed. He’d wrap his arms around you when he returned from a job, pressing his forehead to yours. He’d turn off all of the lights in the ship and press soft kisses to your lips and forehead and the tip of your nose. He’d sleep in your bunk with you and the child, pulling you to his chest and murmuring how much you meant to him. Helmetless, shirtless. Human again.

You’d learned his name late one night, his lips next to your ear- Din. It was one simple syllable, soft yet strong, a beautiful sound when his raspy voice was unmodulated. The child cooed, waking from his slumber, crawling between the two of you and nestling in. “That’s right, baby boy. Your daddy’s name is Din,” you’d hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head and stroking his large green ears. The three of you were family now.

Din was a romantic at heart, bringing you gifts from missions and holding you gently as he traces his fingertips across your collarbones and neck while you slept. One thing he didn’t have, you had come to realize, was a sense of humor- at least, not one you understood. It was there, you supposed, but dry. Sarcastic quips. Words with double-meanings. A joke that had to be explained after he said it. You were happy, he knew that, but you rarely laughed.

That’s part of what transfixes him as he hears your giggle for the first time. It’s not a hard, tear-wrenching, gut-bursting laugh, but it’s a beautiful sound. Just as melodic as your beautiful voice when you sing along with your ukulele.

Din climbs down from the cockpit. You can’t see his face but his body is relaxed- he’s happy. You look up at him with a grin. “Your son thinks he wants to be a musician,” you tease, holding the ukulele above your head, sitting cross-legged on an old cape of his.

The baby is trying to climb up on you, little green hands grabbing at your shirt in an attempt to reach the ukulele again. It makes Din’s heart warm, the way the son he had come to love is playing with the woman who makes his heart soar. “Really?” He asks, sitting down across from you and tilting his head.

“Really. And I must say, he’s not a very good one,” you tease the child, setting the ukulele down next to you and scooping your baby up in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his head and squeeze him against your chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Maybe the two of you would perform for me. I’ve been told I’m a good judge of talent,” he offers in that tone where you can tell he’s teasing, but it’s with all of the love in his heart.

You look down at the baby and raise an eyebrow. “Well, baby boy? Should we show your daddy how wonderful you are?” you ask with excitement in your tone. The baby coos excitedly and nods. He’s starting to pick up on the human mannerisms that you and his father display. “Okay, let’s show him.” You set the ukulele in your lap, one hand on the fretboard. You set the child in front of you. “I’ll do the part up here, you play with the strings and sing for him, okay?” You instruct the baby, who giggles excitedly.

You look up at Din with a smile, and you can tell he’s smiling back. “Go for it, ad’ika,” Din tells the child.

His son agrees. He randomly plucks at the strings and squeals loudly. It’s utter cacophony, the farthest thing from music, but the little green baby seems to think it’s a masterpiece. He coos and shouts, little hands grabbing at the strings with no particular rhyme or reason.

You giggle but play around with the frets, letting the child choose his strings. He ends his song with a final shriek and you bite your lip to hold back from bursting into honest-to-god laughter. “Good job, bean!” You coo happily, clapping your hands.

Din claps too, leather-covered hands muffling the noise. “You’re a fantastic musician, kid,” he tells the little green child, who runs and jumps into his father’s lap, cuddling against his chest. “You have a beautiful laugh,” he tells you honestly, looking up at you and stroking the kid’s head.

You shake your head and look down at the ukulele, playing a few chords that come to mind. “That’s not my real laugh,” you admit, staring down at the instrument. “My laugh is really ugly. It sounds like a blurrg in labor.”

Din shakes his head, chuckling softly at the comparison. “I can’t possibly think you’d have an ugly laugh, ner mesh’la,” he tells you, resting a hand on your knee.

“Oh, it is. And you don’t wanna hear it,” you inform him, looking up at him.

“There’s not a thing about you that could be ugly,” he tells you, his voice sincere and solid. “I want to hear your laugh.”

“Then you’ll have to be funny for once, Din,” you tease, a small smile growing on your face. You stand, pressing a kiss to the top of his helmet and moving away to put your ukulele back in its case.

That’s the moment Din decides he’s going to make you laugh, in a way that you can’t possibly hold back. It’s a mission.

Later that night, you cook dinner for your little family. It’s makeshift at best, a tiny portable flame that you had found in a junk shop on Nevarro, but you have to admit it’s charming. You sauté some vegetables, native from your current planet, that you picked up today. The smell wafts to the cockpit, where Din is fiddling with an electrical wiring problem. He can’t smell it, not with the helmet, but the child can.

The baby coos at his father and tugs on his pant leg, gesturing towards the ladder. He wants to get down. “What is it, ad’ika?” He asks gruffly, nodding once he sees where the child points.

Din climbs down the ladder with the baby in tow, smiling as he sees you lost in your own little world.

You’re surprisingly good with electronics, Din discovered after he took you on board, and you’d found that the Razor Crest has a stereo system. It had become your pet project, and now some music was drifting through the hull of the ship. He stands there for a second and smiles at the way you dance around and cook the food, the pan sizzling. It’s a beautiful sight.

This is the perfect moment, Din thinks. Someone as caring and unguarded as you must be ticklish. Setting down the child and making a gesture for him to be quiet, Din quietly creeps behind you. He has no armor on except his helmet now, allowing him to be stealthy.

He creeps up behind you, fingers wiggling along your sides. Nothing happens except you squealing in surprise and whipping around in his arms. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Just, uh… wanted to see if you were ticklish,” he admits, wrapping his arms around you fully now.

“Well, I’m not,” you roll your eyes, tossing your arms around his neck and looking up at him.

“You’re trying to hear my witch’s cackle, aren’t you?” You ask teasingly, smiling contently at the man holding you.

He shrugs lightly. “Maybe.”

“Din,” you coo and press a kiss to his cold beskar cheek. “Well, I’m almost done cooking. You might as well stay down here,” you tell him and start swaying him along to the music playing. It’s nice; he dances along with you. “You can come out, green bean,” you call to the child.

The child squeals as he jumps out from around a corner, and you mock surprise, jumping. “Oh my Maker, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you cry out to the child, who giggles excitedly. “C’mere, baby,” you laugh and pick him up, holding him between you and Din as you sway along to the music. “You and your daddy are a handful,” you coo to him and press a kiss to the baby’s head.

“I’m going to get it out of you,” Din declares.

“Sure you are, Djarin,” you roll your eyes and smile softly, pressing your forehead to his in a keldabe kiss. “You know I’m happy here, right? I really couldn’t be any happier. I have you and the kid and I get to travel the galaxy with my two favorite boys.”

He nods. “Of course I do. It’s just… happy people laugh more.”

“I laugh plenty. When you tell me a bad joke, when the kid does something stupid.”

“You giggle or you chuckle. You never laugh.

“Neither do you.”

Din thinks on it for a second. “I suppose that’s true,” he nods in acknowledgment.

“Then you don’t need to make it such a mission, ner verd,” you tease, a loving smile on your face. You break away, keeping the child in your arms as you walk back to the vegetables. “Looks like the food is ready.”

It doesn’t come the way he wants it to, but Din finally makes you laugh.

Two days later, you’re dancing around with the baby in the hull of the ship, singing to the child’s favorite song. He squeals along, waving his little hands in the air and spinning in circles. “Din, come down here,” you call out happily.

“Little busy,” a gruff voice shouts back from the cockpit.

“Din Djarin, you get your tin-can head down here!”

“Later, ner kar’ta.”

You pout and pick up the baby, heading off to the refresher with the child. You suppose it’s time for a bath for the green bean anyway. You change the song and hum along, undressing the child from his tiny brown robes and filling the sink with warm water. You drizzle some of your shampoo into the water, making the top fill with bubbles.

The child giggles excitedly as you place a rubber ewok in the water. “I know! Isn’t it exciting?” You coo to him, nuzzling your face into his fuzzy little green head. “Oh, you’re going to smell so nice for your buir. Even if he can’t smell you with that tin can on his head. When we cuddle tonight, he’ll just want to eat you up,” you tease, your nose scrunching with a smile.

When the sink is properly filled, you place the child in it. It’s deep enough to reach just below his armpits, and he splashes around tranquilly. “I know, isn’t it fun?” you laugh softly, scrubbing him down with a bright green sponge in the shape of a frog.

Getting the baby’s head wet is a challenge. He doesn’t like the feeling, so you know you have to get creative. You grab the little rubber ewok and hold it up. “You want it?” You ask, and he nods. You drag it around beneath the water and he tries to grab it, dunking his head under. Perfect. He takes it from your hand and pops back up giggling. “Good job, squirt!” you coo and rub his head with the sponge.

You dry him with a fluffy towel when you’re done and redress him in a new set of clothing, smiling. “You’re such a cutie,” you murmur and press a kiss to his head. “I love you, you know that?”

And somehow, you know he knows. He can tell, and you can tell he loves you too.

My mama, my protector, she plays with me and feeds me and snuggles with me. Love. Love love love my mama and my buir. Buir is shiny and quiet but he loves me and sneaks me snacks after bedtime when mama’s sleeping and boops me on the nose and wraps me up in his cape when it’s cold.

You’re taken aback by the sensation before Din descends down the ladder from the cockpit. He walks over to the two of you, giving you a keldabe kiss before heading to the ‘fresher. Clearing your throat, you clear the thought from your mind. You must’ve imagined it. “Well, let’s get ready for bed,” you tell the child. The water runs in the ‘fresher- Din must be showering. You change into a pair of comfortable clothes then turn off the lights and get into the bunk with the child.

“Are the lights off?” He calls.

“Yes, love,” you shout back. Din emerges from the refresher and snuggles into bed with you and your son. His hair is damp and his face is clean-shaven, you can feel both when you reach for him as the bed dips with his weight. “Hi there,” you smile and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi,” he chuckles and kisses you a little deeper for a moment. Your hand drifts to his side- he’s shirtless, leaving him only in pants- and his finds your chest, pressing a hand over your heart. The moment is disrupted as one three-fingered hand finds each of your faces and pushes you apart. “Hello, ad’ika,” Din laughs, grabbing the child and snuggling him between the two of you. He presses a soft kiss to the baby’s head, you can hear it, and breathes in deeply. “Mm, your mama gave you a bath.”

“Sure did,” you chuckle. You know Din loves the smell of your shampoo; it reminds him of when you first showered in the Crest, and his helmet was off when he went to the ‘fresher next and it smelled clean and soft and feminine and beautiful.

“Maybe your mama will have to give me a bath sometime,” he murmurs as he kisses your face.

It’s the single most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard the man say. Before you can help yourself, a genuine laugh bursts forth from your throat. It’s loud and obnoxious, making you wiggle and wheeze and even snort. It’s a cackle, almost, but it’s the most beautiful noise Din Djarin has ever heard. He starts laughing along too, burying his face in your chest, chest heaving. Even the child joins in on the giggles, even though he doesn’t know why.

The three of you lie like that for a minute, wheezing hard and breathing heavily. The laughter ends and you find yourself catching your breath, Din’s face still buried in your chest. His nose nudges between your breasts and you stroke the back of his head, giving a soft giggle. You feel yourself flood with the warmth of embarrassment as you realize you just let loose such an ugly sound. “Din-”

“Don’t even try to apologize, ner mesh’la,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss over your breast, where your heart lies. “That was the most beautiful noise I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “It’s you being happy, the sound of me making you smile. What could be better than that?” He asks before capturing your lips in a slow kiss. “I’m never going a day without making you laugh again.”

Mando’a translations:

ner kar’ta- my heart

ner verd- my warrior

buir- parent (gender neutral word)

ner mesh’la- beautiful

ad’ika- little one

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dindjarinsleftboot · 3 years

Text

Good morning sleepy

Part two :)

Word Count: 2.7k

Officers shouting. Blasters shooting all around you. People running, crying and grabbing their children as they all scrambled towards their only route for escape. You stood in the middle of it all. Confused and dazed. Staring at the world you had called your home your whole life being crushed before your eyes. A bright beam of light hurtling through the sky lighting up the panic and terror surrounding you. The muffled sounds around you quieten as everything seems to move in slow motion. Then a voice, soft and deep travels through the air. It sounds familiar. You feel comforted by the whispers for a second before-

You jerk upright, a thin layer of sweat covering your body, enough to make your hair cling to your neck and forehead. You blink a couple of times as your eyes adjust to your surroundings. A hand comes to cradle your face, but you smack it away- still feeling the fear and panic surging in your stomach.

“Shhh. It’s okay- I’m here. It’s me”

A sudden wave of relief sweeps over you as you realise where you are. You are safe. The familiar deep baritone voice fills your ears, and any fears you had are instantly washed away.

“You’re safe” His hands move back up to your face to comfort you, hoping you won’t swipe him away again. “It was just a dream.”

You close your eyes and turn to rest your head in his large hand. Streaks of light and the silence of hyperspace surrounding you. You take a deep breath, inhaling a comforting leathery aroma. Mando’s thumb brushes against your cheek softly- you realise he is wiping away a tear. You were crying in your sleep? wow. That’s embarrassing. You blink your eyes open, as he moves his hand away and turns again to face the controls in front of him. You look around at the swirling blues and bright whites flickering and dancing off of Mando’s reflective body.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know why-” You begin to explain when you realise it’s been quiet for a long time and you haven’t said anything. But Mando quicky stops you.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.” Sharp and to the point. Maybe he just didn’t want you to explain because truthfully, he didn’t really care. You know by now he prefers the silence. Only speaking up when it’s necessary or when you ask questions. Or maybe it’s because he saw how hurt you were by whatever you saw in your sleep, he knew you didn’t really want to think about it again- which honestly you don’t. Either way you decided to move past it.

“Where are we go-”

“Thank you. For earlier” His sudden need to interrupt you every time you speak takes you back a bit- but not as much as what he just said. Thank you? For what?

“What did-” you think back to him holding you in his arms on Naboo in the rain and then not letting go of your hand until you were back at the crest. “What did I do?”

He stays quiet for a while wondering how to say how he is feeling without actually telling you how he is feeling.

“I guess I had just forgotten what human contact felt like. To- to hold someone.” You felt your heartstrings pull so much that you were worried that they might actually snap. You wished you could remind him of what love feels like. What it’s like to cuddle up to the one you love. To look into their eyes and tell them how much you miss them when they’re gone.

“How long has it been? Since you…” You don’t know how much you can say without stepping over any lines. The last thing you want is to be abandoned on whatever planet you’re going next. But you realise he’s the one who brought it up so- what’s the worst that can happen? He just won’t tell you. You can live with that. “Since you took off the helmet? I mean like- in front of someone else.” He turns his head to look at you. You hear a quiet sigh come through the modulator as he swivels his chair towards you. You are suddenly reminded of how large and dominant he is. His body taking up nearly the entire seat. Well… nearly-

“I was a kid.” Your mind is snapped back from whatever direction it was headed- half disappointed. “I was young when my parents were killed, and the Mandalorians’ took me in. When I came of age, I swore the creed. I haven’t shown my face since.” So, no one has seen what is being hidden away from the universe since he was a child? That made you want to know even more. Knowing you were the only one who had looked into his eyes. Ran your hands through his hair. It excited and disheartened you, both at the same time- knowing it’ll never happen.

“You haven’t shown your face to anyone since you were a kid?” you stare up at him knowing you’re looking directly into his eyes through the visor.

“This is the way” you nod up at him and smile- knowing what he just shared with you is personal and something probably not many people know. He turns again and presses a few buttons above his head, before reaching his hand over to the lever and pulling it back- throwing you out of hyper space.

“We’re going to Tatooine.” In front of you, a large sandy looking planet covered in dusty orange tones, looking lifeless and dry grew closer. The name sounded familiar, but you had never been. You hadn’t really been to many planets at all before meeting Mando and accompanying him on his bounties to babysit his adopted green baby.

You sat on the edge of Mando’s bed swinging your legs back and forth as he prepared himself for his mission. You sat on your hands- providing more padding than the bed you were sitting on. He offered it to you when you first joined him but after a week, you decided never again. Not only was is like sleeping on a hard metal pole with bricks as a mattress, but you also felt incredibly bad that every night while you slept in his bed with the kid snoring above you in his little makeshift hammock, Mando either didn’t sleep at all or would fall asleep occasionally in the pilot’s seat in front of the bright lights of hyperspace. Now whenever you put the kid to rest you go back up to the cockpit and fall asleep in the seat behind him. The chair was way more comfortable than the poor excuse for a bed and you also had the company of Mando with you too, so it was perfect. You watched the pointy eared baby waddle around the crest floor, chasing his favourite shiny ball as it rolled towards you. You kicked it back to him as he stared at you with the huge black eyes that would let him get away with anything. You had grown so soft for him over the past few weeks that he almost felt like your little responsibility as well as Mando’s. The first couple of times Mando left you with him it was hell though. He hated not going with his dad and would use all kinds of powers to get you to follow him. But after a while he got used to it- you’d try your best to distract him. You would find the best songs on the radio while you danced with him in your arms, singing loudly over the top of the music. Either that or play ‘roll the metal ball around the floor for hours’ that was his favourite- but admittedly not yours. After Mando had finished attaching all sorts of guns and weapons to himself, he crouched down to scoop the little terror up in his arms. He stood in front of you- looking large and intimidating while holding the cutest little baby in the galaxy, staring innocently at his little shiny sphere.

“How long will you be gone?” The one question you hated asking but the one you always had to.

“Not long.” He acknowledged while still looking down at the kid. “I should be back before sunset” he passed him over to you, you looked down and pressed your finger on his little wrinkled nose as he beamed up at you. Stars- you’d do anything for this kid. You glance back up at Mando who is focused on you. He reaches out and takes your free hand. With his other hand he puts a comm link into it and closes your fingers tight around it.

“If I’m not- you can talk to me through here. Only use it if there is an emergency or I’m not back by dark.” You glance from the comm back to his visor which seems incredibly close to you right now. “Okay” you become very aware of your pounding heart as he stares down at you and you try to calm you heaving chest. “What counts as an emergency? Jawas? Murderers? Monsters?” clearly not finding your sarcasm funny, Mando turns to open the ramp. “Keep this shut while I’m gone- we are in a quiet area, but you never know.” He exclaims- the same monotone voice as usual.

“Will do” you realise he doesn’t have a bag with him, just weapons. “Mando, you have food right?” he didn’t eat yesterday- you know because you were with him all day. “Please take some- we don’t need all of this” You start to go through the food you have left, taking out enough for you and the kid and leaving some in the bag to go with him. You hold it out in front of him. “Take it.” He takes if off you and swings the bag over his shoulder.

“Thank you” he hesitated for a moment “You should get some sleep.” And with that he was turning and walking back down the ramp into the warm dusty air. You looked out behind him, sandy hills stretched for miles, two suns beaming down high in the cloudless sky. Everything looked so dry and uninhabited- until it was all shut away from you and you were back in the darkness of the hull.

For such a small helpless creature he had enough energy to last an eternity. You have been trying to tire him out for a few hours and you’re exhausted. You’ve slept probably as much as Mando- which isn’t nearly enough. Your eyes feel heavy and whenever you close them just to rest them for a bit, three little fingers jab at you- reminding you that he is still there and waiting for you to flick the metal ball across the floor for him to chase for the 1000th time today. You’re sitting cross legged just under the ladder up to the cockpit. The light coming from above is slowly fading into a warm orange- signalling sunset. He should be back soon. It’s all you can think about. You keep glancing over to the commlink he gave you before he left. Sitting on the floor near your knee in silence. A few times you’ve felt temped to just check in and see if he’s on his way back to you. But then his voice rings in your ears “only use it if there’s an emergency” You should have added ‘if I can’t get the kid to sleep’ to your list of possible emergencies. You shift to lay on your stomach resting your head in the crook of your elbows in front of you. The cold metal floor beneath you giving you goosebumps along your arms. The kid comes to sit beside you and you wrap one of your arms around him and pull him close. Half for warmth and comfort and half to keep him trapped there and let you rest for a bit.

The ramp to the crest opens. He slowly walks up it- the bounty swung lifeless over his shoulders. He sees her laying there sound asleep with his kid sleeping next to her. His heart fills with warmth and the unfamiliar feeling of pure love. He quickly but quietly freezes the bounty in carbonite and navigates the crest off of Tatooine and into the silence and darkness of hyperspace. He knows what he wants to do, and without thinking, just does it.

You feel your body start to wake up. Your legs stretch out long sending shivers and waves of relief up your spine- you haven’t been able to stretch out like this in what seems like a lifetime. You go to shift over onto your back but there is something blocking you. As your senses start to pick up after being in a deep sleep for maker knows how long, you realise you’re not alone. A warm bodied human his laying behind you with his arm wrapped over your torso. Your heart stops beating for a split second when you weigh up the situation. Could it be a stranger that wondered onto the ship and decided you looked pretty comfy and would join you on the floor? You feel something draped over your shoulders. A blanket. Where is the kid? He was right here? You finally open your eyes to figure out where you are but it’s like you hadn’t opened your eyes at all. You blink a few times and try to adjust to the light, but it is pitch black. Possibly even darker than when you do have your eyes shut. Then a familiar noise catches your attention. Silence. You’re in hyper space. Which means the large person behind you is- but he doesn’t have any armour on. You can feel his warm gloveless palm pressed on your waist. You’re about to speak up when you feel a hand move your hair away from your neck. Then suddenly his lips are there. You feel his soft lips against your skin- facial hair tickles your neck slightly. Maker this is not what you expected to wake up to.

He takes his lips away to murmur a soft “Good morning sleepy” against your skin. Its only when you hear his soft unfiltered voice that reality kicks you hard in the stomach. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He is lying with his face in the crook of your neck in the pitch-black darkness of the hull. That’s teasing you. You scoot around to face him, pressing your hand lightly on his face. If you can’t see him, you at least want to feel him. Your hands brush against his cheeks and your fingers tangle in his hair. You press your forehead against his, just wanting him to feel loved and the warmth of your skin against his. Knowing you’re the only one who has given him this comfort, reminder of what human contact feel like and a place to just relax and be himself. Not Mando. Not a ruthless intimidating bounty hunter who goes from sector to sector capturing and killing criminals with heavy beskar weighing him down. Just a man. A human, who deserves to feel tenderness and love rather than denying himself of it his whole life. Keeping his humanity locked away from everyone else.

You press your lips gently against his and your eyes droop closed, feeling how his body presses and sinks into yours as if you were made for one another. His hands glide up your back as yours find their way into his locks, combing his hair through your fingers and gently massaging his head. A small hum comes from deep in his throat at the sensation and its almost enough to tip you over the edge. You want to know everything about him, but what he is giving you right now is more than you’d ever dreamt of.

“What is your name?” you whisper against his lips. Not expecting a response but really hoping for one. He pauses for a moment, considering his next words.

“Din” he whispers back, soft and deep against your skin. “Din Djarin.” You can’t control the smile that creeps onto your face. Din. Just one syllable. Short and to the point. Perfect for him. “Din” you softly repeat back to him. “hmm- I like it” and with that you rest your head against his shoulder and fall back to sleep, cradled like a baby in his big arms. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mando #mandalorian #grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfic #fandom #mando x reader #mando fluff #the mandolorian x reader #baby yoda #pedro pascal

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

drivers license

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I didn’t think I would actually ever end this. When the song came out I knew I just had to write something for Nessian, so here it is. I gotta warn you tho, that this has a large backstory and that it’s pure angst.

warnings: abusive relationship, mentions of death, car accident

I’d like to dedicate this to my sweet and kind friend Dani, who can go fuck herself for making me cry while I was translating this and had NO RIGHT to do so. I hope you cry yourself to sleep with this one:)

Also, Sayo, Maizie, this has an open ending, it was the best I could do, sorry

Word count: 8,550

three years, four months and twelve days before

Tomas burst out laughing beside her, "Why on earth would you get a license?" he asked looking at her, "I can take you anywhere, you just call me."

Nesta huffed, putting her hands between her thighs to warm up against the freezing cold, "Because I can't always depend on you, Tommy." she leaned forward into the small cockpit to pick up the bag at her feet, "Plus, if I got my license, you wouldn't have to drive all these extra kilometres every morning and I could go wherever I want when you're not around."

She pulled out her phone, checking the message from her sister Elain warning her that she would be staying at her friend Lucien's house. She shook her head. She couldn't understand how it was possible that they weren't together yet.

Looking up at her boyfriend, she knew she'd said the wrong things when Tomas rolled his eyes, moving his hand from her thigh and bringing it to the steering wheel, "And why would you ever go anywhere without me?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes, "I meant to go to the supermarket or the gym." then, she turned to face him, giving him a reassuring smile. She didn't want him to worry about her. "I don't like going to clubs at night, you know that. I wouldn't go anywhere like that without you, I know you're jealous."

At the time, the words had had positive connotations for Nesta. That overwhelming toxic feature of his character that he had always managed to sell her for something to hold on to like a precious treasure, "I'm jealous of you because you're mine, because I love you and I don't want anyone else to see you the way I do. You are only mine."

Nesta felt herself blush and looked out the window, "I love you, too."

"As you should," he flashed her an amused grin and his hand returned to her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze, "Now can you please drop this insane driving licence idea?"

She nodded, gritting her teeth. She didn't need her own car, she didn't need to move around on her own. Tomas was always available to take her wherever they went.

She relaxed against the seats, humming to the song that was playing from the radio and forced a tight smile on her lips, thanking life for finding a perfect soulmate for her.

If only she had known at that moment how effective his control over her was, she might have saved herself years of shock and pain.

three years and six days before

"Can you take me to Claire's bar before you go with the boys?" she asked wearily between the sheets.

Tomas had gotten up immediately after finishing and was already starting to get dressed. He had done it so quickly that when Nesta shifted her gaze to him, he already had his boxers and trousers on. "I can't." he simply replied, "And don't even think about getting a ride from your friends."

She groaned, pouting a little, "So I should just stay home and do nothing?"

He didn't even look at her as he slipped his shirt on, "I already told you, I don't like it when you ride with Emerie. That girl is a public menace and she can't drive at all."

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, covering her bare breasts, "She doesn't drive that bad." she muttered.

Tomas scoffed, "But if she hit a pole last week."

Nesta chuckled, turning on her stomach and looking over her shoulder at him. He'd had asked her that morning if he could stop by before going to the bar with the boys, to hang out with her for a bit. They'd ended up in bed pretty much immediately - her family out with kin - and now, not even half an hour after he'd arrived, he was already leaving.

At the beginning of their relationship it had bothered her. The fact that he would go to her house for a quick fuck, during which she hardly ever finished, and then go out with his friends, leaving her at home. After a few months of being together, Nesta thought he was doing it so he wouldn't leave her alone all day. That he was doing it to show her that he could find some time to show her his love.

God how wrong she had been.

"What if I get the girls to come here?" she asked suddenly, when he was ready to leave.

Tomas sighed so loudly that Nesta wondered if he'd been breathless the whole time. When he looked at her, she knew she had angered him. He ran a hand over his face, looking into her eyes, "Why do you have to be like that? I asked you if you could please not go out with anyone tonight and you keep pushing and pushing." he exclaimed exasperated. Nesta immediately felt guilty, "If you care so much about seeing your friends, go out with them, but when they make you do something completely idiotic and stupid, don't come crying to me."

She shook her head, swallowing back tears at the tone of voice he used. He was right, why couldn't she stay home one night if he asked her without making too much fuss? Tomas had the right to ask her something like that and it seemed like she was just looking for an excuse to argue. She apologised, getting up to walk over to him and wrapped her arms around his body, kissing his taut jaw, "I'll stay home."

Tomas pushed her roughly away from him, planting a quick kiss on her cheek and leaving with a simple bye and Nesta was left alone that night. And the next one again and again, until Emerie stopped asking her out and the only times she could, was when Tomas was with her.

two years, nine months and twenty-six days before

Nesta's heart had stopped in her chest the second her father had called her from the emergency room.

Feyre had burst into tears when Elain, who had been beside her during the whole call, had warned her that their parents had been involved in a serious accident and that their mum was now fighting for her life in an operating room. Their dad hadn't gone into details, but he too was crying as he told her that it was something major and that they would have to hurry to get to the hospital.

Nesta hadn't thought two seconds about dialling Tomas' number and what she thought would be a short, hurried call had turned into a fifteen minute argument.

"I already told you I can't come, I'm at the arcade with my friends, call someone else," her boyfriend was telling her in an annoyed tone.

"Please," she breathed, "Please, Tommy, we have to go to the hospital. I don't know who else to call. The buses would take too long." tears flowed undisturbed down her cheeks, but her voice was controlled. She could hear Feyre in the other room crying in despair and Elain trying to calm her down in every way as Nesta tried to find a way to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

If only she hadn't let him talk her out of getting her license.

"Nesta, stop fucking bugging me, I said I can't. And the discussion is over."

She was about to retort that it was his fault, she was about to yell at him that he owed her, that he'd promised her that if she ever needed a ride, he'd be there for her, but the signal of the call ending rumbled through her phone and she screamed in frustration.

She couldn't call Emerie or Claire. She couldn't call anyone.

Tomas had made sure she had no one to call but him. And now Nesta was alone.

She had helped Feyre calm down, updated them on the situation and they had taken three buses, taking over an hour and a half to get to the hospital. And it didn't matter that they ran from each stop to the next. It didn't matter that they had prayed to every god in existence that their mother would be alive when they got there.

Because Adele Archeron was already dead.

two years, nine months and twenty-three days before

"Get out of my house!" cried Nesta, "Get out of my house and don't come back!"

Tomas was fuming with anger, his face flushed and the vein in his neck pulsing, "Nesta you need to calm down. You're not angry with me right now-"

"Yes, I fucking am!" she sobbed, throwing her arms in the air, "It's your fault!"

His gaze darkened, "It's not my fault your mother died," he whispered threateningly.

She shuddered as if he had struck her physically. She blinked, letting some tears fall, before whispering back, "Get out, Tomas, and never show your face again."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "And how are you going to do that without me, huh? How are you going to get around? How are you going to survive these days without me, without anyone?" he had moved so close that Nesta could feel his breath on her face, but she didn't pull away. He kept his gaze fixed in hers, "You're alone, can't you see that? You need me."

She held her breath, "I don't need you. I don't need anyone." she said through her teeth, lifting her chin up, "I'm going to get my license and I'll surely know how to take better care of my body than you ever did in our entire relationship."

When she saw that her words had the desired effect in the boy in front of her, who backed away a step and began breathing heavily, crossing his arms over his chest, she kept talking.

"That's what you've always been, a taxi driver and a sexual pastime," she spat at him.

Tomas remained silent, an angry grimace painted on his face. He turned to the door, grabbing the handle and then looked over his shoulder at her, a grin creeping over his face. "Have fun getting your license and dying like your mother."

And then Tomas disappeared and Nesta never saw him again.

one year, seven months and five days before

"Miss, are you okay?"

The driving instructor's hand rested on her shoulder and Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the woman next to her. She must have looked a lot more shocked than she thought because the woman cursed, "Honey, I don't think we should try to drive today."

Nesta wanted to nod, to tell her she was right, to yell that she couldn't do it. She didn't want to, didn't want to. She clenched her hands around the steering wheel, hoping to find a foothold, an anchor, something that would bind her to this world when her vision blurred and she felt her chest tighten.

She tried to breathe, but she couldn't get the air down, couldn't get her lungs to expand, couldn't-

"Girl, I think we'd better get out of the car," the woman murmured. She reached for the keyhole and slipped them out from under the steering wheel, keeping her gaze fixed on Nesta, who was struggling to focus more with each passing second. The instructor opened the door and walked around the car, opening hers, but Nesta couldn't move.

She closed her eyes, forcing her body to swallow oxygen before she passed out. When She did, the sound that came from her throat sounded like the one of an old man on the verge of death. She brought one hand to her chest, the other to her stomach when she felt she was going to be sick.

She unbuckled her seatbelt with some trouble with trembling hands, but as soon as she was free of the snake that was pinning her against the seat, she moved the woman who was now calling for help from other instructors and dropped to the ground on her knees, hurling up the lunch she had eaten a few hours before.

She didn't feel people's hands on her body as they helped her up, nor did she hear her father's voice asking what had happened. She didn't realise she was back home in her bed, didn't realise she had been there for days.

She could only imagine the fear and pain her mother must have felt the moment the car skidded on the ice and her father was no longer in control of the vehicle.

one year, five months and twenty-two days before

Nesta had taken some downers before going for her first drive. This time she had been confident that she would be able to drive for at least half an hour without any problems, that she would drive home in her own car, with her father beside her.

This had not been the case.

For the fourth time she had sat down, buckled her seat belt and done all the checks she had to do before starting, and then panic had taken over her body. It had assailed every fibre of her being and had squeezed her lungs and heart so tightly that Nesta had thought she was dying. She had jumped out of the car when she had felt the vehicle roar beneath her once she had turned the keys in the ignition and vomited again.

She would never be able to get her license.

the day

It had been almost three years since her mother had died. Almost three years since her problems had started, since she had realised what kind of person she was. What kind of person Tomas was.

She had spent the last three years of her life in panic, in pain. Every step she took, every word she said, every look she gave, cost her more than anything else.

Nesta wasn't living. This was not life.

She was convinced that her mother had taken her soul with her when she had left her.

Because Nesta was empty most of the time, drained of all emotion, completely anaesthetised and oblivious to the outside world around her at times. And then there were the moments, lasting seconds or moments or whole minutes of excruciating agony, when Nesta felt it all.

And that all threatened to crush her every time.

Feyre and Elain had somehow managed to overcome it. They had managed to go their separate ways and had left their sister behind, because she had wanted to be left behind.

And if Nesta had been lonely when no one had been able to take her to her dying mother, she had not yet known true solitude. Because when even your own family turned its back on you and left you alone to cry on the road of that path you were supposed to take together while you screamed and no one could hear you, only then would you look up and see Loneliness smiling at you as it held out its hand.

Now, sitting on the floor in one of the aisles of the university library, she was holding her head in her hands and trying not to fall asleep, with little result.

She had not slept that night, like the previous thousand, but unlike the other mornings, she had not been able to take her tablets and during the third lecture of the day she had risked falling asleep on the desk.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them occasionally when she heard noises, but she must have fallen asleep completely at some point, because when she opened them again, her head was resting on the carpet and a hand was shaking her shoulder.

"Can you hear me?" a deep, concerned voice was asking. Nesta closed her eyes again and the grip on her shoulder tightened, "Can you hear me? Are you alright?" the boy demanded. She moved her lips, but no sound came out, "What an idiotic question, you're obviously not okay."

Nesta rolled onto her back, opening her eyes fully and looking up at the ceiling of the library. What was going on?

"Do you want me to go get someone, do you need me to call an ambulance?" the voice kept asking, sounding more and more concerned with each passing second. Nesta shifted her gaze to the person whose hand was on her shoulder and had started massaging it, applying pressure with its thumb. The movement harder than necessary, as if it was done to keep her awake.

The boy was handsome. Long hair held up in a tousled bun and the faint hint of a beard that hadn't been shaved in days covered the sculpted face of what might have looked like a Greek god. She couldn't reach his eyes that hers slowly closed.

Nesta was so tired.

"Hey, no no, open your eyes, stay awake," he shook her again, harder this time, and she groaned raising her left arm, "Sorry, I just need you to stay awake," he apologised, Nesta could hear the apprehension in his voice.

Why was he worried? He didn't know her.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She opened her mouth, trying to answer, but nothing came out and she looked up at him at that point. His dark eyes, a very common brown, stared at her glowing with emotion, but Nesta couldn't bring herself to care. She was having such a hard time staying awake, she just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep.

"Alright, you don't have to answer, can you sit up?" he asked her then, after a minute of silence. She shook her head, letting it fall to the side, shifting her gaze to the floor again. He cursed and then removed his hand from Nesta's shoulder. "I'll call the ambulance."

Her eyes snapped to him so fast they sent a rush of pain through her brain. She moved her hand closer to him, resting it on his leg, and the boy snapped his head in her direction at the exact instant she sobbed and panic threatened to take control. She shook her head, taking short, laboured breaths, "No, no."

"Sweetheart I don't know what to do and I can't leave you here," he replied, putting the phone down and taking her hand in his. He glanced left and right, searching for anyone else. He sighed, returning his gaze to her, "If you can say a whole sentence without passing out and getting up I won't call 118. But, for all we both know, you could be having a stroke or a heart attack and we wouldn't know, and I'd rather you didn't die," he chuckled at the end of the monologue.

There was no trace of amusement in that sound though, nothing to suggest he was enjoying this.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his, "My name is Nesta."

She didn't know if she had spoken, maybe she had just thought she had, but the smile that appeared on his lips was answer enough to her doubts, "Nesta." he repeated, offering her a nod of his head, "I like that. My name is Cassian." he added. She didn't answer, but continued to stare at him.

"Can you by any chance tell me how old you are?" he asked after a while, arranging his bent legs underneath him.

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Twenty-two."

Cassian gave her a little nudge with his knee, "Eyes open or I'll call an ambulance."

She obeyed, "How old are you?" she asked in a thin voice, so weak she was startled. She needed to sleep.

"I'll be twenty-four in a few days." he answered quickly, "Now a slightly more complex question, why did you faint?" he asked and the muscles around his mouth seemed to tense.

She shook her head, now much more aware of what was happening. Slowly she was returning to the world of the living. She removed her hand from Cassian's and felt as if he wanted to hold her for a moment, but he let go immediately and she thought she had imagined it. She pulled herself up into a seat, holding her head with her hands.

"I didn't pass out. I think I fell asleep," she replied, massaging her forehead. She grimaced and looked up at him.

The usual expression he'd had up to that point only seemed to grow worse and the worry doubled, "What do you mean you think you fell asleep?" then his brows knitted together and he leaned towards her, speaking in a lower voice, "I'm sorry if this seems a little inappropriate, but do you have a home?"

It took Nesta a while to realise what he was alluding to with those words, but when she did, she nodded, adding a faint, "I don't sleep."

His eyebrows shot up, "You don't sleep." it wasn't a question.

"I don't sleep." she repeated, resting one hand on one of the shelves and pulling herself up.

He nodded, looking up at her from below and pulling himself up in turn shortly after, ready to catch her if she fell to the floor one more time.

Nesta seemed to become aware of the situation they were in and felt her body stiffen suddenly and waited, waited for panic to assail her, for shame to take over. She waited to feel everything and too quickly, but her breathing did not change and her vision did not blur and Nesta thought she was dreaming at last, that she was sleeping so deeply that she could imagine a life where these things did not dominate her life.

When Cassian gave her a small smile, her heart missed a beat, "How are you feeling?"

She nodded and answered without thinking. Because everyone had been asking her the same thing for years. "Good."

He seemed to study her face for a few moments, then offered her an arm, turning to the strangely empty tables that stood in front of the entrance, "How about I buy you a coffee and then maybe take you to one of your friends?" he asked, "I don't want to intrude too much and ask if you want a ride home, but at least they could help you."

Nesta looked at him with a confused expression, "Home?"

The slightly more relieved expression that had begun to make its way onto his face fell away completely, replaced by an apologetic one, "Forgive me, I understood that-"

She quickly blocked him, "I have a home, I'm not homeless," he sighed, "But why would I want to go home?"

He looked at her as a second head had popped up on her shoulder, "Nesta," the way he said her name made her forget for a moment how messed up her life was, "you were sleeping on the floor of the library. You can't stay at the university, you risk accidentally falling asleep and hurting yourself. Are you narcoleptic?" he asked her suddenly.

She opened her eyes wide, linking her arm with his, "No." she whispered.

He chuckled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything, but it's not every day you find a pretty girl asleep on the floor. And I heard a thud, that's why I thought you fainted. I heard you fall," he glanced at her.

She still looked at him with wide eyes and didn't stop as he bent down to pick up her backpack and put it on his shoulder. Cassian turned another smile to her, "You there? Can you walk?"

She nodded and they spent the next few hours in the university cafeteria and sometimes Cassian would ask her questions that she couldn't answer, but he didn't force her to speak and seemed more than satisfied with the monosyllabic answers she gave him.

When she told him that she didn't know anyone there and that she didn't have a car to get home, he didn't comment on either, but offered to give her a ride and she accepted without hesitation.

And she accepted the next day when she met him after class on her way out of the chemistry building. And the next day when his car pulled up in front of the bus stop where she was waiting. And the next day again and again and again.

And suddenly Nesta was no longer alone.

three months and one day after

Cassian had been staring at her for so long that Nesta was beginning to wonder if he was dead. He sat so still, clutching the sandwich between his fingers as if the wind might have blown it away. She was also starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Not because her friend was staring at her, she was used to that, but because of the way he was doing it.

They had gone out for a walk in the mountains and had reached the top after more than four hours of hiking, but the landscape in front of them had erased any physical pain they had accumulated during the climb. They had sat on rocks at the summit and were now having lunch.

She was staring at the mouth of the Sidra, the point where the sea was darkest, but she couldn't chew with him looking at her as if she would erupt at any moment.

"For God's sake Cassian, what is it?" she asked exasperated at one point, fixing her eyes on him.

He didn't answer, but took a bite of his sandwich, furrowing his brow even more.

Nesta shook her head, urging him to speak. She huffed, pointing to the ravine below them with one hand, "I'll jump if you don't tell me why the fuck you look like a failed stalker."

Cassian chuckled at that, finally looking away and Nesta let go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I wanted to ask you something," he began, shifting his eyes to the landscape, "But first you have to promise me you won't jump."

Nesta looked at him sideways, "That depends."

He opened his eyes wide, laughing, "Then no, I won't tell you what I'm thinking about."

She rolled her eyes, huffing, but let it go. She was used to this kind of conversation with Cassian by now.

"Okay, I'll ask," he said suddenly, startling her. Normally he would have laughed at having managed to provoke such an overt reaction in her, but he didn't and it made her worry even more, "But if you don't want to answer you don't have to and we can shut up or change the subject."

"If you put it that way, I'm already telling you I don't want to talk about it," she pointed out.

It was true. Cassian had gotten to know her in such a short time that it had shocked her at first. She still didn't understand why, not fully, but he had stayed and was still there and didn't seem to want to leave anytime soon.

He sighed, completely ignoring her comment, "Why is it that every time we drive it feels like someone is holding a gun to your head? What is it that scares you?" he asked to introduce the topic, "If I'm driving too fast or if it's something I do, you can tell me."

Nesta looked at him. She looked at him and didn't say anything and he understood she wasn't going to answer, not at that moment at least, and they stayed in that spot on the summit for another hour in silence. Where she had time to think, to reason about how important Cassian actually was to her. About how much Cassian had done in such a short time, to bring her back to life.

They had just arrived at the car park, were stamping their feet on the asphalt to remove the excess mud under their shoes, when Nesta looked at the car door and stiffened. She felt his gaze on her body again, but she took a breath and got into the car, sitting down and letting the fear fade, letting the storm inside of her settle.

They were going to face a couple of hours' drive back to the city, more than enough time for her to be able to tell him-

"My mum died. In a car accident." she said in one breath as Cassian took a seat next to her.

His hands stopped around the steering wheel, tightening. He slowly turned to her, nodding slowly, "Yeah, I figured as much. I just didn't know how." she closed and opened her fists, keeping her gaze fixed in front of her. She took a deep breath and Cassian placed a hand on hers, "We don't have to talk about it now. But thank you for telling me, for trusting me."

She bowed her head, "If I don't do this now I might never do it again," she murmured.

"Okay," he indulged her, then intertwined their fingers, "I'll wait for you though, I don't want you to tell me this very second."

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Alright."

"Alright." he repeated.

Twenty minutes passed before she managed to open her mouth again, "You know Tomas?" she asked, despite knowing full well that he had a clear and precise picture and idea of who the boy in question was. They had already talked about him several times.

Cassian just nodded, but Nesta didn't fail to notice that the muscles in his arm twitched.

"You already know how... complicated our relationship was," she murmured.

He scoffed, "Complicated is not the word I would use to describe your relationship." when she shot him a look, he turned red, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." he said settling back in his seat, "Please continue."

She straightened her back, "The day my mother died, I called Tomas."

"Of course," he replied, and there was no trace of sarcasm, Nesta noted, because anyone would have called their boyfriend at a similar time. He shifted his gaze to the mirror, slowing the car and moving into the right lane, letting a car that Nesta had noticed had been on his heels for a few minutes pass him. It had stressed her out more than she'd imagined, because once it had passed them, she was just a bit calmer.

"We didn't know how to get to the hospital and my dad couldn't pick us up. I asked him to take me there and he didn't, because he was out with some friends of his," she confessed, furrowing her brow, "I realised that day how much Tomas controlled my life. I realised that I had lost everyone because of him and how now I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to my mother because I didn't have a driving licence and I wouldn't be able to get there in time."

She felt emotion rise in her throat, but nothing like she had felt every time she thought about that day. And maybe it was because she was getting over it, maybe it was because of his hand on her leg moving his fingers to soothe her, she didn't know.

"There were months after Mum died when I couldn't even get into cars," she continued in a weak voice, "I only managed to do it after seven months, because we had to go on holiday and my dad didn't want to leave me home alone. He was afraid I might do something... reckless." she paused as they both assimilated the true meaning of those words and Cassian squeezed her leg, taking a deep breath, "After that trip I managed to ride in the car, not with a few worries, but I did it."

"I'm glad you made it," he told her, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. She looked up at him, smiling faintly and was surprised by that gesture. She didn't think she'd ever be able to talk about her mother without bursting into tears and yet here she was, smiling at her best friend.

"Me too," she said, "you may be less happy to hear this part."

"I'm sure I won't blame you for it, whatever it is," he said softly.

Nesta looked at him and couldn't find any indication that he was lying to her, so she continued, "The last time I saw Tomas, he wished I would die in the car like my mother had, three days after her death."

Cassian's head snapped towards her, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. He returned his gaze to the road immediately, seeing how Nesta had begun to shift her gaze from him to the road, but the shock in his features didn't seem to go away, "Please tell me you're joking."

She continued, without giving him an answer, "Since that day, every time I've tried to get behind the wheel, every time I've gone to driving school so I could learn, I've had a panic attack." she said, torturing the inside of her cheek, "A few times I've ended up throwing up everything in my body and I've never been able to do more than start the car. I've never been able to get my license and I have no idea how my sisters put up with it," she concluded.

Cassian remained silent for so long that Nesta began to think the worst. Maybe she had been wrong to tell him, maybe she had gone too far. Her father had told her once, that she tended to say too little or too much, there was no middle ground with her. Maybe she'd shared too much this time and now Cassian thought she was a fool and a coward. After all, it was only a matter of learning how to drive, even stupid people could do it and it certainly didn't take a degree-

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can hear the gears in your brain moving and I know perfectly well it's not good," he said, squeezing her hand when she tried to pull away. He gave her a sincere look, "I'm sorry, Nesta," he whispered, "For everything you've been through and experienced. For not realising what the problem was sooner." then he grimaced, "I would have avoided doing two or three of the shits I did in the car when we first met, now I understand why you reacted the way you did." he said referring to when during the first few weeks he'd given her a ride home, he'd speeded at red lights or passed other cars on roads where they shouldn't have. "I'm sorry you had to have that asshole next to you. If I could just talk to him..." he trailed off, tensing his jaw. He breathed through his nose, watching her when they finally ended up on a straight bit of road.

His eyes blazed with a rage that Nesta had rarely seen in people, but there was more than that. Sadness, sorrow for the little girl she had been, for what had been taken from her. But not pity, never pity from the boy she had come to know and like, "I'm sorry."

seven months and fifteen days after

"Nesta breathe," Cassian was whispering to her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hand, gripping the steering wheel in front of her.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to swallow air. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart about to explode in her chest.

"Yes, sweetheart, you need to breathe," he chuckled. The hand on her shoulder dropped lower, starting to caress her skin there, "Inhale." he whispered, inhaling through his nose, "Exhale," he blew the air out of his mouth. "Now together," he ordered her. When Nesta didn't, but only began to breathe more heavily, Cassian told her to open her eyes.

She opened her eyes wide, watching her boyfriend as he mimicked the air rushing in and out of her lungs with his hand, "Breathe with me," he told her with an encouraging smile. Nesta wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the next time he inhaled, she did so with him. And slowly, after a few minutes of Cassian whispering soft words of comfort and guiding her through the whole process, Nesta was able to regain full control of her body.

"Very good," he finally told her, leaving a kiss on her temple. She looked over the windscreen, "Are you ready? Do you remember everything you need to do?" he asked her, giving her more room to start, but still keeping a hand on her leg. She nodded, not speaking for fear of breaking the bubble she was in.

It had been a couple of months since Cassian had let her drive his car. Or rather, letting her have panic attacks in his car whenever Nesta thought she could make it.

And she had made it, a dozen times now. She never made it more than twenty metres before she'd slammed on the brakes and thrown herself out of the car to vomit, but the last two times she'd managed not to let the panic take her over and she'd managed not to lose control completely.

This time she felt she could do more. Cassian had positioned the car further back than usual in the car park of that abandoned neighborhood to see if she could turn when she got to the far end. She'd gone back and forth three times before, but the idea of having to turn put a different kind of fear into her.

"I got it." she muttered more to herself than to him.

She started the car, stepping on the accelerator and slowly lifting the one on the clutch pedal. The car started forward and Nesta let out a breath, feeling her heart beat in her throat.

"Slowly, like this..." murmured Cassian as they reached the end of the car park, "Now slow down a little and turn the steering wheel to the right, slowly," he explained to her. Nesta did exactly that and the car turned smoothly on the asphalt. She didn't even realise she had arrived on the opposite side of the car park until she had to turn again and again and she did it so many times that Cassian laughed beside her. When she decided she was tired and ready to get out and really breathe, she braked slowly, managing to stop without turning off the car. She turned the keys in the lock and then the car stopped roaring beneath her.

She turned to her boyfriend, a smile going from ear to ear, and whispered, "I did it." a laugh escaped her control.

Cassian did the same, nodding, "You did it!"

They both jumped in, banging their heads against each other's and burst out laughing, but the fun was short-lived as Cassian slid a hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him, kissing her and conveying all the love and pride he was feeling at that moment.

They had swapped places soon after and he had driven her home. Nesta had been about to ask him if he wanted to come in - by now her family was used to seeing him in the house around the clock, being that they'd been together for a couple of months - but his phone had rung.

"Mor?"

At the blonde girl's name, Nesta had felt that tinge of jealousy rise in her stomach.

Cassian had frowned, "Calm down, calm down, I can be there in a moment. Are you at your father's or your mother's?" he had glanced at Nesta letting her know he wasn't going to stop and she had smiled, leaning over to him and leaving a light kiss on his lips.

Mor always called at the most inopportune times and Cassian, no matter where they were or what they were doing, would drop everything, take Nesta home and run to her friend's house to help her with whatever problems she was having.

Before he darted off her street, he had promised her that he would call her that night when he got back home, but Nesta knew that wasn't going to happen. That's why she wasn't disappointed when she waited until midnight for his call and it didn't come, and then one o'clock and two o'clock, until sleep claimed her and she surrendered to it.

ten months, two weeks and eleven days after

"Are you serious?" asked Nesta, letting her hands fall from Cassian's face down her sides.

His silence let her know that yes, he was serious and that yes, he would leave in the middle of... what they were doing.

"Cassian this has to stop, it can't go on like this forever," she murmured, turning to pick up her shirt on the floor. When she turned back around, he was adjusting his crotch with a grimace on his face and Nesta had to call on all her strength not to yell at him.

"Nes, sweetheart," he began, with that hangdog expression he always had whenever they discussed this matter.

She lifted a hand to stop him, fixing her icy eyes in his dark ones, "I don't care to hear yet another excuse." she said through her teeth, tucking her shirt in and covering her naked body, "It's been months, months Cassian, that every time she calls you, for whatever reason, you just grab your shit and go and refuse to give me any real explanations." she hated the way her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it. He had stopped himself from dressing and was watching her carefully. "I understand that Morrigan may have some personal issues, I don't need to know what it is, but why she needs you, every time something happens to her, is something that doesn't sit well with me."

He sighed, running a hand over his face, "I need you to trust me, Nes," he reached out to her, taking a thin hand between his large, warm ones. Hands in which Nesta had found comfort over the past year. His eyes sparkled with love as they settled on her face, "I need you to trust me."

Nesta breathed softly, squinting her eyes, "I do trust you, Cass, but-"

"Then that's enough," he interjected, squeezing her hand. He leaned down to kiss her and she bent her head back, taking in the love she craved every second of her day. When he pulled away it was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her, "I love you," he whispered.

He left the house without saying goodbye and Nesta was left alone in her room, her head still bent back and the phantom touch of his lips on hers.

one year, four months and eight days after

Their anniversary was just around the corner and Nesta couldn't have been happier.

Or so she pretended to be.

The last three months had been agonising.

Between her and Cassian things were flowing well. She could get into the car and have almost no reaction, and she could certainly now turn the steering wheel left and right and go more than fifty metres in reverse without skidding. Cassian had almost finished his classes and only had a couple of exams left before he could graduate and she was so proud. She had spent Christmas with him and his adoptive family and had had the pleasure of meeting his brothers, who had lived in another country for the last two years and planned to return to Velaris for good after New Year's Eve. She had never seen him so happy as when she had gone with him to the airport to pick up Azriel and Rhysand.

Nesta's only big, fat problem was a certain blonde girl.

Morrigan had managed to become so entrenched in their relationship that she sometimes didn't even realize it anymore. It was like having a daughter who needed attention every four hours or she would die.

Nesta was sorry that the girl was so miserable that she needed someone by her side so often, but it drove her insane that this person had to be her boyfriend. Especially when it affected the relationship and the dynamics between them.

Cassian was sometimes so tired that he would fall asleep in the middle of class and quite often Nesta had joked that she was the one who never slept, hoping to get the truth out of him once and for all, but she had never got anywhere.

However, when Nesta had snapped and he had tried to pin the blame on her, she had sent him away and explicitly told him it was over. Cassian had looked at her with his mouth wide open, had tried to apologise, blaming it on the lack of sleep, exhaustion, but they both knew it was all his fault.

She'd been sick for days on end, terrified that she'd lost yet another person in her life, but on the sixth day Cassian had come to her house and asked if they could go for a ride.

They had been out till four in the morning, laughing in the traffic, shouting the songs. He'd made love to her in that car, which was just a car like any other as much as it meant everything to the two of them. It had been the place where Nesta had learned to trust him, where she had confessed to him her every doubt, her every fear. It had been on those seats where they had first declared their love for each other.

He had sung her a song by John Legend, a song that promised eternal love even through the ups and downs of a relationship. He had promised her that he would stand by her even when no one else would. He had apologised to her for all the times he had run to Mor and promised her that it would never happen again.

If only Nesta hadn't believed him.

one year, four months and twenty-one days after

She opened her eyes the second the mattress moved beneath her, warning her that Cassian had woken up and was getting up. She smiled into the pillow, ready to roll over and pull him back down into the covers with her, but when she saw the time on the alarm clock placed on her nightstand, she found a very bad feeling twisting her gut.

She turned to her boyfriend, watching him as he moved stealthily around the room, picking up his clothes. When their eyes met, Nesta already knew what was going on. Cassian looked at her carefully and made to open his mouth, justifying why she was sneaking out of her house at 3:27am, but Nesta shook her head, bringing the blankets up to her chin and murmuring loudly enough that he could hear her, she said, "Get out and don't come back."

And Cassian did.

one year, six months and one week after

Nesta had woken up that morning with a dry throat. She'd gotten up, washed and dressed, and got into her car, driving out of the Archeron's driveway without so much as a hint of panic. She had driven for hours, dulled by pain and sorrow. When her mother had told her when she was sixteen that heartbreak wasn't easily mended, Nesta hadn't believed her. How was it possible for a person to be so foolishly taken in by someone that they felt so bad when they left you? It was too idiotic a concept for her to comprehend. She would never let someone get so attached to her that she would rip a piece of her heart out when they left.

God how wrong she'd been.

She hadn't seen Cassian in over a month and each day seemed worse than the last.

It was a different pain from the one she'd felt when her mother had died, but no less strong. No less heartbreaking.

She'd gotten her license only a week before and had driven so many hours since she'd had that stupid piece of paper in her hands.

Cassian had known. Cassian had known that she was going to have her driving test that day. He should have known she'd managed to pass it. It couldn't be any other way.

And she had hoped with every ounce of her being that he would text her. That he would call her and tell her how proud he was of her. Because Nesta hadn't cared about other people.

She hadn't cared that her sisters had prepared a dinner in her honour and that her father had almost cried when she announced that she had made it. She hadn't cared that her friends, the old ones she'd managed to regain and the new ones she'd met over the months, had been so happy for her that they'd given her half the gadgets that now hung in her car.

She hadn't cared about anything except what Cassian would think about seeing her driving the car alone, without his hand on her leg.

She'd driven past his house so many times, crying silently.

She'd visited all the places they'd been, that he'd taken her to when she'd been on the verge of breaking down each time.

Cassian had known her like no one else ever had, and that would never change.

Her mother had even told her once that breakups were easier when they happened because people stopped being in love. Nesta hadn't believed that either. Because how could it be less painful when you stopped loving someone, compared to when they wronged you and gave you a reason to leave? How could it be less painful when every little thing the other person did was no longer nice or lovable, but unbearable and irritating?

But Nesta hadn't stopped loving Cassian and never would. She hadn't stopped feeling the butterflies in her stomach fluttering every time he smiled at her when she woke up in the morning. She hadn't stopped loving the way he tied his hair back with whatever was in his hands in that moment. She hadn't stopped loving the way the lines of his tattoos coiled around his arms, his pecs.

She didn't realise she was heading for his house again, but when she found herself in front of it, she didn't carry on as she always did, she turned off the car and got out.

She was looking at the sidewalk, hesitant to take a step forward or get back in the car and run, never to return. To leave Velaris, to leave her mother and her family, to leave the university and rebuild her life in a city that wasn't made of memories and ghosts that haunted her everywhere she went.

Leaving Cassian.

She looked up at the house then, and took a breath. Two. Three.

Breathe with me, he'd told her.

You are not alone.

I love you.

Nesta, you're my soulmate.

One day I'll marry you.

You'll be the mother of my children.

There's no one else for me.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what I would do if you left.

Nesta took another steadying breath and stepped forward.

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#nessian #nessian modern au #nesta archeron #cassian #drivers license #nessian drivers license #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fic #nessian angst

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damerondala · 3 years

Text

Bad Batch + Their Favorite Music

y’all i love the bad batch and you know what else i love? music. so let’s do some headcanons about what I think the bad batch’s favorite music and artists are:)

EDIT: i decided to add spotify links to the specific artists/albums/songs i mentioned in this post so it’s easier for you guys to maybe experience some new things to listen to! please let me know if any of the links aren’t working!

enjoy, my fellow feral, crazy, clone bitches <3

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

hunter:

i know we see our hot rambo cosplayer and immediately think he’d listen to metallica or some shit and while that is true, i also think hunter really enjoys some good 70s funk or even soul

like some parliament? yes pls

also hall & oats

i will not take criticisms on this one he fucking loves those guys

he’s definitely a springsteen man i mean just look at him

also likes soundgarden! loves chris cornell’s voice it just makes him feel ALIVE but he can only take so much of it tbh

absolutely ADORES linda ronstadt

and aretha franklin

he and wrecker definitely do not listen to aretha when they need their soul to be cleansed and maybe cry a little

her voice just touches the inner reaches of their souls

sometimes he and wrecker sit down in the cockpit with a good bottle of hooch and (you make me feel) like a natural woman is just bLASTING. everybody else knows to just let them get their emotions out and avoids the cockpit so they don’t have to listen to wrecker’s crying lol

crosshair:

cross really enjoys some toadies

kind of the guy who likes obscure bands but he doesn’t do it to be a hipster it’s just genuinely what he likes

so in conclusion: crosshair is just cool lmao

and royal blood!! he loves the fact that they’re a two piece it kind of reminds him of he and hunter aw softie who listens to hard rock

can also get down with some helmet or filter too and L7 for sure!

LOVES black sabbath!!!!!!!!

but also gets in moods where he only wants to listen to slower, singer/songwriter stuff

he and tech listen to some mac demarco from time to time. maybe some lord huron too

tech:

TALKING HEADS TALKING HEADS TALKING HEADS

not tech loving talking heads being the sole reason i made this entire post

like speaking in tongues is his favorite album of all time its so cute

anyways

L O V E S bowie!!!! he just exudes bowie energy to me

i also see him enjoying some heavier stuff too? he honestly wouldn’t mind if hunter and crosshair put some soundgarden on the marauder’s speakers

he likes gorillaz too!! sometimes when he and echo are ~scheming~ and coming up with battle plans they’ll throw on demon days and listen to it softly while they come up with stuff or tinker with a new holopad tech found

also likes john mayer lol what a cutie

i honestly cannot believe i forgot to mention this earlier but tech is a h u g e rush fan

he literally considers their lyrics as poetry as he fucking should

he and hunter are in agreement that they’re one of the greatest bands of all time aw big bro and little bro finding a band they both love

wrecker:

my sweet man. the love of my life. wrecker ADORES dolly parton

he honestly likes country but he calls it *quality* country

so think dolly, johnny cash, willie nelson, john denver etc. etc.

also likes rap

his favorites are megan thee stallion, ice cube, and biggie

is a dmx stan

rip dmx im still sad about that one and so is wrecker

he is honestly all over the place

one time his playlist was on shuffle and get this it literally went from dolly to dmx to john denver to doja cat and ending with aretha franklin

everybody is honestly confused but it just works when you think about how wrecker’s personality is

he is so sweet he will listen to anything at least once

even if he doesn’t like his vod’s music he will endure without much protest because he knows it makes them happy

echo:

echo loves some pearl jam!!!! he likes how their earlier stuff has some that grungy sound but also how their newer stuff can get kind of experimental?

he listened to black on repeat the first time he had his heartbroken

he thinks it kind of reflects his life journey its adorable i wanna hug him

i could also see him liking gorillaz!! kind of that same experimental stuff

he and tech definitely bond over that one

mitski mitski mitski!!!!! he loves her sm

y’all gotta remember he was best friends with fives

so, naturally, he loves abba

he and hunter like to have listening sessions where they share their music for sure:)))) its one of the first ways he feels really included into clone force 99

bonus:

they all love britney spears but none of them utter a word about it so none of them know that they all love her

its tragic tbh

they would KILL IT with an entire dance routine to toxic if they only admitted how much they love the queen

#if i can think of any more expect them to be added in lol #my writing #bad batch headcanons #bad batch #the bad batch #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch tech #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch echo #star wars #star wars headcanons #hunter #crosshair #echo #tech #wrecker

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k3lynn · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu Boys As Songs ||

oikawa, suna, tendou

cw: FUCKBOY OIKAWA AND SUNA, swearing, mention of sex, drugs, etc, the good stuff, also sort of angsty for some pieces

a/n: I’ve seen lot’s of people do this so I figured it was sort of a trend, seemed really fun so I wanted to hop on board- if you know who did it first please pm me so I can credit and tag them <3 oh yeah! I finally finished working on my masterlist- please check it out if you like <3

this is all non-canon, and I ABSOLUTELY do not actually think actual oikawa, suna, and tendou do some these things/believe some of these things, just fun and gives me their overall vibes, I’m just writing a story with it lmao- I really should have titled this “fuckboy oikawa and Suna ft. baby Tendou” because DAMNN lol- NOT PROOF READ this is more of a f! reader type of thing but I could always do a male, non-binary, gender fluid, etc. reader with no problem if requested!

OIKAWA- (fuckboy- /hj)

Don’t Tell Em- Jeremih

my reasoning for this is the fact that oikawa’s ex girlfriend was only ever mentioned once, and just by his nephew (when they had just broken up)

there could have been conversations off screen/panel or something- but I have a really big hunch oikawa just barely talked/interacted with her in public

MAYBE people knew he had a girlfriend (although obviously by the sheer amount of people in his fan base they don’t care)

or MAYBE he kept her a secret- reasoning with himself that it was to “protect their image” and that’s why he said he didn’t know what he did wrong

ANYWAYS HEADCANON OIKAWA FUCKBOY STARTS HERE- will probably make this into a full fic

would probably want to keep your relationship a secret for 2 reasons

1) his fanbase and image

2) he’s not looking for anything other than someone he can go to when he’s “bored” iykyk

type who will promise you things and try and convince you to not leave him because it’s “what’s the best” for you two

“Why would you? Just keep the rythym” would be him asking why your relationship even has to be public in the first place- when he thinks you guys are perfectly ok how you are right now

The Hills- The Weeknd

do I even have to say anything

oikawa may use you as a crutch to fall back on when he’s so broken from volleyball

“When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me”

He keeps this image of the most ideal guy in front of almost everyone every day, he must get tired

he knows you know he doesn’t actually want you-

that’s why he doesn’t feel bad when he breaks your heart

he never promised you anything

“I only love it when you touch me, not feel me”

self explanatory- sex not feelings please

I Was All Over Her- Salvia Palth

lyric by lyric LETS GO!

“We didn’t make out, or do anything. I just remembered, I was lonely.”

Oikawa gets all over people- not sexually or romantically, but in a way to distract himself from the fact that they may not like him for who he truly is

he’s lonely

“It’s not a problem”

it doesn’t bother him- he’s so used to the perfect setter boy image, he refuses to show the same part of him that is actually breaking

“Every stranger makes me feel safer, and every person seems more beautiful”

Iwa mentioned Oikawa rarely ever smiles with actual joy behind it

The strangers (fanbase) around him make him smile all the time, not because he’s happy, but because it won’t hurt to disappoint the people he doesn’t try and know

He doesn’t want to care what you think

SUNA- (fuckboy- /hj)

Swang- Rae Sremmurd

sis stop it right now he’s going to make you cry

There’s not some deep hidden meaning behind it, he just doesn’t seem like the person to care if you hate him or not

Canonly more expressive with his thoughts-

I quote “wishing he could find a reason to poke fun at Kita or make snarky remarks against Tsukishima and Tanaka.”

so when he has the chance to make fun of you- COUNT HIM IN

secretly thinks you hang out with all of them because you want to get in all their pants

“she want the whole crew, shawty brave”

Fast- Sueco The Child

again- he thinks you’re dumb girl that just wants his dick and his clout

(Ik damn well he uses the word clout)

he doesn’t think his personally is all that special (nor does he care) so you’re obviously just wanting to fuck around

THOT!- Tokyo’s Revenge

“You’ll probably fuck the team if someone slide you a lil’ bean hoe.

BYEEEE BAHAHA WONT EVEN EXPLAIN

“She gon' suck the skin off the dick, love me not”

He’ll keep you around in case he wants to fwy a little BAHA-

TENDOU-

Faucet Failure-Ski Mask The Slump God

Take a listen and tell me it isn’t Tendou

it’s because it’s not- ITS THE FACT HE WOULD BE YELLING OUT THE SONG IN THE HALLWAYS BYE-

chaotic energy that is perfect for him

watch him just point at himself during a game and belt out “WHO’S THIS HE SHOULD BE IN COCKPIT”

Walking On A Dream- Empire of The Sun

He cares about Ushi so much- they’re complete opposites and yet fit eachother so well

Tendou understands Ushijima’s stoicness, just like Ushi understands Tendou’s “oddness”

He’s odd. He knows that- and has come to love it (as he should)

“Don't stop, just keep going on. I'm your shoulder, lean upon”

*Timeskip Spoiler* they still keep in touch all the time 🥺 Tendou is so proud to be able to watch him on TV and say “that’s my best friend”

So when Ushi needed someone to talk to, he was there

The song itself is about the writers strong friendship with his bandmate-

And just like that, it’s perfect in describing Tendou and Ushi

Tendou appreciates him so much, he has filled a huge, special, and emotional role in his life

“Two people become one.”

Peaches- Milk and Bone

“Don’t give a fuck about what they say, I turn around and ask ‘Hey is my hair okay?’”

No matter how much we work on our confidence, there will be moments where we all slip and get a feeling of insecurity again.

It’s perfectly normal. Don’t beat yourself over it.

“We paint our faces like you've never seen- Yeah I know, it's not even Halloween”

I find this representing of the fact that Tendou does not care if people see him as creepy or a monster anymore

You’ve never seen someone like him before

It’s fun, it’s crazy, it’s like you’re going 80 mph and hit a speed bump

It’s perfectly Tendou

BACK TO HAIKYUU MASTERLIST

(Reblogging/sharing through Tumblr is okay 💕)

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do- Part II

Based on “Skippy’s List,” I have continued “A List of Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do.” I hope you enjoy it. The original can be found here:

https://thelordofdarkreunion.tumblr.com/post/637424500291600384/a-list-of-things-the-scoundrels-are-no-longer

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand. This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors. These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.

207. Expended ammunition is not a business expense.

208. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call requesions officers or quartermasters “sugar daddy.”

209. There is no “anti-Shepard conspiracy” within the Scoundrels’ fleet. That’s the Citadel Council’s thing.

210. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to adopt dogs to “sic on the brass.”

211. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pay Revenant to kill people they don’t like.

212. None of the Scoundrels are The Chosen One. That was Anakin Skywalker.

213. It is wrong to fire warning shots at drivers who do not recognize your right of way.

214. Reading is not “for officers only.”

215. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask anyone who outranks them if they’ve been smoking crack.

216. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn their starship command rooms into throne rooms. Especially with tacky carpets.

217. We are not making clones out of any of you. You are all hard enough to deal with as is.

218. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal any massive, mobile space stations or star fortresses, which include but are not limited to:

- The Rock

-The Phalanx

-The Citadel

-High Charity

-Cloud City

219. Thomas Drake is not allowed to crash economies “because it’s fun.”

220. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to assign nicknames to anyone.

221. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make chain guns that fire miniature nukes

222. The weapons specialists of the Apocalypse are no longer allowed to collaborate with the engineers of the Normandy or Enterprise, and Quill is to give up the nuke chain gun.

[I will not! How can you stop me? I have a chain gun that fires nukes!]

223. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to wake up superior officers with cymbals

224. Napalm Sticks to Kids is not a motivational song.

225. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote bastardized versions of Dr. Seuss rhymes on military operations.

226. Command decisions do not need to be ratified by a ⅔ majority.

227. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to line their helmets with tin foil to “block out the space mind control lasers.”

228. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start any SITREP (Situation Report) with “I recently had an experience I just had to write you about…”

229. Do not attempt to take the gas masks off of Death Korps troopers.

230. Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are “casualties of war.”

231. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock command decisions in front of the press.

232. You should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks you. Especially if they’re in earshot.

233. You cannot arrest children for being rude.

234. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create new, made-up government forms, then insist they be filled out.

235. No one is allowed to perform “lap dances” in uniform.

236. Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.

237. Cain is technically allowed to kill any of you if he finds reason to, so stop pissing him off.

238. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to defect to other military service branches during training missions.

239. Your race is not “other” on official documents.

240. There is no Scoundrels ethics committee. And if there was, Thomas Drake would not be chairman.

241. Chainsaws are not the answer to every question. Nor is “more chainsaws.” Or “chainsaw cannons.” Except for that one time, and yes, it was awesome.

242. Stop posting classified information on social media.

243. Adam Vir is no longer allowed to play “Hippocratic Oath chicken” with Dr. Kril.

244. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cook nerve gas in the sink.

245. There is no “annoy” setting on a phaser.

246. A wet towel is not an improvised weapon. Unless you’re Master Chief. There’s a reason the Covenant calls him “The Demon.”

247. I know you all have passes, but if the gun can’t fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn’t go on the plane.

248. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download Internet Explorer into the Geth hivemind or the Martian noosphere.

249. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to demand payment in liquor, backrubs, or bubble wrap.

250. Any Exterminatus-grade weapon is not “my little friend.”

251. Airlocks do not double as waste disposals.

252. No member of the Scoundrels or their crews are a pagan god or goddess of fertility.

253. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to learn profanities in any language that can bend reality.

254. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal their own souls.

255. There is not a Space Marine Chapter whose heraldry is a smiley face.

256. The following weapons are no longer allowed as dueling choices: steamrollers, nerve gas, land mines, or heavy artillery.

257. Shepard is no longer allowed to drive or pilot anything.

258. Han Solo is no longer allowed to attempt any piloting maneuver in which the original inventor was killed doing.

259. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play The Only Thing They Fear is You every time a super soldier enters the battlefield.

260. In formal introductions to nobility, you are not allowed to introduce your companions as “the other guys.”

261. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to monologue.

262. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.

263. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get telepaths to hurry up the speeches of long winded politicians.

264. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying reporters to any organization that could be considered a theocracy.

265. If a black op requires you to impersonate an employee, you are not allowed to bill the target for overtime.

266. By definition, chaplains cannot be atheist.

267. The proper response to the question “Why?” is not “Why not?”

268. It is assumed that a properly trained Titan Pilot knows what at least one of the buttons in the Titan’s cockpit does, and it is wrong for Cooper to pretend otherwise.

269. At the end of a high profile assassination mission, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play disco music on the target’s phone.

270. The Scoundrels cannot hear the soundtrack.

271. Thermonuclear hand grenades do not exist, and the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and make them.

272. I assure all of the Scoundrels with absolute certainty that Ralph is not a traditional Japanese name.

273. None of the Scoundrels are from Margaritaville.

274. Hawaiian shirts are not part of any of our governments’ formal uniforms.

275. Master Chief is not allowed to record Gravemind ASMR.

276. The Scoundrels are not allowed to write tell-all books about anything.

277. “Legends never die!” is not a valid excuse.

278. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to think of new, creative, or fun uses for cursed artifacts.

279. Check the door means listen to see if there’s any activity on the other side, not put multiple rounds through it.

280. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give wasabi to unsuspecting aliens.

281. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to do anything they saw Jackie Chan do.

282. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to implement any battle plan that includes the words “and hope they miss a lot.”

283. There is an upper limit to the number of people a bullet can go through.

284. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unionize the Unggoy.

285. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hack forge world PA systems so they only play Allentown.

286. Sarcasm is wasted on Imperial Stormtroopers.

287. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to upload porn to the HUDs of their commanding officers.

288. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download porn from the HUDs of their commanding officers.

289. No matter how tough the battle, the Scoundrels are to keep the congratulatory ass-slapping to a minimum.

290. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to invade Germany on August 31, 1939 and thus secure Belgian dominion over Europe.

291. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to Tokyo drift tanks

292. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “catch air” in military vehicles.

293. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send anything to the past, future, or alternate dimensions.

294. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount speakers on tanks to play Ghost Division as they drive into battle.

295. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to post memetic hazards on the internet.

296. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bind eldritch dieties to their will and make them mow the lawn.

297. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to load weapons with all tracer rounds

298. If your personal weapon can be read with a Geiger counter, you aren’t allowed to have it.

299. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn Khornite daemon worlds into self supporting blood banks.

300. “Pimp my Death Star” is not a real show, and we are not bringing Grand Moff Tarkin back from the dead to host it.

301. Prussian Glory March is not a disco song.

302. We know that Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, but no matter how high profile or how close a friend, the Scoundrels are not allowed to ask Cerberus, the Adeptus Mechanicus, or, god forbid, Fabius Bile to bring anyone or anything back from the dead.

303. Any weapon that can be set to “flay” is strictly forbidden.

304. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the Oompa Loompa song every time someone annoying dies.

305. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to store squeeze tubes of explosive putty in medicine cabinets.

306. On most planets, shoulder holsters are frowned upon as casual attire.

307. Zero body count does not mean just the ones they can find.

308. Walmart is not a one stop shopping place for hunting demons.

309. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play football/soccer with AT-ST or Sentinel walkers.

310. None of you are currently parents, but if you ever become one, Trazyn the Infinite is not to be named your child’s godfather.

311. You know what, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to name any of the following as godparents of any potential children:

-The God-Emperor of Mankind

- Emperor Palpatine

- Councilor Sparatus

- Leman Russ [Bjorn said it was OK so fuck you.]

- Kahless the Unforgettable

- Kuben Blisk

- Kharn the Betrayer

312. Searching a building means entering it, not leveling it with artillery and digging through the rubble.

313. FedEx does not deliver to Tatooine.

314. None of the Scoundrels are allowed to single-handedly make Starfleet Academy the number one party school in the universe.

315. Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

316. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a dance-off to the death.

317. Kirk, rifts in the time-space continuum are not for your personal amusement.

318. Blowing up the top twenty floors of a building is not a “diversion.”

319. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to convince Sith Lords to use Force lighting on their welding projects.

320. Canadian is not a real language, and you can’t set your translators to it.

321. There is no such thing as a were-saxophonist.

322. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel that starship windows can be rolled down.

323. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start wars between major weapons corporations, especially “because I’m bored.”

324. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to clear enemy underground bunker complexes just using Bangalore torpedoes.

325. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to order a lance of Imperial Knights to perform synchronized dance numbers.

326. The Scoundrels are to leave out human mating rituals when presenting cultural exchanges to alien ambassadors.

327. When raiding enemy corporations or terrorist organizations, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to look at the target’s HR files to see if they have better benefits.

328. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to collect autographs.

329. Any buttocks belonging to the Scoundrels or any of their crews are permanently forbidden from making contact with any copy machine.

330. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go FTL to avoid red lights.

331. “Just throw them out the airlock” is not a backup first contact protocol.

332. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to fill enemy starships with jello.

333. None of the Scoundrels are the patron saints of large explosions.

334. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make, accept, or take rake-offs on bets concerning X-class end-of-the-universe scenarios.

335. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go on PA systems and announce they just won The Game. Goddammit.

336. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trick Captain Marvel and Cato Sicarius any superheroes or super soldiers they deem “annoying” into fighting each other.

337. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell tickets to or organize cage matches between prominent super soldiers.

338. Lockpicking and door breaching are two entirely different things.

339. Performing obscene acts while in the cockpit of or piloting large combat mechs is strictly prohibited.

340. Freeing slaves out of justice is good. Out of spite, not so much.

341. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to compose offensive emails during stealth operations on the target CEO’s email and subsequently CC the entire company.

342. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to recreate the Charge of the Light Brigade with the Death Riders of Krieg.

343. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to get out of speeding tickets.

344. The state-controlled news service of the Imperium of Man most definitely does not have a liberal bias.

345. Likewise, the state-controlled news service of the United Federation of Planets does not have a conservative bias.

346. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap Ewoks or Volus and put them in hamster wheels.

347. Adam Vir is to, by order of Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels, return the Watchers in the Dark he took from The Rock as pets.

348. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to spend the entirety of their bonus pay on lottery tickets.

349. The very concept of a Hutt lap dancer will earn a surprise visit from the Deathwatch.

350. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use grenade launchers to play bocce ball.

351. If you are unsure of which side of the road you are supposed to drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

352. No matter how cool it would be, the Scoundrels are not allowed to use any time machine to loan General Eisenhower a squadron of X-wings for D-Day.

353. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to program medical droids for “aggressive dentistry.”

354. The Scoundrels are to stop trying to get a reality TV show based on themselves.

355. Garrus Valkarian is not “on loan” to the Vindicare Temple to improve either his or their sniping skills.

356. Pointing out a massive plothole in any bad guy’s plan will not stop them from attacking you.

357. Preliminary nuclear bombardment is not automatically Plan A.

358. Maverick and Tope are not tax exempt for being chaplains.

359. Thomas Drake is to stop teaching classes to the rest of the Scoundrels on tax evasion.

360. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refit tanks with jump jets.

361. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create their own currencies.

362. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to set Jawas on fire with a massive magnifying glass.

363. The Stanley Cup does not have the same power as the Holy Grail. Not even on Canadians.

364. The Scoundrels are not allowed to steal the Stanley Cup.

365. The Eldar really hate it when you greet them with “Live long and prosper.”

366. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give pre-teen children their phone numbers, especially when they are on black ops.

367. You cannot partake in the sport of fencing with a broadsword.

368. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to switch nationalities or service branches for tax purposes.

369. None of the Scoundrels are “He who must not be named only in passing.”

370. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to shoot at natural disasters.

Well, there it is. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you would like to add to the list, feel free!

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transgirl-catra · 3 years

Text

Alright i started writing snippets from the catradora firefly au I've been kicking around for a while as a way of beating writer's block so. here u go if that sounds interesting.

“Understood, captain. Running dark until your signal,” Entrapta’s voice crackles over the intercom, enthusiastic as ever even in the face of the worst possible danger. As loathe as she is to admit it, Catra finds it… comforting, in a strange way.

“Thanks ‘trapta. I’ll hit the light when we’re clear. Stay shiny.” Catra returns as she settles herself into the captain’s chair. She can hear her engineer start to echo the statement before the last traces of power bleed out of the onboard comms.

The main generator shuts off with an abrupt clunk, the sudden deceleration of the flywheel shuddering the entire ship with a force that she can feel even all the way forward, about the furthest point on the entire ship. They still have some power, of course. The life support systems and the low-powered emergency lights along the base of the walls switch seamlessly over to batteries. But crucially, batteries don’t make noise. Meaning that the entire ship is completely, eerily quiet.

And with that, there’s nothing for them to do but wait as the Melog coasts forward on its own momentum. Catra hates this part, no matter how many times she’s done it. She trusts her crew, of course. And she trusts Melog, even if no one else does. And she, at least mostly, trusts herself. Which is exactly the problem. Running dark means having absolutely no control over the ship. Playing dead and hoping to pass yourself off as just another piece of space junk until you can skate by unnoticed, before powering back up and putting as much distance as possible between yourself and whatever you were hiding from before they can turn around and catch up.

They’re almost in the shadow of the reaver ship now, darkness filling the glass of the viewport and blocking out the last bit of light that Catra has. It’s huge, easily a dozen times the displacement of the Melog at a low estimate. Far, far too large to be out this far into alliance space normally.

That’s an advantage for them, she tries to remind herself. A larger ship means its easier for Melog to slip by unnoticed, really.

It sure doesn’t feel like one. They’re all the way under, now. It would be absolutely trivial for a ship this size to pull them in, and then…

Catra cuts herself off before she can start thinking about what would happen next, gripping the armrest so hard that she can feel it creak under the strain. Deep breaths, she tells herself. There’s nothing she can do now but wait.

Time is crawling now, despite the fact that Melog is moving as fast as she was when she went dark. Catra is trying, she really is. Drawing breath, counting to five, exhaling. Over and over again. It’s tenuous, but she still feels present at least. It's her duty as captain to be the one to stay aware during situations like this, and she intends to do it.

Maybe it's the stress of the day, the unexpected return of someone she thought was out of her life for good, or maybe its the fact that she could swear she sees something shift on the vessel above them, even though it’s probably just a trick of the slight warping of the viewport glass. Either way, something snaps. Catra draws her arms to her shoulders and pulls her legs into the chair, pressing her knees to her chest, the panic that's been swimming around the edges of her mind finally consuming her. Her breaths are sharp now, failing to draw much in the way of useful oxygen. She can see her reflection clearly in the glass before she screws her eyes shut. She looks pathetic. The fearless smuggler, Catra D’riluth, captain of the last of the fireflies, reduced to a crying mess. This is why she had come up here the second they spotted the ship. She can’t let anyone see her like this.

-------------- “I just… can’t believe they’re actually real,” Glimmer says nervously, staring at the scrap of napkin that she’s folded and unfolded dozens of times in the last few minutes, “I thought that they were just a campfire story”

“Oh yeah! They’re actually pretty routine out here, honestly,” Scorpia answers with a disturbing amount of cheer. “A lot worse than the stories, though.” She adds, making Glimmer and Bow cling to each other even tighter, somehow.

“Scorp. Not helping,” Lonnie interjects from the other end of the dining table where she’s been perpetually checking and rechecking her gun ever since the lights went out. “She does mean it about the routine, though. Get up and walk around if you need to. We might be like this for a while.”

“Okay. right. Adora, you need anything? Food? Water?” Glimmer asks, turning her gaze over her shoulder to where Adora had been sitting against the wall just a moment ago, only to find it completely empty.

“Fuck”

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

Catra is almost on the verge of passing out, simply allowing the panic to pull her under, when she feels a hand softly brush against her own Normally, being touched unexpectedly when she’s like this would send her jumping out of her own skin, earning whoever was responsible a quick claw to the face. But there’s… a strange familiarity to this one, the way the fingers start to press between her own and the way that her own allow them to do so, parting without resistance as they slowly intertwine.

Scorpia doesn’t really have fingers to do this with. Entrapta tends to be pretty respectful about the no-touching-me-without-warning rule (and would also probably be using her hair). Lonnie, much like Catra herself, is just… not a very touchy person in general, outside of her partners. Which means…

Adora is silently standing in the doorway when Catra manages to look over her shoulder, those wide, pale-blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m fine, okay? Go back to the mess with everyone else, your friends are probably looking for you,” Catra manages to choke out, despite the fact that she is, very visibly, not fine.

Adora stands her ground wordlessly. But no matter how much time and distance is between them, Catra and Adora don’t need words anymore. She knows what that pleading look means on a basic, almost instinctual level: let me help?

“Fine. You can stay,” Catra relents more out of curiosity than anything else. Something in her just has to know if the girl that she fell in love with is still somewhere inside this strange, broken shell of a person that’s wound up wandering her ship.

Adora looks delighted at that, more emotion on her face than Catra has seen since she climbed out of that cryo-crate as she steps forward, never letting her hand leave Catra’s shoulder until she’s effectively draped herself over the back of the chair. Only then does she allow it to move, wrapping her arms around Catra’s chest and dropping to press her face into Catra’s hair, brushing slightly against her ears as she does so.

And then she starts humming, and that’s when Catra knows. The rise and fall of the song is familiar, because they’ve done this more times than Catra can count. Catra doesn’t even like this song, really. Just some old thing from their homeworld, romanticized ideals of freedom in space that have never really been true. But it was the one that Adora knew how to sing reliably. And so she did, over and over again whenever Catra’s anxiety got bad. In their bunks as children, on the battlefield, dozens of other places throughout their life.

Even just from Adora humming the tune against her, Catra can feel her breathing starting to calm down, her body starting to unwind.

She didn’t even realize she had started muttering the words that go with it under her breath, in absence of Adora being able to use her voice. She didn’t even know she still remembered them, really.

Adora shifts against her, and Catra can see her expression of surprise reflected in the glass. She hadn’t been expecting this to work, but she still had to try.

“Of course I still know it, dumbass,” Catra says, voice still shaking as she elbows Adora lightly, “Start over?”

Adora obliges, burying her face in Catra’s hair again and resuming the tune from the start. And Catra allows herself to sing for the first time in… god knows how long, honestly, her soft voice filling the cockpit and mixing with Adora’s humming. It’s shaky, at first. She’s rusty and stressed and hits all the notes just a little to the left of where they should be, voice nearly breaking on some of the higher ones. But she gets progressively more steady as it goes, and it feels good to be working in tandem with Adora again, regardless of her feelings about the sudden reunion.

By the time the song finishes, they’re well clear of the other ship, and Catra releases a long breath as she slips her hand from Adora’s, flipping the red switch on the console to turn on the signal in the engine room. Seconds later, the Melog roars back to life, Catra ordering Scorpia to punch the throttle. The danger has passed now.

Catra pushes Adora’s arms off her as she stands up, desperate to reestablish her walls.

“You should go back to your friends. They’re probably still worried about you. And I have a ship to run.”

Adora looks… sad, almost. But she nods, and then disappears down the hallway. She’s gone almost as quickly as she had appeared.

Leaving Catra with one answer, and a whole universe of new questions.

#my writing #firefly au #this isnt gonna turn into a real fic but flora convinced me to post the snippets here so

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dindjarinbae · 3 years

Note

I just finished listening to Taylor Swift’s new album, Tolerate It hurt really bad. Please some sad Din content based off of that song, and I beg, angst and no happy ending

bestie, this is so late. i’m so sorry </3

this shit hurted to write but that’s okay, i tried my hardest to stay true to the request. anyways here you go!!

warnings: NONE, just sad

word count: 1.3k

—

The first day you realized something was truly off was the day it was too late to do anything about it. Perhaps, in short moments in passing before now you felt like something was fleeting, fading, waning away from your grip.

The thing slipping from your grasp was Din.

It was a chilly night on the planet of Eadu, and rain was falling loudly against the Crest. You should’ve been sleeping and he should have been as well, but you were both awake while the only one on board getting any rest was the sleeping baby in his little pram across the way. You sat with your legs dangling over the edge of Din’s bunk and you watched him from the other side of the hull. He sat casually on a crate that had been turned upside down and he read about his bounty from a blue-tinted hologram. If he noticed your stare, he didn’t acknowledge it or invite you to come sit with him like he used to. That was the first time you realized something was amiss.

You’d always wondered if you two would last, and it seemed like the test of time had been passed, but unforeseen things happen, and this was unfortunately one of those things. He was older than you, by over ten years, he’d confirmed indefinitely once, but never gave you more than that. You speculated that you were looking at a nearly thirteen or fourteen year gap, and that made you nervous, but he assured you, it was nothing to worry about, that he didn’t care.

But now it was like he did.

The second time you noticed it was when his protective little quirks became less romantic and more like you were another child he had to take care of. He scolded you, reprimanded you, and would often correct you in patronizing ways, like a father to his child. You easily picked up that it was the same tone he used with Grogu.

Oh yes, it seemed he was only simply... tolerating you at this point.

The third time was the first time you’d ever felt so alone in his presence, and it came to pass that it wouldn’t be the last. He had been gone for two days, out on the desolate planet of Jakku, leaving you and the kid alone and bored in the ship, giving him no option but to nap his time away and giving you no option but to pass the time by cleaning the ship thoroughly, making it practically sparkle. And when you heard the door opening two days later, you jumped to your feet to greet your bounty hunter with a warm and proud welcome, only to be tentatively hugged, patted on the back, and brushed past, his beskar clad shoulder bumping yours. Not even an apology was spoken.

Tears built up in your eyes while frustration and loneliness built up in your heart, and you marched to the cockpit to talk to him.

As soon as you entered the cockpit, you sunk down in the copilot’s chair and you stayed there in silence, waiting for him to recognize your presence.

He never did.

So you took it into your own hands.

Thoughts of elaborate ways to word your concerns and lighthearted pre-conversation were all flushed away by your first round of tears and you gasped his name.

Now, he turned to you. Now he acknowledged your presence next to him in the cockpit. Nonverbally, of course.

“What is wrong? What is happening to us?” You ask, desperately begging for an answer from him, and part of you wished he’d lie to you, but the other part wanted honesty.

He gave you neither and just stayed silent, the tail ends of a sigh passing his vocoder and he hung his head just a bit, laying his hands down on his thighs.

“Please.” You begged again, reaching up to pointlessly wipe your eyes. It didn’t matter, more tears fell.

It was a long moment of silence before he spoke, his head still hung, “Y/n... Sometimes, things don’t always go the way we want them to go.”

“That’s not an answer!” You cried and shook your head, not having the will to look at him, “Please just tell me this is in my head, that I’m being crazy, Din. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” You heard him whisper and then fall silent again. Your hands shook and you stared down at them, your tears melting everything together to be seen as a blur, and you couldn’t seem to breathe.

“I’ll take you back to Coruscant. I’m sorry.” He mumbled and turned back to the control panel, staying characteristically silent as he moved the ship up into the atmosphere.

You numbly stood up and stumbled your way back into the hull, trying to put as much distance as you could between you and Din.

The ride to Coruscant was silent, and if the baby was awake, he didn’t make any noise. You sat on the same crate he did when you first noticed something was wrong, and you clasped your shaking hands together.

Truth be told, you weren’t ready to lose him. How could you be? He’d saved you, he’d loved you, he’d given you loving sanctuary when you needed it most, and he’d become your home when you couldn’t bear yours. You wondered what made him want to pull away, what made his love wane, what weakened, cut, and then stomped on the string of gold that held the two of your hearts together as one. Surely, you couldn’t have felt that alone. It had to have been reciprocated... right?

Perhaps hours had passed while you sat on that crate, maybe seconds, days, years, you didn’t know. But finally you felt the familiar shake of the landing gear, and when you felt the jolt of hitting the ground, your head slowly raised. Din had already climbed down the ladder and was opening the door for you, and you scurried past him, wanting to get back to your old house and cry.

But his hand caught your wrist and he looked into your teary, red eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

You yanked your wrist from his grip and you stared at him for a moment more before letting out a cruel, sad laugh, and you ran off, away from him, off of the ship, into the deep city of Coruscant.

—

The first time Din found himself regretting making you leave was when he stood in some run down, shady little market on the Ring of Kafrene. At first, he felt like he made the right decision, because of course, this was no life for a beautiful person such as yourself. He’d be your downfall, your death, he brought danger. You didn’t deserve that. But there he stood in a shabby marketplace when he saw a vendor with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The kid picked up on this, and he whined, because arguably, he missed you even more than Din.

The second time that he realized he wanted you to come home to him was when the child began to wail while they were on the ship, traveling back to Nevarro. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get the baby to quiet down like you could with your gentle voice and motherly disposition, your kind smile and gentle touch, feather light across his skin... Oh yes, he missed you like he’d never missed anyone.

And the third time? The third time he decided he missed you was the first waking moment from a dream about you. A dream where the two of you were happy, together, you were holding his hand and he was holding you.

But the third time hurt the most because he realized that it was by his own hand, because of his own doing that he could never get you back. He could never fix the millions of pieces of your shattered heart that were scattered all over his ship, out the door, and made a trail all the way to Coruscant.

So now, all he could do was sit back, watch his mistakes, and simply tolerate it.

#star wars #fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x you #mando imagine #baby yoda #baby grogu #star wars x reader #star wars imagine

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mishasminion360 · 3 years

Text

Space Age Love Song, Ch. 1

A Mandalorian x O/C Fic

Warning: Language

Notes: I’ve had this idea for awhile now and decided “why the hell not?” It’s been quite some time since I’ve written a full fledged fic, but I’m going to try to remain committed and complete this one. I already have a good idea of where I want it to go, so that’s a plus. Readers, you’re in for plenty of Mando romance, fluff, angst, action, and suspense. I hope you enjoy!

He crashed into her life like a falling star. The brightest star in the cosmos.

Ch. 1: Crash Into Me

The world was always a lonelier place at night. Rural Kansas appeared much more desolate in the dark; the roads and the land seemed to stretch on forever, both leading to nothing. The whistling of the evening breeze was the only voice to be heard for miles.

A half-drunk glass of whiskey in hand, Sara craned her head skyward to gaze at the stars. At most times, it seemed, they were her only friends. At least there were plenty of them to go around.

Her shift at the Hillsboro Community Hospital had been a grueling one this evening. She had just managed to drag her weary bones home a little more than an hour ago and already the night was creeping into day. Though exhausted, she’d suddenly found herself wired the second she’d pulled into her driveway at nearly 3 a.m. Now coming up on 4 in the morning, she downed the rest of her whiskey in hopes of calming herself long enough to drop into dreamland.

She had no reason to be awake so late, or early, rather. Sara had no one to pass the wakefulness with. The last of the only family she’d ever known had vanished from her life nearly a decade ago, leaving her with nothing but an old country house in the middle of nowhere that was far too big for a solitary woman such as herself. That house and memories.

There shouldn’t be any joy in the thought of coming home to an empty house. No happiness at the thought of eating alone, sleeping alone, living alone. But, as it began to happen more frequently, Sara came to realize that this rush of adrenaline she felt upon returning to her solitary homestead night after night was from the hope that she wouldn’t be lonely for long. One night she’d come home and there’d be someone worth coming home to. Someone waiting for her.

For now, though, Sara pulled herself to her feet, blinked the stars from her eyes, and prepared to head inside where she’d climb the stairs to her room and finally sleep the sleep of the dead.

She had just yanked open the finicky screen door when she heard a peculiar thoom! Her tired eyes returned to the sky to see that it was ablaze with light. A star, like a white hot ember, arced through the night, tumbling, tumbling down. So bright. So fast. So BIG.

That is not a star, she thought.

Sara watched the object’s decent with her heart in her throat. What if it was a meteor? Or a guided missile gone astray? Should she take cover? Would there be enough time? Would it even matter? The time she could’ve spent moving was lost to an endless string of “what if’s” playing on a loop inside her head, and by the time her brain managed to squeeze a logical thought about running into the mix, the object was crashing to earth in the field behind her barn.

She felt the impact from her porch; wobbled unsteadily on her feet as a tremor passed through the ground below. She could see the glow of flames in the distance. With the threat of a wildfire from space igniting the field beyond, with her house and all its memories in danger, she sprang into action.

Sara darted inside and made a beeline for the kitchen, retrieving the fire extinguisher from under the sink. Then, opting to take the back door, she darted back out into the chilly pre-dawn and ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward what she could only assume was Fox Mulder’s wet dream.

***

So, it definitely wasn’t a star. It wasn’t a meteor or a missile either. Nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for what she was seeing. It was in pieces and it was on fire, but even partially destroyed Sara could positively identify (having watched enough cheesy sci-fi movies with her gramps to do so) an alien ship when she saw one.

“What kind of Superman origin story bullshit is this?” she wondered out loud.

The flames licking at the wreckage weren’t too big, and the small extinguisher did the trick for the most part. The dented silver exterior was still smoldering in some places by the time the canister was empty. Tossing the empty red cylinder aside, she stood and stared at the UFO in a mix of wonder and fear as another round of incessant questions bombarded her brain. Should she call someone about this? Who the hell was she supposed to call anyway: the cops, a scientist, the news, or all of the above?

With a startling groan of metal and a hiss of pressurized air, a large door at the rear of the ship (or was it the front? She had no fucking clue) descended, assuming a new role as a ramp, or so it appeared. It was almost as if the ship were inviting her inside.

Sara took a moment to peer into the vessel’s dark innards, then shook her head. She’d seen enough Ridley Scott movies to know that going inside was a terrible idea. Blindly investigating a mysterious extraterrestrial ship is how people ended up dead or, at the very least, pregnant with an alien baby. She wanted no part in either one of those scenarios if she could help it.

The rationalist inside of Sara urged her not to take another step farther; practically shouted at her to turn around and run the other way. But the nurse in her wouldn’t, couldn’t allow her to abandon someone who might be aboard and may be hurt, human or...otherwise. Damn. Sometimes she felt like she’d chosen the wrong profession.

Taking a cautious step up onto the ramp, jumping a bit at the echoing of her own footsteps, Sara called out to the darkness.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

When she got only silence for a response, she decided to forge on ahead into the belly of the great metal beast.

“Okay, I’m coming in so please just...don’t eat me and keep your tentacles to yourself.”

The cavernous ship was as black as night. In the distance she could see lights blinking, like stars in the night guiding her way. Sara felt along the walls blindly and inched forward with small, cautious steps.

“If anyone is in here be warned. I do not like surprises and, so help me, if you jump out at me here in the dark I will punch first and ask questions later.”

As she drew closer to the flashing lights, she began to hear noise. What sounded like about five different alarms were blaring, but still nothing resembling a voice.

Suddenly, the floor seemed to rise by a foot and she stumbled at the sudden change in elevation. Her arms flailed dramatically as she desperately reached for something, anything to grab onto. Sara hit the ground hard and loud, her cry of surprise cut short as her head thumped against the cold floor.

Disoriented from the blow, she looked up and took in her surroundings with blurred vision. The alarms screamed at her from every direction, which was doing absolutely nothing to help her gradually building headache, and the lights blinked furiously in sync with the shrieking sirens. She could make out other objects now, what looked like buttons and knobs and levers and screens all illuminated by the incessant flashing of the warning lights. Damn her shit luck. Alone on this alien ship and she’d managed to stumble (literally) into the freaking cockpit. But where was the pilot?

Okay, maybe whatever had been flying this saucer never heard her, had no idea she was here. Maybe it was an unmanned craft. There was still a chance she’d make it out of this incredibly foolhardy endeavor alive. Stiffly and carefully Sara rolled onto her back, glanced up, and immediately screamed.

A face, or at least what she assumed was a face, more like a mask of some sort, peered down at her from above. Stifling another cry, she scrambled up to a sitting position and shinnied away until she felt her back hit wall. Even with that outburst, the creature didn’t appear to stir. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and vigilant observation, it didn’t appear that the alien was conscious.

Before she even realized she was doing it, Sara was on her hands and knees, creeping closer to where the sleeping being was collapsed heavily in what she figured to be the captain’s chair. Upon closer inspection, it looked more like a man than a monster. A man (or a woman) encased from head to toe in a suit of shimmering silver armor. Hell, it could have been a robot.

Through the small t-shaped visor in the dome-like helmet Sara could see no traces of a face. She had no definitive way of knowing if the spaceman was truly slumbering or just waiting for her to get close enough to grab, and for a moment she hesitated to move any closer. But when she saw the small trickle of blood leaking from beneath the helmet and onto the right pauldron, her fear instantly vanished. Definitely not a robot; a living, bleeding person. RN powers activate!

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?” Sara gave the shiny helmet a light tap, trying to conjure a response. “Come on spaceman, spacewoman, are you with me? Wake up!”

His or her head rolled limply to the side as the blood continued to run. Unconsciousness following a vehicular (or spacecraftular) crash was never a good sign, but Sara couldn’t know for certain until she saw the source of the blood how bad the damage was. Gripping the helmet between her sweating palms she began to slide it upward carefully. Before she could even get it past the wearer’s chin, a hand reached up and wrapped around her wrist, stopping her instantly. She flinched, in surprise rather than pain; their grip was unexpectedly gentle.

“Don’t-don’t take it off,” a very male voice stammered weakly. “You can’t...”

Sara was momentarily stunned. The alien spoke perfect English, and in a voice as soft as their grasp. She shook her head to reorganize her thoughts. This situation called for the utmost professionalism. When you’re a nurse, first impressions are everything. And she wasn’t representing just herself at this moment, but potentially the entire human race.

“Sir, I...it’s going to be alright, sir. I’m a nurse. I can help you, but I’ll need to assess the injury. I need to remove your helmet in order to-“

“Please...”

Sara had entered this ship expecting to find a monster ready to frighten her. What she’d never anticipated was that the monster could be just as frightened as she was. And that’s what she heard in the spaceman’s voice: fear. He was scared. Of her. And that’s when any remaining trace of her own fear vanished. She reached down and found one of his gloved hands and squeezed it gently in her own.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to help you. You’re safe.” With her other hand she caressed one side of his helmet and tried to imagine that she were stroking his own cheek. “You’re safe.”

He seemed to relax a bit under her touch, but that may have been from the second wave of sleep overtaking him. Sara released his hand, took a step back, took a deep breath, and began mentally preparing herself for the task ahead.

Dragging a snoozing spaceman all the way to the house was not going to be an easy task, but it was one that had to be done. As a nurse, she’d be damned if she’d let a patient, even an extraterrestrial one, die on her watch.

Sara slid her arms around the limp man’s chest and began the first chore: hoisting him out of the chair.

“Welcome to Earth.”

#the mandalorian #original work #din djarin #star wars #pedro pascal

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a-sour-nectarine · 3 years

Link

Summary:

Obi-Wan pushed back the blankets and climbed in, pressing his back against Cody. "You know, if I have to go out like this, at least it's with you."

"Speak for yourself, I always thought I was gonna die in battle, a warrior's death." Cody could practically feel Obi-Wan's eye roll. "Even back then, though, I was gonna die fighting by your side." "I'm glad you didn't. I probably wouldn't have been fit for service without you. They would have had to give the 7th to Anakin."

Notes:

This is the day two prompt for Codywan Week! AU. This is barely an AU, but the idea grabbed me and wouldn't let me go until i wrote it, so here we are! I tagged this fic as having "Major Character Death," but it's actually all implied. I used the warning anyway, just in case.

Title comes from "As The World Caves In" by Matt Maltese. No one come for me, I listened to it before Sarah Cothran covered it, it's a good song.

"Cody, my dear, we have a problem."

From under the floorboards, Cody grunted. "Besides the motivator? Oh, and the hyperdrive, and the gravity?"

"Um, well, yes. I would say that this problem heavily outweighs any of those."

Cody poked his head into the cockpit. "How so?"

The Jedi took a deep breath. "Well, it would seem that the Empire has created a new weapon. A weapon that can literally tear apart entire planets. And there is a good chance that they will soon be pointing that weapon at this very planet."

Cody just blinked at him, momentarily at a loss for words. "Destroy planets? Impossible."

"I'm afraid it's very possible. Alderaan is gone."

"Alderaan?! Kriff–Bail and Breha?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Leia?" The name almost wasn't audible.

"She's, well, she's alive. She's actually the one who brought this to base."

ody dragged a sooty hand down his face. "How much time?"

"Anywhere from a few hours to a couple days, they figured."

"We can't fix this in time. There's nothing on this rock to replace the parts with, I can't fix it all that fast–Obi, we won't be able to get off-world."

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. "I know, love."

"That's it, then?" Cody's voice was barely a whisper. "This is how we die?"

"I'm afraid so." Obi-Wan collapsed into the pilot's chair, and Cody slid in next to him. Obi-Wan intertwined his fingers with his love's, and they sat in silence, until Cody broke it with a gasp.

"Luke!"

Obi-Wan gave him another soft smile. Tears glistened, unshed, in his eyes. "I–I'll comm Ahsoka."

Cody nodded. She wouldn't say no. She was the last person in the galaxy who could teach Luke what he needed to know. Obi-Wan typed in the Fulcrum code, and Cody left to lie down in his bunk. The bunks on the Dawn were larger than they should have been, but Cody wasn't complaining. Both he and Obi fit comfortably on one. The little ship had been their home for a little over three years, and Cody had spent more time fixing the kriffing thing than flying it. Obi-Wan had joked that it would catch up to them someday. Cody guessed that this was the day.

After a half an hour or so, he heard shuffling down the short hallway, and Obi-Wan shuffled into the doorway. "Room for one more?"

Cody smiled. "Always, love."

Obi-Wan pushed back the blankets and climbed in, pressing his back against Cody. "You know, if I have to go out like this, at least it's with you."

"Speak for yourself, I always thought I was gonna die in battle, a warrior's death." Cody could practically feel Obi-Wan's eye roll. "Even back then, though, I was gonna die fighting by your side."

"I'm glad you didn't. I probably wouldn't have been fit for service without you. They would have had to give the 7th to Anakin."

Anakin Skywalker's name had long since lost its bitter edge. Cody knew who the man had become, but also that the young boy who Obi had come to call a brother was dead. Funny, it was Skywalker who would get the last laugh. He would out-live them all, physically. He might even be up in the planet-killer, and he would never know that he had won. The proximity alert in the cabin let out a shrill beep. Something big had entered Dantooine's orbit. The two men jumped up from the bed and made their way to the ramp, which had been left open. Cody peered up into the sky, hand over his eyes to block the sun. Either the planet had suddenly gained a moon, or that was the weapon.

"It's huge." Obi-Wan breathed. "And much faster than we thought."

Cody just lowered himself to the ramp, pulling his love down with him. "Did Ahsoka say she would train him?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell her why?" Obi-Wan hesitated. "I didn't want her to worry. She couldn't have made it in time. No one was close enough."

"She'll be heartbroken, you know."

"It wouldn't be the first time she lost me. It wouldn't even be the second."

The joke fell flat. The weapon glowed with a green light.

"I love you." Obi-Wan's voice cracked. Cody felt the sudden urge to cry. He turned the Jedi's face to his and pressed his lips to Obi-Wan's. Obi kissed him back like a man dying, which, Cody guessed, he sort of was. After a moment, he pulled back.

"I love you."

Obi-Wan pressed their foreheads together and held onto Cody tightly, and Cody pulled him close. They stayed like that as the planet crumbled around them.

#codywanweek2021 #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #end of the world

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godtier1 · 3 years

Note

let's go with Misfit and/or Armor for DinCobb :3

Thank you Niki!! I’ve cross-posted this to ao3 as well cause I *really* wanted to bring us to 600 fics ehehehehe

Prompts are: “falling in and out of a restless sleep. Feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair.”

And

“getting out of bed too soon, insisting they feel much better, and collapsing/passing out”

Din was between bounties, hurtling through space on hyperdrive, when the call from Cobb came in. He was lightly dozing when he was woken up with the sound of beeping coming from up above. He shot up in his bunk, hitting his head on the top, before cursing loudly and slowly making his way to the cockpit. Whoever was calling couldn’t be important enough to make him hurry.

“Hello Cobb,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. He could hear Cobb laughing, and his visage on the other end had his hands on his hips.

“Howdy. Didn’t think you were going to answer,” Cobb replied, sounding rather amused. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I didn’t know where you’d be, so I wasn’t sure what time of day it would be for you.”

Din straightened his stance and cleared his throat.

“You, um, didn’t wake me, don’t worry,” he said. Then he could feel his face grow hot as he continued, “I was actually planning to swing by Tatooine soon, if you’d be up for a visit.” Cobb’s crooked grin faltered at that.

“Ah, actually, I was kind of hoping you might be available even sooner. Like, the day after tomorrow soon.” Din could tell from the holocall that Cobb was shifting back and forth from foot to foot. It had been a while he’d seen his friend seem so worried. He checked his coordinates and what time it was currently on Tatooine.

“If I left now I could probably be in Mos Pelgo by sunrise the day after tomorrow.” Din thought for a moment before commenting. “Are you… are you okay?”

Cobb just sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah I’m alright.” He laughed nervously. At Din’s concerned stare, he continued.

“I finally found someone here on Tatooine who would be willing to take the tracking chip out of my head. I’ve been trying to find someone for years who would do it, and this is the first time I’ve had any luck.”

Din let out a soft gasp at that. He knew Cobb had been a slave in his youth, had seen his brand on more than one occasion, but hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility that he would still be chipped.

“That’s fantastic Cobb!” Din exclaimed, feeling truly ecstatic for his friend. “What can I do to help? You said you need me there?”

“That’s… yeah, so here’s the thing,” Cobb began, a weary look on his face. “There ain’t a lot of docs on Tatooine that will take out a slaver’s chip, right? You can get in a lotta trouble doing that. But on the flip side, if someone were to pose as a doctor and offered to take a chip out…”

Din sucked in a harsh breath.

“They could leave the chip in and sell you back into slavery.”

“Bingo,” Cobb replied with a tired sigh. “That’s why I need someone I know I can trust to see me through this. I hate to impose Din, I really do…”

“I’m setting a course for Tatooine as we speak. Where are you getting the procedure done?”

Cobb laughed, sounding optimistic for the first time during this conversation.

“Mos Eisley. I really do appreciate you, you know that right?”

Din blushed again, feeling too hot under his helmet.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you soon?”

Cobb gave Din a little wave.

“See ya soon friend. Safe travels, as always.”

————————————————————————-

When Din spotted Cobb outside hangar 3-5, he could feel his heart do a little flip against his ribcage, which was a more common occurrence the longer he’d known the man. He waved in greeting, expecting Cobb to smile and eagerly approach him. Such was the song and dance Din had grown accustomed to. However, Cobb just looked around himself nervously before walking quickly to Din’s side.

“Hey Din,” he said quietly, looking rather pale. “Alright, here’s the deal. My procedure is in an hour, in the seedy district in the center of town. I’ve requested that they let you be present for it, which is awful, I know, I’m sorry. I promise, you won’t have to watch, you’ll just need to be sure they don’t take me while I’m under. Once I’m awake, I should be able to get myself back home.”

Din paused for a moment, taking in all of Cobb’s words, before hesitantly putting a sturdy hand on his shoulder. Cobb jumped slightly at the touch.

“Alright, I can do that. Though I’m not about to let you go home by yourself, you know that right?”

Cobb sighed.

“You sure? I know how busy you are, I hate to intrude more than I already have.”

Din shook his head in fond exasperation.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll worry half to death if I don’t go with you.”

Cobb grinned sheepishly, before offering Din his arm.

“Shall we?”

————————————————————————

Cobb had been all too right when he had called their destination the seedy part of town. There were suspicious folks around every corner, hoods up or masks on, concealing their faces. Cobb lightly tugged on Din’s arm and led him to a non-descript looking building.

Once inside, things moved very quickly. Before Din knew it, Cobb was lying on his back on a makeshift gurney, the doctor and her assistants prepping him for surgery. Luckily Din was not a squeamish man, so he wasn’t worried about feeling faint during the operation, but when he saw the medical assistants strap Cobb to the gurney and place a piece of leather in his mouth, he began to panic.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, alarm seeping into his voice. The assistants paused in their task, before the doctor shooed them back to work. She turned to Din.

“Standard procedure, surely you understand? We can’t have him flailing all over the place while we’re trying to work.”

It was at that moment that Din realized they would be operating without anesthesia, and his stomach dropped into his boots. He chanced a glance down at Cobb, who was just as frazzled. He was already sweating profusely. Din stood by the gurney and dabbed at Cobb’s forehead with his cape. Cobb leaned into the touch with a shaky sigh.

“It shouldn’t take long, right? That’s what you said? So just hang in there, I’ve got your back.”

Cobb nodded, and Din slowly offered him his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline.

———————————————————————-

The procedure was quick, barely fifteen minutes, but it was the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Din stood by the whole time, far enough to be out of the doctor’s way, but close enough to keep holding Cobb’s hand. Cobb let out muffled scream after muffled scream, squeezing Din’s hand hard enough to bruise.

When the doctor held the bloody tracking chip aloft, Din could cry from relief. He knew how much this meant to Cobb, so by extension, it meant the world to him too.

Once Cobb’s head was stitched and bandaged, the medical assistants immediately hoisted him up to standing. Din was at his side at once, protesting the decision to have him up and about so quickly.

“Sorry,” the doctor replied, “we don’t have a recovery room here, and I have another patient soon. You’ll have to find somewhere else for him to recuperate.”

Cobb leaned heavily against Din’s armor, his knees slowly buckling under him as he breathed heavily and tried to stay upright. Din wrapped a hand securely around Cobb’s back to steady him as he glared daggers at the doctor through his T-visor.

As they walked back into the oppressive Tatooine heat, Cobb staggered along at Din’s side, barely conscious. Din gave him a quick squeeze.

“I’ll find us a hotel room for the night, alright?”

Cobb shook his head, then seemed to regret it as he winced at the sudden movement.

“I’m fine Din. I just want to go home.”

Din raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You’re in no condition to travel, Cobb, and it’s a long ride back to Mos Pelgo.”

Cobb brought a shaking hand to his mouth for a moment, looking rather sick, before swallowing thickly and slouching back against Din.

“Please. Just take me home.”

————————————————————————

By the time the pair reached Cobb’s home the dual suns had long since set, leaving Mos Pelgo bathed in the dim lights from the sparse dwellings around them.

Cobb had passed out miles back, leaving Din to grip him tightly in front of him on the speeder to keep him from falling. He carried Cobb bridal style into his home, where he gently deposited him on his bed. Din quickly removed his armor, sans helmet, before joining Cobb under the covers. Cobb blearily opened his eyes, a low whine escaping his throat, before he closed his eyes and went back under once more.

Din sighed as he laid on his side, facing Cobb in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first or last time they would share a bed like this. Each subsequent time they did this, one of them always grew a step bolder. A hand on a bicep. A pair of legs tangled with the other’s. Cobb’s forehead against Din’s helmet.

Tonight Din grew even bolder still. Once he was sure Cobb was really asleep, he gripped the lip of his helmet and pulled, fresh air chilling his face. He looked down at his sleeping companion, through his own eyes for the first time, and smiled as he carefully brushed a strand of hair away from Cobb’s angular face. He battled with himself for just a moment before leaning down and sweeping his lips against Cobb’s forehead, mindful of the bandages covering his left temple.

He could practically feel Cobb smiling.

——————————————————————-

“What are you doing up?” Din asked in alarm as he entered the bedroom the next afternoon, cup of soup and glass of water in hand.

Cobb was standing shakily by the bed, grasping tightly to the dresser to stay upright. He slowly raised his head and smiled weakly up at Din. His strength might have been gone, but his charm was certainly not.

“Howdy Din,” he rasped as he let go of the dresser, only to sway alarmingly and clutch on to it again. If Din hadn’t been so deeply worried, he might have chuckled at the similarity to Grogu when he stumbled around.

“Cobb,” he warned as he put his food on the dresser. “You shouldn’t be up and about. For kriff’s sake, you just had surgery less than twenty four hours ago.” Cobb just waved him off nonchalantly.

“M’fine, I have things to do. Gotta stop in at Werlo’s, gotta check on the vaporators, gotta…”

Then his eyes were rolling back in his head and he was pitching forward, and Din just barely reacted quickly enough to prevent him from hitting the ground.

———————————————————————-

Despite the circumstances of the surgery, Cobb’s recovery was swift. He was just as stubborn as Din had expected him to be, insisting on changing his own bandages and making his own meals. Din just rolled his eyes and let him do what he wanted, hovering by closely just in case he needed a steadying arm.

When Cobb took off the bandages at last, a prominent scar resided on his left temple. He would wear it proudly for the rest of his life.

Then when Din was sure Cobb was finally healed well enough to hold a blaster, he held out the still bloody tracking chip to him. Cobb stared at it for a moment, looking surprised, before his lips turned up in a wide grin.

“How far do you reckon I would need to blast this thing to kingdom come?”

#fanfic prompt #feel free to send me prompts anytime!#my ask box is always open!#dincobb

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