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mylifeisactuallyamess · 11 months

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Chapter 17: Revelations

A/N: Hiiii guys! Sorry this is like, late. I had a parenting emergency yesterday, nothing serious but the smallest needed to go to A&E (she’s ok) which is why I haven’t looked at my inbox or posted this. So…I’m throwing this out there. I have been through it but honestly, if it doesn’t make sense just smile and nod and wait for the next chapter. ✌🏻

Warnings: Mentions of order 66, slaves, feelings, canon violence, droid deaths (but who cares with these guys), Tech being Tech and allowing everything to get in the way before he reacts.

Word Count: 7k+

Tagging: @idoubleswearimawriter @ravenclawbitch426 @dreamqueenkala @moon-wrecked

You entered the Marauder landing pad and smiled at Hunter casually leaning against the ship. The side panel was open but you couldn’t see Echo or Tech working on it, so you assumed they must have gone for supplies.

“How was the race?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and you made a face at him. “I heard you took on a Nosaurian.”

“I didn’t,” you hastily corrected him. “He was being shady and I took him by surprise. I realise I could not have, taken him, otherwise.” He uncrossed his arms and rubbed a hand across his jaw, scratching at the stubble he could never seem to keep on top of. “Anyway, what’s the plan for today?” You were dressed in your armour, ready for another gruelling training session.

“I thought we could do something, a little you focussed today.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” you said with a brief chuckle. He pulled a strip of material from his belt and you saw he had one of his bandanas in his hands.

“I need you to trust me.” You eyed the material suspiciously knowing he wanted to blindfold you but with no clue why.

“Hunter…”

“You’re safe here.” He was right. Looking around the landing pad not much could happen that would lead to anything awful.

Clasping your shaking hands together you nodded. “Ok.”

He was careful, moving slowly behind you and gently slipping the red strip over your eyes so the light of day was blocked out.

“Can you see anything?” Tentatively your hands reached up, brushing his fingertips before they withdrew and you explored the feel of the bandana. It wasn’t too tight, not too loose but you couldn’t see either.

“No.”

“Good.” You felt odd. With your eyes covered you could hear slightly better, your fingers twitched as your other senses came to the forefront in a flood. “I want you to concentrate.” He sounded somewhere else and you turned in his direction. A scuff on the duracrete had you turning again and your heart roared in your chest. “Slow it down. Breathe…” he was like a shadow, slipping from one side and then the other. So you stood still, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a controlled exhale.

Tilting your head, you closed your eyes behind the bandana and focussed. Hyper awareness ripped through you, it made your skin tingle when the air shifted, or your head move when a sound echoed. Your heart slowed, the pound of it setting a steady rhythm.

He didn’t give you warning when he attacked but still your vambraces came up to clash with his and he huffed. “Good.” The pressure lifted and you reset your pose. Turning on the spot you were sure you were tracking him until he rushed you from behind. Instantly you ducked and his swing went over your head. Spinning quickly you kicked the front of his knee and heard a soft grunt as he hopped out of the way. “I still want to know where you learned that move,” he groaned, as he worked the pain out of his joint.

“It’s a natural reaction, usually knees don’t bend that way and a broken leg is a real hindrance,” you explained, resting easily on your right leg with your fists raised.

“Hmm.” It went silent again but now you could hear his footsteps, the subtle flinch in his gait as he still suffered from your blow. This time he didn’t relent, rushing at you from the front you successfully blocked his moves with a clash of armour. Vambrace against vambrace, your knuckle plate blocked by the palm of his hand, your knee plate jarred against his thigh and it gave him the advantage he needed.

Your balance tipped and he grabbed your wrist, twirling you round so his arm was across your throat. You were a whirlwind, utilising the hold break he had taught you on Maridun to devastating effect as he grunted. He tapped on your spaulder so you released him, springing back a couple of paces as you stretched your fingers out and curled them back in.

“That, was impressive,” he mumbled with hidden awe.

“Can I take this off?” You asked, reaching for the bandana but he gently stopped your movement.

“Not yet. I want you to concentrate and block everything that comes your way. Got it?”

“Yes.” Balling your hand into a fist, you flicked your wrist quickly. The shield Tech had enhanced your armour with came alive with a soft bumph and a crackle. The blue disc hummed as it protruded just above your wrist. Swinging it a few times you rolled your shoulders and readied yourself.

The first shot glanced off the shield and you turned when he changed position. Soon Hunter was having to use every position he could think of to try and get one of his stuns past your defence, but still he couldn’t tag you with the bolts.

“Oh man!” Wrecker exclaimed excitedly which made your awareness clock a couple more figures.

“Grab a blaster,” Hunter ordered. Now you had to invoke evasive manoeuvres as well as block incoming bolts when Echo and Wrecker started firing.

It didn’t take long before you began to tire and your foot slipped, allowing a bolt from Wrecker to slip under your defence making you fall to your knee.

“Hold!” Hunter was approaching, his fingers carefully slipped the bandana off your eyes as you flexed your numb hand. “Wrecker only tagged your arm,” he explained. “But you probably knew that.” He helped you up, Omega giving you a cheerful wave from behind him which you returned with a smile. “When the feeling comes back to your arm, we’ll move to target practice.”

You settled yourself on a crate and nibbled a ration bar from a pouch on your belt. Training like this always drained you but never enough to wipe your mind. You had always hated sleeping, but lately the feeling something bad was coming had been weighing on you. An extra darkness that threatened to drag you with it, a darkness your demons thrived in.

Meditation wasn’t working, exercising your skills wasn’t working, the impending doom feeling never left. “Hunter…”

“Stitch,”’he rumbled mildly in return, seating himself next to you.

“Do you ever get that sensation that everything is about to change?” He leaned on his thighs, his hair falling softly over his bandana as he tipped forward. You watched the shadowed side of his face when he grimaced slightly.

“I always assume change is coming,” he told you.

“I don’t mean a change in a mission…something larger.” His position didn’t change and you ran your hands down your thighs in a nervous gesture. “Can we check on the others?” He sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. “Can you contact Rex?”

“I could, whether he’ll answer…” he turned his hand outward and shrugged.

“I just…” you turned to look back at the ship, imagining Tech sitting inside no doubt doing some maintenance on a secondary system somewhere, fine tuning his ship. He’d never admit it, but he did feel something for the Marauder…like he’d never admit outloud any sense of feeling for you or anyone.

You wished you had said all you wanted to in Safa Toma, but it wasn’t the time nor the place.

“What happened?” Hunter didn’t need to say anything else because you already knew what he was asking in that husky tone.

“I was going to tell him,” you admitted, hating the way your face crumbled and your barriers were immediately non-existent. Hunter had replaced Tech in some ways, becoming your safe space to express but never in the way you wanted. It wasn’t the same.

“And?”

“I couldn’t. He didn’t—understand what I was saying.” Shaking your head you swallowed a block of emotion from your throat. “I’m terrified if I tell him how I feel everything with change and not for the better.”

“But it’s already changed,” Hunter pointed out and a soft sob threatened to break free.

“I know. I know! I don’t know how to fix it, fix us. It’s my fault, I’m no good at this I’ve never…” you glanced at him feeling the heat in your face. “I’ve never had these feelings before, I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Neither has Tech.”

“If he even has them,” you muttered sullenly and Hunter breathed noisily through his nose, checking the ramp was clear before he spoke.

“I am not one to dish out this sort of…advice. But surely communication is…needed?” You could see he was struggling with what to say. “The Stitch and Tech I saw on the ship that night…”

“Something happened,” you interrupted. “I can’t put my finger on it. On Maridun,” you whispered. Yes, you. There were too many thoughts in your head, too many names, too many words…“I’m sorry. Can I skip target practice today?” He got up when you did, giving you a nod and watching you walk off the landing pad as quickly as you could.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Hunter raised his voice, not needing to turn around when Tech ducked under the nose of the ship and stood next to his brother.

For once Tech had nothing to say, he was still internally processing what he’d heard, he wished he could understand all this better but he didn’t even know where to begin. “With the training.” Hunter waited patiently for a response, his soft gaze tracking over his brother as he let him work out what to say.

“I have to admit—watching you bring her phobias to life and not have her flinch away from you was something…I struggled to accept.” He did, he assumed he was the only one you’d let close enough for comfort, for touch.

“Is that it?” Hunter prompted with a deep voice. “Are you sure it’s not just—jealousy?” Tech adjusted his goggles, unsure of how to explain the pangs in his chest he had been ignoring for so long now.

“There is nothing happening to incite such an intense reaction,” he started but Hunter turned to him with a sigh.

“This is it, Tech. The connection you both share is deep and she is not coping without you.”

“Stitch does not need me, nor anyone else to survive.” In his eyes you had endured so much, you were the strongest human he knew. He had seen soldiers endure less and come off worse.

“It’s nice, that you think that,” Hunter crossed his arms and looked in the direction you had disappeared. “She puts on a front, much like you do. I know what comes out of here,” Hunter tapped Tech’s forehead, awarding him a scowl. “Doesn’t match what goes on in here.” Now Hunter tapped on Tech’s chestplate. “But when it does…” Hunter ended with a shrug, letting Tech come to his own conclusion. Which he hated, because he didn’t think along the same lines as everyone else around him.

Tech had observed a difference in your behaviour since you started training with Hunter; but also he realised communication between you had reduced in that time. Tech had kept himself busy, trying to keep his mind occupied and off you, he assumed you’d contact him if you needed to. He never considered you would need him and not contact him.

“She misses you.” Tech’s mouth dropped as something inexplicable swept through him, a sadness that came out of nowhere and he realised, the heaviness in his chest was because he missed you too.

Without a second thought Tech shoved his datapad at his brother, catching Hunter in the chest and started to follow you into the streets of Ord Mantell.

The medbay was quiet, just a few patients dotted the bays and you asked Tesama if she needed any help before closing. The Twi’lek shook her head and you made a mental note to up her wages. Heading into the office you waited for the door to shut, sealing you in the quiet and the gloom.

Peace wasn’t your friend these days, it rarely had been, yet your nightmares had been building. The changes were subtle at first, but now they screamed at you.

With a touch the top drawer opened and you saw your stim kit that you hadn’t used in a while. Staying awake was never the best option, sometimes the longer you left it the worse they came back, ripping and shredding their way through your mind and you shuddered.

A knock had you closing the drawer. “Yes?” It was Beetoo, announcing the one with goggles was here. Tech? But why? You followed her to a bay where he was sitting on the edge of a bed, arms crossed and his brown eyes fixed on the wall until you entered.

“Tech? What’s wrong?” He pushed his goggles up into his face, his fingers flicking in his telltale way and you knew he was nervous. “Is it your leg?” Still he said nothing and you decided to give him a check up while he was here. “Let’s do the basics,” you suggested quietly. “Lay down.”

He did, training his gaze onto the ceiling as you busied yourself getting a medscanner. You scanned him, twice. Nothing troubling showed up and you again wondered why he was here. Placing a sensor in the middle of his chest you ordered him to breathe, watching his chest cavity rise and fall without a hitch.

“I’m going to take a blood sample.” He turned his head away, giving you access to his neck. The sample was quick but he still flinched slightly when the mechanism activated. You held a small dressing to the tiny puncture hole while the machine analysed the sample in your hand. The light flashed and you raised an eyebrow. Nothing.

Moving round to the other side you looked down at his leg. He had his utility belt on but you could easily work around the straps. Instantly he tensed but you persisted, running your thumbs firmly along the line of his muscle pressing at certain points and watching his face for any reaction that wasn’t blushing. Again, nothing.

“Tech?” You leaned over him slightly and his eyes had no choice but to magnetise to you for a second. “Are you hungry?” You saw the puzzled frown, the confusion in those beautiful eyes and smiled at him. “I am after my training.” You turned away, hearing him sit up when you left the bay. He knew his way round, if he wanted to follow, he would.

Sure enough he appeared in the doorway of your private kitchen, his arms crossed, fingers resting on the curve of his chin as he clearly had a head full of thoughts.

“Did you see some of my session with Hunter today?” You saw him jerk out the corner of your eye and his mouth finally opened.

“Yes.”

“I wondered if you could look at my shield?”

“Did it fail?” Now he was right next to you, his scowl of focus pulling down as he tentatively reached for your vambrace. You could barely feel him through the plates of armour and he was very careful about touching you still. You had got better with that, training in such close quarters with Hunter had really shattered your barriers.

“No, but this was the arm Wrecker tagged me on.”

“Your shield and the circuits within the vambrace itself should be unaffected by such a weak blast.” He explained, releasing your arm.

“But surely—well,” you handed him a drink, taking a breath to try and calm your quivering insides. “Our nervous system is our electrical system? Yes?”

“Correct.”

“So how can the stun blast overload my bio electrical system but not that within my vambrace?” You heard the quick inhale and saw the way he looked down as though he wanted to bring his datapad out to refer to it only, he didn’t have it.

“The katarn disperses the strength of the shot and therefore it would not have been able to penetrate enough to do any damage. Our skin does not offer the same protection, travelling along the nerves and therefore creating the numb feeling you experienced.” Giving him a small smile you nodded. This is what you missed. Having him in your space and talking about stuff that others would probably find inconsequential. He was also correct. “How is your arm?” You made a show of stretching it out, flexing your hand and noticing it already felt back to normal.

“The effects never last long.” He went silent again as you prepared some bread and meat, slicing up a meiloorun and putting the plate in front of him. “Any missions coming up?” You asked, desperate to keep the conversation flowing.

“Cid has requested our presence at 18:00 hours.”

“I wonder what she has for you this time.” Breaking apart your piece of bread you saw him sigh, his eyes casting to the side.

“I dread to think,” he replied candidly.

“As long as you come back to me in one piece,” you said firmly. You could feel his gaze on you but instead you concentrated on your food and he eventually did the same.

He stood up when you did, handing you his plate as you cleared everything away and hovered by the door. “Would you…like to join us?” Glancing up, your brow furrowed slightly, noticing his agitation.

“For the briefing?”

“Your certain skill set may be beneficial for this mission.” You scoffed quietly.

“Cid doesn’t know about my skill set.”

“Your training is no secret,” he said simply. “Your medical ability is renowned. Your other skills, I am not aware of her possessing such knowledge.”

“Not going to order me to stay behind?” His face fell and you wondered if it was too soon for that joke.

“I admit, that was poor judgement on my behalf,” he said quickly.

“It was a joke, Tech. Count me in.”

“Ah.” He precisely adjusted his goggles. “Then I suggest we find the others.” Swiping your helmet off the side you followed him outside.

“These need to be delivered to Vanguard Axis.” Cid slid a case across the desk which Hunter stopped with his fingertips.

“The chain codes you had Tech forge?” He asked hesitantly.

“What did you think they were for, Bandana? Hanging on the wall like decorations?” The Trandoshan scoffed and crossed her gangly arms. “It’s a straight up swap. Something I’m sure even you lot couldn’t get wrong.” You exchanged a look with Echo knowing full well even the simplistic missions could go very wrong. “There’s a lot of dough riding on this. Don’t mess it up.” Hunter gestured for the squad move out and you went between Tech and Echo, your gaze lingering on Hunter as he picked up the case.

Once in the bar he handed it to Tech who was already on his datapad. Not a word was spoken until they made it outside and dusk had settled over Ord Mantell. You moved aside to let some patrons down the stairwell to the bar and bumped into Tech by accident.

“Are you coming?” Hunter asked gruffly. He wasn’t happy about this mission, it was one thing using Tech to forge the chain codes but this could put them in Imperial sights if it went wrong.

“I am,” you answered.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Echo muttered while Wrecker and Omega did a high five.

“Easy mission,” growled Wrecker and the squad began to head to the Marauder.

“It’s never straightforward with us,” Echo countered, gesturing with his scomp.

“Echo is correct,” Tech spoke up. “But I cannot see what could possibly go wrong on this particular mission.”

“Like you did all the other times,” Echo grumbled under his breath and you nudged his shoulder with your own.

“You’ve got me.”

“No one will die then.” He injected sarcastic cheer into his tone and you smiled. “Keeps us on our toes,” he finally conceded.

You were cold. An icy cold that stole the warmth from your body. A cold that whispered of death as it snatched your life away with icicle hard fingers. It created an ache all over your body, shattering your muscles as you shivered against it, lancing pain into all your joints.

The wind kept you pinned to the ground, whistling through the snowy rocks and hurling the soft powder into your blinking eyes. It was dark. Either that or your vision was failing. Snowflakes clung to your lashes and your face burned until it numbed under the relentless slap of the weather.

Digging your fingers in you made yourself crawl forward, there was something up head, a mound behind a rock that you were drawn to.

Not a single part of your body was unaffected. Your fingers were sore even though they felt like someone else’s. The dangerous temperatures were slowing your bodily functions, freezing the blood in your veins and you couldn’t feel your legs anymore.

Breathing hurt, moving was torture but you didn’t stop. The closer you got the more you could make out and even in the murky dark you saw something you recognised. A rifle. It was so alien in this wasteland, so out of place that even covered in snow, it stood out.

Hauling yourself up you dusted off the snow with your protesting, rubbery fingers, revealing something that made you choke on a sob. You’d recognise that armour anywhere, his tattoo stood out darkly against his drained skin tone and you tried to feel for any signs of life. You were shivering so badly you couldn’t sense anything and you let out a raspy cry of frustration.

“C-C-Crosshair!” It didn’t matter who he was, right now he needed help and so did you.

There was nothing. No one came, no help was nearby, nothing could exist in this roaring wasteland. “Help!” Your cry was stolen, ripped from your mouth and tossed out into the desolate void. Even the Force had abandoned you at this point, your connection as numb as the world around you was harsh and you slumped over Crosshair’s still form. If you could give your last remaining flickers of life to him, you would. It was who you were.

Stitch…

Latching on to him, your blazing beacon in the dark, you let Tech guide you free from the horror before it consumed you.

“Crosshair!” Even with your eyes open and your mind seeing you were back on the Marauder, you couldn’t shift the deep chill that had settled along your bones. Dragging in a breath to your aching chest, you met Hunter’s shocked gaze. Wrecker had you in his arms and his whole body tensed.

“Crosshair? You saw Crosshair?” He gasped. “Where?”

“I d-don’t k-know!” Your teeth were chattering and Tech appeared, pushing past Hunter who was still frozen in place.

“Wrap this tightly around her Wrecker. The pressure should decrease the tremors…your temperature is extraordinarily low. I am concerned as to why.”

“H-heat!” You stuttered. “I n-need b-body heat!” Wrecker didn’t hesitate, wrapping the blanket around you and covering you with his arms.

“Uh, it’s not working!” He cried as you kept shaking.

“I’ll help!” Omega clambered in and settled against the side of your shivering form inside Wrecker’s embrace. Tech shrugged and crouched down, moving your legs to the side so he could lean against you in a sitting position.

“Are you joining us?” He asked Hunter.

“All right.” He stepped over Wrecker’s leg, squeezing in beside your wrapped up body, letting out a sigh. Soon the ripples of your vision fell away but no one moved. Tech was on his datapad as Wrecker leaned easily against the wall, his arms full of you and his family. Omega was dozing in the combined heat but you could feel Hunter was brooding.

Echo walked through from the cockpit, doing a double take at all of you on the floor. “What…?”

“Body heat,” Hunter explained. Echo looked over the group and gave a defeated shrug.

“All right.” He found a spot beside Wrecker, leaning against the larger clone with a satisfied sigh. “Is there a reason?” He asked suddenly, twisting round.

“Stitch was cold,” mumbled Omega from somewhere next to you and Echo met your eyes buried in the depths of your blanket. He nodded as though that was an acceptable explanation and sat back, resting his head on Wrecker’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

It grew quiet. Wrecker and Omega were snoring, Echo and Hunter had returned to the cockpit some time ago but Tech stayed firmly planted against your legs. He jumped when you shifted, letting you stretch out with a quiet groan. Wrecker’s arm fell away and you shuffled forward to sit next to Tech.

“What are we walking into?” You asked quietly and he sucked in a quick breath.

“Vanguard Axis is a criminal cartel completely run by droids. They will not be easy to reason with and I’m hoping this mission will go as smoothly as Cid suggested,” he replied in hushed tones.

“She’s got you forging chain codes now?”

“It is a fairly menial task.”

“That’s not…”you cut yourself off with a sigh and he looked up from his datapad, taking note of the frown on your face and the way your feet lifted off the floor intermittently.

“You do not need to be concerned. They cannot be traced back to me.”

“Coming up on Vanguard,” Hunter called from the cockpit and Tech got up. He reached for you, his hand extending suggestively and you looked up. His eyes darted between you and his hand in the second that you hesitated, fingers stretching just that bit more until you took it. Tech pulled you up, a little too abruptly and you stumbled, steadying yourself on his chest-plate.

“I forget how strong you are,” you mumbled.

“You are not alone in that,” he replied, reaching up to realign his goggles and look at you pressed against his armour.

“Tech!” Hunter barked and he jumped slightly. Your fingers trailed over the ridges of the katarn as he turned away, wishing he didn’t move and you had a few moments with him so close. Letting out a forlorn sigh you turned to see both Omega and Wrecker grinning up at you, their faces clearly telling you they’d just witnessed everything that happened.

“What?” You asked, trying to shrug off their attention. Picking up the blanket you hid behind it, folding it and ignoring the pair of them peering round it. “Oh stop it!” You hissed and Wrecker snickered.

“We know wha’ we saw,” he whispered using his thumb to point at himself and Omega who nodded.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Gear up.” You welcomed Hunter’s interruption, dumping the blanket on a bunk. “We are on approach. Echo and Omega, stay with the ship.” You heard the young girl sigh beside you, she really did hate to miss out. “Stitch, Tech, Wrecker and I will make the exchange.”

You watched the space station loom through the canopy, a large concentric structure with flight decks all dotted around the curve. In the middle was a city like structure with a protruding communications mast.

Tech expertly guided the ship into the entrance, gently alighting on the surface and opening the ramp. You rolled your shoulders, holding the case with the forged chain codes as you waited for Hunter to lead the way.

“Cid said the Vanguard Axis is notorious for illegal smuggling. So be ready for anything.” You heard the warning in Hunter’s voice, making you press in closer to the boys when a tall droid stepped out from some crates. “Let’s make the drop.” The four of you stepped forward, Tech beside you and Wrecker behind as Hunter led the way inside.

He came to a stop in front of a droid and you carefully scoped the surrounding area until the droid allowed you all through. It reminded you of Cid’s back room just without all the knick knacks that Cid had collected over the years. One droid was sat at the desk while two flanked it, with weapons.

“You have the forgeries?” The droid asked in a monotone voice. Stepping around Hunter, you opened the case and showed it to them. “We need to ascertain their viability.”

“That will not be necessary,” Tech immediately said. “I created these chain codes myself. They will fool the Empire.”

“Your assurance is meaningless. Check each one.” The red droid approached and waited for you to hand the case over. It was a painstaking process, watching them remove each one and putting them in a reader. Tech gave a little sigh via the private com channel and Hunter moved restlessly, crossing his arms as he no doubt glared at them from behind his helmet.

You felt uneasy. Something, familiar was nudging you, teasing your awareness like ghosted fingertips down your spine. A whisper, so faint, tickled your ear and you turned, only for Tech to tilt his head in a silent question. It turned to a high pitched whine, ringing at a level you were sure only hounds could hear.

The longer you were here the more certain you felt that something was going to happen. A surety in your gut said something wasn’t right. But you couldn’t do anything except twist the fabric of your glove around your finger.

You began to sweat, you could feel it inside your helmet, sliding down the back of your neck so slowly. A pressure was building in your chest, your lips parted as you struggled to remain outwardly passive. You felt Tech beside you, his presence questioning but he wasn’t able to ask if you were ok. Forcing yourself to breathe, you took in a deep one, letting it try and push that uncomfortable feeling down and letting it drain on the exhale. Except, it didn’t work.

A com went off and you all but jolted in a rustle of katarn, the boys tensing at your reaction. If you were twitchy, there was a good reason why. Blaster fire sounded down the com and a droid voice stipulated they had a “situation.” The droid leader turned its head to look at Hunter.

“Problem?” He drawled. There was a pause, and then the droid just got up and left with its counterpart. You slumped, the boys turning inward to face you.

“The cause of that blaster fire is either Echo or Omega. Most likely Omega.” Tech finished matter of factly. Sure enough Hunter’s com went off and filled your helmets with Echo’s voice.

“Hunter, we need backup. Now.”

“Come on.” None of you needed telling twice, filing from the room and easily finding the others. Omega and Echo were pinned down with a young Wookiee. The droids were advancing with blasters drawn and Hunter fired off a shot to get their attention off the others. “They’re with us.” He stated loudly. The ringing in your ears increased, the pitch was off and your blaster hold faltered.

“I would advise you to take your soldiers and extricate yourselves from the situation,” the droid leader intoned.

“No!” Omega cried. “They’re going to hurt him.” The droid turned back to her.

“Oh, on the contrary. The Wookiee is worth a great deal to our buyer. Alive.” Alive. They were dealing, in slaves. Selling slaves. Something dangerous settled in you. A shot of adrenaline spiked through your body, making your fists clench. Straightening up you shuffled forward, eyeing the droid leader from Wrecker’s right side.

“You can’t smuggle living beings,” Hunter said firmly.

“For the right price. I can do whatever I want. Now stand down or be destroyed.” The pressure in your head increased with the ringing, your entire body vibrated with it and you acted.

Without a thought you ducked down and took Wrecker’s knife. Hurling it with accuracy you never showed in training straight into the side of a droid's head, cutting its circuits and making it drop to the floor.

Blaster shots sounded as they fired on the Wookiee who sent their shots back with a few practised swings of the bright weapon he was holding.

The Batch exploded into action barely a second after you started running towards the group of droids. They provided you cover as you slid across the floor to retrieve Wrecker’s knife. Wrenching it free you spun round and sliced the legs of another droid, stabbing it in the face as it went down beside you.

“Get to the ship!” Hunter ordered loudly and you jumped up, now using your blaster to fire on another droid at point blank range.

“Come on!” Wrecker yelled at you as he took out another one before it could fire on you.

The group flowed through the facility, droids dropped like sacks of rusty bolts, their circuits exposed and sparking as bolts penetrated their casing. You jumped aboard the ship, releasing a breath you had no idea you’d been holding, grinning from the increased high as your heart careened inside your chest.

Blaster fire pelted the outside of the ship as Tech and Echo manoeuvred it in the hangar, finally flying free of Vanguard Axis. You dumped your helmet on a bunk and handed Wrecker his blade back, hilt first.

“Nice going,” he said gruffly, clapping you on the shoulder. You moved into the cockpit and rubbed your ears to try and dissipate the ringing that was still happening, although muted.

No one spoke for a while as you all rode out the buzz from the unexpected, yet successful, attack. Your attention drifted to the back of the ship, where the Wookiee was hunched as he glared at the floor.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew what a weapon like that signified, the coloured blades were the centrepiece for many story snippets you’d heard over the years. Rumours, lies, myths. He was a Jedi. And it scared you senseless.

Tech pushed the ship into hyperspace and the unspoken question of, what happens now? hung in the air. You looked up to find Hunter staring at you, a quizzical look on his face as he tilted his head and you frowned. No. You didn’t want to tell the Wookiee who you were, what you could do. The more you grew closer to the core of it all the more real it became.

“Why is he sitting back there alone?” Omega asked quietly. Hunter turned in his seat to look down the ship.

“Because he’s scared. He’s been through a lot.” Wrecker handed her some rations and stepped to the side. You knew why they had all congregated in the cockpit, why they didn’t speak to him.

“Well he still needs to eat.” You all watched her approach the Wookiee and offer him the ration box. “Here, you look hungry.” Hunter tapped you on the shoulder and gestured with his eyes for you to come but you shook your head, letting them head down the ship. Instantly the Wookiee snarled, roaring a warning at the clones and they stopped in their tracks. “What’s wrong?” Omega asked.

“He doesn’t trust us.” Hunter sounded sad and you almost stepped forward, soaking up that feeling of sorrow and guilt that he emitted.

“Well, seeing how all clones were given an order to execute the Jedi, he has good reason to be cautious,” Tech added. It was the first time you’d really heard them speak of this. You knew what had happened, the whole Galaxy did and Rex had given you a slight insight…but the boys had never spoken much about it.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Hunter spoke directly to the Wookiee. “But we are not like the other clones.” He sounded so desperate to get his point across. His emotions were bleeding from him and it made you finally move, putting a hand on the chair as he sat down. “We did not follow that order and we don’t work for the Empire either.”

“Hunter’s telling the truth. You don’t have to be afraid of us.” Omega reached down and pushed the rations towards him. “It’s ok. Eat.” As soon as he started she moved to the bunks, sliding your helmet across so she could sit down. “I’m Omega. What’s your name?” The Wookiee spoke, his speech patterns softened and you turned to Tech for an explanation but it was Hunter who responded.

“My Wookiee is a little rusty, but I think he says his name is Gungi.” Tech slipped his visor down and consulted his datapad beside you as the Wookiee responded. “Did you catch that?”

“He’s been on the run since Order 66 and was attempting to reach the Wookiee homeworld of Kashyyyk before he was captured by those smuggling droids.” Tech told him and Hunter turned back to Gungi.

“I’m not sure how you survived this long on your own, but it’s impressive.” Something else blossomed from Hunter in that moment, tentative and pure as it speared through his guilt. Hope.

“If he’s trying to get to his homeworld we can take him.” Omega said after she’d jumped down.

“Been a while since we’ve been to Kashyyyk,” Wrecker rumbled happily.

Hunter got up. Echo stepped aside but turned to address Hunter before he entered the cockpit. “The Empire could have outposts there by now. We don’t know if it’s safe for him there.” Hunter sighed and looked back at Omega and Gungi.

“He’s a Jedi. He’s not safe anywhere.” You peeled away from the seat, following him into the cockpit and closing the door behind you both. Hunter sat down heavily with a sigh as you paced a few times, waiting for him to say anything.

“Something happened,” you stated.

“Yeah, we picked up a Jedi,” he replied with a soft scoff and you almost rolled your eyes.

“No. Before, before all this. I can feel it.” He leaned back, pouting slightly and crossing his arms.

“I thought you didn’t have those kind of senses,” he grumbled.

“Maybe I do.” He hurmphed softly and you sat down opposite him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Spinning in the seat you waited to see if he would take you up on the offer. Watching the relaxing lights of hyperspace and finally he sighed, turning slightly in your direction.

“When the Order…happened,” his speech was stilted and you gave him the time to breathe and sort out what he wanted to say. “We were on Kaller. Was a routine objective, clear the clankers. General Billaba was there with her Padawan…” your brow furrowed at the way his emotions changed, sweeping through him like a physical pain. “The regs were having a hard time so we cleared the way for them. Commander Dume was going to come with us but as we left the regs…they turned on his master.” Hunter spread his hands, rubbing the palms together as he leaned forward on his knees. “The Order had no effect on us, well. Most of us.” You let the reference to Crosshair pass but you could feel the twinge of Hunter’s regret.

“What happened to the Jedi?”

“They killed her. The kid managed to run away and I went after him with Crosshair. He didn’t help matters,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as the guilt swelled. “I could have done so many things differently.” Taking a deep breath he continued. “I almost had the kid convinced that we could help when Crosshair shot at him, that moment of trust gone.”

“You are not responsible, Hunter.”

“No? Isn’t that burden I have to bear?” Casting all hesitation aside you kneeled before him, putting a hand on his cheek to make him look at you. Your gaze roamed over the shading of his tattoo, feeling the spiky stubble through your glove that marked his jaw.

“It’s the Empire’s fault. It is not yours. Not even Tech could have predicted all of this happening the way it did.” He scoffed quietly, a ghost of smile on his lips as he gazed at you. “You did what you could at the time….and that’s why you’re deciding to take Gungi home,” you finished. His eyebrow shot up at your words.

“Am I?” The door slid open and Tech paused on the threshold.

“Am I interrupting?” There was that bite to his words whenever he happened upon a moment like this but his emotions were harder to read than Hunter’s.

Hunter sat up away from you, breaking your hold and you sat back on your heels, getting up in a fluid movement. “Not interrupting,” he told Tech. “Set course for Kashyyyk.”

“Aw, YEAH!” Wrecker thundered from the hold and you smiled. Tech shouldered past you, Hunter gave you a look and sidled out of the cockpit, closing the door behind him which you thought was unnecessary.

“Have you been to Kashyyyk before?” You asked, hoping to rope Tech into a conversation.

“Yes.” The dismissal was clear in his tone and automatically you hesitated. You were going to walk away when you thought, no. You’d worked too hard to finally get you back to some semblance of normalcy.

“What’s it like?” You put yourself in Echo’s seat this time, drawing your knees up and watching him expectantly.

“A jungle planet in the mid rim, found in the Mytaranor Sector,” he rattled off.

“Any interesting fauna?” Tech looked up out of the canopy, his gaze swinging to you as his leg started to jump. You had him. He couldn’t help himself.

“Actually, yes. The fauna on Kashyyyk is the most fascinating I have found so far…” smiling to yourself, you settled back in the seat, watching the way he gestured when he explained something. Catching his eyes meeting yours when you asked a question and the uneasiness fell away between you both.

If you could sit here forever and hear him talk about creatures for the rest of your life, you would. Tech would probably never realise it, but he created a sanctuary of comfort that no one had ever provided you with before. And you cherished it.

#sanctuary #tech x reader(stitch)#tech x reader #tech x you #tech x f!reader #tbb tech x you #tbb tech x reader #tech #the bad batch #tech the bad batch

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ellievickstar · 2 years

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Chaos and Conspiracy (Part 4 of 8)

Ship: Eris x Reader

Warnings: none just a little violence

Previous Parts: Rejection (Part 1), His Second Option (Part 2), A Shock and A Secret (Part 3)

A/N: Hello loves <3 I am on part four and have still no clue at what part will I end this series. I need help T ^ T. I have read replies and honestly I have to say that you made me cry happy tears. Anyways let’s move on to part four of this beautiful, chaotic, improvised, series. (Yes the whole thing is being improvised as I go, well- most of it not really the whole thing but you know what I mean) This is a short one but I promise it’s worth it :D

The room exploded into chaos.

Azriel lunged for Eris, teeth bared, ready to rip skin from bone only to slam into a wall of hardened air, credits to Feyre. Everyone was on their feet as the night court worked on keeping Azriel at bay while everyone else scrambled to be out of the danger zone, a select few decided to keep close just incase the two males decided that they really wanted to shred each other apart after the shield came down.

“Azriel!” Feyre’s voice was as solid command on it’s own, “Calm down, now!” Azriel stilled all of a sudden before he snarled at Eris, “How!?” Eris just shrugged in return, “Well, I did some digging and I realised that the mother is faithful after all. When two mates are not compatible it’s possible to have another. Extremely rare, of course, but possible none the less,” He inclined his head to me with a wry smile, I returned it with my own.

“Well then,” Mor suddenly spoke from where she had been silent the whole time, “I believe congratulations are in order however, I do believe we have a ceremony to finish and a bat to chase out,” Azriel growled at her. However, Rhysand’s dark night curled around him as it forced Azriel to walk out of the room.

“Be careful,” Azriel chuckled darkly, his voice suddenly a preternatural calm, eyes looking back at me with a mad gleam in his eye, “Maybe you should have checked your drinks,” As let loose another creepy laugh. Eris and I shared a nervous glance when suddenly his eyes widened as he fell to his knees.

“Eris?” I asked, fear flooded my mind as the love of my life slumped to the floor unconscious as blood pooled from his mouth, his nose. Azriel cackled once more, his voice sounding more like, “Jurian,” Rhysand breathed as Azriel’s shape morphed into the slimmer male.

“Be careful who you trust from now on, Y/N Archeron,” Jurian hissed before he winnowed away, leaving the ceremony with my mate on the floor.

Next part is out now!

A/N: I know this one is really short. really hope you all don’t kill me.

tag list: @hideing @moonfawnx @younxii @flightlesslittlebirdie @bolaurel @starlit-terror

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acosf #acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x oc #eris x reader #eris vanserra #jurian #rhysand #feyre #feyre archeron #mor acotar

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desert-fern · 5 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I was tagged by the very sweet @fayes-fics (who writes some of the best Bridgerton fics I have read). Thank you for the tag on my side blog! 💕💕

How many works do you have on AO3?

Just one. It's a Bucky oneshot and I am trying to collect my shit to post my only series (A Gun Amongst Daggers) on there soon.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? / Tumblr word count?

2,210. Like I said, just a bitty oneshot on AO3

On Tumblr? Approximately 138 800 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now? Just TGM, but I have been known to write some Marvel/Avengers fics

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos/notes?

Because I only have one fic on AO3, I'm just going to do Tumblr notes

AGAD Part 1 (The Seal in the Bar) - 1,344

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - 879

The Walls are Caving In - 833

AGAD Part 2 (Goddamn Pilots) - 693

Roll With the Punches - 616

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my best to get to every comment that gets sent my way and if I don't reply, I always read them. I love being able to connect with the readers and their kind words mean the world to me!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

With what I currently have out? Probably This Love is Fireproof; it's not really all that angsty but I wrote it as a way to process my feelings around a wildfire burning near my home, so the ending is kind of open. Otherwise my angstiest fic isn't out yet, it's been a WIP for months now 😅

7. What is the fic you wrote with the fluffiest ending?

All of them? Ring Around my Rosie and I Just Need a Hug came to mind immediately, but I'm sure most of my work can fall into this category.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really. I've had one anon telling me that I was selling out by writing a WWII au (which is just living in plot-landia right now), and I have had a few confrontations with anons in my inbox saying some awful things about a good friend, but most of the time I try to keep it chill. If someone has an issue, DMing me is the best course of action because I want to handle things like an adult.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

If you know me, you know that the answer is no. I much prefer fluffy to smutty, but I have written it once or twice as a part of AGAD. I'm still practicing lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't ventured in that direction just yet. Maybe in the future, but they aren't really my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Once. I had a copycat rip off A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, to the point where the title was a bunch of synonyms for mine. Some of it was changed, but yeah. It was taken down, thankfully, but I'm always wary of it now.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. Never. I'm not all that well known in my fandoms for writing, so I haven't ever been approached with an offer like that.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not in so many words. I am working with @footprintsinthesxnd on my WWII AU right now, she's been so generous as to offer her help with research, but I don't think I can call that co-writing, unfortunately.

I'd be interested in attempting one, if an opportunity ever presented itself.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I have too many! But probably Stucky, those two got me through some tough times lol

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Umm... this one I have where Jake gets his callsign of Hangman. It's also my angsty ending one and I think I need to go back to the drawing board on it. It's as of right now, started but unfinished, but I think that I can maybe slam it out. Just depends on the timing of everything.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not a clue. I'm leaning towards really well-rounded and developed characters but I think I should leave that up to my readers.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Umm... smut. Which makes sense to me as I literally have nothing to draw from other than what I read and maybe scene descriptions. I feel I describe the scenes the same way and use the same words over and over, but maybe that's just me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I haven't actually found a way that I feel does the language justice. I would totally add some French into a fic if I felt it was needed (its the only other language that I am fluent in, so that's why). Other times, I'm relying on Google Translate so I will usually just stick to English.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson back when I was 13. I wrote a few things over on Fanfiction.net and read shit that I should not have lol

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I love them all, but it has to be A Gun Amongst Daggers without a doubt. I poured 10 months of work into this fic and the characters will forever be a part of me. It is also the first series that I have ever finished, so I have so much love for this work of mine.

No Pressure tags: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @blue-aconite @horseshoegirl @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky @footprintsinthesxnd @chvoswxtch @madwomansapologist @entishramblings @auroralightsthesky and anyone else who sat through this whole long ass thing!

#fern rambles #tagging the houseplant #fic writer questions

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gremlin-bot · 1 year

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Wip Wednesday (but a day late)

This is part of my wip for Growth of Trial and Error. This is a fic connecting another two of my one shots. This is not edited to my usual standard but it's pretty close. I'm still working on ship week stuff so this is on the back burner for a bit till I finish that.

ya'll can use this post to ask question and shit in the tag or comments.

--------- Here we go ---------

—------ 1

Danny and Tim have been dating for a little over a month and a half. In that time they have tried to have a date night once every week… It ends up once every two weeks with random visits for a cuddle date. Danny blames the Observants and Gotham rogues for being bitches. There's only so many times that the restaurant they have reservations at somehow gets hit in an attack before they just give up on restaurants all together.

This is one of those cuddle dates. Danny was laying with his eyes closed on Tim's couch with a star pattern blanket wrapped around him. He's waiting for Tim to get back to back with popcorn so they can watch the Knives Out movies. Why would Tim want to watch murder mysteries when he literally helps solve crime as his nightly activities Danny would never get, that being said he had no room to talk. He himself often fights ghosts for fun now. It's good stress relief from royal duties.

Speaking of royal duties, Danny was sick of paperwork and meetings. Being Ghost King was one almost useless meeting after another with even more useless paperwork to go with each one. He swears, if the Observants ask for another meeting about making more court trials he will find a way to revive them from never being alive and end them himself. All that doesn't matter at the moment because he has a tired boyfriend to cuddle, once he stops taking so long in the kitchen.

Danny opens his eyes to see Tim with a small loving smile on his face. One that Danny can't help but return.

"Aww, it's almost like you got flowers in your lungs for me again!" Danny teases

"Hey! You have no room to talk, Mr. Blood Blossoms!" Tim's blush only gets worse with Danny's light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah and I'll never live that down." Tim rolls his eyes at the pun. Why did he have to bring another person who likes puns into his life, wasn't Dick enough. Danny lifts one side of the blank.

"Come on sweetheart, get in here." Now how can Tim say no to that? Tim sets down the popcorn and the veggie tray Bruce insisted they have. Tim dives into Danny and settles in for a good old murder mystery.

They get half way through the first movie when things go wrong.

"God these guys are assholes, you'd think that after hearing one person getting excluded they would worry about the possibility of it happening to themselves!" Danny says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from its bowl.

"I hate that I've met people like this at galas." Tim groans.

"I hope they crash and burn. Marta deserves the inheritance at this point." Danny ends his point by popping pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

As the scene on screen changes, so does the one in Tim's living room. Danny really can't have a nice day off.

A ripping sound is hard over the cacophony of the TV. A portal to the Infinite Realms appears next to it, effectively ruining their cuddle date night. As the Observant floats out into the living room, Danny can't help but feel like he is forgetting something.

…Oh, oh no.

Danny realized what he forgot to tell Tim.

He is the ghost king and Tim has no fucking clue.

Oh Ancients, Tim is going to kill him a second time. That's a future Danny problem, present Danny has to handle an Observant with an uninformed vigilante boyfriend laying on top of him.

Tim has yet to move as he is in his civvies but Danny can feel him tensing. Danny pins Tim to his chest with his arms. The newly added pressure is hopefully comforting. Danny makes a soft rumble from his core. A signal to Tim that everything will be okay, he still doesn't relax.

The Observant was impatiently waiting for Danny's acknowledgement. It doesn't wait long, not because Danny answered but because it ran out of the little bit of patience it had in the first place. The mutual disdain the Observants and Danny hold for each other is great, but Danny will always commit more than the Observants. So yes, Danny could make this easier for himself and Tim, but no. He has principals!

"King Phantom, us Observants wish to schedule a meeting with you regarding the court-'' the eyeball in a sad imagination of jello didn't get to finish its request. It got cut off by Danny's sigh.

"If it's about the same thing as before, no. As stated in the Court Acts section 12a, you can't give out Court hearings without proper approval by an Ancient and myself. Nor can a trial proceed without a pre-approved Ancient or ghost of similar position from outside the Observant branch." Danny's blank stare fixed itself on the unwanted goo encased eyeball, daring it to rebuttal.

"Yes, of course King Phantom. I will tell the others." The Observant grits out. Its goo flesh scrunching in a poor imitation of a disgruntled face. It rips open a portal to the Infinite Realms and leaves without further pestering.

Danny lifts his arm. He can hear Tim's mind trying to piece together what happened.

"Hey, Tim? Beloved? Are you good?" Danny is starting to think that this might have broken his boyfriend. It's been a good 30 seconds since The Observant left and Tim hasn't moved. Maybe he's rebooting? As Danny is pondering the mental state of the man he's supposed to be cuddling, said man decided to roll off of him landing in a crouch.

Tim looks Danny in the eyes and says with all his heart, "What the fuck, Danny?!"

Oh Danny might be a little fucked.

—--------

Tim is going to kill and revive his boyfriend for a second time, if he doesn't explain right now.

"So, I may have forgotten to tell you something important." Danny placates.

"Oh! What gave it away? The probable high powered ghost that portaled into my living room and broke the TV in the middle of our date, or the fact you responded to them with higher authority!" Tim's sass is amplified by the TV blinking to life and giving a static scream.

Danny breathes in through clenched teeth, face slightly scrunched. It was adorable, making it hard for Tim to stay upset. "I'm sorry Tim. I didn't mean to keep anything from you. I just forgot you didn't know already and I just don't talk about it by default, you know. I'm not used to not being around my parents and they don't know about any of-"

"Danny, hun, you're starting to ramble. I know how it is with your parents but please explain now.”

“Sorry. I’ll start at the beginning. So, you know how I told you how I became a teen hero after my half-death.”

“Yeah…” Tim switches from crouching to sitting on the floor, eyes squinting at Danny with suspicion. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“So, there was this one time my town was pulled into the infinite realms by the old ghost king. So I had to fight him. I won in the end but, Oh the consequences of these actions."

"Oh no."Tim said quietly, reeling at the possibilities of what the downfall of a king could be.

"Fun fact, the right to the throne is earned through trial by combat. It would have been fine if not for the Realms showing affection for me. You can't argue with the semi-sentient realm between realms." Danny sighed.

“Semi-sentient in what way??! How did it show affection for you?? What do you mean it would have been fine??" What exactly was Danny involved with? Tim thought it was just ghost wrangling. He knew he should have tried harder to contact Constantine about ghosts. Doesn't matter at the moment, nothing could have prepared him for this.

"I don't know how but the Infinite Realms are just like that. It might have to do with the fact that it's where all the dead end up, so technically all lands of the dead, but I just work there." Danny shrugged, all too used to the Infinite Realms' brand of being.

"Danny, Alnilam, my dearest boyfriend, I mean this with my entire chest, what the fuck?" Tim lets his head slump into Danny's arm. He was done for the day and the next two after that. He just wants to watch some murder mysteries with Danny and deal with the Ghost King shit later. It was the first day off of both Wayne Enterprises and any major case he had in weeks.

The TV's static increased in volume for a moment before setting down, as if mocking him. He side eyes the TV.

"Sweetheart, if you stop glaring at the TV and give me like 5 minutes, I can fix it." Danny lightly chuckled.

"Fine, I want to see if I'm right about what is actually going on." Tim knows who did it, he's just waiting to be proven right.

"Hey! Don't spoil it!! Not everyone is a smartass." Danny sheds the blanket as he stands, "Are you going to join me on the couch when I'm done, or are you brooding?"

"Yeah, yeah, and here you are calling me a smartass." Tim rolled his eyes. Switching from the floor to the couch, stealing Danny's blanket in the process. He's allowed to be a bit petty. It's what he deserves after this ordeal and the ones to come when they talk in depth, but that's for later. Right now, he gets to go back to watching murder mysteries with his boyfriend.

#wip wednesday #dpxdc #Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be #writing wip #it's a 5 + 1 fic :)#Is this wip like a 3rd of the doc rn? yes.

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three-fold-symmetry · 2 years

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your vox art is the best thing that has happened to me this week

I'm glad I could be of service! 🧡 They're beginning to grow on me a bit. I like the idea of them traipsing around Cosuscant investigating crimes, mysteries - and maybe even a conspiracy at the very heart of the senate.

And because I love clichées, here's them doing the good old hiding in a tight space to avoid being detected by the person they're shadowing bit.

#<3 #and there was only one tight alleyway!#so according to wookiepedia vos is 6'3 #which according to a ft to cm converter is pretty damn tall #good for fox #vos's psychometry is very cool and would be amazing for a detective story #tcw #commander fox #quinlan vos #quinfox #vox #still have no clue how to tag for this ship rip #esk art

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simpforherlove · 2 years

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You Make A Cute Ghost

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt (taken from Reedsyprompts because I needed some inspiration): Write about someone whose busiest night of the year is Halloween.

A/N: I was a scare actor- someone who worked in a haunted house or other haunted place to, well, scare people- one spooky season. It was a haunted ship and it was fun! I don’t remember if we were actually open on Halloween itself; it makes sense if we were but I have no idea so this fic is set in October not really the night itself. But if something seems off or not plausible or too based on my experience working there, no it doesn’t <3 P.S. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I need to mention any warnings or something.

Word Count: ~2200

Not my gif; gif by estrangedlestrange

You didn’t really understand why people liked being scared. It was a fun thrill, sure, but the idea of navigating hundreds of feet of people doing their best to scare you in every way they contractually can was not your idea of a good time. That said, being one of the people that scared others was very fun.

Somehow, despite paying for and being continually scared every step of the way, most people were always surprised at the next scare. From the people paid to roam around and lightly harass the customers (to just follow them around vaguely menacingly, no touching or actual menacing allowed) to the ones tied to a room or even a certain spot, some people would scream at everything. It was a good thing the people behind the haunted ship had the foresight to put a bar in because wow were you sure some of their throats were sore at the end of the roughly thirty-minute scare barrage. Then again, your throat was always a bit sore at the end of the night too. A couple of hours groaning like a zombie or cackling like a mad scientist every minute or two would do that you supposed.

Your favorite role wasn’t either of those though. No, you tended to gravitate to the ghost of sailors long past, rattling around the room themed around that idea with a couple of other scare actors. Having a room meant you could use the props and set to hide behind or set up scares with and working with the same people night after night meant you built up a good scare rapport. It was infinitely more fun to work off your fellow dead sailors to really scare the customers than just idly moan and groan as a roaming zombie does (not that you didn’t also have fun doing that; some of the actors could make sounds with their mouths that were truly terrifying, no scary music or sound effects required. It was delightful.). The frequency of your time in the ghost sailor room was how you noticed her.

You could hardly remember the first time you saw her, the only thing standing out was just how vibrant her green eyes were under the cool tones of lighting (all blues and greens like the room was really underwater) in the room as they met yours. The group she entered with was large, not just in people but in stature. Two of the men had to noticeably duck to enter the room and the entire group of ten had barely made it through the doorway by the time the leading man was already a third of the way through the room. Large groups were fun but they were often hard to scare as you either got the first few and alerted the rest to the scare or waited to get the middle or end and risked not scaring them at all (something about making people wait too long for scares either scared them more when it came or made the scare a dud as they’d had time to calm down a little and it was usually a toss-up which it would be). The group as a whole had a few jumpers (the people who jumped at sudden scares), a laugher (people who laughed at scares, either as a release of fear or because they genuinely weren’t afraid at all), but largely weren’t reactive at all. Which was a little disappointing and made you wonder briefly why they were there. But the show goes on and you soon forgot about the odd group and the red-haired woman who’d seemed to clock every actor in the room seconds after stepping into it.

Until you saw her again. And again.

And again.

The second time she was with a smaller group, just her, two other adults, and two children who definitely did not look old enough to be on the ship (it was a real, albeit decommissioned, military ship and while the more dangerous areas were closed off even to the scare crew, it was far too potentially dangerous to allow small children on. Not to mention that even though the bar was well-tended and there were people who made sure drinks weren’t brought into the scare areas, the environment as a whole was generally adult as a whole and not meant for kids, even if the scares themselves were fairly tame; there was nothing exceedingly graphic, the focus was more on the actors and their make-up than dressing up the environment as super-realistic and scary- it was far easier to clean up at the end of the night and break down at the end of the season). You shared a look with your scare buddy for the night, some guy named Jeremy who’d been working at haunted houses, and a ship in this case, for twenty years. He knew the ins and out of the field better than the back of his hand. He shook his head at you and you nodded, just enough for him to see. It wasn’t a big enough deal to leave your places for (something that was generally discouraged unless a manager had come through and okayed it so the flow of the scares wouldn’t be broken if you happened to be the only one in the area at the time) but you’d have to bring it up to the next manager you saw when their rounds took them to your room.

The kids were cute, you could admit. The girl was acting brave, leading the group with her head held high but eyes clearly shining with fear, and the boy clinging to the redhead with the captivating green eyes. Who once again seemed to find every actor in the room, those green eyes of her stopping at every spot you knew your colleagues were at. It was a little unnerving and it took you much longer to forget her this time.

The third time was even more unnerving. She was in a group of other women this time, all but one huddled together and laughing and screaming together. The redhead and the other outlier, a brunette with a very attractive jawline were at the back of the group, both of their gazes picking you and your fellow actors out in seconds even as Jeremy, at the beginning of the room this time, scared the three women at the front. You’d guess they were military or something if you hadn’t seen a number of military folks be scared out of their pants in the season already. Even the ones who tried to be stoic had a hard time picking out every actor in the dim lighting and missed at least a few scares. According to the others, who Jeremy had asked the last time you’d seen the woman, the redhead had yet to be scared at all. Fred, the resident wandering Krueger and one of the managers, had made a point of following her group to escort the kids out, and not even Ren scared her.

And Ren scared everyone, including the other actors. That’s why they were placed at the exit of the scare part of the ship with their amazing vocal technique and elaborate costuming (Ren’s day job was as a make-up artist and it showed; you think they were even on that one show, scary face-off? maybe? at one point). Their favorite way to scare people was by blending in with the ship and with a small series of speakers and a quiet mic they’d start up a haunting litany of noises as soon as someone entered the exit room, culminating in a truly chilling shriek from themselves the moment someone neared the exit door. They even held the unofficial record of making the most people wet themselves (it was as admirable as it was second-hand embarrassment-inducing).

So to see the woman back a third time, with another inscrutable person beside her, was sort of alarming. Your slight alarm didn’t stop the shiver running through you when your gaze met hers though. And the slight uptick of her lips you’d just barely caught after you released your standard chest-rattling ghostly moan? That stayed with you the rest of the week.

You didn’t actually expect to see her a fourth time so you were more than a little startled when you’d turned from the bar and she was right there. Her smile was more noticeable this time and just as mesmerizing.

“Aren’t you the one meant to be scaring me?” The smirk softened the tease and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Can you be scared?” You mused, getting your first proper look at her. And hell but she was gorgeous. “You’re becoming something of an urban legend among us scare folk. The Unflinching Woman you’re called.”

“Oh?” She took a step closer to you, eyes never leaving yours. Your breath caught in your throat. “And what can I call you?” You croaked out your name, cheeks heating up at just how flustered this woman made you. She repeated it after you and you don’t know why you bother breathing at all at this point. She just keeps stealing it from you after all.

“Christ.” You murmured. Your name had never sounded as good as it did from the lips of this odd stranger. You don’t’ think you’ll ever forget the sound of her voice saying it, not next year and not ten years from now. Her smirk grew.

“If you want.” She…flirted? Who was this woman? “Or Natasha.” She moved on before you could comment on her words and you were a little relieved. You’d never been good at flirting and especially not with women who were questionably made out of steel or something. Her confidence was entirely too attractive. You let a breath out, attempting to collect yourself.

“Natasha then.” Your smile fell a bit as you remembered that you were working and she probably hadn’t approached you for a social conversation, her maybe-flirting aside. “Oh! How can I-did you need something? A drink or to buy a ticket?” You asked, taking a step away from her as your attempt to stay professional. Natasha’s gaze flicked over you and you couldn’t stop yourself from flushing again. It was your rare night helping out at the bar, bringing people drinks in line (they couldn’t take them inside the scare rooms but if the line was long enough drinks were offered while customers waited to go in), and clearing away finished drinks. The scaring was fun but sometimes the constant noise- the discordant music coming from each room and also the ship itself, for ambiance, the groans and shrieks from your colleagues, and the screams and squeals from the customers- got to you. Not to mention how hot the rooms could get with the costumes and make-up and steady stream of people coming through to be scared. Sometimes you just needed a break from all of that. Something you were thankful for now since it’d let you meet Natasha, however briefly.

She shook her head, gesturing to the men lingering behind her. You squinted a bit. One of the big ones seemed a bit familiar but it really was hard to tell customers apart after a certain point. You saw a lot of them and mostly in dim-to-almost-entirely-dark lighting so even the ones who stood out didn’t stand out that much. Except for Natasha but that was mostly because it was fun to gossip and she’d provided an odd person. Haunted houses didn’t exactly have regulars like other businesses unless they knew someone working there and one so unflappable? The oddity of it was the allure there but even that wouldn’t last too long unless she kept coming.

“No, we just finished.” Your head tilted in confusion but she continued on before you could say anything. “I was going to say you make a cute ghost but I think I’ve changed my mind. You’re even cuter as a werewolf.” You’d entirely forgotten your costume for the night (more old school movie Teen Wolf than anything else, tufts of fake fur coming out of your shirt and pants, a fake tail, wig, pointed ear caps, and light make-up that mimicked fur and wolf features on your face; none of the crew was exempt from the Halloween theme except the occasional special guests that would DJ at the bar or judge the costume/other scary contests). You flushed again, thankful for the make-up that hid it. Natasha was too enchanting for your own good.

“Thank you.” You said and then, in a rare moment of courage, “But don’t think this means I’ll howl for you.” It was a pickup line you’d heard far too much of already so while it wasn’t original by a sense of the word, it was the only bit of flirting you could think of at the moment. Natasha laughed, low and throaty, and it sent shivers down your spine. Was everything about her attractive?

“We’ll see.” She winked at you. You looked away, flustered, and by the time you looked back, she and the men she’d been with were gone.

You couldn’t help hoping she’d come back, even if a fifth time was unlikely. The season was almost over after all. But still...we’ll see indeed.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #dang. how do y'all decide to tags these stories so ppl might see them? i have no clue. send help #not me saying id post this like. yesterday morning or smthg. idk. time is social construct that doesnt apply to me or w/e.#rip to the ppl that can keep track of it but im different #also i know i said i worked on a haunted ship and i did but the ship i wrote about is truly not that ship #just a fictionalized version of it bc i sort of know it. oh to fictionalize real life to write fun stories with to share on the internet #my favorite story titles in fanfic are the ones that are said somewhere in the story itself (no matter how impractical that is) but idk how #anyone decides that. none of the words seem fun enough so i just pointed at my screen and choose that way. no one judge me #im fragile #i love how this post has been drafted for like a week. the struggle to move words from my notes to a post in an official manner #is real #rip me ig #but im pushing myself to do it bc i want it up for spooky day bc otherwise itll be out of season and thats not as fun #still fun but not AS fun yknow?#anyway #this has been lightly edited by grammarly and grammarly alone so ill probably reread it in like a month and make a note if i change anything #im really bad at reading my own work tho so pls let me know if something is funky or weird or whatever. also- rip me not knowing how to #flirt so the actual natashaxreader content is so short. i tried to make it a sort of 'leave them wanting more' short rather than an #awkward end but idk how it comes off to anyone thats not me #i keep obsessing over it. someone stop me. now im worrying about my clear and blatant overuse of parentheses bc i like them #but i know im overusing them and i-#thanks for reading if you did!! its much appreciated!!

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miss-ingno · 2 years

Text

No Man Left Behind

Fandom: Guardian (镇魂) Rating: T Ship: Zhao Yunlan & Ye Zun, Ye Zun & Shen Wei, background Weilan Words: 6.3k Tags: YOHE, canon divergence, fix-it, protective!ZYL, ZYL PoV

Summary: When Zhao Yunlan is captured by the rebels, he's given a chance to fix things before they can go wrong.

Read here on Ao3.

A/N: Fill for "Zhao Yunlan's Gun" on my @guardianbingo card and "Growth/Change/Balance" for Ye Zun Week (for which this is late RIP sorry OTL).

***

널 구원해줄게 with my light (달달 무슨 달 다 집어삼킬 Monster) 달이 태양을 가릴 때 환한 빛으로 널 가득 채워줄 별이 되어 널 비출게

- Eclipse by Moonbyul -

***

The problem with being a ranged fighter, Zhao Yunlan muses, is that he doesn't do well in close quarters. Compared to other long range weapons, his dark energy gun is still effective relatively close up, as long as he has space to aim and fire point blank. Their archers are protected by the formation of their army, their flanks covered by footsoldiers and ideally using the terrain to their advantage.

However, Zhao Yunlan can't be stationed with the archers, the retort of his pistol would give their position away.

They don’t have enough manpower just to provide him with a guard, either, and it would cut down on his effectiveness — Zhao Yunlan serves best as a mobile fighter staying out of range of their enemies’ powers, using rocks and trees for cover and moving on before they can get a lock on him. Too many guards would hinder both his movements and give him away before he can shoot.

Shen Wei doesn’t like it. He insists on sending some of his men to protect General Kunlun, but Zhao Yunlan refuses on the principle that they might get caught in the crossfire. At least with Haixingren, if they get shot with one of his bullets, nothing will happen.

A compromise is reached: Ma Gui orders two of the younger sword-fighters who lack experience to guard General Kunlun. It’s a valid strategy in Zhao Yunlan’s opinion, the young men aren’t ready to join the melee yet, would be more of a hindrance at this point, but to gain experience they need to get involved in battlefields. At Zhao Yunlan’s side, they’re relatively safe since he can pick off any approaching Dixingren before they get too close, and even if they engage the enemy in a swordfight, Zhao Yunlan can fire without having to worry about accidentally hitting an ally.

In hindsight, maybe he should have let Shen Wei have his way.

They’re in the middle of retreating, Zhao Yunlan laying down cover fire alongside the archers as the soldiers help their wounded comrades and hurry back. Shen Wei is at the front, wielding his glaive, always the last to leave to give his men a better chance at survival. Zhao Yunlan sets his jaw and takes aim, he’s not going to back away until he knows Shen Wei will make it out safely.

That’s when everything goes wrong.

His first clue is the snap of a twig, followed by the cut-off cry of his guard. Zhao Yunlan whirls around, taking aim, and the first ambusher falls to his gun. His second guard is panicking, sword arm trembling too much to be of use, and already they're surrounded by enemies. The first guard is bleeding out at Zhao Yunlan's feet, and they're cut off from their allies, already too far in their retreat to notice the commotion.

Zhao Yunlan fires his gun, again and again, dread rising because no matter how many rebels he takes down, more take their place. His second guard falls, and Zhao Yunlan can do nothing but dodge and shoot, dodge and shoot, trying to back away into the underbrush. Too late he realizes they're herding him, that this was planned.

Something hard and heavy hits him in the head, and Zhao Yunlan knows no more.

***

"General Kunlun," a loud voice booms, and Zhao Yunlan winces. His head throbs. "We meet at last!"

He opens his eyes to dim darkness, squinting, and then the blindfold is ripped off, leaving Zhao Yunlan to blink bright spots of colour out of his vision.

A glance around shows they're in some sort of clearing, a cave and mountain wall at his back, rows of trees lining the camp. There's no tents, but a campfire over a large pit set up to roast game. He's surrounded by hostiles, swords and spears pointed at him despite his hands being bound with rope in front of him. Zhao Yunlan tugs experimentally, testing the knot. It holds.

Before him stands a man covered in a patchwork of furs topped by a fuzzy sort of cap, sneering down at him. Gloating.

Zhao Yunlan cocks his head.

"I'm sorry," he drawls, lounging as best as his position allows, "but who are you, again?"

Anger flashes across that face, knocking the arrogance right off. The man stares at him in disbelief, baring his teeth in a smile, huffing a laugh, then forcing another bark of laughter, slapping his knee.

“Very funny, General.” The man sneers and spreads his arms. “No need to pretend now. My men have captured you, you are at my mercy, Kunlun-jun.”

Since he’s been captured by rebels… this could only be their leader, then. Zhao Yunlan shrugs his shoulders, using the motion to check for his weapons. His holster is still in place but the weight of the pistol is missing, they’ve taken the knife from his boot and his belt, too. Not much to work with, and yet… Zhao Yunlan isn’t a man to wait around for a rescue. The least he can do is stall, maybe gather some intel.

"Looks like I'm at your disposal. What can this humble servant do for such an esteemed personage?"

"That's right, you have no choice but to cooperate." The chieftain leers at him with a creepy amount of glee. He turns to gesture a rebel up, the motion impatient. A masked man clad in white stumbles forward, carrying his dark energy pistol on a tray. He falls to his knees at the chieftain's feet, holding the tray up, head bowed. The chieftain takes his time to inspect the gun, picking it up carefully. "Let's start with this heavenly tool, the bane of Dixing. If it wasn't for this artifact, you would be little more than an insignificant bug crushed under my boot."

Zhao Yunlan arches an eyebrow. "You want me to teach you how to use it?"

The rebel chieftain hesitates, and Zhao Yunlan snorts. Much good it will do them—seeing as Zhao Yunlan is the only Haixingren in the clearing, they can only harm one another. Tilting his head, Zhao Yunlan gives the chieftain a calculating look. He can use this to his advantage, but he must be careful. Can't let on that they're holding one of the few weapons capable of hurting Heipaoshi.

“Ah. Never let it be said that General Kunlun isn’t a generous gentleman.” Zhao Yunlan lounges back insouciantly, propping his elbow on his knee, drawing everyone’s attention to his bound wrists. “Give it here and I’ll show you.”

The chieftain throws his head back and roars in laughter, his rebels following suit. The masked servant’s lips barely twitch, Zhao Yunlan notes, his brow furrowed in thought. Curious.

“Kunlun-jun, you can’t seriously think I’m that stupid.”

“Well, it’s not a difficult tool to use. If you can’t even figure it out by yourself I’m not sure what that says about your intelligence…”

Zhao Yunlan offers him a wry smile, and the chieftain glares at him. He turns the pistol around in his hand, the barrel pointing at his chest as he tries to press down the trigger. Zhao Yunlan has trouble keeping his expression blank. Sadly, the safety is still on.

Apparently, he doesn’t do a convincing enough job of it.

The masked servant bows to his leader. “Master, if you would allow this unworthy one, I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Have you, Ye-zun?” the chieftain asks mockingly, threat clear in his voice. The servant flinches, bowing his head lower. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Ye-zun? Cleverer than your master, is that it?”

“O-of course not, Master. Just—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the chieftain’s face a thunder cloud, anger mounting with every stuttered word until he backhands his servant.

He hits Ye-zun with enough force to knock his head around, dark mask flying off to land at Zhao Yunlan's feet. It’s an ugly design—rough bars of dark metal carved on dark grey, not even properly dyed black. So unlike Shen Wei’s with its golden lines and glitter in this ancient time or the one with its delicate silver swirls in the future. Almost like this mask isn’t the bearer’s choice, but rather forced upon them. The thought hasn't even finished forming when Zhao Yunlan looks up to meet Shen Wei's stunned eyes.

His breathing hitches, heart skipping a beat.

Then reality comes crashing back in. The face is identical, the same wide, startled eyes, certainly, but the look of pure, helpless fury isn't one Zhao Yunlan has seen on either version of Shen Wei before. Hidden safely behind his curtain of hair, this one glares at the dirt, arms coming up reflexively to protect his head when the rebel leader kicks at him. Instinctive. His expression doesn't twitch as the chieftain keeps hurling insults at him. Used to the abuse.

Zhao Yunlan reels back, connecting the dots.

Twins. They're twins.

Shen Wei has spoken of the brother he’s lost, of course. Somehow, Zhao Yunlan has always assumed lost means dead. And yet, here he is, staring at that familiar face, mind reeling as he tries to connect the dots.

This changes everything.

Zhao Yunlan clears his throat, pulling the chieftain’s attention away from Shen Wei’s little brother. Stalling is no longer an option, he needs a plan that will get both of them out of here safely. It’s a gamble, but if there’s one thing Zhao Yunlan is good at, it’s betting on what a person will do in any given circumstance. And the rebel leader has proven himself both arrogant and with an easily bruised ego.

“It’s really not that difficult, once you’ve flipped the switch,” he drawls, rolling his eyes. Ye-zun throws him a narrow-eyed look, clearly picking up that this is a trap, but he doesn’t warn his master. Zhao Yunlan very pointedly doesn’t look at him as he raises an eyebrow and grins at the chieftain. Holding up his hands, he mimes cocking a gun. “If you can’t even manage that easy step, perhaps you should just give up while you’re ahead…”

Face drawn into a thunderous snarl, the rebel leader stomps up to Zhao Yunlan, grabbing him by the lapels and shaking him.

“I will wipe that stupid grin of your face,” he roars, spittle flying and landing on Zhao Yunlan’s face. He closes his eyes with a grimace. Then he’s thrown onto his back with a strong shove. Zhao Yunlan takes the opportunity to wipe the saliva off his face, before blinking his eyes open to stare down the barrel of his own gun. The chieftain seems to have found the safety switch, pulling at it until he finds the right direction. The click echoes loudly through the silent clearing, no one daring to speak up with their leader so angry.

“What are you gonna do, shoot me?” Zhao Yunlan quips, and a dark grin spreads over the chieftain’s face.

“Truly, you deserve no less. The great General Kunlun, felled by his very own weapon!” He spits on the ground next to Zhao Yunlan’s feet and pulls the trigger.

The ringing shot startles several birds from the trees, crying out at the disturbance. Smoke rises from the gun, black powder covering the chieftain’s hand. With a yelp, he drops the pistol before viciously kicking it aside. Clearly he hasn’t expected the ricochet.

Zhao Yunlan throws his head back and laughs, loud and mocking.

“Fool! Did you truly think a spiritual weapon would not recognize its master?” He catches Ye-zun’s eyes for a split second, nodding towards his gun before turning a disdainful look on the chieftain. “Boom Boom Thunder bites anyone who has not mastered” —Zhao Yunlan’s glances towards Ye-zun, who has crawled forward and cautiously picked up the gun. At Zhao Yunlan’s emphasis, his gaze snaps up to meet Zhao Yunlan’s, then dart to the rebels’ leader. Zhao Yunlan inclines his head slightly, barely pausing in his speech— “or been given permission by its master.”

His little brother is just as quick on the uptake as Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan thinks fondly. Ye-zun barely hesitates before lifting the gun, pointed squarely at the chieftain’s back.

“It is not enough to simply pull the trigger,” Zhao Yunlan continues to bullshit, trying to keep the focus on him, away from Ye-zun, while simultaneously instructing Shen Wei’s brother in its use. “If you do not have hate in your heart. Only point this spiritual tool at people you intend to kill.”

Ye-zun’s face twists with determination, his aim steadying, and then there’s a second gunshot.

The chieftain lurches forward, taking one unsteady step, another, before buckling right in front of Zhao Yunlan. His eyes are wide, trembling hands lifting to his chest, blood blossoming on his robe. Coughing, the chieftain spits blood, some of it dribbling down his chin as he meets Zhao Yunlan’s smug look.

“A weapon may not betray its master,” he declares, reaching out to turn the rebel leader’s head to look at Ye-zun, to realize exactly who attacked him. “If one treats their weapon well.”

Anger flashes across the rebel leader’s face. “K-kill—”

A second shot, and the chieftain crumbles.

Silence reigns in the clearing. Zhao Yunlan watches Shen Wei’s twin, follows the flashes of emotion distorting that familiar face. Anger, guilt, hope, regret, fear, determination—swallowed by all-encompassing fury as Ye-zun raises the gun again, arms shaking, to aim at another rebel.

The third shot rips everyone out of their shock. Pandemonium ensues.

The rebels, as one, grab their weapons, shouting, trying to reach Ye-zun in an uncoordinated mob, the only thing giving Shen Wei’s brother a chance to fend them off. One rebel drops after the other, bleeding from legs, stomach, chest, their armour no match for futuristic dark energy bullets.

Zhao Yunlan wastes no time, searching the chieftain—still breathing, if shallowly, but rapidly bleeding out—for anything of use. He finds a knife strapped to his belt and starts on the task of sawing off the ropes binding his wrists. Glancing up, he sees the rebels have Ye-zun surrounded now, and the gun is clicking empty.

A shadow falls over him just as he shears through the last of the rope. Cursing, Zhao Yunlan rolls sideways to avoid the sword slash aiming straight for his chest. Instead, the sword pierces the rebel leader, who arches up, gurgling, before stilling with a final gasp.

As if on cue, all of the rebels groan, reaching for their heads. Some of them drop their weapons, others are unlucky enough to injure themselves.

Zhao Yunlan scrambles to his feet, knife still in hand and casts a quick glance around the clearing. Everyone seems affected by… whatever this is, Ye-zun included. Zhao Yunlan only hesitates for a moment before stuffing the knife into his belt, pushing through the knot of moaning rebels to reach Shen Wei’s brother. He pries his gun free from Ye-zun’s tight grip, storing it in its holster, then grabbing Ye-zun’s arm and dragging the twin away from the rebels’ base.

Ye-zun’s face is a grimace of pain, and he’s clutching his head, but he follows Zhao Yunlan with stumbling steps. Whatever is affecting him and the other rebels doesn’t seem to work on Haixingren, so Zhao Yunlan figures they can count themselves lucky. It’s as good an opportunity to escape and leave the rebels to clean up later.

All Zhao Yunlan has to do now is to get the two of them out of here, and help the twins reunite.

Easy enough. Hopefully.

***

"That's a powerful spiritual weapon," one of the soldiers assigned to his scouting party says, awe clear in his voice, and Zhao Yunlan preens. "What's it called?"

"Ah?" Zhao Yunlan scrambles, trying to think of a good name. Guns don’t exist, not yet, but it sort of sounds like… "Of course it's called Boom... Boom... Thunder?"

As a kid, he used to call all guns ‘boom boom’. It’s one of the few memories he has of his father laughing, his mother teasing him. Adding thunder on the end at least makes it sound a little more epic, like a real weapon.

Shen Wei’s brow knits under his mask, mouthing the name under his breath.

“Boom boom… thunder?” he asks, nose wrinkling adorably.

Zhao Yunlan laughs weakly, sweat gathering at the back of his neck.

“It’s…” A memory strikes—Shen Wei, the one he met in the future, present—telling one of his more awkward lies, saying that guns were called such in Dixing. Zhao Yunlan has always wondered why that lie sounded particularly terrible, when it could easily be a truth. “It’s what these kinds of tools are called where I came from…?”

Shen Wei doesn’t look convinced, but the soldiers with them at least nod as if they know what he’s talking about, starstruck as they are to be working with both General Kunlun and Heipaoshi.

“I’ve never heard of or seen a similar weapon before,” Shen Wei points out, and where someone else might here wonder, Zhao Yunlan hears his suspicion. “There are more in the mountains?”

Luckily, before Zhao Yunlan has to think of a suitable lie that won’t explode in his face—literally—Da Qing shows up, nothing more but a black shadow in the dark of night.

“I found where the rebels are camping,” he reports, and the conversation is rapidly forgotten.

***

Shen Wei’s brother remains insensible for the better part of the hour. Zhao Yunlan hopes this also means the other rebels are faring similarly and does his best to cover their tracks. He stops at a river, leaving Ye-zun propped up against a tree nearby as he fills his waterskin. He hasn’t the faintest clue where they are, although he thinks heading north-east is his best bet to run into an Allied patrol, they have been searching for the rebel’s base south of their own. Considering the base turned up at the foot of a mountain, there’s only so many possibilities remaining, and Zhao Yunlan had to join enough strategy meetings to be at least aware of the most likely options.

Zhao Yunlan drinks his fill, then returns to Ye-Zun. His pulse is steady under Zhao Yunlan’s fingers, his breathing even. The pained grimace slowly eases from his face, a sure sign that whatever hurt him slowly abated. Sure enough, Ye-zun’s eyelashes flutter, and Zhao Yunlan sits back, allowing Shen Wei’s brother to take stock of the situation in peace.

The first thing Ye-zun does upon regaining consciousness is searching for his mask. The panicked expression on his face when he can’t find it tugs at Zhao Yunlan’s heartstrings, turning to worry when Ye-zun averts his gaze and lets his hair fall in a curtain to hide behind.

“Hey,” Zhao Yunlan murmurs, reaching out to tip his face up. Ye-zun flinches, so Zhao Yunlan redirects to squeeze his shoulder instead, smoothly enough as if that has been his intention in the first place. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, xiao-Shen.”

Ye-zun’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and wild. “What did you call me?”

Getting a sense of deja vu, Zhao Yunlan arches his eyebrow. “What would you prefer I call you?”

Shen Wei’s brother squints at him, eyes narrowed and suspicious, a stark contrast to Shen Wei’s wide and open ones. Even in the future, with all those secrets he hides behind them, Shen Wei has never looked this closed off. His brother, however, has none of that innate trust in Zhao Yunlan.

“Ye-zun,” he finally says, tone clipped. Zhao Yunlan snorts a laugh.

“Very well then, little night lord,” he drawls, pulling out his recently filled waterskin and holding it out to Shen Wei’s twin. “Here. You must be thirsty.”

Ye-zun takes it warily, as if afraid the offer would be rescinded or turn out to be some form of trap. Zhao Yunlan raises a pointed eyebrow as he relinquishes his hold on the waterskin without further issue. He can guess that this twin didn’t have an easy time growing up either. A part of him wishes the chieftain died a slower, more agonizing death, but at least Ye-zun got to take the shot. Hopefully that will bring him some sense of closure.

After having stilled his thirst, Ye-zun wipes his mouth on his white sleeve, using the gesture to hide the way his eyes dart around, checking out their surroundings. Zhao Yunlan waits patiently, pulling up a knee to prop his elbow on.

“...where are we?” Ye-zun finally asks, the neck of the waterskin clutched in a tight grip. Like he’s considering its use as a potential weapon.

“North of the base.” Zhao Yunlan meets his wary gaze calmly. “We should cross the river and head further east. If we’re lucky, we’ll run into Alliance soldiers before nightfall.”

Ye-zun stiffens visibly at mentions of the Alliance. “This humble servant has nothing of value to offer General Kunlun nor the Alliance. I am but a mere slave.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Zhao Yunlan scoffs, feeling his expression darken. “Besides, the chieftain is dead, and the Rebellion in shambles. What need do we have for your intel?”

Dark eyes narrowed into a glare. “Then why did you save me?”

Zhao Yunlan eyes him contemplatively. He can make an educated guess of what Ye-zun expects to hear, from how guarded he acts. Everything from how he's the visibly weakest of the rebels to his closeness to the former chief, the reasons flashing through Ye-zun's calculating gaze. If he didn’t have as much experience reading Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan doubts he'd have been able to decipher Ye-zun's expressions as easily.

"To reunite you with your big brother," he says mildly and watches Ye-zun freeze. Shock, anger, and denial cross his face in quick order. Arching his brow at the unexpected reaction, Zhao Yunlan adds, "He misses you a lot, you know."

“Lies,” Ye-zun hisses, his fingers digging hard enough into the waterskin to spill water all over his robes. He doesn’t even seem to notice. “Gege sold me to my master.”

“Ah?” Zhao Yunlan can feel his brow knit into a frown. That doesn’t sound like Shen Wei at all. “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Ye-zun returns bitterly, tossing the waterskin at Zhao Yunlan’s feet and hugging himself. “What other use could he have for someone like me? I was nothing more but dead weight for Gege to get rid of.”

"That doesn't sound like something he'd say," Zhao Yunlan points out, mind whirring, trying to make sense of this new information. No matter how he turns it, it refuses to fit.

"He didn't have to," Ye-zun snaps back, curling in on himself. "Actions speak louder than words."

"And he… left you with the chieftain?" Zhao Yunlan frowns, puzzled. Perhaps Shen Wei intended to come back for his twin, but something stopped him? Except Shen Wei told him—he fights for the brother he lost. Lost, not left.

"I woke up and Gege was gone," Ye-zun confirms, shooting him a glare from behind his curtain of hair. "He never came back. Why would he? I'm worse than useless, just dragging him down. He was happy to abandon me."

Eyebrows flying up into his hairline, Zhao Yunlan tilts his head.

“Is that what you think,” he starts, leaning forward, trying to catch Ye-zun’s gaze, “or what your master told you?”

Ye-zun’s head snaps up, and he bares his teeth in a snarl. “It’s a basic fact.”

“And it’s common knowledge amongst Allied soldiers that Heipaoshi gathered like-minded Dixingren because the rebel chieftain stole from him that which he held most dear.” A bit of an exaggeration, maybe, since it’s more of a rumour with a kernel of truth, but it gets his point across. Zhao Yunlan fetches the waterskin and pushes to his feet. “So make of that what you will.”

Zhao Yunlan turns his back on Shen Wei’s little brother as he refills the waterskin, letting him stew in his thoughts for a bit. Ye-zun remains silent for a good stretch, quietly following Zhao Yunlan across the river and further north-east without complaint or attempting to escape. Not that Zhao Yunlan is actually holding him captive in any way or form, but Ye-zun is probably just as leery of the rebels’ retaliation since he killed their leader.

And maybe, just maybe, he too wants to reunite with his brother, all bitterness aside.

While Zhao Yunlan isn’t nearly as fit as most soldiers when it comes to fighting, at least he’s spent a lot of his teen years hiking with Da Qing and thus has built up some stamina when it comes to traveling on foot. Ye-zun, however, starts lagging behind not two hours into their silent journey. He doesn’t say anything, struggling to keep up with Zhao Yunlan, but his breathing starts coming in shorter bursts, sweat pearling on his brow.

When Zhao Yunlan notices, he slows his pace and keeps an eye out for a good spot to stop.

They’re still close to the foot of the mountain, yet Zhao Yunlan isn’t sure how to tell a cave is unoccupied, and without Shen Wei at his side he really doesn’t want to chance another bear encounter. They make do with a trio of ancient trees, instead, their crowns thick enough to stop rain and keep the ground around their roots dry. The rebels didn't empty his pockets aside from taking his weapons, and Zhao Yunlan shares what little rations he has freely. Ye-zun eats like someone who's been starved, who's used to having their portion stolen if he doesn't eat fast enough.

Zhao Yunlan doesn't comment, and inch by inch, Ye-zun's shoulders come down from his ears. He keeps shooting Zhao Yunlan glances from the corner of his eyes, suspicion warring with curiosity, until finally, he breaks the silence.

“Gege…” Ye-zun starts, pauses, tries again. “Heipaoshi—what… You know who Heipaoshi is under that mask?”

“Ah? Of course! How else would I have recognized you?” Zhao Yunlan lounges against a large root, openly observing the Dixingren. "You look like his mirror image, you know."

"I know," Ye-zun agrees snappily, shoulders creeping back up. He tugs the hood of his white cloak over his head as if trying to hide. Trying to hide his face, and that makes Zhao Yunlan pause.

"Is that why you wear that ugly mask? To hide your pretty face?"

Ye-zun’s head snaps up, and he stares at Zhao Yunlan with wide eyes reminiscent of his older brother, a flush crawling up his neck and covering his ears. “What?”

“What?” Zhao Yunlan echoes, somewhat defensively. “Xiao-Wei is pretty enough to rival the four great beauties, and you have the same face, of course it’s pretty.”

Ye-zun’s wide eyes narrow rapidly in suspicion. “You’re trying to soften me up.”

Zhao Yunlan’s eyebrows fly up into his hairline. “Whatever for?”

“You want me to come back to the Alliance with you,” Ye-zun accuses, curling over the remains of his portion of the food. “You’re trying to trick me like—like you tricked my master.”

Zhao Yunlan scoffs, unable to help himself. “As if you would be so easily fooled.” Eyeing Ye-zun curiously, Zhao Yunlan leans back against the tree. “Alright. Let’s say you’re right, I’m trying to trick you to come back with me. What for? You said yourself that you have no useful intelligence for the Alliance, and I doubt the rebels would care if we took you hostage at this point.”

Ye-zun glares at him, shifting his feet under himself so he can easily spring up and run. Zhao Yunlan takes silent note, but doesn’t move to intercept him.

“For Gege,” he spits, anger and triumph flashing over his face. “You said so yourself.”

Zhao Yunlan cocks his head… and smirks.

“Ah? I thought your brother wanted nothing to do with you. Didn’t he get rid of you?”

Ye-zun blinks, his furious expression melting away in confusion, leaving behind the lost young man he truly is under all that bristling and barking. Zhao Yunlan’s chest aches, but he twists the knife in regardless, voice gentle.

“Unless he’d be happy to see you. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise.”

“But…” Ye-zun starts and stops, ducking his head so his hair covers the look on his face. Zhao Yunlan sighs, draping an arm over his pulled up knee and rolling his head back to stare at the sky of old oak leaves.

“But if he’s happy to see you, why did he sell you?” Zhao Yunlan huffs, careful to hide how he’s watching Ye-zun from the corners of his eyes. “What reason do I have to lie to you, unless I want to trick you into returning to the Alliance with me?”

Ye-zun glances up at him, eyes wide and red-rimmed. Zhao Yunlan tilts his head, offers him a crooked smile.

“What reason did your old master have to lie to you?”

Ye-zun’s jaw clenches and he averts his gaze, glaring at the dirt instead. Nodding, Zhao Yunlan takes one more sip from his waterskin, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and recapping it before he pushes to his feet.

“Well, enough rest. I’m going.” He pauses next to where Ye-zun crouches, fingers grazing over his shoulder featherlight. “You’re welcome to follow.”

He’s not surprised when Ye-zun does, keeping several feet of distance between them and a wary eye out. It’s not long before the sun will set, which makes it easy to spot the flickering lights on the horizon another hour into their journey. Zhao Yunlan raises a hand to stop Ye-zun, crouching down behind a boulder. After a heartbeat of hesitation, Ye-zun siddles up next to him, peering over Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder.

In the distance, the lights sway in the breeze, heading in their direction.

Under his breath, Zhao Yunlan whispers, “Stay here, I’ll let you know once it’s safe to come out.”

“But—” Ye-zun starts to protest, however, Zhao Yunlan is already moving to intercept. It’s a patrol, although their allegiances are hard to tell by the clothing, and Zhao Yunlan doesn’t recognize any of them. While he is dithering on how to proceed, a twig snaps behind him. Zhao Yunlan turns his head to glare at Ye-zun, who sets his jaw stubbornly, daring Zhao Yunlan to scold him. The whole patrol tenses and shifts into a familiar formation, much to Zhao Yunlan’s relief.

“Who’s there!?” one of them shouts, and Zhao Yunlan steps out from behind the tree hiding him, hand up in the air and waving to catch their attention, beckoning Ye-zun to follow close behind him since the brat won’t sit still.

“General Kunlun?” another asks as they approach, a crow yashou judging by the black feathers braided into their hair. “It’s General Kunlun! Kunlun-jun has returned!”

The cry passes down the line, one soldier turning heel and hurrying back with the message. The rest of the patrol gathers around Zhao Yunlan, exclaiming and talking over one another, asking where he’s been, how he got out, and a thousand more things.

Zhao Yunlan laughs, throwing them a couple bones without actually answering any of their questions. He ruffles someone’s hair here, teases another there, and soon he has maneuvered Ye-zun and himself to the edge of the camp, keeping their escort distracted. Fu You is waiting for him with her own guard, a surprise considering last he heard the Alliance council was setting up further to the south.

“General Kunlun, welcome back. We’re glad that you made it out safely.” Her smile is genuine, but her eyes are sharp as her gaze flickers to Ye-zun. “Who is your companion, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Zhao Yunlan grins, wide and smug, as he throws an arm around Ye-zun’s shoulders. It earns him a glare, which he blithely ignores.

“Surprise gift for Heipaoshi,” he announces, a murmur going through the crowd. “Figured since I took an unplanned vacation, I might as well come back with a souvenir.”

“You’re talking nonsense again, General,” Fu You scolds him gently, a reminder to keep his words period-appropriate. Zhao Yunlan shrugs.

“Where is hei anyway? Kinda expected him to be part of the welcoming committee,” Zhao Yunlan admits. It is strange for Shen Wei to miss an opportunity to check him over for injury after another wild escapade.

“Out looking for you.” Fu You arches a pointed eyebrow. “He should be back soon.”

As if talking about him summoned Heipaoshi—and many soldiers would argue it does—a familiar black-cloaked silhouette steps out from the treeline, the setting sun throwing him into dramatic colours. He stops, hooded head turning in their direction. A pause, then the glaive vanishes in a swirl of dark energy.

“Kunlun?” he calls out, and Ye-zun freezes under Zhao Yunlan’s arm. Zhao Yunlan, on the other hand, can feel his mouth stretch wide across his face as he turns to face Shen Wei, forcing Ye-zun to turn with him.

“There you are! I was looking for you!” he yells back cheerfully. Within a heartbeat, Shen Wei suddenly stands before him, his cloak billowing from the power he used to move fast.

“Looking for me?” Shen Wei mutters grumpily, his eyes scanning Zhao Yunlan for injuries. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Zhao Yunlan’s smile softens at the genuine worry he can hear in Shen Wei’s voice. Then it turns into a teasing smirk. “Well, you’ve found me!” He spreads his arms wide, accidentally not-so-accidentally pushing Ye-zun a step forward. “And look! I even got you something.”

Shen Wei reluctantly tears his gaze away from Zhao Yunlan, who feels familiar fondness suffuse his chest, knowing that he is—and will be—the center of Shen Wei's world. As soon as Shen Wei's eyes land on Ye-zun, they widen, a silent gasp escaping his lips. He reaches out, hand faltering before he can touch, drawing back hesitantly.

"Didi?"

Ye-zun is staring back at Shen Wei, a multitude of emotions flashing over his face. Swallowing, he whispers hoarsely, "Ge?"

“Surprise!” Zhao Yunlan exclaims cheerfully. Neither twin pays him much mind, staring at each other as their worlds turn upside down.

“I thought” —Shen Wei swallows, his eyes wet— “I thought I’d lost you forever. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Laoban… My master…” Ye-zun starts, then stops, his jaw set in determination. “The traitorous rebel chief, he told me you—you gave me to him.”

“Di,” Shen Wei whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes flaring with inner fire. “I would never.”

“I—” Ye-zun trembles, reaching out. Shen Wei mirrors him, their fingers almost touching. Finally, Ye-zun bridges the gap, grasping the sleeve of Shen Wei’s black robe tightly. “I know. I think.”

Zhao Yunlan smiles softly as the brothers reunite, watching over them even as Fu You shoos everyone else away, to give them some privacy. If nothing else comes out of this trip to the past, Zhao Yunlan can at least be satisfied that he managed to fix this.

***

I’ll save you with my light (Moon, moon, what kind of moon? A monster who will swallow all) When the moon covers the sun I’ll fill you with a bright light I’ll be a star and shine on you

***

Omake

***

“I see you’ve brought the mighty Boom Boom Thunder,” Shen Wei drawls, like the troll he is. Zhao Yunlan shoots him an unimpressed look.

“Brought… what?” Lin Jing asks, pausing to look up from his tablet, brow furrowing.

“Boom Boom Thunder,” Shen Wei repeats with a serious expression. Zhao Yunlan narrows his eyes at him, holding up a finger threateningly. Mischief flashes over Shen Wei’s face before he turns to the rest of the SID with all of his gravitas. “A legendary, spiritual weapon, once used by the mighty General Kunlun.”

"That rings a bell," Da Qing murmurs, brow furrowing in concentration.

"It was a weapon like any other at the time," Shen Wei continues gravely. "It made quite the impact. Indeed, it was crucial in turning the tides of the war. Just as mighty as its name."

"I hate you," Zhao Yunlan groans, dropping his head on his arms, resting on the conference table.

"Boom Boom Thunder?" Zhu Hong repeats, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms. "That sounds… no offense, but that's a rather silly name."

“Sounds like it would be right at home in a video game,” Lin Jing chimes up in agreement.

“Only the cleverest mind could come up with such a name for an important weapon,” Shen Wei fakes chiding them, and if the ground opens up and swallows Zhao Yunlan, right now would be a good time.

“W-who did name the— G-general Kunlun’s w-weapon?” Sang Zan asks, the sincere curiosity in his tone the only thing saving him from Zhao Yunlan’s wrath. Everyone else would get their bonus reduced, Professor Shen included.

“Why, no one else as your very own Chief Zhao, of course,” Shen Wei declares, blinking his wide eyes innocently at Zhao Yunlan, who peeks up from the safety of his arms to glare at him. He raises a finger to point at his boyfriend.

“Thin. Ice.” He puts his thumb and pointer finger half an inch apart, to show just how thin. Shen Wei simply huffs in amused tolerance, not threatened at all.

“And this is why I question your taste in men, Ge,” Shen Ye drawls, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in clear amusement.

“Glasshouses, little night lord,” Zhao Yunlan warns his boyfriend’s twin, wagging his finger. Shen Ye sticks out his tongue at him in a mature response.

“That’s right!” Da Qing snaps his fingers, sitting up straight suddenly. “I remember now. Didn’t you say it’s a common name for such weapons up in the mountains?”

Zhao Yunlan groans, dropping his head back in his arms, resigned to his team’s continued hackling. Somehow, he’ll have to get Shen Wei back for this. Later. Surely Ye-zun will be up for any prank to be pulled on his brother, truly the only blessing to come from his trip to the past.

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Pride

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian has been planning to take you to one of the biggest Pride festivals in the galaxy— and the day could not have gone any better.

Warnings: food and drink mention

Not showing up in tags so please reblog this so more people can find it! 🌈

Maker, he’d been acting smug all week. It was a blazing hot morning in the middle of Summer, and Din had finished collecting bounty pucks last Wednesday, and although taking a holiday was a rarity for Din, you didn’t think much of it as it was nice having him take a couple of days off. He deserved it, that much was clear. However, his reasoning for taking time off was becoming evidently more clear as the hours ticked by. He certainly had something planned, and no matter how much you whined and begged, he just wouldn’t tell you.

No, he wouldn’t tell you why he’d taken you to the desert planet of Passana, famous for their vibrant festivals and colourful parades. He wouldn’t tell you why he was so keen to take off his helmet that morning, and he wouldn’t tell you about the rainbow beaded necklace he’d purchased from a vendor back on Nevarro. When he presented the gift to you, alongside your morning caf and platter of sour berries, you felt a flood of gratitude gush over you.

“Pride colours? The rainbow?” You wondered out loud, and Din nervously nodded, his honey brown eyes flicking from the necklace to your face so he could gauge your reaction.

“Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly, and in that moment, your flustered smile turned into an adorable grin.

“Din... it’s one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received. I love it so much.” you beamed brightly, wrapping your arms around your companion and pulling him to your side.

The Mandalorian helped tie the necklace around your neck, but not without gently stealing a quick kiss into your jaw. “We do have somewhere to be today.” he mumbled, his stubble grazing your skin. You curled your body into his warm embrace and hummed.

“Really? Where are we going?”

“Passana.” He answered.

You scrunched up your nose in bewilderment. “Why?”

Passana wasn’t exactly a planet you’d vacation to, that’s for sure.

Din was wordless for a few moments. “It’s hard to explain right now.”

“Does Karga have another job for you?” you quizzed.

“No,” He hated lying to you, but also, he didn’t want to give up the surprise yet. “Come on,” Din decided his best bet was to change the topic before you could ask anymore questions. “Eat your breakfast and get dressed. I’m going to set course to Passana. We should get there before midday.”

His estimations were correct.

You were so used to seeing Din not wear his beskar helmet around the ship, you’d barely noticed he wasn’t wearing it when you were tredding through the sandy fields of Passana. It wasn’t until you had both been hiking for around fifteen minutes had you noticed.

Din did, occasionally, still wear the helmet. When he was doing bounties, really. But honestly? He only wore it for his own protection. Ever since he lost the kid, and revelations came out about his own Creed, he’d become more lax about covering his face. Whilst he hadn’t disbanded from the rules of Mandalore completely, he just didn’t feel the compelling need to wear the helmet if he didn’t have to. Besides, things were so much better when he could look at the world with his own eyes, and not through filtered vision.

And today was one of those days. A day he wanted to remember forever.

“We’re going to have to get you some sunscreen,” you chastised him. “Before you burn.”

Din shrugged off your comment. He’d handled many things before; being cut and punched and scarred and smacked. He was certain a little burn wouldn’t faze him. But you persisted, and thankfully, not far from Din’s surprise destination, you both approached a market which was selling a variety of bits and bobs.

Sunscreen, hats and sun visors, sunglasses and oh— there was your first clue. A bunch of rainbow related goodies. “Hey look!” you smiled, taking Din’s hand and pulling him over to one of the stalls. You picked out a flag of your specific pride colours and merrily waved it around.

“That’s a big flag,” Din pointed out. “We could hang it in the ship.”

Your heart swelled with joy at his suggestion and you excitedly wrapped the flag around his shoulders. “Or, we could use it as a blanket.”

“That’s a good idea too.” Din smiled.

Din handed credits over to the vendor, purchasing the flag without any further hesitation. When he turned around, you had disappeared amongst the crowds of people, but luckily, it didn’t take long for Din to sought you out. It was a pretty easy task to find the most beautiful person Din had ever laid his eyes on, that’s for sure.

You were paying for something else by the food stalls, it seemed. You whisked around, holding two cones of colourful ice cream doted in rainbow sprinkles and handed one of them to Din.

“Have you ever had ice cream before?” you asked eagerly, taking a lick. You’d gotten some of the vanilla on your upper lip and Din chuckled, raising his thumb to wipe it off you.

“Can’t say I have.” he replied.

“Try some,” you urged with a nudge. “It’s delicious! It’s so sweet, right?”

Din took a bite and winced at the coldness. “I’ve had sweeter.” he murmured lowly and you shot him a joking roll of your eyes. But even Din had to admit, it did taste good.

The two of you heeded on, clambering uphill until eventually, you arrived at the parade. Din squeezed your hand and you felt your eyes widened as realised where he’d taken you. Hundreds, if not thousands of people were marching, holding an abundance of flags with enormous smiles plastered on their faces. Colourful clouds of smoke decorated the sky and beautiful native music blessed your ears.

You smacked your hand over your face in shock and you couldn’t rip your eyes from the gorgeous sight before you.

“You... we... are we... is this...” you couldn’t even get your words out.

“Pride.” Din explained and you let out an excited squeal.

“You’ve taken me to Pride?” you grinned, tears welling in your eyes as you wrapped your arms tight around him.

“Well, I know how much you always wanted to go, and how much it means to you. It’s the perfect day to celebrate yourself, and you get to be around all these amazing people who celebrate you too.”

“You are so supportive,” you cried, and Din smoothed out your hair. “I can’t believe you took me here.”

“Are you happy?” Din asked.

“I don’t remember a time where I’ve ever been this happy,” you beamed back, finally pulling off him and cupping his face in your hands. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Din chuckled lightly. “You are so wonderful and perfect, just the way you are.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pride #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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hesgunnalovethis · 3 years

Text

Not That Bad

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Summary: You have the severity of your injuries in a twist sending Leonard McCoy’s blood pressure through the roof

TW: injury descriptions and strong language

ft. bestie Jim Kirk <333

Masterlist!

Word Count: 1737

“Yes. No. I understand Mr Spock. Cuttings on your desk in 40 minutes. Got it.” You closed your comm and checked your watch.

You’d spent 16 hours Planetside and after a complication that had landed most crew in the MedBay, you agreed to help out botany to complete the mission report. Really you didn’t have a clue what you were doing but you concluded it couldn’t be that hard.

Cross referencing the plants in front of you to the list on your PADD, you picked up the plier looking utensil and began clipping the stems from the root.

“Maybe I should transfer to science.” You muttered to yourself after you’d successfully pressed the first few cuttings into their sample bags.

Taking the next stem between your fingers you picked up the pliers and cut through the green and your fingertip, simultaneously. Blood shot upwards from your finger. You scoffed at the inconvenience.

You grabbed the first aid kit and examined the content that your Chief Medical Officer boyfriend had once talked you through and began to wish you’d listened.

Failing to remember anything, you wrapped a plaster around the top of your finger and watched it turn from white to red almost immediately. You tried layering another on top which bled through just as fast. After a failed third layer you took yourself from the lab and started towards the MedBay.

You stopped for a moment scouring your brain for which corridors to take. It had been so long since you’d actually journeyed to the MedBay by choice. You’d been utilising your doctor shared quarters.

Arriving at the desk you checked your watch again. 20 minutes before Spock was expecting you. You began to panic and turned to the receptionist.

“Could you ask Doctor McCoy to see me? It’s pretty urgent.” You said, grabbing a bundle of tissues from the display to contain the droplets falling from your finger.

The receptionist did as you asked and you heard Leonard through the comm.

“On the bridge?” He asked.

“No, Sir. Here in the MedBay.” The receptionist in front of you responded.

“In the Med-“ You heard a fuss beginning through the comm and then a room number you were to be assigned.

No sooner had you arrived, a half scrubbed in Leonard burst through the door desperately searching for what heinous emergency had beckoned you to his MedBay.

“Are you being serious right now!?” Leonard asked ripping off the last of his scrub uniform.

“Always good to see you too, Lee.” You responded, smiling.

Sighing softly he shot you an apologetic look and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Hi, darlin’” He whispered letting down his doctor guard and allowing his southern drawl back in. He began to look you over again, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You lifted your hand removing the tissue to reveal your slightly bloodied finger. Leonard took a step back rubbing his temples.

“Y/N, darlin’. PUT A PLASTER ON IT?!”

“I tried that! It keeps bleeding though!” You whined.

“There are people DYING in here, Y/N.”

“Oh go on, please. I have lab work due in 15 minutes and I can’t work with this bleeding all over the samples!”

Leonard sighed and moved to the other side of the room to collect the dermal regenerator. Taking your hand in his he kissed the cut before placing it under the machine.

He caught your eyes with his. “I left a 6 hour surgery for this.”

The next day you took your healed finger with you on your next mission where your team successfully released several hostages and transported their authoritative grasp to Enterprise Security.

“All clear, Jim.” You said to your comm after clearing the last room on your final check.

“Received. Take the turbolift to the bridge and let’s get out of here.”

Stepping into the foreign tube you found it very similar to Starfleet’s and got it moving towards the bridge. You began to hear Jim’s voice on the other side before the lift stumbled to a halt.

“Um, Jim?” You shouted through the metal.

“Great.” Jim said clocking the flashing error sign on the lift. “Don’t worry Lieutenant. We’ll... pry it open.”

“Full proof.” You said to yourself, getting ready to pull from your side.

After a brief plan outline and a countdown you began to pull. A small gap opened to the side and you managed to squeeze your body through before the door clattered closed on your newly regenerated finger.

“Again?! Why is it always you?” You asked your finger, pulling it from the metals grip and eying the purple residue left on it.

“Me?” Jim asked, doubled over from the effort he’d just exerted, before being distracted by his comm, “Bones! Yes, just calling to let you know of the ZERO injuries incoming to the MedBay!”

“Zero injuries?” You cut him off. “This is a broken bone for sure.”

“Oh my god.” Jim said in disgust looking at the weird purple oil all over the metal, your finger and subsequently his uniform. “Why is it that colour?!”

“Dammit, Jim.” You heard through the comm before Leonard hung up and Jim reconnected to the transporter room.

You arrived back on the transporter pad to Leonard’s eyes burning a hole in you and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Broken bone?” He said walking towards you.

“This bastard finger.” You said and Leonard took your wrist to examine it.

“THIS-“ He stopped abruptly and calmed himself. “This is a finger, Y/N. BARELY a bone.” He examined it further, “I’m not even convinced that’s broken?”

“Tell you what though, it really fucking hurts.” You petted your lip at him.

Slipping an arm around your waist he led you out of the transporter room and towards the MedBay. “Let’s get you patched up sweetheart, but we really have to talk about your hyperbole.”

It was a few days before you were due to arrive at your next destination and Jim had roped you into helping with his ensign combat training.

“It’s basically target practice.” Jim said in conclusion to a confused looking group of redshirts. “The phasers I’ve given you won’t shoot, but will read on the side if you’ve hit your target. It’s like laser tag! You’ve all played laser tag, right?” The room was silent. “And that’s another added to the list of shore leave activities.”

“Captain Kirk and I will be over here as moving targets.” You started, taking over from Jim. “Try and shoot me without hitting the Captain. Got it?”

You and Jim moved over to the course beginning the same choreographed fight you’d been using for years. You heard the pathetic fake phaser shots over and over and were beginning to question almost all of your life choices as a deafening shot fired and struck your side.

“Y/N!” Jim fell to your side, “PHASERS DOWN!” He shouted to the group briefly trying to determine which one hadn’t followed his only instruction ‘Do not bring your own phaser.’

There was a small commotion before you heard Jim’s voice again. “Kirk to MedBay I need a team to training room 1 immediately.”

You found yourself back in the same biobed you’d frequented for past 3 days consecutively and tried to keep up with the nurses’ quick conversations.

“Someone page McCoy now.” You heard one of them say.

“Not Leonard-“ You interrupted, “He’ll jus- is there anyone else?”

“Not anyone who could patch you up like Doctor McCoy.” One of the nurses stated opening their comm. “Doctor McCoy to room 6. On the double. It’s-“

“Lieutenant Y/L/N?” Leonard cut off the nurse.

“Yes.” She replied.

“For once I’m not even surprised.”

The nurses continued fussing around you and your biobed beeps became angrier.

You watched the door open and Leonard’s face turn from passiveness to urgency in a millisecond.

“My god!” He shouted, dropping his board and beginning to order nurses to different machines connected to your bed.

“Listen, Leonard it’s not THAT bad.”

“NOT THAT BAD?! YOU’VE BEEN SHOT?!” Leonard flicked his eyes between you and your vitals.

“Yeah, but, shot in a controlled environment.”

“You’ve been in here with a cut and a stave, guns blazing, and now you’ve been shot it’s ‘NOT THAT BAD?!’”

“Granted this doesn’t look-“ You were cut off by a wave of pain that sent you wincing.

“Hell.” Leonard turned to his own station briefly. “You’re not gonna like this sweetheart but you can tell me all about it when you’re back in one piece.” Leonard planted a kiss on your head and a hypo in your neck, sending you into sleep.

Coming back to, you heard your biobed beeping at a normal rhythm and a strong accent beside you.

“I don’t care what his test scores are, he shot a Lieutenant I want him gone.”

“Leonard.” You scolded.

“Darlin’” He moved to you instantly closing his comm without a word. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Sore neck.” You said rubbing where he’d hypo’d you. His eyes were still racked with worry. “It was an accident. That’s why we train them we-“

“Darlin’ if he isn’t removed from this ship the only accident will be me prescribing him with cyanid capsules instead of his iron tablets.” He looked over your vitals again before picking up his clipboard, “But you let me worry about that. You can worry about this.” He handed you a laminated sheet entitled ‘Doctor McCoy’s Guide to a Serious Injury.’

You shot him an annoyed look.

“Just so there’s no more confusion.” He winked at you. You glanced over the ‘Serious Injury: To Be Reported’ column.

“I hardly think ‘A sudden cough’ is a serious injury, Leonard.” You scoffed.

“Oh sure. Let’s just let your DNA de-evolve into non humane codes exterminating crucial pairings.”

“Noted.” You said admiring the doctor’s bedside manner, “Is there a second page?” You said spotting another sheet in his hand.

“No. This is Jim’s copy.” Leonard replied.

“Of course.”

Leonard brushed your hair behind your ears and smoothed your forehead. “I’m glad you’re finally visiting the MedBay doll, but I would prefer if you kept your trips to mandatory immunisations and essential check-ups.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Doctor.” You said brushing your lips against his.

“And somehow I still wouldn’t change you for the world.” Leonard said quietly before closing the space left between you.

#leonard mccoy imagines #bones imagines #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #mccoy x reader #mccoy imagines #dr mccoy x reader #bones star trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek imagines #doctor mccoy #doctor mccoy x reader

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 3 years

Text

The Sun Leading Me Out of the Storm

Title: The Sun Leading Me Out of the Storm Link : AO3 Square Filled: Thunderstorm Ship: Eddie x Buck Rating: Teen Tags: Shannon Diaz Lives, Divorced Eddie and Shannon, Background Taylor/Shannon, Minor Eddie/Ana, Soft and Pining Eddie and Buck Summary: Eddie had already lived a life without Buck in it during the lawsuit and it had been worse than living without Shannon. It had been like half his soul had been ripped out of him, he had been lost in a storm than as well. Only that had been a storm of rage because he had been left adrift without his sun.

Buck is his sun.

Buck never failed to fill him with warmth when he needed it or shine the light dispelling the darkness. Created for @911bingo and @anyfandomfluffbingo

Eddie felt like he was trapped in a never-ending thunderstorm, lost in the rain, his voice drowned out by the thunder and his vision blinded by the lightning. He had felt that way since he started dating Ana and Buck began to distance himself from him.

He was lost in the storm and he didn't know which way it was out.

Ana was sweet, she was beautiful and it was easy being with her. She is everything that Shannon is not. He knows his parents would love her, she is their ideal partner for him. He can already hear his mother asking him when their wedding will be. His father would be proud of him. He would finally have their respect and that is all he wants.

Or at least that is thought he wanted.

There was no passion with Ana.

And then there is Christopher, his whole world. Christopher likes Ana but isn't fond of their relationship or fully supportive.

"She makes me feel like I can't do certain things. Not like Buck does."

Christopher's words echoed in him.

Ana was nice and easy to be with but he wasn't happy. Neither was Chris. And he didn't feel like he was himself with her. Like he was wearing a mask or acting a part. To Ana, he is Edmundo, not Eddie and she doesn't seem to want to get to know Eddie, she is happy with Edmundo.

Buck loves Eddie. He loves the imperfect man that has flaws but does his best.

Buck loves with his full heart, who just wants to be loved and not left behind and Eddie feels like he has failed in that. Since Ana came around Eddie has allowed the distance between them to grow because how was he supposed to be with Ana when the one that completes his and Chris' world is already with them?

There were two paths out of the storm one was with Ana and the other, the one his heart and soul are tugging him towards is with Buck.

If he continued down his path with Ana, where neither he and Chris are truly happy he would end up making his parents happy and finally feel like they truly love him. He would spend his life playing a role that he doesn't want.

But if he took the chance, if he acted on what is between him and Buck. What has been building between them since they met and Buck was so determined to hate him, which didn't last long, he could have a taste of true happiness.

Don't get him wrong he loved Shannon, she will always be special to him and he will always be grateful to her for giving him their son. But she had been right in divorcing him. They just weren't meant to be. They had been happy but now they were happier as co-parents to the most amazing kid and Shannon seemed to be happy with Taylor Kelly of all people. He can't believe that Buck set them up.

Shannon studied her ex-husband, "So I hear you are dating again."

A groan escaped Eddie, he had known that this was coming. "Yes, I am. Is that going to be a problem?" The last thing that he needed was for Shannon to have issues with Ana, okay so Shannon still hadn't completely gotten over Ana's attitude towards Chris and saying he needs limits after the whole skateboard incident.

"No, I am just wondering why you are going after your parent's dream girl and not following your heart."

Eddie froze, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh Eddie, you can lie to yourself but you can't lie to me. We both know that while you might be attracted to Ana you are only dating her because she would make your parents happy. And you shouldn't have to pretend to be someone you are not to get their approval. You, Eddie Diaz, are amazing as who you are." Eddie hadn't even seen Shannon move until she was standing before him and had her hands on her shoulders. "And we both know that there is someone out there who loves Eddie Diaz with all of his heart. But in the end, it is up to you, do you want to be Eddie or do you want to be Edmundo."

Shannon's words stuck with him, they buried themselves deep into his heart and whispered in his ear when he was with Ana and he tucked who he was away and played the role of Edmundo for her.

"Make sure you are following your heart and not Christopher's."

Carla's words stayed with him as well and they both knew that he wasn't following either his heart or Chris'. Chris had made it clear who he saw as his third parent, who he loves so deeply. Chris had made his choice long ago and now he was just waiting for his dad to make his.

Getting shot and seeing Buck covered in blood haunted him as did reaching out to him the need to know that Buck wasn't harmed. Buck told him that it should have been him filled his nightmares. Telling Buck that he was Christopher's guardian should anything happen to both he and Shannon had been easy because Eddie needed Buck to see that he wasn't expendable, that he is love more than he realizes.

Eddie had already lived a life without Buck in it during the lawsuit and it had been worse than living without Shannon. It had been like half his soul had been ripped out of him, he had been lost in a storm than as well. Only that had been a storm of rage because he had been left adrift without his sun.

Buck is his sun.

Buck never failed to fill him with warmth when he needed it or shine the light dispelling the darkness.

"I am a fool." Eddie knew which path he needed to take to get out of the storm.

+******+

Buck was bored. Shannon had his favourite Diaz for the weekend and she had a full weekend planned. He didn't want to disrupt the mother and son weekend, plus it seemed off that Eddie wasn't with him and Christopher, so he stayed away.

He could have visited his beautiful niece and checked in with his sister to make sure that she was doing okay but Chimney had been playing a special weekend for him and Maddie could read him like a book and the surprise would be ruined.

So here Buck was wandering around his loft unsure as what to do. He could call up Eddie but he didn't want to risk the chance that he was out with Ana or she was over at his place finally staying the night like she had been hinting at every since Eddie had recovered. There was only so much feeling his heart ripped out of his chest he could take pretending to be happy that Eddie, his best friend, the love of his life, was finally moving on.

He just wishes it was him Eddie was moving on with.

The sound of frantic knocking pulled Buck out of his thoughts and since he hadn't been expecting anyone and hadn't ordered any food he had no clue who was there. Still, at least it was something other than sitting around and pining for his best friend.

"Eddie?" When Buck opened his door he never expected to come face-to-face with a frantic-looking Eddie.

"I'm in love with you."

Or for Eddie to say that.

Given the look on Eddie's face, he hadn't expected to say that. "Why don't you come in." Stepping back for the door Buck waited for Eddie to move past him and then he shut the door.

Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to look at Eddie. "Did you mean it?"

Eddie wasted no time in closing the distance between them and cupping Buck's face with his hands, "I do. I am in love with you Evan Buckley. I have been for a long time. You are the sunshine that pulls me out of the raging storms and brings back the warmth into my life. Without you, I would be lost and adrift."

"I'm in love with you Eddie Diaz. I have been for so long that I can't remember a time that I didn't love you. Even when Abby still had a place in my heart I knew that what I felt for her was a shadow compared to what I felt for you and those feelings have only grown." Buck admitted in a soft voice.

Stroking Buck's cheek Eddie felt like his whole world had settled, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. I'm sorry I hurt you with Ana. I went with what my parents would want instead of following my own heart."

Resting his forehead against Eddie's Buck smile was full of love, "All that matters is that you got here. And now you are stuck with me for life."

Eddie's eyes shone with pure love, "Good because I wouldn't have it any other way." And then he was moving and doing something he had been dreaming of for so long kissing Buck.

Buck melted into the kiss as he clung to Eddie. Never had a kiss left him so weak in the knees and he wondered if this is what it felt like kissing your soulmate.

Eddie would still have storms but Buck would always be there showing him the way out of them and back into the sunshine.

#buddie #buck x eddie #otp: you can have my back anytime #911 bingo #sherri writes #my fics #any fandom fluffy bingo #any fandom fluff bingo

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mandolovian · 4 years

Text

we’ll still be here

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

warnings: a little soft and sad and angsty! some mentions of blood, wounds, and suturing too

word count: 845

A/N: send me a message if you’d like me to tag you in any of my writing!

Din knows you. He prides himself on knowing you.

But stars he has no clue what to do right now.

He’s silent as he sits on the edge of the cot, but the visor of his helmet follows your moves as you tend to his wounds. You struggle a little while trying to open a sterile swab and Din’s fingers move imperceptibly, wondering if he should help you out, before freezing in response to your frustrated huff. You rip open the packet, spilling some of the cleaning solution, and Din holds his breath as your shoulders harden and your jaw stiffens.

Your hands are shaking as you unclip Din’s right pauldron, knocking his hand away when he tries to remove it himself. ‘I can do it,’ you mumble in a tight voice, placing the beskar on the shelf beside you. The edge of his tunic collar is blood-stained, and when you pull it down to expose his shoulder, your heart pauses at how deep the bounty’s knife has run.

He tries not to notice the tears streaming down your cheeks.

‘I can fix this,’ you say after cleaning the area, turning back to your bag to find your sutures. ‘It’s going to hurt - I don’t have any painkillers left for you.’

Din stays silent, impassive, and his chest barely rises with his breaths. You resolutely keep your eyes on your work.

The sutures take time. Too much time. In and out of skin. The edges come together and the bleeding stops, but it takes time. The tears burn your eyes, and you pull the edge of the tunic back in place.

‘Hey,’ Din tries. ‘Please talk to me, darling. Tell me what’s going on.’

You take the leftover towelette and scrub at the blood on your hands, trying to turn away so you can leave Din be. He doesn’t need to see you cry anymore, he needs to sleep, you need to go and check the flight plan, check the ground protocol, check the-

He tugs at your hand, and all of a sudden, you’re just tired of it all. Like a little pile of brown sugar crumbling in on itself, your resolve breaks, and all you can feel is tired. You let Din pull you back, pull you between his legs, pull you against his chest. You let him rest your head against his left shoulder, facing the wall of the ship. You let him wrap one arm around your middle, dipping under your shirt to splay his fingers against the curve of your side.

A quiet huff, a little hiss, and then you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

When the hull of the Crest closes, the runner lights dim for the night - or, at least, to simulate night, to grasp onto some semblance of the diurnal cycle to remain sane while spending days and even weeks on end in space. Everything shifts to shades of red - the flashing cacophony of indicators hushed down to a deep burgundy, ebbing and flowing away from vision. With your eyes half-closed, the lights would grab hold of your arms, caress and stroke the skin on the insides of your forearm, tickling the wrist and kissing the tips of your fingers. The lights and darkness are there to tell you that we’ve got you. For the time that you’re here, we’ve got you. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to cry. We’ll still be here.

Your chest burns with the herculean combined effort of taking in breaths and calming yourself enough to say anything coherent enough. The shame of crying eats away at your bones; you don’t cry. Why does your heart hurt so much? Why does it feel like your mind was a matchstick castle, tumbling down and set alight all at once?

‘Please don’t leave,’ you say, your voice hoarse and hiccupy at the effort. You wince at how sticky and teary your voice sounds.

‘I’m not going to leave, honey,’ Din says against your shoulder, deep and low, so soft that you feel the words teasing through your hair and settling in your chest before you hear them. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

You fall against him a little more, and take a shaky breath. Somewhere in the recesses of your brain, a catalogue of injuries begins to form - the knife wound on his right shoulder, three broken fingers, a graze against his thigh. It wasn’t that he was lucky - none of this was by chance - and you don’t want to put this down to chance, because how long would it be before chance would take him away? How long would it be before chance decided that the blade would sink just that much deeper into his shoulder? Who would hold chance back then?

‘If you get hurt,’ you begin, and Din tightens his grip on you, ‘I’ll fix you up. Always. Anytime.’

‘I know, my love.’

‘I’ll fix you up.’

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

Din’s breath hitches, and he lets out a shuddered breath against your skin.

‘I know.’

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o-wise-corvid · 3 years

Text

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

#star wars #sunshine squad #commander cody #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #temura morrison #gaia #darth vader #latent Mandalorian parenting syndrome

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fic: a grain of millet drifting, ch. 1

Relationship: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters, Nie Huaisang

Additional Tags: Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV Wei WuXian

Summary: Wei Wuxian wanders after parting from Lan Wangji, looking to understand the changes in the world since his death, seeking to understand his place in it. He doesn't realize he's being watched. Frankencanon, so this has a liberal mixture of CQL and MDZS.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

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

Wei Wuxian hadn’t lied to Lan Zhan after their brief confrontation with Nie Huaisang in Cloud Recesses, not exactly.

Knowing why he’d been brought back, whether somehow his old friend had chosen him specifically for his own reasons, or if that had been entirely Mo Xuanyu’s call, wouldn’t change anything.

And part of him didn’t want confirmation of how much Nie Huaisang had meddled with along the way.

So much had been broken, so many people lost, and a part of him wanted to believe the façade that the indolent Nie Huaisang he had known during their days in the Cloud Recesses still existed.

But once he’d left Lan Zhan and set off on his travels with Little Apple, once he started getting used to being alive again, to having even the tiny wisp of a jindan, barely beyond zhuji, that Mo Xuanyu had gifted him, something he could build on, something other than the gaping hole that had ultimately consumed him, he’d had to face some truths.

He had no family, no home. He didn’t know if Jiang Cheng would ever want anything to do with him, and he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. As much as he would always love Lotus Pier, he didn’t know that it had ever really been his home.

In some ways, his leaving had been inevitable. Despite being head disciple, he’d never been welcome. And the fall of Lotus Pier would forever be his fault, the ghosts of his own doing. He’d never regret protecting Mianmian and Lan Zhan, but he would always regret the massacre that had followed.

Even if he’d technically been absolved of the death of Jin Zixuan and the bloodbath of Nightless City and shijie’s death, his actions had still led to them.

Wei Wuxian spent long, sleepless nights under the stars and listening to Little Apple snore outrageously coming to the understanding that he’d left the Burial Mounds with his sanity shredded. The war and continued use of resentful energy without a jindan had only worsened it. He’d raised the dead, the ancestors of their enemy, defiling their bodies to win the war, and he’d earned a dark and deviant reputation in doing so.

After the war, he’d taken to drinking to dull it all, and doing so had destabilized his mind further. He was sensitive about his inability to cultivate, but couldn’t explain why. Surrounded by people who wanted him to do what he could not, he had spiraled.

Really, by the time he’d saved the Dafan Wen temporarily from their fate and gone back to attempt to live in the Burial Mounds, he’d been hanging by a thread. Wen Qing had bullied him into taking care of himself, for the most part, but he’d spent more days than he could count in the Demon Slaughtering Cave capable of little more than opening his eyes, what little energy he had dedicated to keeping the Seal under control.

He remembered very little past Jiang Yanli’s death and waking up in the Burial Mounds with the remnants of the Wen who knew death was coming. The seal wanted more, another Nightless City. And he’d known he could absolutely destroy the Jianghu—but that the Seal wanted it gave him enough pause that he knew he needed to destroy it and end it all.

He’d managed to find a way, but the Siege happened just as he was ready. What little sanity he had left went toward an attempt to hide A-Yuan—maybe the one good thing he had managed. And then, as the aunties and uncles and popo were massacred around him, he could only focus on destroying the seal.

Dying in the way that he had, ripped to shreds by corpses, had been agonizing, though the benefit of Jiang Cheng stabbing him had meant he’d died faster. He didn’t know if his shidi had meant it to be a kindness, but ultimately it had lessened his suffering before he died. It was likely a better death than anyone else would have given him.

But Jin Guangyao had been right: even before he’d absconded with the Wen remnants, his actions during the war, his temper and frayed sanity, his rages, his desecration of the dead… All of it had painted a target on him.

No, he’d painted it on himself with blood.

Wei Wuxian had come back in a body not tainted by the resentful energy that had burrowed its way into his bones before his death, despite it being his old one free of scars and birth marks, his sanity somehow restored, and was able to see his own self-destruction and how he had made that the only path he could walk through his own trauma-fueled hubris.

Maybe those years dead had done something to heal whatever damage he had inflicted on his own soul, as well. He remembered nothing of that time, and waking up in a body had been like opening his eyes after a long sleep. He’d known he’d been dead, had known time had passed, though not how much at first. Everything that had occurred leading to his death felt so immediate, particularly shijie’s death and the knowledge he’d left A-Yuan hiding but didn’t know if he’d survived.

The relief he felt that he had at least saved one person couldn’t be quantified.

Part of the journey was trying to find where he fit into the world now, but most of it was reflection and coming to terms with the reality that now existed.

He’d steered away from larger cities, opting to travel smaller roads to villages off the beaten path. Many, it seemed, had problems with restless spirits and the like—the occasional yao, even. He took care of what he could, and drafted letters to Lan Zhan when it was something that required more than he was currently capable of.

Perhaps that was something he’d learned—to rely on others and not try to fix everything himself. He could probably handle it all, but there were costs of using resentful energy too much, and in this life he didn’t particularly want to pay them.

So he communicated with the odd hungry ghost, used talismans to take down roaming fierce corpses, and handled the smaller yao that he could handle with the jindan he had, using these night hunts to help develop it further, hoping one day he could retrieve Suibian from Jiang Cheng and be able to wield the blade again—assuming his once-brother would let him have the sword.

Everything beyond, that would require more spiritual energy than he had or more resentful energy than he was comfortable using, he sent to Lan Zhan so the local cultivation sect could be alerted. He dared not send them a letter himself; people still had strong feelings about the return of the Yiling Patriarch, and it was just as likely he’d be blamed for the problem as anything.

The rural route he took left him able to travel in anonymity as a rogue cultivator, offering essentially any name but his own. Thanks to the ugly Yiling Patriarch talismans, the common folk didn’t know what he looked like. Most often, he went by Wei Yuandao, reminded of Mianmian’s happiness at seeing him when he did, that there were people in the world who didn’t hate or fear him. The villagers didn’t know him, were grateful for his help, whether in setting a spirit to rest or helping with odd jobs in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep by a hearth.

Much of the time, though, he slept beneath a blanket of stars.

One night like that, he heard the sounds of a scuffle and rushed to see what was going on. He expected to need to fight off a bandit, but instead he found a man in Nie colors running through a man dressed head to toe in black, face masked.

As he stood gaping, the Nie disciple bowed to him.

“Wei-gongzi.”

That confirmed a suspicion, and the logic of the situation ran through his mind at the speed of light. The courtesy, the Nie colors, what was clearly a would-be assassin’s body at his feet. Finally, Wei Wuxian sighed.

“How many assassins?”

The young man smiled.

“Five in as many weeks. You are as smart as Nie-zongzhu said.”

Wei Wuxian snorted at that.

“Not if I didn’t realize assassins were being sent after me. I’m guessing Nie-xiong knew they’d be hired and sent you to protect me in secret?”

He’d honestly thought he was being left alone by the cultivation world, especially since he wasn’t causing any trouble. How very naïve.

The man nodded curtly, then bent to rifle through the corpse’s clothing, looking for clues and stripping it of valuables, every bit a Nie.

“He wanted you to be able to travel without worry.”

Ah, Nie-xiong…

Perhaps Nie Huaisang was used to working from the shadows and had an agenda, or perhaps he truly just wanted Wei Wuxian to be undisturbed. Whatever his reasons for the secrecy, with this that ship had sailed.

But Wei Wuxian had no idea why Nie Huaisang would bother, not after he threatened him at the Cloud Recesses. Implied threat, but still—he’d expected that would burn a bridge. Not… this.

“I suppose I’m overdue for a visit to the Unclean Realm,” he said after thinking it over. “You may as well travel with me openly, unless Nie-xiong would prefer you watch over me in secret?”

Despite the protection he’d sent, Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he wanted the Nie clan officially associated with the Yiling Patriarch.

“Sect Leader was not specific about this eventuality. Traveling together openly may deter assassins, though it is easier to catch them off guard if they believe you unprotected.”

Ah, so Nie Huaisang didn’t care. Wei Wuxian waved off the concern. Now that he knew the threat, it was easily dealt with.

“I can set talisman traps around the campsite. Probably should have done that to begin with.”

But he’d been trying to have faith in the cultivation world, he didn’t say. Once again, misplaced faith and he should’ve known better.

“At least that way you can get real sleep as we travel to meet with Nie-zongzhu.”

They were a week of travel from the Unclean Realm, and he supposed he’d get answers to questions he hadn’t known he had then.

He headed back to his campsite, happy to see his Nie protector was following, and set a gourd of water near the fire to heat and pulled out some tea.

“In the meantime, we can talk about these assassins, eh? We’ll bury the body in the morning.”

It’d been over a decade since he’d last dug a grave, and it wasn’t to bury a body, but he was sure he could manage with the Nie’s help.

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Zhuji is the foundation building stage of cultivation, the stage before forming the jindan/golden core. Basically, Wei Wuxian is saying Mo Xuanyu was barely into the stage of forming a golden core, so it’s barely a wisp, but is still something that has the foundations built for him.

This fic was… unexpected. I wanted to write something for Nie Huaisang’s birthday, kind of a reconciliation between him and Wei Wuxian, and this happened. It will likely be no more than three chapters.

The title is a reference to a translation of a Su Shi poem, “First Ode on the Red Cliffs,” which was written after his first exile (he was exiled twice, both times for his poetry), while he wandered. There are several translations floating around, but I liked the wording of this one.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wei wuxian #wei ying #nie huaisang #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #my fanfiction

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comrade-kenobi · 4 years

Text

Take Care of Me- Din Djarin x Reader

Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns are used but there is explicit references to AFAB anatomy, I also don’t specify if the reader has breasts or not.)

Here is some Mando smut that absolutely no one asked for...

TW: Mentions of injury, smut, use of the word c*nt

If there is ever anything else y’all want me to tag just let me know.

The latest bounty hunt had brought you and Mando to an icy wasteland of a planet. The two of you spent days traversing the frozen hellscape just to find some low level thug, barely worth anything.

A chill had seeped into your bones, and nestled there like a child at their mother's breast. You’d caught a cold, it was unmistakable. The symptoms fully set in as Mando took off: a headache, light fever, and muscle aches.

You shivered in the seat next to Mando’s as he piloted The Razor Crest to your next destination, a pit stop for fuel just outside the middle of nowhere.

“You cold?” Mando asked, turning when he heard your teeth chatter.

“Just a little” you replied, brushing off his concern. It was just a cold, nothing to fuss about really. You’d be fine by the time you landed.

“You’re sweating,” he stated plainly. If there was any concern on his face you wouldn’t know it. Any indication of how he felt was hidden behind beskar and a steely monotone.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. Mando stared at you from behind his helmet, making you squirm under his gaze. You watched as he slipped his glove off and pressed the back of his hand to your sweaty forehead.

“You have a fever.” He declared, a crackle of something you couldn’t quite place in his voice. The way he gingerly brushed your hair away from your eyes made you think it was concern.

You’d been traveling with Mando for quite some time now. Paths crossing on a shared bounty, and never uncrossing again. He was hard to read at times, but more and more often he’d let his guard down. Offering you a shining glimpse of the man underneath the beskar. This created a soft spot for him in your heart, you wondered if perhaps he felt the same.

“Get some rest,” he demanded and you were far too tired to fight him, so you obliged. Slowly climbing down the ladder and making your way to your cot. When your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep.

---

Din watched as you slept. It’d been about a day or so since he sent you to get some rest. You’d really only woken when he stopped in to bring you water, or check on your fever. Looking up at him with big, sleepy, eyes that melted his heart every time.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d become so fond of you. But if he really thought about it, he’d probably figure out it was when you first met. You had saved him from meeting the business end of a blaster rifle. You jumped down from a tree to bring down a guard that was protecting your bounty. What was even more impressive than that, was the fact that you’d then strangled the man with your thighs. All while introducing yourself to him; and insisting you wouldn't be giving up this bounty without a fight.

He’d docked the ship so he could refuel, and decided that he’d pick up some supplies while he was there. You needed medicine, and better food than what the Crest had to offer. It took him a moment to pry himself away from you. He worried about leaving you alone on the ship in such a vulnerable state, and you looked so beautiful sleeping there on that shitty old cot.

---

There was a stillness on The Crest when you’d awoken. No beeping, or engine’s roaring. Just silence. It left you a little uneasy, but you paid it no mind. You were more distracted by the fact that you’d actually woken up feeling good. Every time you’d gotten up before now you felt stiff and groggy; like someone had hit you with a big rock.

Though this was the first time since Mando sent you to bed that you woke up without him there. Your heart clenched in your chest, spreading warmth through your veins as you thought about how caring he’d been. The hand he’d laid on your forehead was always gentle, almost ghost like. If he woke you to drink anything his touch was feather light and almost non-existent. Like if he pressed too hard he’d scare you away, or worse, break you.

You were ripped from your thoughts by the sound of the door to the ship falling open. Followed by the clang of metal footsteps running up the ramp. Your heart hammered in your chest and you grabbed the blaster from underneath your bed, preparing to get up and rush into battle.

Before you had a chance to get off the cot Mando came barreling into the small storage area you called a bunk. He was hunched over and his breathing was ragged.

“Maker!” You exclaimed, rushing to the bounty hunters side. “Mando, are you okay?”

“Got into a fight,” he grunted as his leather clad hand gripped his stomach.

“I can see that,” you replied, taking his arm in your hand and guiding him to sit on your cot. “Let me help you.

You started to unclip his cuirass and his hand moved to your arm and squeezed. You stopped what you were doing and looked into his visor. Staring intently, where his eyes would be.

“I can’t help you if I can’t see what’s wrong.” You spoke softly, your eyes desperately searching his beskar covered face for something. Some kind of emotion, maybe a clue as to what he wanted you to do next.

His grip on your arm loosened and then he let go altogether. Letting out a pained sigh as his arm fell into his lap with a weak thud.

You got to work, immediately stripping any material that might have been in your way. When you were done, Mando’s arms and torso were completely bare. Revealing a canvas of long healed scars, and three fresh wounds. One on his shoulder, another on his side, and the last just below his belly button.

“How did this happen?” You queried as you reached up to the shelf above you to grab the med kit. Mando’s eyes fell to your backside as you stretched. The oversized tunic you were wearing had lifted up and revealed you were wearing nothing underneath.

“Ran into an assassin.” He explained, willing himself to look down and away from your ass.

“Okay,” you started, settling yourself on the floor between Mando’s knees. Carefully taking a cloth and some disinfectant out of the case. “And then?”

“She, thought-” he hissed at the burn of the alcohol touching his wounds. “She thought I was collecting a bounty on her.”

You finished the rest of your work in relative silence. Only stopping to check on Mando if he winced in pain, or let out a particularly loud sigh. Your fingers danced along his abdomen after you carefully patched him up. Admiring not only your handiwork but the feel of his soft skin underneath your fingertips.

A familiar kind of warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach at the way his muscles flexed under your touch. Biting your lip at the thought of what it would be like to watch those same muscles flex as he thrusted deep inside of you.

Perhaps you’d spent a bit too long ogling your bounty hunting companion, because you were pulled from your reverie by Mando clearing his throat. You startled ever so slightly at the sound, a blush creeping over your cheeks when you realized he’d probably noticed what you’d been thinking. What you didn’t realize was, he was thinking something very similar.

---

Din hadn’t thought much of your position until you’d finished treating his wounds. When you were done, you ran your fingers along the edges of the bandages. Taking detours every so often to trace the old scars nearby. Paying particular attention to the ones on his abdomen.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you so scantily clad, on your knees before him.The image of your perfect mouth wrapped around his cock flickered through his mind, and he felt himself get hard. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and keep his composure. It’d been so long since he felt someone else's skin against his own. The fact that it was your skin he was feeling just made it that much sweeter.

When he finally pulled himself from his fantasy he noticed the way you were looking at him. The way your eyes were raking over his body, and how you let out a small whine when you bit your lip. A blush crept up Din’s neck and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

---

“All fixed” you sang, standing up a little too quickly. Your stance wavered and Mando placed his hands firmly on your hips to steady you.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice a low rumble through the coder. He stood to meet you but his hands never left your sides. Instead his thumbs started to absently rub small circles over your hips, then he spoke again. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Much better,” you answered with a small smile. He moved one of his hands from your hip to your forehead, once again checking your temperature.

“No more fever.” He stated, with a bit of relief in his tone. The hand on your forehead delicately trailed down to your cheek, then cupped it lightly.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You spoke softly and leaned into the warmth of his touch; turning your head so you could kiss his palm.

“Of course I took care of you, cyar’ika.” He responded, letting out a contented sigh as he rested his beskar covered forehead against yours.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.” Mando continued, placing a hand on your lower back and pressing you close to him.

“Feels like you’re a bit more than glad.” You joked, feeling his erection pressed up against your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered bashfully. Trying in vain to step away from you, but you pulled him back in.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, taking his hand and guiding it between your legs so he could feel how wet you were. “I uh, I can relate.”

“Stars” he breathed as he tentatively dragged two fingers through your wet folds. “Are you sure?”

“Positive” you moaned, arching your back into him as one of his calloused fingers brushed up against your swollen clit.

That was all the permission Mando needed to continue. Once again he pressed the cold forehead of his helmet against yours, effectively looking you in the eye as he continued his ministrations.

Your legs shook underneath you, and you dug your nails into Mando’s shoulders, mindful of his wounds, to keep your knees from buckling. Lewd sounds filled the air around you as he slipped two fingers inside of you.

“So beautiful” he mumbled, with awe in his tone. Watching as your mouth hung open at the pleasure of how sweetly just two of his fingers stretched you. You rocked your hips forward into his hand, desperately trying to get him to move.

He obliged, slowly dragging his fingers all the way out, then back in. You’d taken to kissing the parts of his neck that you could reach. Biting a little too harshly when he curled his fingers inside you, hitting exactly the right spot. You apologized by soothing the bite with your tongue, earning an anguished groan from deep within Mando’s throat.

“I want more” you nearly begged. Reaching your hand between the two of you so you could stroke him through his pants. The sound he made rang through your ears, sending shockwaves down your spine. Maker, did you want to hear more. “Take care of me, Mando.”

“Of course, Cyar’ika.” He replied, his voice quivering when you gave his cock a playful squeeze. He quickly moved to lift you but then cried out in pain. In the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten about his wounds.

“You okay?” You asked, placing both hands on the side of his helmet, bringing his eyes to yours. Though you couldn’t see his face, the act still felt oddly intimate.

“Yes, just got a little excited,” he responded with a laugh. You giggled along with him then slid your hands down to his chest.

“Let me help you,” you offered, pushing him back onto your cot. You straddled his lap once he was sitting down and he rested his hands comfortably on your hips.

“This better?” You asked, watching as he stared up at you through his helmet. He nodded his head in return and rutted his hips up into you.

You lifted yourself over his lap and removed his hard cock from his pants. It was long, thick, and heavy in your hand. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight. You stroked it a few times before, dragging his warm tip through your soaking folds. Stopping for a moment to tease your clit with it.

Mando shivered at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder with a low whine. Carefully you lined him with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him. The way he filled you was sinful, and the dull burn of the way he stretched you made you keen.

“Please, move” Mando growled, a desperate strain in his voice. His grip on your hips almost was bruising; you wrapped your arms around his neck and did as he asked. Slowly at first as you adjusted, then quicker once you found a good rhythm.

“Feel so good, cyar’ika” he choked out, his hips snapping up into yours.

“So do you Mando” you moaned, your head rolling back as his tip brushed up against your sweet spot.

“Din.” He breathlessly corrected, stopping his motions completely “my name is Din. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Din,” you repeated, lifting his head so he could look you in the eye as you said it. Your chest heaving as you tried out his name again and smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue. This meant something to him, and the thought of that made your heart soar.

“Mmmmm,” he rasped, the voice coder crackling in your ear. The sound of his name made him move again, with renewed vigor. His hips slapping into yours at a pace that nearly stole the air from your lungs.

One of his hands reached down to rub your clit as he thrusted, and you swore you felt the world start spinning. It was like electricity was coursing through your veins as the pleasure built inside of you. The coil in your stomach wound tighter with each movement.

A pitiful, “I’m gonna-” was all you could choke out before the coil finally snapped and sent a wave of white hot pleasure streaming through your body. Din’s name falling from your lips like a lost prayer to the Maker, the sound ringing out into the galaxy begging to be heard.

Your fingers scratched down Din’s back, clenching in time with your cunt, sending him over the edge; chanting your name as he tumbled into ecstasy.

The two of you sat there, just holding each other as you tried to catch your breath. Din reached up and lovingly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before gently lifting you off his softening cock.

As he moved to lay down he brought you with him, and you snuggled into his chest. The two of you laid there in comfortable silence. Din’s fingers tracing the expanse of your back, and yours tracing the constellations of scars on his chest.

“Hey Din,” you called, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” He responded, sounding as if he was about to fall asleep.

“I’m surprised we didn’t break the cot,” you joked. You heard the laughter rumble in Din’s chest and you looked up at him with a blissful, goofy smile.

“Me too” he agreed, using his free hand to run a finger along your cheekbone.

“Guess we’ll have to try again.” You shrugged, cuddling back into Din’s chest, earning yourself another laugh.

“I guess we will, cyare.” He replied, shaking his head as he pulled you closer to him.

#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian x Reader #Din Djarin Fic #Star Wars Fic #idk wtf else to tag this #it's 530 am and i did not intend for this to go on for this many pages #this isnt beta'd #im not doing that to my poor lesbian girlfriend lmao

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sweetiepie08 · 3 years

Text

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained!

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

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