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pedropascalsx · 2 years

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Respite. {Joel Miller x F! Reader}

Summary: You put yourself in danger whilst trying to prove yourself.

Word count: 2000+.

Warnings: Murder, mention of kidnapping, mentions of forced reproduction, angst, yearning, grumpy! joel, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering.

A/N: i don’t even know myself. it’s just a bunch of words.

Thank you to my sweet, @write-and-buried - who allowed me to pick her incredible brain and helped with some parts i was struggling with. i love you to pieces.

The threadbare sheets are scratchy on your bare skin. The filthy mattress beneath the sheets is so bobbled and the springs are uneven. It’s not the worst thing you’ve slept on this week you think to yourself as you attempt to find a more comfortable spot to curl up in.

He’s mad at you. He has every right to be mad at you. You screwed up, you tried to prove yourself capable and it backfired on you. The aches that ravishes his bones at the best of times had intensified and you’re to blame.

‘You don’t go anywhere without it,’ he had warned you time and time again. But you let your arrogance win. You decided you could sneak out of the QZ undetected and scope out a store that was a few miles west. And as you were getting your things together you realized that your gun was still stored away with his. You had no way of getting it without disturbing him, so you packed your knife and decided that would suffice. It would not.

The route was quiet and you managed to get to the store undetected. As you expected the shelves were bare, all essential items ransacked and long gone. But a few items remained, nothing of real value but things that would maybe bulk up a potential trade. You shoved them into your backpack with a sense of pride. They were yours. You had put the work in and retrieved them by yourself and that was worthy of a pat on the back, even if you were the one doing the patting.

You zipped up your backpack, ignoring the prickle of unease you felt as you did so and started to make your way back down the path, side stepping rusty coins and avoiding the cracks in the cement.

You increased your pace with a slight skip as the harsh sun beamed on your skin and that’s when you heard the hushed whispers from somewhere behind you.

‘Fuck,’ you mouthed as you increased your pace a little more. You had tried to remain calm, tried to act as though you weren’t aware of the fact you weren’t alone, but they had you surrounded.

“Don’t try to run,” a harsh voice had called out to you, “Don’t try anything stupid.”

Your feet failed you. Despite everything inside of you telling you to run, they became deadweight underneath you and anchored you to that very spot.

There were four of them. Four men. All of whom could easily overpower you without breaking a sweat.

“She’s perfect,” one of them said, his voice filled with a sickly sweet glee that made your stomach turn, “What do you think we’d get for her?”

Traffickers. Joel had warned you about this. Men were being promised large quantities of hard to come by contraband in exchange for young women that could reproduce.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to work out how to approach this. For a second you considered attempting to reason with them or offer up what was in your backpack. But you knew that nothing you had would even begin to measure up what they were being promised by god knows who.

The words they were speaking at you were muffled, your brain had gone into hyperdrive and panic was flooding your entire body.

You didn't realise it was in your hand until it was sinking into his neck.

Didn't notice its weight missing from your pocket, the curl of your fingers around the handle, the way it moulded itself into your palm.

Their words were muffled, fuzzy, Joel's voice echoing in your head. ‘You don't go anywhere without it.’ The reason why became clear when you felt the first warm gush of blood over your fingers.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you took an unsteady step backwards, the knife still lodged in his throat as he sank down to his knees in front of you. What happened over the next few minutes is still hazy in your memory. You remember feeling hot breath coating the back of your neck as one of the men spat words laced with venom and threats from behind you.

You lunged forward and grabbed the knife, yanking it free from his neck. You had to act immediately. The three of them were weary of you, they had seen what you were clearly capable of doing but they knew they outnumbered and outpowered you. They had weapons of their own, weapons that they had all since drawn and were ready to use on you. But for them to cash in on you, they needed you alive.

“We don’t wanna hurt you,” the person behind you spat, “Even though you killed our friend.”

The other two agreed and started to inch towards you. You were within reach of the guy behind you and knew that it would be game over if he grabbed you. So you spun on your heel, waving the knife in your hand around and managing to slash the front of his chest. The knife he was holding fell to the ground with a loud clang and you both lunged towards it. You had managed to get to it first, by a mere fraction of a second.

You sunk it into his chest. Straight through the heart. Joel had told you where to strike and if he was here he would have said you struck gold. Two down. Two to go.

‘She’s fucking insane,” the smaller of the remaining two yelled at the other. He didn’t listen though. He snarled at you before baring his teeth. “We can find someone else.”

“No,” he barked back, still focused on you. His eyes flickered up and down your shuddering body a few times before he reached into his pocket and started to pull out a pistol he had kept concealed. “She’s going to come with us or I’m going to bury a bullet in that pretty little head of hers.”

He fell harder than the other two. The sound of his body slamming against the ground seemed to be 10x louder than the bodies of friends. Maybe it was the distance. Or maybe it’s because the bullet had entered his head in such a way that he didn’t stand a chance of surviving it, there would be no hands flying out to try and steady the way he fell. It was just dead weight falling.

Another shot rang out as you turned to face the person who had saved your life. His face was contorted with anger, his chest heaved up and down as the final *thud* hit your ears.

“I knew pickin’ you up was a goddamn mistake,” Joel spat across at you. “Let’s fucking go.”

After a few miles of silence, you had attempted to speak but he wasn’t having it. “How did you fi—.”

“Don’t fucking speak,” he gritted out from behind you, “I don’t want to hear your fucking voice.”

You let your fingertips run across the sheet as you played back the events of the day in your head. Would he ever forgive you? Would he kick your ass out and leave you to fend for yourself? How long would he give you the silent treatment for. You’d rather he yelled.

And then the mattress dipped beneath you and two familiar hands pulled you closer. “You fucked up today, girl.” He grits out in your ear before he starts to bite down on your earlobe. “Why’d you do it, huh? What are you trying to prove?”

“That I belong here,” you whisper back to him as his hands roughly squeeze your bare breasts, “That I’m capable.”

“Capable of what?” he growls, “Making a mess? Causing me unnecessary stress?”

“Just capable,” you mumble back.

“You can’t do that shit again,” he warns as he turns you to face him, “I’m not running after you again.”

You open your mouth to speak but before you can, his lips capture yours and he pulls you in for a bruising kiss. You were ready for him, stripped bare and waiting. You didn’t expect him to pay you a visit but you hoped that he would.

“You don’t deserve any of this,” he says with a slight shake of his head before snaking his hand before you both and letting two of his fingers rest on your clit. “I should just bend you over and take what I need from you and leave.”

He rests his forehead against yours and slowly starts to circle your clit, keeping the pace nice and light as your gentle moans start to fill the cold dark room. “One on my fingers and then on my cock,” he says as he starts to increase the speed of his fingers. Listening out for the quiet way you start to moan his name in a soft chant as you come undone.

It’s been a few months since the first time he fucked you, the very first time was during a particularly cold evening and you just sort of gravitated towards each other and then it just became an unspoken routine. He had gotten to know your body pretty well since.

“Joel,” you gasp as you start to reach your peak, his talented fingers pulling you towards something heavenly with little effort. It doesn’t take much longer before you’re convulsing with pleasure, your hips rocking against his hand as you continue to crave his touch throughout your high.

The second you’re done and gently pushing his hand away, he brings his fingers up to his lips and pushes them into his mouth. His eyes squeezing shut as he tastes you off them.

“Joel, please,” you plead as he groans around his fingers. Sucking them clear of every trace of your arousal.

He shifts you until you're lying completely flat, pushing one of the shitty pillows you had been snuggled up to under your hips, and then unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans down his legs. His cock immediately springing free due to his lack of underwear, he strokes it slowly a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

He gathers some of your slick with his free hand and coats his cock with it, before pushing himself in in one quick thrust. “You could have been killed,” he groans as he starts to move in and out. Every drag of his cock has you seeing stars as you clench down around him.

You choke out an apology as he starts hitting that spot inside of you, and he just tuts, “Prove you’re sorry by not trying this shit again,” he says gruffly before slapping his palm across your tit. “If I left just a few minutes later,” he snarls and shakes his head, unable to complete the sentence, “Don’t try that shit again.”

He grits out something incoherent from behind his teeth as he pounds relentlessly into you. Every slap of his hips stealing your breath as you start to come undone underneath him. You feel his hips stutter as your pussy grips his cock, your walls fluttering around him as moans spill endlessly from your mouth. “Good girl,” he grunts as you come around him with a scream of his name.

He pulls out of you and starts to furiously pump his cock, groaning your name as thick ropes of his cum start to coat your swollen clit and drip down your puffy folds. He watches for a few moments. Biting down on his bottom lip as it covers your soft skin.

After a few moments he gently pulls the pillow from beneath your hips and places it under your head, before sliding himself next to you. Allowing himself to hold you for just a few minutes before he’ll force himself away from you.

And then he’ll let himself wonder why he was so upset with you before shaking his head and pushing away those feelings.

Compartmentalizing them and telling himself that you’re just respite to him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And maybe the next time he’ll tell himself that, he’ll start to believe it himself.

#pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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writingforfun0714 · 16 days

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Hello readers, thank you so much for being patient. Here’s Chapter 5 of my Bad Batch fic, Our Love. Enjoy🥰

Bad Batch Our Love (link for all chapters)

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks, minor swearing, POV changes, OCs, lemme know if I need more

Words: 8,648

Bad Batch Our Love

Chapter 5–Sanctuary

Crosshair’s POV

As my ship travels through hyperspace, I think on the orders I had given to my squad while I was gone.

“Once I return, you are to destroy the power supply and wipe the data banks after transferring everything. Do you understand?” I had asked.

“Yes sir,” the squad all responded. I had a feeling I’d need some sort of insurance if I was going to actually go off planet for…personal reasons.

3rd POV

Crosshair’s shuttle drops out of hyperspace. The sniper returns just outside of Ankus’ atmosphere and his shuttle scans an approaching vessel. It’s the rest of his new squad. They attach vessels and the sniper opens the door to let them on. Crosshair let’s the attached ship go and plots the coordinates for Kamino as the rest of his squad mates walk into the cock pit with the sniper.

“Sir,” ES-03 walks up to Crosshair. He looks at the trooper.

“We wiped everything like you said and destroyed the power supply. No one can use the base now,” ES-03 and hands Crosshair a data rod.

“Everything?” Crosshair asks, just to make sure.

“Yes sir,” the trooper responds and Crosshair nods approvingly before motioning to sit. Wordlessly, the trooper sits down and the others follow while Crosshair powers up the hyperdrive. The stars look like streaks of light as the ship zips into hyperspace, heading back to Kamino.

As the ship travels through the hyperspace tunnel of swirling blue light, Crosshair listens to the chatter between the troopers. Mostly casual but none of them make an attempt to include him. Why would they? He killed ES-01 on Onderon before killing all those innocent people. The insurgents…the civilians. The others don’t understand. Crosshair notices that despite the visual similarities between their armor and clone armor, they are nothing like clones. There could be millions but none of them would ever understand what it’s like to be a clone. Crosshair’s time with Cody proved that. These new troopers didn’t understand the Kaminoans like the clones did. Not that Crosshair particularly cared about his new squad, but to be seen as useful to the Empire, Crosshair has to make this partnership work and he was certain that he wouldn’t get a another chance.

The sniper’s thoughts wander to Commander Cody. He said he was going to find his General. The last lead Cody had was the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Crosshair growls instinctively at the thought. There was no point in going to the Jedi Temple. But Cody wasn’t a ‘shiny’. And Crosshair has his personal comm channel just in case. Crosshair feels a pulse of pain and scrunches his nose as his hand instinctively comes up to his head.

Crosshair’s POV

Permanent damage, Cody had said. And none of this would’ve happened if only Hunter had listened. But…it doesn’t matter now. I know the truth. I tried to help Hunter and how did he repay me? By leaving me behind on Kamino. He didn’t even know what Nala Se had done to me that day in the hangar.

“You really think we’ll leave Kamino?” I remember asking Hunter years ago, when we were cadets.

“We’ll leave and never come back,” Hunter had told me, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Promise?”

“I promise,”

I shake my head at the memory. Liar. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I immediately jerk away, glaring through my helmet. ES-03 pauses and looks at me before I see the hand that touched me drop.

“What?” I snarl. ES-03 points and that’s when I hear a warning beeping noise. I must’ve been so absorbed in my thoughts I didn’t hear it.

“Sir, we’re approaching an asteroid field,” ES-03 says. I shut off the warning and I feel the ship lurch out of hyperspace. I see a huge expanse of floating rocks blocking the way. I hadn’t been excellent, but with Tech’s instruction, I learned a decent amount of flying during our training. I swerve my way in, dodging and weaving through. I put up the front shields at max power as we fly through.

I manage to fly through the asteroids successfully. The shields are down to 72% but otherwise, alright. The coordinates for Kamino are still in the nav computer and I let the ship’s autopilot take over. In no time at all, the ship arrives back on the stormy water world of Kamino. I’m struggling to see through the gray clouds, the rain and lighting but luckily I get the ship back to a hangar at Tipoca City.

The ship lands and my squad walks out first. I watch as the squad goes back to the barracks and I think about Cody. Cody hadn’t known about the inhibitor chips when I told him about them but part of me wonders if the chips were only for Order 66 and any orders after would be easier to question. I could’ve fought it had Nala Se not kidnapped and tortured me. She took out the chip but I can feel its effects. And I wouldn’t have gone through that if only Hunter had listened.

3rd POV

Crosshair and his squad are not needed so they head back to their barracks.

Meanwhile, in Lama Su’s office…

Nala Se has been summoned by the Prime Minister. The chief scientist walks in and is surprised to also see Governor Tarkin.

“Have a seat Mistress Se,” Lama Su tells her. Nala Se and Tarkin make eye contact as she moves to sit in the chair opposite him.

“Thank you for arriving so quickly. As you know, I am here to assess the value of all clones for the Empire. However, Emperor Palpatine has expressed that even though the clones of the army are of little to no value to him, the cloning technology is priceless,” Tarkin says. Nala Se blinks. It’s true the Kaminoan cloning technology is well-known throughout the galaxy, but that’s because everyone knows there’s more than one way to make a clone. The quality of Kaminoan clones is unlike any other.

“We offer our standard fee that we offered the Republic-“ Lama Su says.

“You misunderstand. We do not wish to place an order,” Tarkin says.

“Emperor Palpatine wants to use Kamino as a base of operations for his personal project,” Tarkin says. At first, Lama Su doesn’t reply, instead, he looks to Nala Se.

Even though they had commissioned the clone army for Palpatine, the Kaminoans are a neutral planet. Much like the Banking Clan, the Kaminoans claim no allegiance to anyone but themselves and accept orders from all over. However, both Lama Su and Nala Se were well aware of the Emperor’s true intentions.

Nala Se gives Lama Su a small nod before turning to Tarkin.

“I would be honored to work for Emperor Palpatine on his personal project. To make sure I am the right candidate for the job, I would like to learn more,” Nala Se says and Tarkin smiles.

“I’m happy to hear that, though I’m afraid that all I’m able to tell you is that Project Necromancer is classified to most except those with special clearance, which I’m afraid your Prime Minister does not have,” Tarkin glances at Lama Su.

“I must object Governor Tarkin. I have to approve and oversee every project Mistress Se works on,” Lama Su argues gently.

“Oh do not fret, we will keep you updated, however, the finer, specific details remain classified,” Tarkin assures the Prime Minister.

“Since we do have other contracts, we would suggest using a separate facility, one equipped for this classified project,” Lama Su says.

“The Emperor agrees and is already constructing many of his own personal facilities equipped with state of the art technology. However, he has already started working on Project Necromancer. We can certainly give you time to prepare but Emperor Palpatine has scheduled a visit within the rotation,” Tarkin explains.

“Very well. We will expect his arrival then,” Lama Su responds.

“Good. I believe that concludes my business with you. I will be in touch with the Emperor shortly,” Tarkin says, standing up.

“Prime Minister…Mistress Se,” Tarkin addresses them before walking out, leaving the Kaminoans alone.

“Until we learn of Emperor Palpatine’s true intentions, say nothing. We should be cautious,” Lama Su tells Nala Se, who hums in agreement.

Crosshair’s POV

As my squad exits the hangar, I see Admiral Rampart approach them. They will tell him everything no doubt. But Rampart is just another small ‘cog in the machine’ as Tech would say. My loyalties should be with those in actual power like Governor Tarkin. I’m sure I will be speaking to him in no time. I sigh quietly before taking my helmet off. Luckily my headache has disappeared.

“Hey! Crosshair!” I hear a somewhat familiar voice call out to me. I turn and see Crys and Trapper, the 212th troopers that I met in the mess hall after meeting Saw. They were the ones that told me about Cody and where to find him.

They have their helmets on but casually remove them as they approach.

“Glad to see you,” Crys greets and it takes me a moment at first. I’ve never been greeted like that by someone outside CF99 before, except from Cody and 99 of course.

“Did you find the Commander?” Trapper asks me. I nod.

“I did. He was injured but on the mend when I met up with him,” I explain. Seeing the concern on their faces, I keep going, “fractured femur, hairline I think. I’m not a medic.”

“Did he say what he was going to do after he got better?” Crys asks. I don’t answer at first. I probably shouldn’t tell them he’s going to go find General Kenobi, so instead, I tell them that I wasn’t clear on his plans, only that he’d return when he could.

Talking with the 212th troopers makes me think on the differences between them and my squad. As the 3 of us walk through the sterile, bright white halls, I see a Kaminoan walk past us, not paying us any mind, but I can’t help the instinctive step away from him I make. I hear Trapper grumble something under his breath. The Kaminoan looks towards us but none of us make eye contact and keep walking. Once we’re out of range, Trapper snickers.

“Long-neck lab scrabber,” he says.

“You dislike the Kaminoans too?” I ask.

“Dislike? Karrabast, they’re all a bunch of sleemos if you ask me. They may not experiment on us like you CT-99s, but you should hear how they talk about us. We’re just objects to them, weapons to fight a war,” Crys tells me. I hadn’t realized how much I actually have in common with the clones in general. They were regs…but…now they’re just…clones. Like I am.

“Yeah some of the commanders were shuttled out a couple rotations ago-“ I hear Crys say and that gets my attention.

“Do you know where they were sent?” I ask.

“No…and no one’s heard from them since. Like Commander Bly? No one in the 327th has seen him since Felucia,” Crys explains. 327th..that’s General Secura’s battalion.

“The Empire could be using them,” Trapper says.

“Using them? For what?” I ask. Trapper shrugs.

“I dunno, but you know they’d get every bit of usefulness out of us before throwing us away like garbage,” Trapper answers. The two continue talking while I wonder if they’ve seen or even know about ES-02, 3 or 4. The only reason I’m squad leader is because I was with CF99. If I wasn’t-

“H-Hey,” I stop in my tracks. The two stop and turn to look back at me.

“Crosshair?” Crys asks.

“I…I’m a new squad leader, now that I’m not with CF99,” I explain.

“But…I don’t like my new squad,” I admit, “I’m only with them so the Empire thinks I will be useful.”

“Your new squad? Who is it? Hope it isn’t anyone we know-“ Crys jokes, not understanding my seriousness.

“They aren’t clones,” I say and their eyes widen.

“Not clones? But they’re soldiers? I don’t understand-“ Crys says.

“Yeah, wouldn’t the Kaminoans want to create more of us so they can get more money?” Trapper asks.

“Please, just listen to me. They’re not clones. The Empire thinks that those who willingly sign up have more loyalty than us,” I explain.

Before either trooper could respond, Crys gets a call over his commlink.

“Crys, report to the briefing room-“ I hear a trooper say.

“Just…watch yourself…and your men. The galaxy is changing and…I don’t want you to get left behind,” I say. He nods and offers a hand. We grab forearms and shake.

“Take care of yourself Crosshair,” Crys says and I nod. I shake hands with Trapper and he nods as I walk off.

I wonder about clones who aren’t deemed useful to the Empire. There are millions of troopers. There’s no way the Kaminoans would be ok with the killing of millions of clones and I’ve never seen them make bad deals. And I’m sure Nala Se wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have as many test subjects as possible. I feel the anger well inside me at the thought of the Kaminoan scientist. But as the anger comes, so does the pain in my head. I wince a bit. I take a breath and sigh when I hear my comm beep.

“CT-9904, report to my office,” I hear Tarkin’s voice.

“Yes sir,” I respond and make my way there, but not making an effort to hurry. I’m not surprised really. I knew my squad would tell him that I left my post on Ankus.

I finally get to Tarkin’s office and press the button. The doors open and I walk inside. Tarkin is sitting at his desk.

“Have a seat CT-9904,” he says. I cautiously walk up and take the chair at his desk.

“Do you know why you are here Commander?” He asks.

“I..don’t know, sir,” I answer, feigning innocence.

“You are here because you left your post on Ankus for a non-mission-related objective, is that correct?” Tarkin asks.

“Yes sir,”

“Why did you leave Ankus? Tell the truth and I’ll give you your next mission,” Tarkin says, meshing his fingers together with his elbows on his desk.

“Each of your squad mates gave different answers which leads me to believe you did not tell anyone of your ‘off-the-record’ objective,” Tarkin says. Lying isn’t really my style. It’s not that I can’t, I just prefer not to.

“I didn’t tell the others because I didn’t think they would understand, sir,” I explain.

“Well, regardless of what your squad would think, it is highly irregular to go off on your own,” Tarkin says.

“I’m sorry sir, I…I operated how I would with my old squad. Being the sniper-I usually am alone-“ I tell him. Not a lie…but not exactly the truth either. An…exaggeration if anything.

“Well if you cannot take the lead on this next mission, I’m afraid I’ll have to report your incompetence to Nala Se,” Tarkin says and my eyes widen.

“I will take the lead, sir,” I say, steeling myself before looking right at him. We lock eyes for a moment and when I can tell he won’t back down, I decide to take out the datarod ES-03 gave me. All the information about the abandoned base on Ankus. Tarkin takes the datarod and looks at it with a raised brow.

“Very well. We are still going through possible candidates to replace ES-01 but for now, you and the rest of your squad will report to Admiral Rampart,” he says. Easy replacement, that’s all they care about. I nod.

“Understood sir,” I say.

“Dismissed,” Tarkin tells me and I immediately stand up and hurry out.

“CT-9904,” Tarkin gets my attention right as I get to the door. I glance back over my shoulder.

“You are very valuable CT-9904. If you fail, Nala Se won’t just decommission you, she’ll use you until she’s finished with you. Do you understand?” He threatens. I nod.

“Yes sir,” I nearly growl out. The door opens and I walk out. I can’t go back to Nala Se again.

I walk out and feel my heart beating and a cold sweat makes me clammy. Nala Se. She tortured me. This pain in my head…it’s permanent, according to Cody at least. I’ve always hated the bloodwork, the diets, the injections. Nala Se would assure us as cadets that it was necessary for our development, to make sure our mutations were developing without hurting us. But it seemed like the other clones were being tested on half as much as us, maybe even less. None of us liked it. Plus, when we met Echo, he already had that fear thanks to the Techno Union so it was easy for him to relate.

My chest tightens and the pain in my head spikes with pain. The sudden intense pain sends a wave of nausea through me. I brace myself against the wall. Passing troopers either pay me no mind or give me a look, but everyone keeps walking. While it’s nothing new to be ignored by most troopers, I also have to assume that no one but me knows about the inhibitor chip and that they are probably being influenced by it still. The only way to stop the chip is to surgically remove it, something Nala Se did to me after she burned the chip into my brain permanently, causing the damage Cody told me about.

Meanwhile…

3rd POV

After saying goodbye to the Lawquane family, CF99 regroup in the Havoc Marauder to take inventory. While the boys busy themselves, the kids gather on the gunners mount. Maisy sits in Omega’s lap while the two older kids sit with their backs against the cool metal wall.

“What do we do now?” Maisy asks glumly. Omega looks at Wyyntrr.

“I…I’m not sure. But at least we have each other, right?” Omega asks.

“Yeah…I guess-“ Maisy answers. Wyyntrr sighs sadly.

A silence falls over the kids.

“You know I’ve never really had someone my age to…to help with the bad stuff,” Omega says. The two Jedi kids look at Omega. Wyyntrr whimpers at Omega. She looks at him, then down at Maisy in her lap.

“He asked if you were alone,” she explains and Omega nods.

“I’ve been alone my whole life, even before the war,” Omega explains.

“Before the war?” Maisy asks and Omega nods.

“I was 7 when it started, but even when the first generation clones were cadets, they didn’t really care for me. Not to mention Nala Se hardly ever let me out of her personal lab, ever since Alpha disappeared at the start of the war,” Omega says.

“Alpha? Who’s that?” Maisy asks.

“Jango, the donor, had an unaltered clone like me to raise like how Nala Se raised me,” Omega explains then turns sad. Maisy cocks her head slightly.

“I..I heard from Nala Se that the donor was killed right before the start of the war,” Omega explains before letting a bit of anger turn her face into a frown.

“A Jedi named Mace Windu killed him,” Omega says. Wyyntrr and Maisy’s eyes widen. The two were familiar with the dark skinned master. He was stern when he needed to be but he was strong and wise. While the two young Jedi never met him personally, they’d heard stories of his strength and calm.

“We know of him,” Maisy tells Omega.

Omega’s POV

My hand hand tightens into a fist. It’s not like I hate the Jedi as a group or anything like that. It’s just that particular Jedi that killed him. I didn’t know the donor and I don’t think he even knew about my existence, but I would’ve preferred the Kaminoans do their testing on him than me and before the war, they did.

“If it weren’t for that Jedi, I wouldn’t have been tested on by Nala Se. If it weren’t for him, Nala Se could’ve used the donor instead of me. That Jedi is why I had to be hooked up to all those machines and-and-the tubes-“ I start to go off, my anxiety and anger rising. The Jedi can feel it. Maisy scrambles off my lap and backs into Wyyntrr.

“Omega?” Maisy asks carefully. I feel my breathing speed up. My chest tightens and a cold sweat comes over me at the thought. No. No I can’t go back to Kamino-I can’t. Nala Se-

“Omega?” Maisy asks again but her voice sounds muffled and far away. I hear Wyyntrr roar with concern and he puts a hand on my shoulder, suddenly grounding me in the moment.

A warm almost calming feeling washes over me. Relief unclenches my chest and it’s easier to breathe. I look and see Wyyntrr and Maisy with their eyes shut. Wyyntrr has a hand on my shoulder and the other holding Maisy’s hand. The two seem…focused. Their eyes open and we make eye contact as I take a breath.

“I-…I’m sorry. That..that hasn’t happened to me in…a long time,” I say. The last time I remember feeling that way was when the Separatists attacked Kamino. I was 9. I’m 11 now and because it’s been a while, I’d almost forgotten what that fear and anxiety felt like.

“Rrr-rrrgh-urrrgh. Rrgh rrhh-rrrgh,” Wyyntrr says, looking right at me. I know he’s blind but..I’m sure he can see.

“A panic attack. He..he knows someone that had them,” Maisy translates. I look at him then down at the little girl.

“Are you ok?” She asks, clearly concerned. I nod.

“Nala Se spent my whole life pricking me with needles, locking me away in cold, sterile labs. She would put me in a tube to make it easier for her. I didn’t see my whole family get killed but…but it was still really, really bad. Do you understand?” I explain. I watch as Maisy seems to mull over my words, as if its a puzzle before nodding slowly.

Maisy’s POV

“Do you understand?” Omega asks me. I think on her words. She..she was hurt. For a long time. It’s not like what happened to the Jedi. It’s still a really bad pain but…a different kind of pain. I nod slowly.

“I..I think so,” I tell her, “was it a different kind of hurt?” I ask and Omega nods.

“It was. I still think about it sometimes…but…I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything..ok? Both of you. I…I understand the hurt and pain,” Omega tells us. Wyyntrr puts a hand on my shoulder and we nod.

“You too. To talk with us. If you want,” I offer and she smiles and nods before ruffling my hair.

“Deal,” she agrees and I can’t help the smile that forms on my face.

“I am merely stating that we should form a plan instead of drift through the galaxy aimlessly,” I hear Tech’s voice say. I turn and the 2 older kids notice and pay attention as well.

“We have to be careful now Tech, we can’t assume anything anymore,” Hunter argues.

“Without the Republic, we’ll have to get our own credits,” Wrecker says.

“We’re soldiers Hunter. There’s not much else we are capable of. Child rearing is already pushing it,” Tech says. Mine and Omega’s eyes widen while Wyyntrr just looks sad.

“We’re bad for them,” I whisper, crawling back into Omega’s lap. She wraps her arms around me as Wyyntrr moves closer to us and drapes an arm over Omega’s shoulders. Omega doesn’t argue with me and I can’t help the tears. Without the soldiers, it’s just the 3 of us. How would we live? I feel Wyyntrr put a large hand on my back as Omega cups the back of my head, her fingers getting tangled in my thick, shaggy, wild dark brown hair.

I’ve never felt this way with the Jedi. The Masters wanted to take care of us, to teach us, to nurture us. They weren’t forced into it like the Batch.

“They got stuck with us,” I whimper sadly.

“Hunter and the others wanted to help us. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have agreed to getting their inhibitor chips out,” Omega explains. My eyes widen. I…I didn’t know it was Omega’s idea.

“You…did doctor stuff…for me? Even though you hate doctor stuff?” I ask. Omega nods.

“Of course, you were in danger,” Omega says as if it’s obvious. I blink before launching myself at her.

“I love you, ‘mega,” I tell her, wrapping my arms tightly around the older girl. She chuckles and hugs me back, shifting me a bit to get a better hold on me.

“I love you too..both of you,” Omega says, pulling Wyyntrr closer and he chuckles, ruffling her hair. An alerting beep gets everyone’s attention.

3rd POV

The Havoc Marauder’s console starts beeping, getting everyone’s attention.

“There’s an incoming transmission..from Echo,” Tech announces.

“C’mon!” Omega tells Wyyntrr and Maisy. The young female clone hops down off the gunner’s mount and holds her hands up to Maisy. She drops down and Omega catches the Youngling and sets the little girl down while Wyyntrr slides off the edge, landing quietly next to them before hurrying to the cockpit.

Back on Kamino…

Crosshair manages to breathe through the pain and make it to Rampart’s office. He’s sitting across from the Imperial officer.

“So CT-9904, I’ve heard about your insubordination from Admiral Tarkin,” Rampart says. Crosshair remains neutral.

“You cannot say we didn’t give you ample opportunities to prove yourself. You’ve had the insurgents on Onderon, and the base on Ankus to prove yourself to the Empire,” Admiral Rampart says, “so despite how ‘valuable’ you may be to the Kaminoans, I can assure you that your worth to the Empire is based entirely on the success of your mission. You may consider yourself special among your kind, but you clones have yet to prove your worth to the Empire.”

“Yes sir, I understand,” the sniper responds with a growl.

“I’ve already informed your squad mates of your new mission,” Rampart says, handing the sniper a datapad.

Crosshair looks at it and when he gets to ‘location’, he reads ‘Ryloth’.

“Ryloth? Doesn’t the Empire already occupy that planet?” Crosshair asks.

“We have many patrols stationed in that sector, but our focus has been on Raxus, since that was the heart of the Separatists like former senator Mina Bonteri,” Rampart explains.

“You and your squad will eliminate the so called ‘freedom fighters’ including their leader, Cham Syndulla and any who follow him. After you’ve taken care of the threat, you will secure the city of Lessu, the capital without fail. Do you understand?” Rampart asks.

“Yes sir,” Crosshair says. Rampart gives the sniper a long, hard analyzing look before nodding in dismissal.

“Very well, you must leave immediately,” Rampart says and Crosshair stands and walks out, thinking on what Rampart told him.

“We have many patrols stationed in that sector, but our focus has been on Raxus, since that was the heart of the Separatists,” Rampart’s voice echoes in Crosshair’s mind. He hadn’t thought about it but if the Jedi didn’t win the war, then what happened to the Separatist leaders? Obviously when they rescued Echo they took out the Techno Union, but what about the others like Viceroy Gunray? Crosshair pushes that question into the back of his mind, choosing not to dwell on it. Instead he heads back to the barracks.

Omega’s POV

Tech plays the transmission and a hologram of Echo appears! He’s with two others, Captain Rex and another clone trooper I’m not familiar with. They look like they’re in a ship. I can hear ammunition firing and the hologram fuzzes slightly but Tech secures the connection.

“Am I glad to see you boys. We could really use some back up,” Echo greets. I can’t help but notice his black eye, split lip and how he’s holding his ribs.

“What’s going on Echo?” Hunter asks.

“You’re hurt!” I exclaim.

“I’m ok Omega, just a little banged up-“ Echo says.

“I’LL SAY!” A voice snaps off camera and Echo rolls his eyes.

“Don’t mind Kix, he can be…dramatic-“ Echo says.

“Echo!” Rex snaps to get the ARC trooper’s attention.

“Right-we’re in our ship—Rex is trying to take off now, but our deflectors were damaged and-“ Echo explains but another hit causes the ship to rock and Echo gasps.

“Rex! Get us in the air!” The other clone, Kix, yells.

“I’m trying! The steering’s jammed!” Rex answers.

“I’m on it!” Kix answers and I watch him race by. I hear the hum of an engine power up and by the relief on Echo’s face, I can tell they’ve taken off.

“I’ve put in the hyperspace coordinates, hang on!” Rex exclaims.

“We’re jumping to Alderaan—we need h-“ Echo says but the transmission suddenly cuts off from them going into hyperspace.

“Help-he was gonna say help-“ Maisy alerts, tugging on my sleeve. I nod in agreement.

“She’s right Hunter, Echo and Rex need us,” I tell Hunter. Wrecker and Tech nod at him, indicating they want to help too. Hunter nods.

“Alright, set coordinates for Alderaan Tech. We don’t even know what kind of trouble they’re in so be ready,” Hunter says and Tech nods.

Once Tech powers up the hyperdrive, the ship lurches forward and zips through the stars. Despite getting such urgent news, I’m a little…caught off guard when my brothers just…sit there.

“Shouldn’t we prepare?” I ask worriedly.

“It’s going to take a while to get to Alderaan. There’s not much else we can do besides wait,” Wrecker explains.

“But we can’t just sit here while Echo needs us!” I argue but my siblings don’t agree, instead Wyyntrr and Maisy just share a glance, then look at me, watching.

“We can’t do much while we’re in hyperspace. We just have to be patient Omega,” Hunter tells me. He walks up and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“I..I know but—but he was hurt-“

“Echo’s tough. Maybe even tougher than all of us. He’ll be alright,” Hunter reassures me. His voice is strong but calm. I sigh and look at him, then at Tech. Tech blinks but nods all the same before turning to Wrecker.

“Why don’t you take the controls Wrecker?” Tech asks. Sensing that Tech has something planned, the demolitions expert nods.

“Sure thing Tech,” Wrecker says and switches places with the goggled soldier. Luckily the ship’s nav computer and autopilot does most of the work. Wrecker just has to keep an eye on the ship’s scanner.

“When I get anxious about something, I try and get my mind to focus on something else,” Tech says, pulling out his datapad as he walks up to us.

“And what better way to distract yourself than by learning,” Tech says.

“Of course,” Hunter mumbles to himself but I hear him and can’t help the smile that forms on my lips.

Tech’s POV

“And what better way to distract yourself than by learning,” I say.

“Of course,” Hunter mumbles to himself and I see Omega smile a bit. I turn on the language vocabulary of my datapad and scroll through until I find Shyriiwook.

“Here, just start with the basics first. I will quiz you when you are ready,” I tell Omega, handing her my datapad. She takes it and looks at the screen.

“Shyrii-wook,” Omega reads.

“Cool!” Wyyntrr exclaims. I motion to come sit at one of the chairs in front of the main computer on the ship. Omega sits next to me while Maisy climbs up into the older girl’s lap. Wyyntrr stands behind their chair.

“Shyriiwook is an old language but one that isn’t too hard to understand-“ I explain and start teaching the girls, as I’m sure Wyyntrr is well aware of his own culture and language. I pull up more information about basic sentence structure and differences between formal words and slang I’ve picked up, with Wyyntrr correcting my slang every once in a while.

3rd POV

The transmission cuts out as Captain Rex manages to get the stolen transport ship into hyperspace, heading towards Alderaan. Rex groans in pain and grabs his side. There’s a piece of shrapnel piercing his lower left side! Echo’s eyes widen in shock when he sees his captain struggling.

“Rex!” Echo exclaims, “Kix! Rex is injured!”

“Let me see-“ Kix says and immediately gets Rex to turn in his chair.

“I-I’m fine-“ Rex says, gripping the piece of shrapnel sticking out of him.

“Damn right you are, now hold still or I’ll sedate you,” Kix threatens and Rex knows better than to test the medic.

“Why are we going to Alderaan?” Echo asks, having only heard of the planet, not understanding why they are going. Kix helps Rex take off his armor.

“I know someone that-GAAAH!” Rex suddenly cries out when Kix takes out the bloody piece of shrapnel. Kix immediately takes what’s left of the bacta spray and the last spool of bandages.

“Goddamnit Kix!” Rex snaps, though the medic just ignores Rex’s tone as he wraps the injury.

“I know someone that can help us,” Rex finishes and Echo nods when a beeping sound gets his attention.

“The hyperdrive’s overheating. I’ll be back-“ Echo says and hurries out of the cockpit to go fix it.

On Kamino, Crosshair gets back to the barracks and sees the rest of his squad. ES-02, 3 and 4. They’re already getting ready for the mission, so Crosshair just looks at them.

“Our next mission is on Ryloth,” Crosshair announces and is met with silence. ES-03 looks between the other two troopers, but does nothing because deep down, they all think the clone sniper is incompetent. Of course they would have no idea it’s because of the ‘procedure’ Nala Se put Crosshair through.

The only sound in the barracks is the sound of rifling and moving things around as the soldiers gear up and head to the hangar where their ship is.

Echo manages to fix the coolant leak that was causing the hyperdrive to overheat.

“Got it!” Echo calls just as the alarm shuts off. The ARC trooper heads back to the cockpit and sees Kix in the pilot seat instead. Rex is slumped in the copilot chair.

“How you doin’?” Echo asks worriedly as he gently places his hand on Rex’s pauldron. Echo notices that Rex is a bit pale. No surprise. The 501st captain sighs.

“Been better,” Rex groans and Echo smirks. Since his black eye has swollen up, Echo can only see out of one eye. Luckily Kix slathered the purple-ish blue bruise with bacta. The medic would’ve bandaged Echo’s eye but he needed it for Rex.

“You could say that again,” Echo says.

“We’re coming up on Alderaan,” Kix announces.

Their transport ship drops out of hyperspace and is heading towards a blue and white planet. As they get closer, everything becomes more and more distinct. The landforms come first along with the bodies of water as they fly through the clouds. The engines are still damaged from their escape and sputter slightly, starting to smoke. Alarms sound inside.

“Echo, turn on the secure emergency channel—3.149-45,” Rex instructs and the ARC trooper nods, doing as Rex says.

“Senator, this is CT-7567, Captain Rex,” Rex announces but at first there’s no response so Rex tries again.

“I’ll boost the signal as much as I can,” Echo says, flipping two switches and routing more power to the satellite dish.

“Senator Organa, this is Captain Rex, CT-7567, come in!” Rex pleads, the urgency clear in his voice.

“Captain Rex?! Am I glad to hear from you. What is going on?” Senator Organa asks when he hears the blaring alarms as Kix tries to pilot the crashing ship.

“Senator Organa, our ship has been damaged and we’re not doing so good. We could use some help,” Rex says.

“Understood. Head to these coordinates. Landing platform 3. I’ll be waiting for you,” the senator replies.

“Heading to the coordinates now,” Kix says.

“Thanks-“ Rex says before ending the communication.

They get to the landing platform and Kix opens the door. Kix and Echo each take a side and help Rex up. The soldiers walk off and see someone approaching the ship. An r-series astromech follows him, pushing a floating stretcher. Rex smiles.

“Senator Organa-“ Rex says as Echo and Kix help Rex onto the stretcher the droid is pushing.

“You’re in worse shape than I thought. We’d better get you inside, quickly. R2-C4, go prep the medical room and contact Fulcrum,” Senator Organa says. His droid beeps and rolls ahead of them.

While Echo and Kix seem confused about who the senator is and what exactly Fulcrum is, they continue to follow the politician.

“I was surprised to receive your transmission captain. I thought you had split off-“ Senator Organa begins to tell the captain.

“I got a little…sidetracked,” Rex admits as they get inside.

“Sidetracked?” The senator asks and the captain nods.

“I’ll explain later-“ he says and Senator Organa nods back.

Echo’s POV

We get Rex inside and the Senator has his personal doctor look Rex over. Luckily the shrapnel didn’t pierce anything vital, but he’ll need 10 stitches. Senator Organa even had the doc look me over, and despite my protests, Rex insisted. But I must admit I’m not sore anymore, my eye does feel better and my lip doesn’t sting.

“Thank you for helping us Senator Organa,” I say and he smiles.

“Of course. I’ve always been a big supporter of clones and clone rights, thanks to Senator Amidala,” he says, a small sad smile barely visible on his face but concern creeps in.

“But where are you coming from?” He asks.

“The Jedi Temple. We went back for our medic, Kix-“ Rex says, getting his attention. Kix puts a hand on the captain’s shoulder and Senator Organa turns sad.

“So…you know? You know that the 501st-?” The senator asks tentatively and Rex nods.

“Yeah…yeah we know,” Rex answers glumly. Kix doesn’t say a word. Being the only one that was at the Temple when it happened, no one can blame him.

“They’re all…gone…except for us,” Rex says. I…I guess I had thought that after my torture on Anaxes, I wasn’t the same. That I wouldn’t have belonged like I used to. Especially since Rex told me what happened to Fives when he and the others rescued me.

3rd POV

As they talk, Senator Organa’s droid, R2-C4 suddenly beeps alerting the others.

“What is it R2-C4?” Bail asks. His droid beeps and spins his top once.

“A single vessel is approaching?” He asks and the droid beeps again.

“It’s ok. They’re friends of ours,” Echo says.

“We contacted them earlier. They’re coming to help us,” Rex says and Bail nods.

“Then they shall be welcomed. R2-C4, once they’re in range, direct them to landing pad 1,” Bail instructs and his droid beeps.

The Havoc Marauder drops out of hyperspace. Surprisingly, Omega managed to pick up the basics of Shyriiwook and can understand Wyyntrr…a bit. Tech flies the ship towards Alderaan and gets a transmission from R2-C4 saying to land at landing pad 1, so the pilot follows the instructions.

Bail, Rex, Echo and Kix all watch the Marauder land and the door opens. Hunter walks out first followed by Tech, the kids and Wrecker bringing up the rear.

“Echo!” The kids exclaim. They all run and Echo kneels down and open his arms to return the gesture. Hunter turns to Bail.

“Thank you so much for keeping an eye on them. They…mean a lot to me,” Hunter says. Bail smiles and nods at the sergeant.

“Anything I can do to help. Come inside, I would like to speak with you,” Bail says and Hunter nods before motioning to the others to follow the senator.

Hunter watches as Omega reaches out and grabs both of the Jedi’s hands and he smiles to himself. The group heads inside and while Hunter does have a bit of a sensory problem here, it’s not nearly as bad as it is on Coruscant and he’s able to easily move past it. Having all the running water and nature around really helps.

“This way,” Senator Organa tells us. Hunter sees pieces of art lining the hall and wonders where they are.

“This is my home,” the senator answers Hunter’s unasked question. A woman walks by holding a baby. She smiles at the group when she spots the kids and nods.

“There’s food in the kitchen Bail,” she tells the senator.

“Thank you Breha,” he tells her as she winks and walks to a room, presumably a nursery.

“That is my wife, Breha Organa and our daughter, Leia,” Bail says and glances at the kids.

“You’re a father,” Hunter says and Bail smiles at him, nodding once.

“Just like you,” he says.

“Woah-I’m not a-“ Hunter tries to argue, but Bail just chuckles, cutting the sergeant off.

“Whether you are or aren’t, you take care of these kids,” Bail says, looking at the children.

“Mr. Bail sir-what is this?” Maisy asks, interrupting. She’s pointing on the counter since the little girl cannot reach.

“That is a meiloorun. A type of fruit. Wanna try some?” Bail asks. Maisy looks to Hunter.

“Can I?” She asks and Hunter nods.

“I’ll get you kids set up before we talk business,” Bail says, glancing at the soldiers.

“Business?” Wrecker asks.

“The senator explained to us that he’s been having trouble gathering support in the senate since Palpatine took over,” Rex explains.

“Support? For what?” Hunter asks as Bail loads up plates of food ranging from meat and bread to fruit and even desserts. Bail has the group sit at their family table. The kids eat but Maisy can’t cut her food. Omega notices, but is in the middle of eating. On the Youngling’s other side, the medic, Kix, also notices the trouble and offers to help.

“Here, do you need help ad’ika?” Kix asks Maisy. She nods and lets the medic help her.

Hunter’s POV

Kix helps Maisy with her food, and I give him a grateful nod and he smiles at me as we talk with Bail.

“I’ve been in contact with someone who’s been fighting the Empire, but during their latest transmission, I’ve learned that he’s been captured,” Bail explains.

“Who is it?” Tech asks.

“The Ryloth freedom fighter, Cham Syndulla,” the senator reveals.

“Ryloth? Isn’t that a planet occupied by the Empire?” I ask.

“No, but it might as well be. The Empire’s presence has grown in the last few rotations and I’ve lost contact with Cham himself. I’ve just been getting by with information from one of his supporters,” Bail says.

“So what do you want from us?” I ask.

“I know you only came here to retrieve your brothers—and of course you do not have to agree, but I’m told that your squad takes on the impossible. If Ryloth is going to survive, if the people of Ryloth are going to survive, they need Cham. And so does his family,” Bail explains.

“His family?” I ask and Bail nods.

“From what I’m told, he has a wife and a young daughter, probably around their age,” Bail says, motioning to Omega and Wyyntrr.

“We’ve done plenty of stealth and retrieve missions before. We can easily rescue Cham Syndulla,” Tech says.

“Yeah, but our fuel and supplies-“ Wrecker tries to be reasonable.

“Will be supplied for you, whatever you need,” Bail interrupts.

“W-Wait wait-anything?” Wrecker asks and Bail chuckles.

“We have a fully stocked armory. Feel free to take what you need,” Bail says.

“Alright!” Wrecker exclaims.

“You can even leave the kids here with me,” Bail says and all 3 kids’ eyes widen.

“No-no that’s too much of an imposition Senator. But we could use the resupply,” I say and Wrecker smiles. Once we agree, Senator Organa gives us all the information he has.

“Cham and his wife are being held in an Imperial prison inside the Capital. They rotate guards every 6 hours and don’t bother going to their home, it’s already under Imperial watch,” Bail tells us.

“How do you know this?” Tech asks.

“His informant is Captain Howzer.” Bail says and I see Rex’s dark brown eyes widen.

“You know him?” I ask.

“Not personally, but I know of him,” Rex explains, “he’s a good man, we can trust him.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask. But know that if you succeed, you may be giving not only Ryloth, but all those who oppose the Empire a fighting chance,” Bail tells me. I wonder what he means by ‘all those who oppose the Empire’. Are there others besides us clones? The Jedi are all gone except for Wyyntrr and Maisy so…who else would stand up to the Empire?

“Don’t worry Senator, suicide missions are our specialty,” Wrecker assures Senator Organa.

Senator Organa takes us to the armory and while Wrecker gathers what he thinks we’ll need, I look around until I spot a set of vibroknives.

“Good eye. Go ‘head, they’re of no use to me,” Bail says, putting a hand on my pauldron.

“Are you sure?” I ask and he nods.

“Why do you have all this stuff? I thought Alderaan was a peaceful planet?” Wrecker asks. Bail nods.

“Yes we are but during my time in the Senate during the War, I became close to not only other senators that shared my views, but also with the soldiers, the Coruscant Guard,” Bail explains.

“The boys in red,” Rex says and the senator nods.

“After helping him out when Coruscant was attacked, Commander Fox gave me the only thing he had an abundance of—“ Bail says, motioning around.

“Weapons,” Wrecker says and Senator Organa nods.

“The Coruscant Guard always had to be well equipped. Chancellor Palpatine insisted on it from what Commander Fox told me once,” Rex explains and Bail nods.

“Well I have no use for anything here aside from a simple blaster,” the senator says.

“We’ll make good use of it,” Wrecker assures him and Bail chuckles. I help Wrecker gather supplies while Senator Organa takes Tech to a supply closet back in the kitchen with the kids.

“Hunter,” Rex says, getting my attention.

“I know you’re…well, apprehensive, about doing this, but we have to,” Rex says and I guess my face must’ve been showing more than I intended. I sigh.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to the kids,” I say and Rex nods.

“I understand,” Rex replies sincerely.

Tech’s POV

Senator Organa takes me to the supply closet to stock up on rations and basic supplies.

“This should get you all through a few rotations,” the senator tells me. I nod. Even though it’s been an adjustment having the kids with us, I’ve managed to learn how to stretch what little resources we have.

“Thank you Senator Organa,” I thank the kind man.

“Thank you all for doing this. I…I didn’t want to tell your sergeant that Cham’s daughter was the one to call for help,” Bail tells me. I blink in surprise.

“I..thought you said there was a clone captain-“

“Yes, Howzer is with her. But he wanted to lay low and hide. He thinks…he thinks the Empire will leave once they get what they want from Cham, but I know the Empire won’t leave Ryloth,” Bail says. I nod.

“It was his daughter that convinced me to get help. So when Captain Rex told me about you all, I couldn’t pass up the chance to ask,” he explains.

“I see. Well as I’m sure you know, we are known for our success with difficult missions,” I tell him and the man nods.

“I am aware. Are you sure you won’t reconsider leaving the children here with me? I can assure you they would be safe and looked after-“ He asks. I nod.

“They are safer with us. They could put you and your whole family in danger,” I assure him.

“Because they’re Jedi?” He asks and I blink.

“I did not say that-“

“You didn’t have to. They’re wearing Jedi robes and they have the braids. But the older girl with short curly blond hair…she looks like you,” Bail says, referring to Omega and I nod.

“Omega is a clone, like us,” I confirm.

“We can keep the children safe,” I assure him and he nods.

“A father knows best,” he replies understandingly and I blink. I…I must admit I am unfamiliar with parental roles. I manage a nod. I’ve always thought we were more like brothers.

After we finish up, we gather back in the main room and I see Rex and the trooper called Kix talking with the children.

“The last I heard from Howzer, he was hiding out at Cham’s old abandoned outpost 10 miles southeast of the city,” Senator Organa says and I pull up a map of Ryloth on my datapad. I search a 10 mile radius around the capital and find the abandoned outpost.

“Found it,” I announce and Hunter nods.

“Here, one last thing before you all leave,” Senator Organa gets our attention. He pulls out a comm device.

“This will reach me, and only me,” he says, handing it to me. I take it and put the device safely in a utility pouch on my hip. We head back out to our ship on the landing pad just outside the luxurious-looking house.

“Thank you for everything Senator Organa,” Hunter says and the older man nods. The kids wave at him and he smiles and waves back.

“As the Jedi say, may the Force be with you,” Senator Organa says. Maisy and Wyyntrr smile.

“May the Force be with you,” the two kids repeat. Wyyntrr roars and picks up Maisy before walking up the steps to the Marauder.

We say our goodbyes and Hunter assures the senator that we will succeed. Bail Organa waves at us as I power the ship up and start flying towards Ryloth.

“I’ve put in the coordinates, prepare to jump,” I announce as the ship lurches into hyperspace.

3rd POV

Bail Organa watches the Havoc Marauder fly up into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. He’s relieved since he knows those soldiers did not have to accept his request. The senator walks inside and passes his wife.

“I’ll only be a moment,” he assures her with a kiss to her forehead. She smiles and caresses his cheek lovingly before nodding and walking off.

Bail gets to his office and shuts the door. He gets to his desk and turns on the hologram. An image of a symmetrical design appears. Two angular lines jutting out at the bottom with two diamonds.

“Senator Organa,” the voice greets.

“Ahso…Fulcrum, you should know I met with 2 surviving Jedi, both young children,” Bail explains.

“Surviving Jedi?”

“In the care of a squad of rogue clone troopers,” Bail explains and at first, Fulcrum doesn’t answer.

“Were they safe?” Fulcrum asks eventually.

“I believe so. These clones…they care about those kids,”

“Tell me everything you know about them,” Fulcrum instructs.

End.

#star wars #bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanfic #bad batch fanfic #fanfiction #tbb our love #our love #our love bad batch #chapter 5 #our love chapter 5 #bad batch fanfiction #tbb oc fanfic #tbb wyyntrr #tbb maisy #tbb ocs #found family fic #thank you all for being so patient with me

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annwayne · 2 years

Text

The Red Logs: Return to the Temple Ch. 12

Chapter 12: All in Time

Last Chapter <-- -> Next Chapter

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2030

Fic Summary:

There are benefits to owning a clone bar. Underworld lords don’t threaten you to pay for protection. Clones are great company. And the drinks taste great. However, there are also risks to owning a clone bar. Like, for example, becoming the fuck buddy of a special clone task force member so your life gets threatened when a Separatist puts out a bounty for your capture in order to use you as blackmail. Also your sleep schedule gets wrecked. But Anya Tougt is a little more capable than an average bar owner.

Ao3 Link Here

Warnings apply to whole fic:

Canon typical violence, descriptions of panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, 18+ themes (eventual smut), trauma, religious trauma parallels, mild gore

Authors Note:

I am nefarious. Happy New Year yall, have a chapter to celebrate.

27 BBY. After Qui-Gon was murdered by that Sith lord I thought there would never be a Master I could accept. I thought there would never be a Master that would accept me. But Master Tali, she’s alright. She’s not as relaxed as Qui-Gon, but she is kind.

“The Separatists are on the run, General, they’ve entered hyperspace.” Obi-Wan nodded his head as he watched the remaining ships in the Separatist fleet dart out of view. Debris drifted in space, many of the pieces now caught in Rodia’s gravitational pull. “Hyperspace travel will not be possible for at least an hour while the mechanics fix up the ship.” Admiral Yularen’s report glossed over Obi-Wan’s ears as he stared out the viewport. No doubt scavengers will enjoy the scraps.

Before Yularen could repeat himself, Kenobi turned and sighed. “As long as it can be fixed, Admiral. Bring back the fighters, I doubt the Separatist fleet will attempt to surprise us after the damage they took.” Admiral Yularen nodded his head then echoed the orders into the comms. Clone fighters answered, their ships zipping past the Negotiator’s viewport. Obi-Wan felt exhaustion weighing down each step he took towards the holomap. Before Kenobi reached his destination, Cody stepped into the bridge- still fully armored. “What timing, Commander.” A single wave redirected the clone’s path. “I wanted to ask about the status of Clone force 99.”

Cody chuckled to himself as the Jedi called out to him. Yet again the clone had appeared just as Obi-Wan needed him. The rest of the 212th called it Cody’s Kenobi-sense when they thought he wasn’t listening. Once beside his general at the holotable, Cody filled Obi-Wan in. “They found Vekek’s planetside base of operations, but the Separatist commander was not physically there. However, Tech was able to track her location. So it shouldn’t be long till they bring the Seppie in.”

Kenobi nodded his head as he listened to his clone commander. “Where are they now?”

“Ryloth, sir.” Cody watched as the Jedi switched the map to focus on the Twi’lek planet. “These are the coordinates.” He typed the numbers Tech had sent in his last report into the holotable’s system. Once he finished, the map rotated and zoomed in just above the planet’s atmosphere.

“This can’t be right. They aren’t even planetside.”

“Oh, no this is correct sir. Tech reported they planned to board the Separatist command ship where Vekek is hiding.”

“They what? Did they even share a proper plan?” Obi-Wan’s head snapped up from the map. The blue light from the hologram bathed in the worry on his face. The beginnings of dark circles under his eyes were obvious.

Cody’s lips twisted down at the hints of exhaustion. This was a familiar game, one Cody knew how to play well. “Well… It’s a plan.”

Obi-Wan muttered a few swears under his breath, at least one of them Mando’a. A smirk cracked from under Cody’s bucket. “What’s the status of that hyperdrive?” The Jedi deactivated the holomap and rejoined Yularen in the center of the bridge.

“Repairs have just begun, General. Like I said before, at least one hour.” Yularen’s jaw twitched as he held back the urge to upturn his eyebrows. While Obi-Wan liked to think he was more put together than Anakin, Admiral Yularen knew they were equal disasters. He glanced at Cody, silently hoping the clone could convince the Jedi to get some rest.

“Of course… As soon as they are back up, set a course to Ryloth.” Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed where the bridge of his nose met his eyes. Annie was with the clones because he let her go with them. Cody explained the point of Clone Force 99 to him before. They took the missions no one was supposed to come back from. What was he thinking? She had no practical combat experience in war! This was nothing like the ambushes on Tatooine or the Mandalorian terrorists- He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Those memories were best left to lie.

Instead, Obi-Wan realized he heard footsteps. His footsteps. Beside him, Cody walked in sync with the Jedi Master. He recognized the path they were taking.

“Cody.”

“Sir.”

A defeated sigh escaped Obi-Wan’s lips. He knew Cody well enough to know that tone meant he couldn’t charm his way out of this. So while they walked to the general’s quarters, Kenobi started talking. “I’ve been more worried about Annie than I probably should be.”

Cody nodded his head. “So I’ve noticed, but you need sleep, sir.”

“Yes.. there’s no point thinking about past choices.” His wise tone almost returned. But then another heavy sigh left his lips and his voice went back to conversational. “I say that, yet still she manages to sneak back into my mind.”

Cody debated possible responses. He didn’t exactly have the years or experiences that could reflect the Jedi’s struggle. “Time tends to help those things.” So he repeated something he’d seen on a holo once.

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to think. They walked long enough without speaking Cody thought the subject had been dropped. But finally the General spoke up.

“Hmm.. You’d think. But I believe time has only made the situation worse.”

“Situation, sir?” The commander turned his head to glance at the man beside him. Interest laced his words.

Another sigh. “Annie and I have…” Silence dragged as the General debated the following words. “An intricate history. Fate, or perhaps even the force, always pushed us back together. Much to our mutual disdain.” He muttered the last sentence.

Under his helmet Cody’s brows furrowed together. “You don’t get along?”

“Now we seem to have an unspoken agreement to stay professional, possibly even friendly, thankfully. But in the old days… She knew exactly how to get under my skin.” Their pace slowed as their path ended in front of Obi-Wan’s quarters. Cody activated the door and walked Obi-Wan into the room, determined to see the Jedi actually get some rest. At this point Obi-Wan waved his hand to try and dismiss Cody, mumbling about making some tea before passing out.

“Sir, a tired General is a General likely to make mistakes. Please, get into your bunk and sleep.”

“Alright Cody, straight to bed. I promise. Now will you leave, or do you plan to watch me undress as well?” Obi-Wan flashed that bastard grin, a little crooked from exhaustion.

The heat on his cheeks made the clone commander glad he was still wearing his helmet. “No sir, I’ll come wake you once we reach Ryloth.” Cody didn’t hear whatever farewell the Jedi bade him. His ears were playing over Obi-Wan’s previous words. He rushed out of the room like a startled loth-cat and only caught his breath once he returned to his own quarters.

“Tech!” Hunter’s voice cut through the blaster fire and metal clangs. “Activating Commando droids isn’t what I asked for!” One of the mentioned droids slammed its vibrosword down against Hunter’s knife. He blocked the weapon with the edge of his own, until Wrecker body slammed the metal body into the nearby wall.

“Clearly, I didn’t mean to activate them!” Tech grunted as he blocked an iron fist with his gauntlets. “Whoever coded the ship’s interface linked together completely random systems!” Another deadly fist missed its target as Tech dived out of the way at the last second. He whipped around in time to blast the droid’s chest plate and head simultaneously.

“There goes our stealth mission…” I mumbled while slicing metal limbs from their body.

Behind me, Crosshair’s rifle rung out as his powerful blaster knocked down enemies with each headshot. “Not very surprising…” His gravelly voice was barely audible over the noise of battle.

“Good! I hate stealth missions!” Wrecker laughed as he smashed the heads of two commando droids together, resulting in a mess of exposed wires and flattened steel. They dropped with a heavy thud, only for two more to take their place.

“As fun as this is, we need to get a move on to the target.” I force pushed the pair approaching Wrecker into the ceiling. Then I dropped my hold on them, letting the massive clone catch their ankles and throw them into a lagging group of droids, just now waking up.

Hunter plunged his vibroknife into the processing center of a commando resulting in a crackling fizzle. “I agree, how about we make fireworks, Tech?”

Wrecker laughed at the code name. “Oh-ohoh, this’ll be good!” He finished off the droid currently fighting him with a drag of his knife through its chest plate.

“You’ll want to turn on your sound dampeners, Annie.” Tech backed up into the center of the room while the batch moved to surround him.

I followed suit, quickly slapping the button on the side of my helmet before slicing a droid barreling towards me in half. As we held off the droids from reaching Tech, the clone rapidly input instructions into his right gauntlet. Then a screeching, high pitched, terrible tone filled the room. Even with the sound dampeners on, I threw my hands to the sides of my helmet and flinched. Every droid in the room, whether they had been activated or not, began sparking blue as the sound eventually popped something within the machines like firecrackers. Wrecker laughed, a fact I only knew from looking at him since he was completely drowned out, while he clapped his hand against his blaster in applause.

Once the final droid broke down, Tech tapped a few buttons to stop the piercing sound. “There, we should be clear now.”

Beside me, I felt Crosshair sighed as he shook his head at Tech’s words. Under his breath he muttered something I couldn’t make out. But Hunter could, and he slapped the back of his brother’s back in response.

“Why not just an EMP, Tech?” My ears were still ringing.

“I don’t want to risk taking out any life systems with a large blast.” His head turned to meet mine. “We’re on a spaceship, Annie.” There was that matter-of-fact tone again. Although this time it was justly dealt out.

Right. I gathered my senses and followed the squad’s path towards steel doors. Before they opened, Hunter addressed us. “Everyone stay alert. If the whole ship hasn’t already been alerted of our presence, they’re about to be.”

He was proven right when the doors swished open to a slew of droids, aimed directly at us. The others immediately dived away from the shots, but I remained front and center with my lightsaber. Bolts reflected off my saber into the droids that sent them my way. Then, I force pushed the first few droids, knocking a patch down as the clones moved forward with my opening. Droid after droid fell as we made our way through the army sent to detain us.

“Tech, take Annie and Cross ahead and get to Vekek before she can escape. Wrecker and I will create a distraction.”

At Hunter’s orders, Tech flipped down his visor and tapped a button on his gauntlet. Once the desired information appeared, he started down the south hallway. Crosshair followed, now switched from systematically shooting down every droid to only taking down the ones directly in his path. As I ran behind them, I heard Wrecker’s voice bellow out followed by metal crashing together. Whatever those two were up to worked, as our path to Vekek’s lab remained fairly empty. We only ran into a few droids, which Tech made quick work of to Crosshair’s dismay.

“I let you take them down.” The sniper shoved his shoulder into Tech. I’d say it was playful, but the amount of force behind that shove made me doubt using that word.

“And my fastest reaction time beating yours in the last sim has nothing to do with it?” Tech’s eyes squinted as a grin grew under his helmet at his question.

“...be the last time…” My ears twitched at the mumbled words that came from Crosshair’s helmet. Before I could say anything, Tech skidded to a halt. We had arrived.

Dividers by Djarrex

#The Red Logs: Return to the Temple #star wars fanfic #crosshair x oc #oc x crosshair #sw tbb #star wars the bad batch #tbb fanfiction #tbb fic #long fic #the clone wars fanfic #tcw fanfic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

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By My Side (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Jensen take a quiet moment to get to know one another. While the reader feels like she and Jensen are finally starting to get along for the better, Jensen pulls back and she’s informed her family is coming by to visit...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, near drowning, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

One Week Later

“Good morning,” you said as Jensen yawned, walking into your new and bright kitchen. You sipped on your coffee, Jensen running a hand through his hair.

“Morning. I haven’t slept in on the weekend in forever,” he said. “Speaking of which, what are you doing up? You’re never out of bed this early.”

“Coffee date,” you said, nodding towards the mug at the counter. You smiled as you saw Jensen put it together just as Owen walked in.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” said Jensen.

“S’no problem. You’re the bodyguard, right?” asked Owen.

“Yeah,” he said, looking Owen up and down. “Well, you look like you can handle yourself.”

“I do alright,” he said.

“Eh, strong and good looking. I approve,” said Jensen. He turned to head back upstairs, a big laugh escaping you as Owen raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. The privacy thing. I forgot.”

“He’s kinda weird,” said Owen under his breath, Jensen’s shoulders tensing as he walked away.

“He’s just protective. It’s kinda his job,” you said.

“Well he’s still weird,” he said.

“Well he’s part of my life,” you said. “He’s not going away anytime soon.”

“Maybe we should do this another time,” he said.

“Excellent idea,” you said. You showed him the way out, your eyes mid roll as you went back upstairs. You headed for your room to change into something more comfortable when you heard Jensen grunt from farther down the hall. You turned your head, Jensen looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I messed up your date. I should have kept my mouth shut. I’ll refrain from speaking when you have guests over,” he said.

“I told him about you before he came over. He was rude and I only did the date to appease a friend. Trust me, I like you a Hell of a lot more than that guy.”

“Wow. Must be a dick then considering you hate me,” he said.

“Who said I hated you?” you smiled. “You’re growing on me, Ackles.”

“Don’t go soft on me now, Y/L/N,” he said, running his hand through his messy hair, messing it up even more. “Hey. I do have one question since this is something not really in our contract.”

“What is it?”

“Am I allowed to use the pool out back?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said. “I know you normally prepare your own meals but I wanted to make a bigger dinner tonight and there’s no use in wasting the leftovers if you want to join me.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll uh, see you around then.”

“I’lll see you, Ackles.”

After lunch you were sat on your back patio, trying to read a book but your eyes kept wandering over to where Jensen was swimming. He was timing himself obviously, a watch on his wrist as he swam back and forth, over and over again. You tried to not stare but it was hard not to watch the muscles rippling in his back or his shoulders flex each time he moved. After a while he stopped in the shallow end, floating on his back as he shut his eyes and caught his breath. His chest heaved and you swallowed as he straightened up and stepped out of the water.

His swim trunks stuck to his thighs as he walked over and grabbed the towel on the chair beside you. You kept your head in your book but he sat beside you, checking his watch for a minute.

“Nice swim?” you asked, Jensen wiping himself off as he sat.

“More of a workout,” he said. “You have a good sized pool for it.”

“I have a home gym. Or will have one shortly. If you want anything for it, just let me know and I can order it,” you said, turning the page.

“You got a bench press?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “Just email me a link to whatever you want and I’ll get it.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s a business expense. I think keeping you strong is part of your job,” you said. You glanced over the page and he nodded.

“You one of those yoga girls?” he asked.

“You got something against yoga?” you asked.

“No. It requires more strength than people realize, especially in the legs,” he said. “Simply asking.”

“I pretty much do what the show tells me to. Bike, HIIT, do some weight training, yoga for flexibility. Nothing major,” you said.

“How do they enforce something like that?” he asked as he ran the towel over his head.

“It’s more of an honor system kind of thing,” you said. “They gave Gen and me personal trainers before the show started but that was it.”

“You ever do boxing, kick boxing, that sort of thing?” he asked.

“Kick boxing. I broke my hand when I did boxing. Was in a brace half of season two because of it.”

He stared at you before he grabbed both your wrists in one hand, your book falling into your lap. You scowled but he threw his hand over your mouth before you could speak. He tugged your hands downward and you took a deep inhale, Jensen nodding.

“Good. You didn’t panic. It’s hard to teach that one,” he said. “You don’t need to learn strength. You have it already. We just need to fine tune how to use it if I’m not around.”

You mumbled and he moved his hand away.

“I thought I was going to be taking a class.”

“You’re better suited to learn one on one. Jared offered to help with some more examples if needed,” he said. He tugged on your hands again, pulling them closer to him and making you scoot over to the edge of your chair. “Without harming me, how do you get out?”

“I’m not gonna care about not harming someone if this was real,” you said.

“True. But I’d like to see how your brain works under duress when it’s challenged. I’m not gonna hurt you but I will make this uncomfortable. If you want me to stop, just give me the finger, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?” you asked, swallowing thickly.

“Not gonna hurt you. Just gonna send your brain into hyperdrive. Trust me?” he asked. You nodded and he smiled. “Good. Like I said, try to get your hands free without hurting me.”

Next thing you knew he yanked you up to your feet and practically dragged you over to the grass. He pushed you down and threw a hand over your mouth and nose, your eyes wide.

“Relax. You’re smart. Think.”

You tried squirming out but it was no use and he had your hands pinned to your chest. You tried looking around but his hand stayed on you and you squeezed your eyes shut. Think. He wanted you to think.

He had decided to do this out of the blue, after you told him what you did for your training for the show. Something in what you’d said obviously gave him an idea that you knew how to get out.

You opened your eyes and stared up at him, Jensen staring down. You planted your feet flat on the ground and thrust up, moving him off of you enough for his hand to fall away from your face. You took a deep breath as you used your leg to block his arm before you rolled on top of him, sitting on his chest with your legs on either side of his neck.

“Let go or I make you,” you said with a pant. He released your hands like that, giving you a nod of approval. “That wasn’t so-”

He rolled and grabbed for you again but you rolled out of the way, doing it once more and feeling your skin scrap on concrete before you fell right into the water.

You were still getting your breath back and had tried sucking in as you fell, immediately coughing as the water shifted and an arm wrapped around your waist. You coughed up a bit of water when you broke the surface, Jensen swimming into the shallow end with you.

“You’re okay,” he said as you coughed some more water up, a hand running up and down your back. You let out a large hack and felt better after that, Jensen picking you up and carrying you back over to the patio. He sat you down on the chair and gently shoved your head between your knees, the back door opening for a moment before he returned.

He put a towel over you and you sat up, his hand running over your head.

“Didn’t mean to nearly drown you,” he said. You nodded, letting out a small cough and putting your hand on your throat. “Take a quick shower and I’ll clean up that arm. I got the trick for that throat too.”

You nodded and stood up, heading inside and rinsing off the chlorine. You changed into fresh clothes and came downstairs, Jensen coming back from his room with a red duffel bag.

“What’s that?” you asked, your hand shooting to your neck again.

“First aid. I could perform surgery on you with what’s in this bag if I had to,” he said. “Try not to talk.”

He set the bag on the kitchen counter, digging around and pulling out a few things. He took your arm and wiped it off with something that burned over the skin, carefully wrapping some gauze over the raw flesh. He set the bag on the ground and went into the cupboard, taking out a glass. He filled it with water and took out the bottle of honey from the pantry, squeezing a good amount inside before he mixed it up and stuck a tea bag in it before nuking it. He stirred it again when it was done and handed it to you. You took a cautious sip but it made your throat feel better and you smiled.

“Nearly drowned on a mission once. The medic said his mom would do that whenever he had a really bad sore throat and it did the trick.”

“You almost drowned? I thought you were superman,” you said. Jensen smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “You were holding your breath when you were swimming earlier, weren’t you, testing yourself.”

“Don’t want to be in that position again,” he said. “We will keep our distance from the water if we practice outdoors again. You did good. I see why you got away the first time.”

“Well, I feel like a dumbass,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m the dumbass, not you. It was dangerous to do that so close to the water. It was dangerous to do in the first place without telling you.”

“Yeah but I understood your point. If shit goes wrong, I can’t panic, no matter how much I want to,” you said.

“I’m still sorry. I’m going to clean up and go out for awhile. I might not come home tonight,” he said.

“I thought you living here was so I’m not alone,” you said.

“One night won’t kill you. There’s no real threats against you at the moment anyways. Besides, I think I said I would keep my private life away from the house,” he said, giving you a look.

“Oh. You’re looking for a hookup tonight,” you said. “You don’t seem like a hookup guy.”

“I don’t think that’s your concern. Just...don’t worry if you don’t see me the rest of the day,” he said before he headed to his room.

“Alrighty then,” you said. “You do you, Jensen.”

It was just after midnight when you were in the mood for a snack. You skipped down the stairs, whistling as you hopped into the kitchen.

“What are-”

You screamed and jumped back into the kitchen, a weary looking Jensen sitting up on the couch.

“Wow, you are loud,” he said, blinking slowly. You narrowed your eyes and he groaned.

“Are you drunk?” you asked, walking over as he laid back down.

“Very. I didn’t quite make it to my room,” he said.

“You land anybody?” you asked.

“No. Just wanted a drink really, got carried away,” he said. He threw his arm over his face and sighed. You went back over to the kitchen, finding some leftovers from dinner as Jensen sat up. “Shit, I was supposed to have dinner with you tonight.”

“I offered. It wasn’t a thing. I’m gonna eat the leftovers anyways,” you said as you stuck the container in the microwave. You got out a fork and felt him watching you while you found a pasta bowl to put the food in. “Can you stop staring?”

“Be slow. Is it just me or do you see that small red light outside the back door?” he asked. You risked a small glance out the kitchen window but you didn’t see anything. “It’s on the treeline.”

“No,” you said, popping the food out of the microwave and sticking it in the bowl. You walked over to where he was and looked outside again, still seeing nothing. “There’s nothing there. You’re still drunk.”

“True but I recognize small lights in dark places,” he said, forcing himself to stand. “Take your food into my room.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Cause I’m about to find out who the fuck is in the backyard,” he said, taking his gun out of his back tholster. “Go. Now. Call the police if I’m not back in two minutes.”

“Be careful,” you said. He nodded but he was already pushing on your back and walking you upstairs into his room. He pulled the door shut behind you and you stood there for a moment, taking a bite of your pasta. You sat down on his bed, watching the door.

Almost two minutes later it opened and he took a deep breath.

“You had a paparazzi spying on your property from your neighbor Doug’s yard. I like Doug.”

“What’d he do?”

“Punched the paparazzi guy in the face. He has teenage daughters and you know how dads are when they think grown men are trying to take pictures of their daughters in their bedrooms. Cops are coming but you’re fine,” he said.

“I should go apologize,” you said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Doug said we ever need something or if you’re in trouble, head over there. He’s ex air force.”

“How the Hell is he living in this neighborhood then?”

“His wife is some famous singer or something. I didn’t catch the whole thing. Point is, there’s no threat. I did get this pap’s name and credentials though so he and his office will be hearing from me in the morning.”

“You did all that in two minutes?”

“I’m efficient.”

“I see,” you said. “Well...thanks. Have a snack before bed. It’ll help.”

“You’re not scared?” he asked.

“No. Why would I be?” you asked. He stared at you and you left his room, Jensen clearing his throat when you were in the hall. “What?”

“I don’t get you. You should be scared, at least a little scared.”

“Well I’m not. It was a paparazzi. I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. “Goodnight, Jensen.”

“You jump at me but not the fact someone was spying on you. You don’t freak out over me nearly drowning you but you get scared of someone taking you. You’re not afraid of the night or being alone but you gave in easier than I expected when I said I’d stay here all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because I trust you. I don’t know. I’m fine. Goodnight,” you said.

“I didn’t say it was a problem,” he said. You shook your head and returned your bowl down to the kitchen. A minute later you were up in your bedroom and crawling under the covers, taking a deep breath. The bed was cool again and you pulled your covers up around you, a quiet knock at the door making you open your eyes.

“What?” you called.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because I remembered your day job is to pretend and you probably are very good at pretending in most any situation, even scary ones,” he said.

“What’s your point?” you said as you sat up.

“I think you’re a little shook up and I think I agreed to be nicer. I know a thing or two about feeling that way,” he said.

“Jensen. Go to bed. That’s an order,” you said.

“Yes mam.”

It was quiet and you sat back down in bed, the door suddenly opening. He walked in with a blanket and put it over you, ignoring your pout.

“I said-”

“My job is to protect you. Even from your own head sometimes. Goodnight,” he said as he pulled the door shut after himself.

“You’re still ridiculous, Ackles.”

Two Weeks Later

“How’s the manager search going?” asked Jared when he and Gen were over for dinner one night.

“Fine,” you said, catching Jensen walk past the dining room in his suit.

“So what’s it like having a bodyguard?” asked Gen as you caught Jensen’s eyes. He quickly turned his head away and left.

“Fine,” you said.

“Jay says you guys don’t talk much,” said Jared.

“Not so much. We were starting to...he stopped talking to me for the most part a few weeks ago. He said he needs to focus so whatever,” you said. Gen made a face but you shoved another forkful of food in your mouth. Jared asked about the show some and you knew he was doing it on purpose which you were grateful for.

You didn’t quite understand why Jensen’s demeanor had suddenly changed. It was sweet how he had given you a blanket, not just any but one that was his personally. The morning after the paparazzi incident you were planning to tell him just that but he was already awake, in his suit and very grumpy. At first you thought he was hungover but it was just him. You’d caught him in his workout clothes once but besides that, he was all business now and didn’t talk to you unless you were going out.

“He’s cute,” said Gen, your head lifting up to realize Jared had left the room. “Jensen. Not my type but he’s hot and he’s a good guy.”

“I know he’s Jared’s friend but do you know him?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’ve known him a long time. He’s different when he’s working a job. I’ve never really seen him when he’s under a contract. Outside of work, he’s the sweetest thing there ever was, kinda like Jare in that way, you know? I’m a little surprised at his behavior to be honest. He’s a really close friend and he’s just not himself right now.”

“I’ve seen him be sweet but it’s rare. I thought we were getting along better compared to the jumping down each other’s throats we were doing but he doesn’t talk to me anymore. I don’t get it.”

“...Y/N, it’s kind of obvious what’s going on.”

“What is?”

“He likes you,” she said. “The way he looks at you-”

“He gets paid to look at me.”

“You pay him to look at you like that?” she asked. “No. That’s all him. The guy works and works and the reason he is single is cause he’s afraid he can’t do his job if he’s worried about dying and leaving the poor girl at home alone. Well you...he likes you. What do you think his genius move would be to fix that?”

“Push me away,” you said as she sat back and nodded. “He doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m a bitch.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, suddenly appearing at the doorway and you knew there was no way he hadn’t just heard at least part of that conversation. With a swallow you stood, Gen finishing off her glass of wine. You followed Jensen around the corner, his body stiff.

“Listen, we were just-”

“I don’t really care. I wanted to inform you that your mother just phoned. She and the rest of your family will be coming to visit tomorrow.”

“What do you mean rest of my family?”

“Your father and brothers,” said Jensen, your face already snarling. “They said-”

“Mom was supposed to come. Just mom. Not the step family from hell,” you said. “My step brother has a record. Did you know that?”

“Yes, I was aware. Nothing abhorrent,” he said.

“Nick and Michael, the fucking wonder twins, they left me alone with a group of random weirdos to go get high on pot,” you said. “I was twelve years old!”

“I believe they will be coming as well,” said Jensen. “I will make myself scarce for the-”

“Oh no you will not,” you said. “Tomorrow is Monday and you work on Monday’s last I checked.”

“I did not say I would not work. I said I would be scarce,” he said. “Simply wanted to inform you before surprise guests appear.”

“Lovely,” you mumbled. “Tomorrow’s going to be awesome.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Star-crossed

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 11

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.k oh no

Content warnings: Major angst, nightmares, premonitions, auditory hallucinations, unsavory parental figures, paranoia, domestic disputes, child endangerment, violence. No smut in this one, the only thing getting fucked in this chapter are our feelings.

A/N: This one hurt to write, there were definitely some tears shed while putting this together this so fair warning do not expect this one to end well. :(

High above the metal decking of the engine room, you were elbow deep in an exhaust port, clearing away the slag to replace one of the durasteel plates that had started to warp from the excess heat. You were singing, as you always did when you worked; a vulgar, brassy shanty that was almost louder than the reciprocating scraper in your hands. You spat and wiped a wayward chunk of grease from your mouth, the taste of it oily and burnt. No matter how many times you’d been taught the lesson of ‘keep your mouth closed’ you couldn’t help it. Whenever you worked, you sang.

Raucous as a mudhorn in heat and louder than a full grown krayt, your songs were a favorite of your unit, and the chief of engineering would often come stand a while and listen; though the moment he was caught eavesdropping he would scold you for not working harder. Tough love is what he called it. He was yelling at you now from far below at the base of the hyperdrive engine, and you pushed your goggles up your grime-smeared face to see him.

Bilgerat! Get’cher ass down ‘ere, posthaste!

Yessir!

Now you were standing in front of the chief, though there was another man standing there too. Tall, thin and pale with eyes like a dead fish and a tight, steelset jaw. You didn’t recognize him, but he looked important, his lapel shining with the badge of a high-ranking officer.

You there, girl, sing.

Sir?

Don’t argue with me, child, I heard you from three decks over. Sing.

Being watched made you nervous, but you did as you were ordered. You sang something, maybe everything, either way the stranger watched you, no, judged you, his eyes never leaving your face. The dead-eyed man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but you had already stopped watching him, caught in your song, powerless against the siren song that was your own voice.

It always felt so good to let loose, your voice could set your soul free, and yet it also felt like it was pulling something in. Something greater than yourself, flowing through you, connecting you to every living thing that ever was or ever will be. Your boots were firmly stuck aboard the starship called the Wyvern’s Tongue, but your songs carried your heart to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to worlds beyond your durasteel home.

The humming is what woke Din up, though he hadn’t slept much through the night anyway, too suspicious of the artifact he had found aboard his ship. Fully armored, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall of the borrowed quarters he had stood guard over his tiny clan, dozing in and out of restless sleep.

He lifted his helmeted head to zero in on the noise you were making. It was one he was familiar with, you often hummed in your sleep, it was something he loved about you. The warm, wavering sound coming from the floor where you had made a nest of quilts for yourself was comforting, but tonight something about it seemed off.

He watched you sleep, noticing the way that your fingers twitched and your legs kicked behind you slightly. It wasn’t like you to be so energetic, so distressed. Clutched to your chest the foundling purred softly, but you didn’t seem to hear him. Your hums turned to whimpers, making the Mandalorian’s blood run cold.

She’s having a nightmare.

She’s perfect. I’ll take her.

But sir, she’s m’best bilgie. How’ll I-

Is that insubordination I hear, Chief Wellers?

N-no Cap’n Forescythe. She’s all yours.

Good. Come along, little sparrow, your talents are being wasted here.

You remember being so scared, looking to your chief for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Though you’d lived aboard the Wyvern’s Tongue since she had left Corellia’s port you’d never actually met the captain. The starcruiser was well over a thousand meters long and home to hundreds of crewmates, putting bilgerats far below the captain’s sphere of influence. What did he want from you?

Each step you took in your dream you got taller, your strides lengthening as you grew from a gangly teenager to a young woman. You were at the bridge now, being sat in a stiff but comfortable chair. You were taught to relay orders, delegate operations, interpret incoming transmissions and their origins. It was a station high above your birthright, but you were never one to turn down a challenge, and you bullied your way to excellence; much to your captain’s pride.

Captain Forescythe was usually described as a cold, unforgiving man, but he treated you remarkably well for a boat-brat dug up from the scuppers, much to the disdain of his fellow officers. He told you that you were a natural talent, gifted by the Maker with a voice so strong, so beautiful, almost like he revered you for it. Much like the ship's namesake, the Wyvern’s captain lorded over you like treasure, jealousy guarding you like a priceless jewel.

The captain’s precious little pet.

Sing, my little Sparrow.

Unable to spectate any longer, Din crawled over to you, brushing an armored hand over your sweat-streaked face. “Mesh’la? Are you alright? Wake up cyare, you’re having a nightmare.”

Wake up.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Once where a beautiful, peaceful world had once been there was now only dust. The Death Star your ship was escorting had succeeded in her mission, and you had been graciously allowed to watch as the mechanical moon obliterated a billion lives as one would exterminate a nest of roaches. Around you your crew cheered, hooray for the Empire! Death to the Resistance! But you couldn’t hear them.

You heard screaming.

Clawing at your ears and squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to make it stop. As if millions of voices were funneling directly into your skull.

You ran. Ran through the labyrinthian hallways, ran as fast as you could to your quarters. Even your blankets would not protect you, the wailing only growing louder.

Murderers! Monsters! You killed us! Why? Why why why!

You ran from your tiny room, backpack slung over your shoulder, filled with what few things you owned. Ran all the way to the hangar. You’d worked on interceptors a thousand times before when your hands were still small, when you could weasel your way into the narrowest of spaces and prove yourself worthy of not getting jettisoned. Knife in hand you unlocked the security protocols easier than picking your teeth, and the hangar fell away beneath you.

Turning back one last time to glance at the artificial home you had known for so long you saw a figure standing there. Was it the captain? Had he come to stop you? Stop his precious Sparrow from flying away?

No. They were blue, flickering in and out of corporeality. Their face took up your entire mindscape now, their features ever changing, like you were looking at more than one face at a time. The eldritch being’s eyes bored through yours, shifting rapidly from those of a man to those of a child to those of an elder, a hundred lives all demanding to be seen at once. Their mouth did not move when it spoke.

“i̴͊̎t̴'s̸̉͋ ̵͋c̸͑ȏ̸̕m̸͐͛i̸̽͘n̷̾͂ǵ̵”

You sucked air like your lungs had never known oxygen, nearly launching the foundling into orbit as you bolted upright. Beskar burdened arms coiled around you the next second, and you stung your knuckles on his armor trying to fight him off in your panic.

“Ger’off’a me! It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Cyare! Stop! You’re having a nightmare, it’s ok I’ve got you!” Battleborne muscles held you tight against a cold plate of steel while you thrashed until you were coherent. Husband. You let your body relax against your oathsworn and wept, deep, heaving sobs that tore your throat apart and crackled your ribs. Soft shushing noises came through Din’s modulator next to your ear, but the cold metal of his armor brought you little comfort.

“I-I’m s-s-sor-ry.” You stuttered into the fabric of his cowl, the roughhewn cloth soaked with tears. Strong fingers carded through your dampish hair, still not dried all the way from your shower only a few hours ago. Din pressed his palm against the back of your head, burying you in the crook of his shoulder where he could protect you from whatever had scared you. The yellowed tips of his gloves bumped against your unburdened ear cuffs with each pass of his hand, but the leather scraping the metal couldn’t drown out the whispers that still oozed from your thoughts.

Why why why why why why...

“It’s alright, cyar’ika, I’m here. Grogu’s here.” Without tearing your eyes away from the safe haven of his cloak you groped blindly for the baby, finding the disheveled youngling and pulling him in tight. “Can you tell me what happened?” Din asked, his modulated voice soft with worry. You shook your head against your partner. “Alright, that’s ok.”

-ỉ̶t'̸͑̋́̂s̸ ̵̝͕̏̀͠͝c̷̬͙̃̽͌̑̊o̷̅͑̓̈́m̴̧͓͈̭̃͂́̽͌͑ǐ̶̓̕n̷̓̋̚g̵͕͙͎͊̀͊̽!̶̑̀-

You gasped and pulled away from your husband’s comfort, eyes wider than moons, pupils shrunken to pinpoints. Gloved hands found your face, cupping your cheeks and trying to get you to look into his hidden honeywells that were searching your eyes. Unblinking, you looked right through him.

“Can you hear that?” You whispered, your voice far, far away.

“Hear what?”

-I̴̭̊̚͘͘T̷́̽̕S̴̔̅̈́ ̸̋C̸̀͋Ỏ̸̉̄͝M̸̐͂I̶N̷̽͗̈̌G̵͓̎̈̊̀͛͘͠!̶!̷̤̏-

“That!” you shrieked, making both your boys jump. You clawed at your ears, though you knew that wouldn’t help, the voices were coming from inside. “I-I have.. I have to go! I have to go now!” You tried to spring up off the floor, but your arm was caught in the iron grip you knew and trusted, keeping you at your knees. “I have to warn Alewyn!”

“Cyar’ika what are you talking about? Warn her about what?”

The phantom voice wailed again, and you doubled over from the force of it, sending a fresh wave of tears down your face. Din was getting scared now, his eyes wide with worry behind the visor, his throat bobbing around dry swallows. You’d never woken up like this before, so distraught and inconsolable, and it was making him feel helpless. He couldn’t put binders on your emotions, grapple with your fears, slay your inner demons.

“Let go!” You roared and flew from his grasp, tripping over your faceplate and the pile of quilts as you blasted out the door, sprinting down the Sunskate’s curving corridors towards the bridge with your foundling stuffed under your arm. Haunting voices chased you through the halls, making you deaf to the armored thunder that was following dutifully behind.

You charged through the bulkhead to the bridge, nearly busting the durasteel door off its hinges when you flew through it, skittering to a halt in front of the viewport. With wild eyes you searched the void, ignoring the concerned questions that were being asked of you. Where is it where is it where is it?! From corner to corner you scanned, locking your red-rimmed eyes on every flicker, every spark.

Nothing.

Nothing for miles.

Slowly you became aware of those around you, the soft leather gloves of your mate pulling on your face and the warm but worried voice of the Sunskate’s captain.

“Cyare?”

“Tra’laar?”

“Patu?”

Your legs gave out under you and you let yourself be caught in the steelbound arms of your husband, the two of you sinking to the floor with the foundling still locked to your chest. Terror replaced itself with scalding embarrassment, making you bury your unblinking eyes in the foundling’s forgiving tummy. Your eyelids wouldn’t close no matter how hard you willed them to, because they knew that somewhere, out there,

Was a dragon.

“What’s wrong with her? Did you do something to upset her?!” Alewyn hissed, becoming defensive of her ill-begotten rescue.

“No! She had a nightmare, I think. Cyar’ika whatever it is, it’s not real. There’s nothing out there, come back to me, please.” Mando’s loving pleas and careful touches went unrecognized, no matter how diligent they were.

What finally drew you back to reality was the gentle pat pat pat of fat baby paws on your face. You turned your wilted gaze to the foundling, the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable only growing stronger and more painful. “I-I’m s-sorry, Goober, you s-sh-sh-shouldn’t have to see me like-”

Pap.

Baby beans smacked you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes, making you furrow your brow. “What are you- oh.” Your eyes slid closed, and a warm peacefulness breezed through you, exorcising the whispering voices between your ears. You took a deep, somewhat stuttered breath and let go, feeling whatever weird baby magic the foundling possessed flow through you. The night terror faded to the back of your mind, dissipating like mist until it evaporated entirely from your thoughts.

“Thank you…” You whispered, nuzzling the baby’s chubby belly. Heart rate steady and breath even, you leaned back against the man who was still holding you up. Din rested the edge of his helmet on the top of your head and hummed, a low, brassy tone, sounding relieved. Where his hands were wrapped around your sides you felt the slow roll of his palms, warm and protective. “I’m sorry, Mando, Alewyn, I don’t know what came over me...”

“S’all right, missy, t’ain’t the first time I’ve seen someone go wailin’ through the halls. We all have our burdens to bear.” Alewyn combed a dainty hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “Good thing them boys’ve gotcha though.” She glanced between the visor of the Mandalorian that was coiled so defensively around you and the little green baby you held so dearly. “I can tell they love ya.”

You nodded sheepishly and let Din help you to your feet, his hands never leaving you lest you waver. Angrily you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to cover your shame as the three of you walked back to your room. When the bedroom door closed behind you, you went straight for the porthole window, cautiously searching the stars again.

“What are you looking for?” Din asked hesitantly, “What… what were you dreaming about?”

“Um. I had a dream we were… under attack.” You lied, your eyes still locked to the void. If you could help it, the secrets of your past would someday die with you, though by the sounds of the whispers you had heard not even death could keep its mouth closed.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare, I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do for you?” Din the ever-thoughtful asked, draping a quilt over your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from where you had been sleeping on it, the weight of it reassuring on your back. You shook your head. He glanced at the back of one vambrace, “We’re still another hour from the station, why don’t we get our things packed and back on the Crest? Would that be ok?”

It was better than going back to sleep, you didn’t trust your own thoughts not to terrorize you again, and you nodded enthusiastically. Din didn’t allow you to lift a finger while he zoomed around the little room, collecting your armor and laundry and then you, scooping you and the foundling up in his arms.

“Put me down, tinman, I’m not helpless!” you chided with a weak little laugh.

“There’s my girl. Nope, I’m carrying you. Deal with it.”

You sighed in a heavy, mocking tone, covering your face with your mask like a shy child while he proudly tromped back to the hangar to where your immobile home lay. Once you were all lifted up the half-hanging ramp you dropped graclessly onto a crate with a huff. You were beat, but it felt nice to be back in your ship, the familiarity adding to whatever calming effect the foundling had used. The little green terror was drowsy in your arms, spent from using his wild baby powers to vanquish your demons. You kissed his wrinkly little head and swaddled him in the quilt Din had accidentally stolen for you.

Tinman was digging through the larder, looking for something for breakfast and found a pack of biscuits to give you. Though the suspicious item he still carried in his pocket had kept him sleepless, the need to care for his loved ones overrode every other instinct, making him forget it for the time being. You weren’t hungry, if anything you were nauseous from your night terror, but Din was insistent; and you nibbled on a bright blue macaroon, splitting bites with the sleepy baby.

Eventually a soft beeping chimed from the Mandalorian’s vambrace, stationfall in fifteen minutes. Outside the ship you heard a holler, and you strode to the ramp to find Alewyn and Lilah, ready to bid thee farewell.

”Alright, so!” Alewyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Here’s the dealy-o. The Sunskate can’t actually… dock with the station. M’good ole dad’s still got hunters on the loose, never know when they’ll turn up, eh?” She laughed. “Your ship’s gonna have’ta dock on’er own, but Lilah’s patchwork should hold ya together long ‘nough for the service droids’ta pick ya up.”

You ignored the loud, audible groan from behind you. “I think we can manage that.” You started to hop down off the ramp, but the spry Togruta was already climbing up into the Crest, barreling you over. Alewyn the Affectionate squeezed your ribs so hard you felt the air leave your lungs, making you grunt ugly. One of her nimble hands disappeared from you into her many secret pockets, then snuck into one of yours, leaving a sizable weight of credits behind. “Wynnie!” you hissed against her montral, “Not again!”

“S’least I can do, since we nearly ripped that old bucket’a shit in half and you spared another spacer from the slab.” She held you out at arms length, bobbling her montrals at you with an arrogant grin. “Take care’a yerself, missy. And you too, Mando! Be good to this woman’n’er son or so help me!” The princess raised a fist at him that turned into an outstretched hand. He shook it hesitantly, but the lavender lady reeled him in, and you giggled at his hover-hands while she squeezed the life out of him.

Lilah helped her wife down from the ramp, and the two of them waved before hefting the ramp closed, sealing you inside with your crew. You dashed up the ladder to the cockpit, looking for a horn to honk but there wasn’t one, giving you another item to add to your mental grocery list. Din followed you up with Grogu in tow, taking his seat in the captain’s chair.

The Sunskate’s hangar jaws slid open slowly, pulling a blue force field over the stretch of stars. Far ahead you could just barely make out the shiny little dot where the station was, glittering just a little brighter than the stars themselves. With the cockpit door tightly sealed, Din carefully started up the old gunship, and on instinct you covered Grogu’s ears to protect him from the inevitable backfire.

The Razor Crest sputtered to life and slowly floated out of the hangar door, relying more on inertia than propulsion to get her towards the station. Out the window you saw the enormous rayship that had carried you here bank away from you, the starlight glittering briefly on her copper-colored belly before her propulsion engines flared back to life, and soon enough she was nothing more than a comet streaking through the void.

Din fussed with the radio transponder, opening up a hailing frequency that would alert the attention of the station droids, and it wasn’t long before a large transport unit was making its way to you. The automatic taxi magnetized itself to the roof of the Crest, easing the strain off of your damaged engines.

A robotic voice beeped through the comms: “THANK YOU FOR CHOS-ING EL-GON AU-TO-MA-TED SER-VI-CES. SMILE-Y FACE. CO-MEN-CING TRANS-PORT TO HAN-GAR SEV-EN-TEEN FOR EV-AL-U-A-TION AND RE-PAIR. HAVE A NICE DAY. SMILE-Y FACE”

Din groaned, his fists creaking on the steering wheel. “Why’s it gotta be droids…”

You shrugged in your chair. “Elgon’s old as dirt, prob’ly older than the Crest. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything on it that wasn’t animatronic.”

“Great.”

Ahead of you, the station dominated your viewport, humming with a myriad of activity. A neutral starport, Elgon boasted service to any and all as long as they had coin in their pockets, regardless of their commendations or crimes. You’d been to the old outpost many a time, both on your own and while you still wore a uniform, and excitedly you remembered a particular sweets shop that used to operate in the center.

Your service droid was nearly at the station now, approaching a large closed hangar with the number seventeen painted on it in orange Basic. You playfully kicked at the side of the pilots’ seat where Din’s butt was unguarded by the arm rests. “You excited to get fixed up, bucket boy?”

He nodded, he was ready to get back on the trail towards the last bounty. The thought of hunting again reminded him of the Imp device in his pocket that still mystified him, reigniting buried suspicions. I should ask her about it, maybe she knows what it is. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you while you were showering, or when you were getting ready to sleep, so being the polite riddur he decided he would bring it up with you in the morning.

Din reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the mechanical spider, ready to pull it into the light when the hangar doors opened.

Revealing a blizzard of white duraplast.

“Oh fuck.” Your collective hearts went through the decking at the sight before you. There, swarming the station proper were dozens of Imperial stormtroopers, their eggheads covering the hangar like dirty snow. “Get down!” you hissed at Din who was already two steps ahead of you, sliding out of the pilots seat and under the dashboard. You tore the faceplate off of your crown and stuffed it into his hands along with Grogu and caged your two boys in with your knees, determined to keep anything mando-factured out of sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Din spat, slamming his fist on the floor. “This station is supposed to be neutral territory! We need to turn around, we can not stay here!”

Under you the Crest swayed gently in the droid’s grasp before being lowered onto a maintenance skiff, the hoversled bouncing slightly from the weight of your ship. Desperately you threw levers and pushed switches, trying to get the Crest to restart, but her engines were long gone, the turbines spinning almost mockingly slow. You weren’t going anywhere.

The comms light lit up on the dashboard with a soft chime, and on reflex you went to answer it when Din grabbed your leg. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made ‘what-choice-do-we-have’ hands at him, “Dude we are fucked unless I answer them, I-I speak their language, I can get us through.”

“Yeah? So do I.” He hissed from the floor, smacking the side of his thigh where his firearm hung.

“-Ksst!- hush! I’m handling this.” You straightened your shoulders and set your jaw straight before flipping on the receiver.

The holoprojector lit up in front of you with a tiny stormtrooper. “Identify yourself.”

“TK number SPW dash seven-zero-four-two, engaged in dogfight planetside and in need of repairs.”

“Why isn’t your ship running a beacon, soldier?”

“It's pre-empire surplus, it doesn’t have one.”

“What are you doing flying around in such a relic?” The stationmaster said with a bite of suspicion.

“...Budget cuts.”

They chuckled. ”No kidding. Alright then, what’s your designation?”

Shit, uh... “Prisoner transport unit.”

“Roger. Stand-by for transportation to engineering bay and prepare for inspection.”

The trooper winked out of existence, and you started to sigh with relief when the hand on your boot yanked you down to the ground.

“Prisoner transport unit?!” He rasped once you were at visor level with him on the floor. “Could you have come up with something else?!”

Unwillingly, your lips curled back and bared your teeth at his hateful tone. “There’s a shitload of guns and a goddamn carbonite freezer down in the hold, we’re not exactly delivering cookies. We need to get you two hidden before we get to the mechanics, come on!”

Din watched you drop through the ladder hatch with his heart in his throat, the fluttering organ violently trying to break out of his ribs. The Maker must think this is hilarious. After everything I’ve done to keep this kid away from the Imps we’re just going to go knocking on their fucking door. Everything was stacked against him. He was tired from lack of sleep, he was scared for the safety of his clan, and to top it all off he was becoming more distrustful of the microchip by the second; the mounting tension he emanated filling the cockpit like carbonite fog.

Maybe it’s a tracking device?

That… might make sense. Elgon station was out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, why else would a shitload of Imps be here if not to capture him and his crew? To take his son? Through the night he had grown suspicious of the item he had found, and a nagging thought had seeded itself in his frontal lobe, one that he refused to give audience.

What if it came from her?

No, that’s stupid. That’s your riddur, she’s obviously not an Imp. He reasoned, slowly soldier-crawling his way to the hatch with his son and your armor in tow. It must have been in the coral already, or come from one of the pirates, maybe they planted it here. But if that’s the case then we’ve been handed right over into a trap. He lept down the ladder with Grogu squashed under his arm, watching you fly around the cabin looking for an acceptable hiding spot for your foundling and a full grown Mandalorian.

Time started to move in slow motion as it usually did for him when he was sizing up quarry. What did her puck say, before I decided not to turn her in? He ran through his mental rolodex, digging for your file. Ex hunter. Guild dissenter. Bribed out of high-profile bounty. Now that he had met the high-profiler for himself he really couldn’t blame you, though it was suspicious that you had returned from the bridge one bounty short after speaking with Alewyn in private.

Alewyn. Princess-turned-pirate, a renegade royal that had made a name for herself literally ripping ships down from the sky. Hunter ships in particular. Awful convenient for her to be right in our line of travel to a station full of Imps out in the middle of fuckall nowhere. He froze, his visor locked to your frantic form. As if…

As if she was waiting for us.

The corners of his lips bared his teeth to no-one behind his visor as the distrust he had sown in his own heart dug its claws in deep. This has been a trap from the beginning! She’s been playing the long con since Tatooine. In his other hand he held your betrothal gift, the beskar faceplate that he had presented to you when you swore your vows. It reflected his own visor back to him, the hazy lighting of the cabin shimmering on the mudhorn embossed on the brow. No… that’s not it… that’s not true, she loves you…

Right…?

Or… so she says. His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you.

He’d caught you so easily on that dirtball of a planet, too easily for a hunter of your stature. You’d practically tossed yourself into the arms of a complete stranger, assumed the role of the child’s caregiver without question. Agreed to marry him after barely a month.

Grogu made a sniffling noise under Din’s arm, gaining both of his buir’s attentions. His nebulous eyes were beginning to moisten, threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. Instantly you ran to your baby’s defense. “Hey buddy boy, what’s wrong?” You carefully took the baby from Din, hugging him to your chest and making the tiniest sob bubble out of his nose. “No no no it’s ok, please don’t cry sweetheart!”

“He’s scared.” Din growled in a manner not at all comforting. You glared at the indomitable mountain of metal, offended that he would use such a tone in front of his own son. “He knows when there’s a threat nearby.” Under you the Crest wobbled slightly, signaling the start of her trek to the engineering bay. Tick tock.

“Fuck! Can you get in a storage crate?” you asked frantically, bouncing Grogu on your hip to get him to quiet down. The baby could sense the mounting anxiety radiating off of his buir, and was getting himself spun up into a fresh panic. His cries devolved into sobs, making the hull echo with despair. “Shh.. it’s ok! Baby boy please, we can’t do this right now!”

“Too obvious.”

“Ok, the sleeping cubby? The lockers? C’mon Mando work with me!”

“They’ll tear this ship apart the second it hits the bay. There’s no hiding. That’s it, we’re done for.” Din tossed up his hands and made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, some kind of strained laugh, the husk of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You knew that sound, it was the sound of acceptance, of defeat.

Like fuck you were giving up. You made to retaliate when something past his shoulder caught your eyes. Expecting you to fight with him he stopped his pacing and glared at you, then followed your eyes to the carbonite freezer. He whipped back around, gawking at you like you’d grown a second head. “Oh fuck no.”

“We are out of options!” you nearly screamed, “I can’t just cuff you, there’s no guarantee that they won't take you and Beans hostage, freezing you would be safer. I-it would only be for an hour or two, tops, just to pass inspection! That thing can unfreeze, right?”

“That is not the point!” Din bellowed, “You are suggesting not only to freeze me but to freeze him as well?” Din jabbed a finger at the baby, a rush of emotions threatening to boil his bucket right off his head. He widened his shoulders, broadening himself so large that he seemed to encompass the entire ship, glossy black eye turning dark and hateful on you. He couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself any longer. “You… has this been your plan all along?”

You balked, “Plan? Plan for what? The hell are you-”

He threw your beskar on the floor and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the wall opposite the freezer and making Grogu scream out in terror. Mando’s visor took up your entire field of view, reflecting with your own wild eyes. “Your plan to capture us!” He barked, the malice overflowing like an erupting volcano. “You told that Imp that this was a prisoner transport unit. We don’t have any prisoners on this ship unless you’ve had them since the beginning.”

“Are you out of your fucking bucket?!” You spat back at him, “You think I want to put you in carbonite?! Put my son in carbonite?! There’s nowhere else on this ship to hide you!”

“How convenient.” The joints in your shoulders popped from the force he was applying to them, his weight nearly fusing you with the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” Over you the lights began to flicker, though neither of you saw it with your eyes locked on each other; yours filled with pain and anger, his visor pinning you down as if you were quarry.

At the sound of your pain the tension on your shoulder bones eased slightly, but not enough to let you free of the wall. Scalding shame burnt its way across his face, bitter and stinging. He was hurting you, the one thing he swore never to do to you again, the very first oath he had promised.

You chewed the side of your cheek, trying to steady your words. “Din. I love you. I love Grogu! I lied to that Imp to protect you. I don’t want those rotten eggs to have you, how could you even think that of me?”

She lies. One thing that Din knew about you was that you were unquestionably good at was putting on a ruse, able to sweet-talk quarry or lure droids to their deaths. But the way you took to the comms was different, how you were able to use the Imps own terminology against them, even how you spoke to the pirates before you were ‘rescued’ was delivered with flawless diction. It was too perfect, too natural...

As if that was your real voice.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” He growled, digging armored claws into the flesh of your shoulders, making you suck air through your teeth. Defensively you coiled your arms around Grogu, burying his wrinkly little head against your chest where he would be safe from the man you thought you trusted. Fire cascaded out from under Din's helmet, trying to burn you at the stake. “You told me once that I don’t know you.” His helmet tilted like a serpent poising to strike, words dripping with venom. “But I should have known an Imp when I saw one.”

“I am not an Imp!! That’s not who I am any MORE!” Bulbs exploded around you at your words, glass and sparks raining down from above. The strength of your thundering roar broke the delicate machinery in Din’s helmet, causing his audio intake to screech with feedback. Immediately his hands left your shoulders and went to his ears, trying to protect himself from the horrible noise.

The let-up was all the invitation you needed, and you dropped yourself low; catapulting into Din’s chest plate like a linebacker and knocking him into the freezer. You kicked your faceplate between his boots, thrust Grogu into his arms and punched the activator on the wall, tears flowing hotly down your face. As the fog billowed outward Mando wrapped himself around the foundling, as though his impenetrable armor could protect the child from the nightmare of being frozen alive.

Horrified, you watched as the two creatures you loved most were consumed by the mist, leaving a dark block in its wake that bore their likeness. The metal was already ice cold to the touch when you ran your hand over the glaring curve of your husband's visor, and down to the terrified, tear-streaked face of your baby.

Choked sobs tore at the back of your throat, trying to drown you with guilt. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry my loves, I… I did what I had to do. You weren’t given time to process your grief, nearly jumping out of your skin when plasticast fists rapped on the access door with authoritarian vigor. Composing yourself to the best of your abilities, you stuck your finger down the barrel of your blaster, scraping off the dark residue and smearing it under your eyes to hide your welted cheeks.

Glass crunched under your boots as you made your way through the dismembered cabin to the wall panel, punching the buttons with shaky hands. The ramp chuggered and stopped halfway down, but it was down far enough for you to make visor contact with the platoon of troopers who were demanding your attention. Their armor was clean, freshly moulded and recently polished. These weren’t just the Empire’s soggy leftovers, these were new recruits.

Disgracefully hopping down from the ramp among a scurry of pit droids you puffed up your chest and squared your shoulders as you had seen your partner do whenever he was intimidating quarry. You crossed your arms behind your back in parade rest, watching as a painted trooper strode up to you, his rifle pointed at the floor near your feet.

“Stand aside, we have orders to search this ship.”

“Whose orders?”

“Elgon Station is under the Imperial jurisdiction of Admiral Forescythe, no ships in or out without search.”

You felt all the blood in your body evaporate at the name. Forescythe. Shit balls of hell, that fucking bastard is still alive?!

“Is that really necessary?”

The rifle in his hand rose just slightly. “You got something to hide?”

“No, sir.” you said sweetly, hoping politeness would buy you brownie points.

“Stand aside then.” The trooper barked, gesturing to your ship with the barrel of his rifle. You jumped when the heavy access ramp hit the ground, turning to glare daggers at the droid that had unfastened the damaged hydraulics. The stormtrooper marched past you up the ramp, inspecting the interior of the cabin as he went. As predicted, he nudged the lids of the supply crates open, pointing his gun at any would-be threats. Another pair of eggheads followed inside, rudely stomping through the Crest’s belly like they owned the place.

The painted trooper made loud, gross sniffing noises. “Smells like carbonite in here, your freezer might be leaking, better get that checked out…” He trailed off when he clocked the machine and its contents, taking big strides towards it. “Lookit that, Is that an actual mando? I didn’t even think they were real, I’ve only ever heard stories.” He gestured to you with his gun, “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked coldly.

“How’d you catch him? And his... weird dog?” The trooper tapped harshly on the solidified metal that covered your foundling's eyeball, making your blood pyroclast through your veins, but you remained composed.

“I’m more dangerous than I look.” You seethed, digging your nails into the skin of your arms behind your back. And you’re about to find out just how fucking dangerous if you don’t back off!

One of the unpainted soldiers piped up. “Do you think this is the one they’ve been looking for? The one the Admiral was talking about?”

“Could be, I’ll radio the Wyvern when it makes stationfall, should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours.” Cotton seemed to grow in your mouth at his words, making it impossible to swallow. No, it can't be.

-ī̶̱̩͋t's̴̈̅ ̵̛̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷ŏ̷̐̓͑ṁ̸͌̋̾̕in̵̨͎̩̠̼͂͜g̷͑̔.-

Shut up. The commander jabbed his rifle at you. “I heard someone say that mandos never take their helmets off, we should unfreeze it and see what it looks like.”

“No.” You barked, making the soldiers flinch. Haha. “He’s very dangerous, even under the effects of hibernation sickness he can still be quite lethal.”

“There’s three of us and only one of it.” A rifle was pointed your way, “Thaw it out.”

Like hell. “Alright, then I won’t have to be the one to explain to the Admiral why a Mandalorian is loose in the station, or dead. I’ve heard he’s a reasonable man.”

The three troopers looked at each other with questioning glances, suddenly unsure. That seemed enough to deter them, and you waited while the troopers barked orders at the repair droids, ordering them to get your ship fixed up. A battalion of robots swarmed the Razor Crest inside and out, almost making you thankful Mando wasn’t there to blast them full of holes. The greasy robots would make quick work of the damage, and hopefully have you out of the station before the Wyvern arrived.

The Wyvern. You wanted to curl in a ball and die. Of all the bullshit the galaxy had to offer it had decided that you deserved a double helping of unwanted nostalgia. Not only was the Wyvern’s Tongue still operational she would be bringing with her good old Admiral Forscythe, though last time you saw him he was just a captain.

Your captain.

And he was on his way.

To this station.

To your ship.

To you.

Oh fuck.

Immediately you turned to your partner for reassurance, only to meet his frozen stare. You wanted to release him, let him carry you safely away from this place, but you weren’t out of the woods yet; so you were both going to have to wait. You’d never been frozen, thank the Maker, but you’d heard stories. How being frozen is like being trapped alive, trying to breathe but not being able to move your lungs. Still being conscious but feeling your blood stop in your veins. A living death.

A waking nightmare.

Repair droids swarmed your ship’s interior like a hive of bees, but they were making quick work of the damage and would hopefully be gone soon. Shaky legs carried you back over to the carbonite freezer, and you leaned heavily on the block of frozen metal, stretching your arms around it in an attempted hug. I wish you were here, my love, but it will be over soon.

You pressed a kiss to both of your boy’s faces and slumped to the floor, leaning on the bandoliered boots behind you. Between the wide open ramp and the droids working on the stardrive you were too exposed to unfreeze your family, and the thought of having to wait even a minute longer made the edges of your eyes threaten to spill anew.

Stars above you wanted this to be over. The back of your throat tasted like bile, and the plasma residue smeared under your eyes was starting to burn. You needed to get away, to blast off into space with your boys and put your draconian past behind you before the literal beast reared her ugly head.

But… now he knows. You groaned into your knees, digging claws into your own hair. He knows! You fucking asshat now he knows! Your greatest, vilest secret had been spilled, and you were going to have to find a way to live with the consequences. He... he’ll understand. Bilgerats are practically foundlings, I just need to explain myself better. Yeah! That’s it! I didn’t have the chance to explain myself. He’ll forgive me… right?

Time seemed to crawl, languid and slow, forcing you to wallow in your own guilt. You cautiously eyed the platoons of troopers that would often march past, trying to glare daggers through their shiny white buckets, but they paid you no mind. The hours ticked by, making you more and more anxious by the second. You had no way of knowing how soon the Wyvern would arrive, could be hours, could be minutes. Could be seconds.

-į̶̱̩̄͋ͅt'̶̡̳̰̝̇s̴̈̅ ̵̧̛̺̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷̄͋͛̚oṁ̸͌̋̾́̈́̕͝i̸̇̏-

I’m aware! You snapped at your thoughts, pissed that they were still present long after Grogu had purged them from your mind. I must be going crazy, it’s the guilt. It has to be the guilt. You rubbed at your temples, trying to dispel the mounting tension in your skull. When you opened your eyes a sweeper droid was clearing away the glass shards from the floor, and you cocked your brows at it as it went by. When did the lights burn out?

Eventually the interior repairs were completed to the fullest, and the moment the ramp hydraulics were functional again you slammed the door shut and booked it back to the freezer controls.You turned a pair of knobs on the side of the carbonite block and took a step back. The metal that covered your beloved crewmates turned red, then bright gold, sloughing off in luminous waves.

You jumped to catch Din and the foundling before they hit the ground, his strength lost from the effects of hibernation sickness, nearly causing him to melt onto the floor along with the aurelius sludge pooling at your feet. In your ear you heard both of your boys taking desperate, broken breaths; and you rubbed at Din’s dorsal plate, encouraging him to fill his lungs.

As a unit you sank down to the floor where the child practically rolled into your lap. His enormous eyes were squinty and blinking, making you think that he may be temporarily blinded. “Hey booger, it’s ok, can you hear me?” Grogu made a sad little noise, but that meant he could at least still hear. “There ya go, that’s it, nice’n slow. Y’ok?” The child looked up at you with a twisted expression, then immediately yarked bright blue all over your shirt. “You know what, I deserved that, thanks.”

Din’s modulated cough grated in your ear. “How… long?”

“Couple hours, but the repairs are finished, we can get the fuck outta here now. Are you alright? You gonna barf?” He started to shake his head no, but the shaking might have been his downfall because you felt him start to heave. “Not in the bucket not in the bucket! Come on, up! Heeere we go…” You gently set Grogu down on the floor and bullied yourself up under Din’s arm, dragging him as fast as you could to the fresher. You barely got the beskar out of the way in time for your partner to empty his stomach. “That’s it, let it all out, I gotcha.”

Din hung on to the sides of the fresher like his life depended on it, shaking violently with every hurl, and there wasn’t much else you could do but hold on. He released one armored claw from the side of the fresher to reach back and find you, but when you tried to hold his hand to comfort him he pulled his fingers from your grasp. Again you tried, but this time he didn’t just let go, he pushed you away, and you heard him mumble something into the fresher bowl.

“-..a...tor-”

“What’d you say?”

“Traitor!!!” Din spat, curling back around at you with viciously bared teeth, eyes wild and bloodshot. You backpedaled away from the fuming warrior that was half crawling half leaping towards you, making weak throws that were slowly gaining in strength. “You fucking traitor! I should have known! I should have known from the very fucking start!” You’d never seen him angry without the helmet, and it terrified you. He terrified you.

You put up your hands defensively, backing away from him. “Please! Let me explain! It wasn’t-”

“I don’t listen to Imps!” He swung at you and missed, but his agility was quickly returning. You wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.

“Damn it Din, fucking listen-” Ignoring you, he groped for the gun on his belt, and you were barely able to grab your armor in time from the freezer to block his reckless shots. You crouched over Grogu, using your body and the face plate as a shield against the assaulting Mandalorian. “Din! Stop! Please! You’re going to hurt our son!”

“Our?!” He hissed, snarling around the word. “That is MY son! Get away from him!” Din grabbed the beskar mask and tried to pull it from you, yanking you up from the floor. “MY son does not belong to you, this does not belong to you! Who do you think you are?!”

“Who am I?! I’m your wife!”

He stopped trying to wrestle the lovingly-chosen armor away from you, meeting your eyes with his own darkened gaze. His earthly irises flickered fast between both of your own pupils, searching your face for something, some kind of reminder. A reminder that he loves you. The muscles on the side of his jaw clenched and rippled, chewing on the words he was looking for.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse, but certain, as if there would never be a greater truth than the one he breathed into being.

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness in his tone stabbed icicles in your veins and froze your mouth closed, rendering you speechless. His hateful gaze looked down to the mask still in your hands, twisting into a pained expression. “Did… did this mean anything to you?”

“Din… please…” you begged, you voice barely above a whisper, “It means everything to me, you mean everything to me!” Behind you Grogu was already starting to cry again, making the situation even worse. “I love you! I did what I did to protect you, to protect Grogu! I didn’t want those Imp bastards to take you. Can’t you see that?”

The Mandalorian laughed, miasmatic and sickly, infected with distrust. “Isn’t that just like an Imp, lying right up til the very end.” He let go of the beskar as if it was unclean, then turned swiftly around on his heel, striding to the fresher to grab his helmet from where it had been discarded on the floor. He picked it up and looked into it’s visor, almost like he was debating whether or not he could put it back on. It sank over his head with a hiss of it’s latches, amplifying his dominating presence tenfold.

You pressed on, balling your fists in determination. “It shouldn’t matter who I used to be, just who I am now. I don’t know anything about your past, all I know is who you are now, I know that you are my… ner rid-oor…”

He was on you in a flash. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue as well, Mando’a is sacred, I should have never taught it to you.” In one swift motion he grabbed the offensive beskar from your useless fingers and threw it somewhere behind him, the iron clanging ugly against the durasteel decking. He dug behind his chestplate and found the lucky talismans you had given him as a sign of your affection, a sign that he now decided should have been a big red flag, shoving them into your empty hands.

“You have dishonored me.”

The Mandalorian bent to pick the crying youngling up off the floor, carrying him over to the bed you had all shared. He didn’t turn around to face you when he spoke again. “Get out.”

His frigid words had you frozen in place, frozen in time. He’s leaving you. Your mind was racing, your heart flooding with sadness and grief. Words abandoned you, giving you only a whisper of your silver tongue.

“Din.. I-I didn’t have a choi-”

“GET OUT!!!” He ripped your backpack off the wall and flung it at you, making you reel from the impact. The ramp opened behind you, and you were suddenly being shoved out the door, rolling backwards out of the Crest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the krayt teeth so hard that the edges cut your palms while you banged on the rising wall of steel.

From behind the closing door you heard a sound, faint but desperate, nearly inaudible over your own pounding heartbeat. It sounded distinctly like a baby’s cry.

“Bubu!”

-SLAM!-

The access ramp sealed shut, and a shiny silver dome appeared in the rounded transparisteel viewport where Mando was taking his seat at the controls. Imps began swarming you while the old gunship’s engines flared to life, burning like a newly risen phoenix. Poorly-aimed blaster fire ricocheted off the ship’s hull while her landing gear tucked itself up, and soon the home you had grown to know and love was blasting towards the hangar exit without you.

The Razor Crest slid through the magcon field, the backs of her engines turning bright blue as her stardrive kicked into gear, rocketing her into warp speed just as an enormous star cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, dwarfing the station with her size. As prideful and arrogant as the Empire she sailed for, she took up the starfield with the domineering presence of a ship that had once served as the Death Star’s loyal guard dog.

It could be no other than the Wyvern’s Tongue.

-ȉ̴͗t̴'̴s̶̛̓͝͠ he̷̍̂r̶̔ë̷́.-

If you had a single coherent thought left to your name you would have made a series of snide remarks to the completely useless voice that whispered in your ears. You would have fought back against the stormtroopers that were roughly grabbing you and forcing you down under the barrels of their guns. You would have ran through the station and commandeered one of the other ships that had come in for repairs and blasted off to somewhere, anywhere else.

If you weren’t so grief-stricken, so heart-broken, so lost, you would have hurled literal dragonfire at the man who was approaching you now.

The troop commander spoke first. “Sir, this one allowed the mando to esca-”

“Get her up. Now.” You were hauled back up to your feet, but your eyes stayed on the forcefield that was draped over the stars, just waiting for the Razor to come back around.

To come back for you.

Your view became blocked by a tall, thin man in an Imperial uniform, his lapel shining with an even bigger emblem of authority than the last time you had seen it. His soulless eyes bored right into yours, and you knew instantly by the look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten his favorite communications officer. “Sparrow? Is that you?”

The long abandoned nickname stung like needles in your ears, reeling you violently into the present. The admiral cupped your chin and brought your eyes up, forcing you to see him and stop pretending that he wasn’t real; that he was an apparition brought to life by your wailing night terrors. “It is. My little Sparrow has flown back to me.”

The stormtrooper braved an interruption, “Sir, the mando-”

Admiral Forescythe silenced him with a wave of his hand, “No matter, the universe has brought me something even better than whatever Moff Gideon had been after.” The glare on the Admirals face turned to a sickly smile “Pray tell, little bird, won’t you sing me a song? I’ve so missed your lovely voice.”

You shook your head from his hand and pointed to the electromagnetic cuffs that still hung from the backs of your ears, the last remainder of the beloved faceplate you had been gifted. “Hull breach, tone deaf.” was all the excuse you could muster. A stiff leather glove rose up to brush over the Mandalorian steel, and you fought every animalistic urge to go batshit ballistic, rip the admiral limb from limb.

“What a pity, but at least you can still speak.” He was standing too close now, and the disgust you felt for the man who practically raised you made your flesh boil under his gaze. His gloved hand slid down from your ear and grabbed at the bottom of your jaw, forcing your head to tilt while he inspected the bitemarks Din had put on your neck when he still loved you. “At least you haven’t been lonely, good thing I had you chipped when I did. Shame on you for letting someone defile you in such a manner, were you still on my ship I would have had them jettisoned.”

The Admiral raked his eyes over your disheveled form, from your marked flesh to your blackened eyes and your blue-stained shirt, his face twisting in disgust. “Whatever life you have been living clearly doesn’t suit you, it’s high time you cease this reckless behavior and come back to where you belong.” He bent down and picked your backpack up off the floor where it had fallen, slinging one ratty strap over his neatly-pressed shoulder; then extended a hand to you. “Are you ready to come home now, my little Sparrow?”

You blinked a few times at the question, your heart becoming as cold as stone. Home? The Wyvern was not your home anymore, and the admiral was not your family. But the home you knew, the family you loved was now lightyears away, far far away from where you were now; and they weren’t coming back.

Din wasn’t coming back.

That left only one place left for you to go.

Back... home.

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valdomarx · 3 years

Text

Saving Grace

When the test flight of a new experimental spacecraft goes wrong, Sheppard ends up lost in hyperspace. Injured and alone, his subconscious mind summons up a familiar face to keep him company.

Stargate: Atlantis, Sheppard/McKay. 6k words, rated T.

Contains Shep whump, happy ending, and gratuitous descriptions of astronomical phenomena.

Sheppard comes to with a lancing headache and vise around his chest. An alarm is blaring. He takes in his environment: he’s in an unfamiliar cockpit. Whatever he’s flying, the inertial dampeners have cut out and he’s pulling several Gs, the forces pushing him against his seat and making his head swim.

He blinks woozy eyes and stares out the window. Streaks of color whip past him in a confusing and rapid swirl. A strange thrum vibrates the ship. This doesn’t look like space.

Shit. That’s because he’s not in space. He’s in hyperspace.

This is not good.

“It’ll be a cakewalk!” McKay gestures animatedly. “A quick trip across the solar system to warm our new baby up, then kick in the hyperdrive. It’ll catapult you to the Triian system, and you can turn around and gate back. Easy.”

“Catapult?” Sheppard raises an eyebrow. “I don’t love the sound of that.”

But McKay isn’t listening. He and Zelenka are deep in conversation about hyperspace and its effects on the particle/wave duality of light. The rapidly rising volume of their voices suggests this is an argument they’ve had before.

They’re both fussing over the control panel for their latest pride and joy, a cobbled-together prototype spacecraft which is a hybrid between a puddle jumper and a X-302 fighter. It’s taken them months to build the A-305, based off the miniature hyperdrive McKay designed while he was temporarily almost-ascended. They’ve poked and tweaked and run every simulation they can think of, but sooner or later the ship will need to be taken on a real test flight.

Just as well Atlantis has the galaxy’s best fighter pilot for a military commander, Wier had said with a smile. She’d wished him luck on the A-305’s maiden voyage and told him to come home safe.

Stay safe. Stay alive.

Right.

Through the fog in his head, Sheppard focuses on his first problem. The spinning of the ship is making it impossible to think, and he needs to be clear headed to find his way out of this. He needs control of his ship.

With a wince he connects to the ship’s neural interface. It isn’t as seamless as operating a puddle jumper, but the principle is the same. McKay and Zelenka had done their best to replicate the Ancient interface, but their best approximation was still a long way off. Using it adds to the sharp spike of pain in his skull, but he needs to know what he’s dealing with.

The ship’s interface blinks into existence behind his eyes. The sensors scream out incomprehensible reams of data. He silences them. The alarm is still blaring. Silence that as well.

Now. Here. Positioning and guidance systems. This data is a jumbled mess too, and most of the navigation functions are offline. But thrusters are up. That’s good. He can at least stop this spin.

In the corner of his mind, the power system whines needily. It’s one of a dozen systems competing for his attention and it will have to wait. He pushes it aside.

Thrusters. Fire them, hard. Counteract the spin.

The ship jerks and he is slammed into the side of his seat. It pushes the air from his lungs, but gradually the colors outside the window slow their nausea-inducing swirl.

The world rights itself. The G forces release their iron-tight grip on his chest. The ship is stationary.

Now, at least, he can think and he can breathe. He can call for a rescue.

He taps his radio and calls out to Atlantis. No reply. He tries the ship’s communication system. No luck there either. The radio plays back nothing but static.

Ok. Communications are down. He’ll need to fix that, but first he needs to find out where he is. He opens the hyperspace location system and searches for a beacon.

Silence stares back at him.

He searches further, pushing the sensors to their maximum. There must be a signal he can lock onto somewhere.

He finds nothing. Not even empty space. Nothing but the strange, pulsating colors of the uncharted depths of hyperspace.

Damn it. He’s lost.

“I’m telling you,” McKay is, once again, waving his hands around with great enthusiasm, “you have no idea how hyperspace works. It’s not like navigating through normal space.”

Sheppard is sat in the commissary on the Daedalus, overhearing Ronon wind up McKay and trying not to show his amusement.

“I thought it was like an ocean current?” Ronon asks innocently.

“What? No! It’s nothing like that.” McKay gestures with a fork. “It’s more like… You know when you carry something heavy through the forest?”

“Like a body?”

“God, how does your mind work? But right, sure, you’re dragging the lifeless corpse of your defeated enemy through the forest. And as you go, you’re crushing bushes and leaves beneath your feet, right? You’re making a trail.”

“I don’t leave tracks.”

“Oh, sure, Mr I’m-a-big-tough-guy-yet-somehow-I-can-move-silently-through-dense-foliage.” McKay scowls and Sheppard hides a smile behind a forkful of mashed potatoes. “The point is, when a ship moves through hyperspace it leaves behind a trail. When another ship follows the first, it reinforces the trail. Over time, that builds up a network of paths through hyperspace.”

“And that’s how we know which direction to go in right now?” Ronan looks out the window, where the hyperspace currents wrap around the ship.

“Exactly. Over time, we’ve laid out beacons along these paths. They allow us to jump from one part of the galaxy to another, but only along the predetermined routes. If we were to head away from the path, eventually we’d be too far away from the beacons to orient ourselves. We’d end up lost forever in hyperspace.” He shudders, and Sheppard can see the millions of horrible scenarios playing through his head.

“Huh.” Ronon puts his feet up on the table. “If I get lost in the forest, I orient myself by the sun.”

“Unfortunately for your rustic wisdom, that’s not very helpful when you’re outside the normal planes of space and time.”

Ronon gets a glint in his eye and goes in for the kill. “But aren’t there lots of stars out there? And the sun on Atlantis rises in the east, right? So you could pick a star, and head toward it, and that way would be east.”

McKay turns a worrying shade of purple. He gapes. “That is just. On so many levels, that is so unbelievably wrong, I can’t even fathom how you would -” He takes a huge gulp of air. “THAT IS NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS.”

Sheppard does not panic. He reminds himself that the first thing to do when you’re lost is to retrace your steps. How did he end up here?

He remembers prepping the A-305 for the test flight. He remembers heading away from Atlantis and deeper into the solar system. He remembers firing up the hyperspace drive.

He remembers the drive spinning up. He remembers a whirring noise. He remembers the pop as the ship made the hyperspace jump.

And then… There had been a spark. A crackle of electricity, here in the cockpit. A bolt of lightning had shot out from one of the rear hatches and struck the control panel.

There had been a terrible screeching sound, and a series of bangs as various components fried out and died. Then a bang louder than the others that sent him reeling. That must have been the drive pod blowing.

He remembers the force of the explosion smacking his head on the console. Then only blackness.

Gingerly, he touches his forehead. His fingers come away wet with blood.

That explains the headache.

He needs to figure out where he is but the data coming from the sensors doesn’t make any sense. He opens the interface again and looks through data on the craft’s position, speed, structural integrity. Anything that could orient him in the nothingness.

The reams of data start to blur together. His eyes are drooping and it’s getting hard to focus. He forces himself to look at each number in turn, but he can’t make heads or tails of any of it. The chilling ache of helplessness starts to crawl up his spine.

“Why don’t you let me take a look at that?”

Sheppard whips his head round. Perched on the edge of the console, flicking through a tablet, is McKay.

He rubs his eyes, but McKay is still there. He didn’t think he was this far gone.

“You’re not really here,” he gasps. Maintaining some grip on what is real and what is not has never been more vital.

McKay tilts his head and smirks, and it’s such a familiar movement that it makes something in Sheppard’s chest loosen. “Of course I’m not here. I’m light-years away in Atlantis, worrying about you.”

“Then what-?”

“You’re lost. Your ship is damaged. You’re alone. And you have a pretty severe concussion.” McKay ticks off items on his fingers. “Your subconscious figured you could use some help. So it called me.”

Sheppard blinks. “You're imaginary?”

McKay shrugs. “I’m a creation of your mind. You knew you needed help, so you summoned up the one person you knew could get you out of this.”

“And that’s you, is it?”

McKay radiates smugness. “It’s ok, Sheppard. You can admit that I am not only the smartest person you know, but also the most inventive. And, frankly, the most handsome as well.” He flicks his hair back in an affected manner. It's awkward as hell.

Sheppard rubs his aching temples. “Lucky me."

He'd known McKay was going to be a pain in his ass since the day they met.

He'd spent three years in Antarctica. It was nice there. Quiet. No one to get in his business or hold him to any obligations.

And then he'd come to Atlantis, and everything had changed.

Now he has a team to protect and more responsibility than any person should have to deal with. Teyla and Ronon, Weir and Lorne, even Beckett, they have all become indelible fixtures in his life.

And then there's McKay. Brash, arrogant, and perhaps the only person in the expedition who has worse people skills than he does. McKay, whose endless chattering and whining has become the cosmic background radiation of his life. He's gotten so used to it that being without it feels like he's missing a part of himself.

“What we need is a reference point to lock onto.” McKay is pacing, as much as is possible, around the tiny cockpit. He’s making Sheppard nervous.

“There’s nothing out there. I've tried to pick up a beacon signal, but it’s no use this far from the hyperspace lanes. The more time passes, the further I drift.”

“Ah ah ah.” McKay snaps his fingers. “So we can’t find a beacon. But maybe we can find something else to use as a marker. We just need a point in normal space to orient ourselves around.”

“But we’re cut off from normal space.”

McKay shakes his head. “Not completely. Hyperspace is orthogonal to normal space, not entirely separate from it.”

Sheppard has only the loosest idea what that means.

“So you should be able to…” McKay starts futzing around with his tablet again. He can’t actually be doing anything, because he isn’t real and neither is the tablet, but his mind apparently can’t conceive of McKay without having him poking at some piece of electronic equipment. “Try the radar.”

“The radar? But radio waves don’t carry through hyperspace.”

McKay beams. “They do if the source is strong enough.”

“But that’s -”

“Are you seriously arguing with yourself right now? You know I’m right! On some subconscious level, you clearly realize that this makes sense. So do you want to bicker, or do you want to get out of here?”

“Fine! Jeez. I’ll try the radar, but it’s not going to work.”

McKay raises an eyebrow, like he’s about to say wanna bet? Sheppard clamps the headphones over his ears.

Using the neural interface, the radar signal comes through as auditory information. He hears the rumbling of the radiation coming from his spacecraft, and the pings of neutrinos twisting past at super high velocities. So far so unhelpful.

And then… there’s something… And then it’s gone again. Sheppard strains his ears, reaching out with his mind to extend the range of the radar. There’s nothing, only horrible blankness. And then - there it is again.

A faint, very low pulse. Beating like a heart, every second. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Steady. Consistent. A fixed point.

Sheppard lets out a breath. He’s found a pulsar.

He’d barely been paying attention when McKay had brought it up. He’d been more interested in flicking through the dog-eared copy of Golfer’s Digest he’d borrowed from Lorne.

“See! Right here! Pulsar J0056-87.” McKay gestures him over, vibrating with excitement.

Sheppard rolls his eyes but stands all the same. McKay’s been on at him to join him for a night of stargazing since he found an Ancient telescope stashed away in a lab somewhere. Apparently, even with their elaborate technology, there were still some Ancients who enjoyed looking at the stars with glass lenses for some reason. Bunch of damn hipsters.

But the night was warm and clear, and for once there was no imminent threat of invasion. McKay had dragged him along to one of the distant piers and set up while Sheppard had busied himself with a beer and a magazine.

“Look!” He lets McKay manhandle him into position in front of the telescope eyepiece. “See that?”

He peers through the glass and sees a blurry outline of something like a star. But it flashes, on and off, on and off, like a strobe light.

“It’s the collapsed core of a massive star,” McKay says, all expressive gestures, “and it's spinning so fast it's emitting beams of electromagnetic radiation from its poles as it turns, like a lighthouse. That’s why it seems to flash, and that means it can be used like a yardstick for the galaxy. It’s the only one we’ve found in Pegasus.”

Sheppard grunts, says, “Thrilling,” and goes back to his beer.

“We’re going to get you out of here, Sheppard.” McKay sounds confident, but McKay always sounds confident. Sheppard has learned to temper his expectations.

“Ok. I've located the pulsar. Can we use its location to extrapolate the coordinates for Atlantis?”

McKay pulls a face. “That would require triangulation - we’d need at least three fixed points for that. We’ve only got one point to work from.”

“So how does that help? We’re still lost.” A churning mixture of anger and anxiety rolls in his chest.

“You have to head toward the pulsar.” McKay nods decisively.

“Oh, what a great idea, I’m so glad I have you here for inspiration. I’m lost in hyperspace, so let’s go even further out. Let’s go deeper into the unknown. Let’s throw all of my eggs into this one strobing basket. Brilliant plan, McKay!”

“And what’s the alternative? Sit here and wait to die?”

“Protocol states that I should stay where I am. Preserve my position. Give a rescue team the best chance to find me.”

“And that’s all well and good in normal space, but we’re not in normal space, are we? There’s no maps here. There’s no way for a ship to track us. They can’t rescue you if they can’t find you.” Sheppard glares at him. McKay pouts back. “Since when have you given a shit about protocol anyway?”

Sheppard grimaces and checks the thrusters. He can at least see how much fuel he’s got left.

He reaches into the interface with his mind.

FUEL DEPLETED, a warning flashes. REFUEL IMMEDIATELY.

“Ahh.” McKay looks apologetic. “I was worried about that. I guess when the hyperdrive blew it took the fuel containment with it.”

Sheppard stares out at the rippling nothingness.

Great.

Sheppard has faced death many times.

There was a time when he would have been fine with this. Going out in the line of duty, he figured that was more or less inevitable given the choices he makes.

But things are different now. There are people counting on him. There are people who care about him.

There are people he cares about too. He doesn't know exactly when they became so important to him. But how does know he doesn't want to die without seeing them again.

He considers his options. He doesn’t have many.

“If I follow the pulsar, I’ll drop out of hyperspace halfway across the galaxy.”

McKay looks at him like he’s stupid. “Yes. That’s rather the point.”

“But the team will be mounting a rescue. I need to stay near to where they left me.”

“That won’t work!” McKay waves his arms in the air. “Even if they find a way to enter hyperspace at exactly the same point you did, and even if they could recreate the accident that sent you here, we’ve still drifted too far to be in communications range. They’ll never find us.”

“What’s your suggestion then? Throw myself at the nearest shiny thing and hope it magically leads me home?”

McKay stops his pacing and kneels in front of Sheppard. He takes his hand. It’s weirdly warm.

“What do you think I’m doing right now? Back on Atlantis?”

Sheppard shifts in his seat and takes his hand back. “I’m sure you’re trying to find me.”

“Ya think?” McKay goes quiet, and that’s so unexpected it rattles Sheppard more than the threat of imminent death.

“This is my fault,” McKay says, standing and turning away. “The jumper hyperdrive was my creation. It’s my fault it failed, and it’s my fault you’re lost.”

“I don’t believe that.” Sheppard waves a dismissive hand. “I’m a test pilot. It’s literally my job to fly experimental vehicles. There’s always a risk. I know that, and if you’re part of me then you know that too.”

McKay turns to give him a sad half-smile. “Yeah. I know you think that. But you also know me - the real me - well enough to know that I’m never going to forgive myself if we lose you.”

That hits a little too close to home. He shoves down the swell of emotion closing up his throat and tries for flippant. “So what? I don’t want you to feel bad, and I don’t want to die here. But pointing my ship to a point in space and hoping you’ll know to find me there? How’s that supposed to work?”

“I know how you think, Sheppard. I know how hyperspace works. I know that your ship has been damaged and that you’re lost. I also know you’ll be able to locate the pulsar. And I know you’ll head toward it. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“It was months ago that you told me about that pulsar. And I was barely even listening to you at the time! How do you know you’ll remember?”

McKay fixes him with a steady gaze. “I’ll remember.”

Here’s what really happened: McKay invites him to the pier for stargazing. The night is so clear that the stars of Pegasus blanket the sky. The air smells of salt from the sea and the crackling of ozone from the shield generators.

Sheppard pretends to flick through his magazine as he watches McKay set up the telescope. He watches the way his hands dance over components. He listens to him mumbling to himself about which piece goes where.

And then the telescope is ready, and McKay begins searching the sky. Sheppard watches his face as he scrunches up his eyes to focus on the eyepiece. He pretends to drink his beer and he observes.

He’s beautiful like this, Sheppard thinks. Give McKay a puzzle, or a mystery, or an unknown, and he simply expands his mind to meet it. Once he’s solved the problem, then he’ll snap back into his defensive egotistical genius mode. But in the moment just before that - when he sees the solution in front of him, when a new piece of understanding begins to take shape - then McKay glows.

“Ohh,” McKay breathes, face still hovering over the telescope. “Would you look at that. A pulsar, right here in Pegasus.”

Sheppard takes a swig of beer and pretends not to be interested.

It’s one of his favorite memories of Atlantis.

“Even if I wanted to follow your crazy plan,” Sheppard begins.

“Your crazy plan, technically,” McKay interrupts. He gestures to himself. “Figment of your imagination, remember?”

“Even if I wanted to follow this crazy plan, then. Thrusters are out because I used the last of the fuel to stop the spin. The hyperdrive is fried. How am I supposed to maneuver anywhere?”

McKay raises an eyebrow and taps meaningfully on the oxygen gauge. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“The life support? Oh yes, that’s brilliant. Let’s vent the last of my oxygen into space. I always wanted to try death by hypoxia.”

“Venting gases from the ship will create thrust,” McKay says, and he truly must be a fantasy because the real McKay never speaks with such patience. “We don’t need much. Just enough to overcome inertia and start us moving in the right direction. No friction in hyperspace.”

“Even if I vented half the oxygen and got moving, I’d still need to jump out of hyperspace.”

“Oh no no no no no no,” McKay wags his finger, and that’s more familiar. “With the drive in the state it’s in, we will not be jumping out of hyperspace. We will be falling out of hyperspace, like a stone through a pond.”

“That doesn’t sound great.”

“It’s not! But it’s your only option, so hop to.”

Sheppard scowls. “How am I supposed to fix the hyperdrive? You’ve been working on it for months, and you barely got it functioning.”

McKay gives him a look. “You’ve spent years looking over my shoulder. You know how to bypass secondary systems and reroute power to the drive.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Sheppard finds a spanner tucked under his chair. He grasps it and turns to face the panels full of incomprehensible wiring behind them.

Time to get to work.

McKay and Zelenka are bickering again.

“Your simulations are not only wrong, but reckless as well! You can’t patch primary power cables like that. Unless, of course, you actually intend to blow the prototype up.”

McKay snorts. “Don’t be so timid, Zelenka! The power conduits don’t need to carry that much power long-term. We’re talking a short-term bypass here, not a permanent solution.”

Sheppard focuses on flying the jumper and ignores the voices coming from behind him. He considers closing the bulkhead between the front and rear compartments, but then he’d only have to listen to McKay ranting later.

“A short-term solution which could explode at any moment isn’t viable!”

“Please, it’ll be fine. We only need to avoid patching into the main power distribution node. The hardware for primary and secondary power systems aren’t so different. They’re interchangeable if you’re careful enough.”

“Your desire for glory is outweighing your common sense, McKay.”

“And your petty jealousy is unappealing, Zelenka!”

Sheppard puts on his headphones and tunes out the arguing with the mellow sound of Johnny Cash.

“That’s good.” McKay puts a hand on his shoulder. It feels real. It feels nice. “That should channel all of the remaining power to the hyperdrive, give it enough juice for one last wheeze.”

Sheppard stares at the mass of cabling. He’s been going by instinct: cut here, patch there. He should have learned more about how the puddle jumpers work, and about hyperdrives. But he’s gotten lazy. He’s gotten used to having McKay around for things like this.

“It’ll be fine.” McKay is not known for his generosity regarding the work of others, so Sheppard can only assume he’s done the wiring correctly.

But something is bothering him. “Even if we manage to drop out of hyperspace -”

“When,” McKay corrects, “not if.”

“- And even if you are, somehow, miraculously aware of where I’m heading -”

“I am.”

“How are you going to get there? That pulsar is in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t worry.” McKay smiles blithely. “There’s a stargate nearby.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you know, Sheppard. You’ve seen it.”

It feels like decades ago. It was when they had first arrived in Atlantis and they’d been desperately searching for ZPMs. He sits in the control chair and brings up a map of the galaxy in the vain hope it will show the location of a power source.

The room darkens and lights blink on overhead. From where he sits, he can see the Pegasus galaxy from end to end: stars and black holes, planets and comets, all represented in delicate, dancing lights. He searches for power sources and finds nothing.

But there, in a far corner of one of the galaxy’s spiral arms, is a single light flashing on and off, on and off. He notices it out of the corner of his eye, a flashing oddity. Interesting, but not helpful in their current search.

He puts it out of his mind. But as he does so, he notes a label next to the flashing light. The third planet orbiting that flashing star has a stargate.

“You’ve got quite the memory, Sheppard.” McKay is looking at him… oddly. Softly. It’s unnerving.

“Could have been mensa,” he says, unraveling the tension with a smirk.

Predictably, that sends McKay into a rant. “Oh, you just love to bring that up, huh, your great big IQ to go with your great big guns, and you know what else is sure to be huge -”

The power system chooses that moment to scream back to life with a warning klaxon.

WARNING, it says, POWER LEVELS FALLING. LIFE SUPPORT FAILURE IMMINENT.

Right. Time's up.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now,” McKay says. He chews at his lip nervously.

Watching him, a strange serenity washes over Sheppard. Live or die, right or wrong, he is out of options. Time to make a choice.

He locates the pulsar. He prepares to vent the life support. He opens a seal on the opposite side of the ship, and he releases the airlock safety control.

There’s an explosive rush of gas from the vents, and he's slammed into his seat. He punches the airlock shut switch as quickly as he can, hoping he didn't waste too much air.

“Hey!” McKay whoops. “It’s working!”

The ship is moving, sailing through hyperspace and toward the pulsar. He sighs, and takes a moment. At least now he has a destination. It’s better than floating lost.

Then he looks down at his oxygen supply.

OXYGEN LEVELS AT 10% AND FALLING, the system says. DANGER OF PILOT HYPOXIA.

Huh. He should be worried about that, but it seems so far away. It can’t be that important.

There's a rushing in his ears that sounds the roar of the ocean.

He leans back with a smile.

It's the sound of home.

“Sheppard. Sheppard!”

He comes to again with McKay shaking him.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me now.”

“‘M tired.”

“I know. That’s the oxygen deprivation. But you need to hold on a little bit longer. You need to activate the hyperdrive once we’re close enough to the pulsar.”

“He’s not…” His words are slurring. It’s hard to move his tongue. “They’re not going to find me.”

“Yes they are,” McKay’s voice has an edge to it he hasn’t heard before. “Teyla is going to be calling up every contact she’s ever made. She’ll find someone on the nearest planet, and she’ll get us safe passage. And if she runs into any problems, Ronon is going to intimidate the hell out of the entire system until they help. Beckett is on board a rescue jumper right now preparing his medical kit, ready to treat you as soon as they find you. Wier is going to approve the mission in a heartbeat, even though it sounds insane, because she’d sacrifice all of the jumpers and half the city to save you.”

Sheppard blinks. McKay’s face swims before him.

“And I… Sheppard, you already know this, but I am going to move space and time itself to find you. I’m not going to take no for an answer, and I’ll bend the damn laws of physics themselves if I have to. When you drop out of hyperspace, I’ll be waiting there for you.”

McKay’s voice is further and further away. It sounds nice, what he’s saying, but it’s like it’s carrying on the wind across a great crevasse.

“You’ve saved us all so many times, Sheppard. For once, let us save you.”

He wants to believe that. He wants his team to rescue him. He doesn’t want to die here, alone.

But he isn't thinking straight. This whole plan hinges on McKay remembering a conversation from months ago. It’s madness.

“McKay… Rodney… He doesn’t know,” Sheppard croaks. He’s too tired to feel ashamed of how weak he sounds. “He doesn’t know that I listened to him that night. He doesn’t know that I always listen to him. He doesn’t know that..." he breaks off. "I never told him.”

McKay takes his face in his hands and kisses him. It’s so unexpected that it shocks him awake again, enough to register McKay's lips against his own and his fingers tangling in his hair. It’s like a jolt of lightning, like being raised from the dead.

“I know, John,” McKay says, pulling back and looking him dead in the eye. “I’ve always known.”

He points down at the hyperspace activation button.

“Now come home.”

Sheppard summons the last of his strength to raise his arm. It’s like wading through concrete. One last task, he thinks, and then I can rest.

He presses the button.

There’s a ripping sound, a whirl of lights, and then there’s only blackness.

He wakes up to the familiar surroundings of the infirmary: the bustle of doctors moving around, the distant sound of the ocean.

And frowning down at his laptop, McKay, sitting hunched in a chair by his bed.

The breath Sheppard lets out feels like a great weight lifting from his chest.

"Hey," he says. His voice is raspy and everything hurts. "What happened?"

McKay scrambles to his feet. "Sheppard." His face is guilt-stricken. "Carson!" he calls. "He's awake."

Soon enough, the whole team is crammed into the infirmary.

"We had to search the entire pulsar system to find you," Elizabeth explains. "By the time we got to you, your ship had been without power and oxygen for several minutes. Carson worked very hard to get you breathing again on the trip home. You gave us quite the scare."

That would be why his lungs ached.

"It is good to see you awake, John." Teyla bows her head. "I hope you will join me for tea when you are feeling better."

Ronon snorts. "Or come down to the gym for a sparring session if you want a real challenge. I'll be waiting." He grins.

Elizabeth looks around and smiles. "We're all very glad to have you back." She glances at McKay, huddled quietly in the corner. "Even Rodney. He's been here since we brought you in." She gives him a tight nod and turns to leave, guiding Beckett, Teyla and Ronon with her.

Sheppard looks at McKay expectantly.

McKay pushes his laptop aside. He takes a deep breath and straightens himself up like he's heading into battle.

"I'm sorry, Sheppard." He's not quite meeting his eyes. "I sent you out in that ship, and I told you the drive was ready. It's my fault you were stranded. You must be angry, and I'll understand if you want me off the team."

Sheppard raises an eyebrow. "Did I just hear an actual apology? From you?" He breaks into a grin. "My head injury must be worse than I thought."

"Way to ruin the moment, you ass." McKay leans over to punch him in the shoulder, which hurts, but McKay is smiling now so it's worth it. "I'm trying to bare my soul here."

"Well put it away. I'm not angry, and I don't want you to go anywhere." He looks at McKay's fingers twitching anxiously on the bedspread. In a moment of wild abandon, he takes his hand in his own and gives it a squeeze. "I knew you'd find me."

"Oh. Uhh. Really?" McKay is staring down at their joined hands, but he doesn't let go. The tips of his ears go very pink. "That's very. Uhh. I'm touched by your. Uhh. Your faith in me."

The moment stretches, and Sheppard wonders if he's supposed to say something else. Then McKay fidgets, and the moment passes.

"How did you figure it all out, anyway? I saw the state of the A-305. Getting that wreck out of hyperspace can't have been easy."

Sheppard rests back against the pillow. He feels bathed in warm light. "I had some help," he mumbles as sleep begins to take him, "from a very good friend."

It's a week before Sheppard is well enough to be released from the infirmary. He's still a little shaky, but Beckett says he'll be fit for active duty soon enough.

He makes the most of his new-found freedom and tells McKay to join him on the east pier that night, and to bring the telescope. He trades a month's worth of rations for enough meat for a couple of turkey sandwiches and some beers. He figures he at least owes McKay dinner.

When he arrives, McKay already has the telescope set up. A few lonely clouds drift through the night sky, but the stars overhead glow all the same.The lights of the city twinkle, the spires reaching up into the dark sky.

"Will you find it for me?" he asks.

"Find what?"

“You know what.” He gestures at the stars and gives him a smile, which McKay haltingly returns, and he lays out their dinner as McKay tweaks dials on the telescope. It doesn’t take long.

'Here." McKay waves him over, and he looks through the eyepiece to see it once more: blinking in the night, steady like a heartbeat, constant and true. The pulsar.

Sheppard lets out a breath and something soft uncoils in his chest as he looks at it. "That's our star," he says, moving to sit on the pier with his legs dangling over the edge.

"Our star?" McKay joins him. He sits close by, and he radiates warmth in the cool night air. "You're a romantic at heart."

"I guess I am." He can't resist a grin. "It needs a better name though. 'J0056-87' doesn't have much of a ring to it."

As he sounds out each number, McKay's eyes keep dropping to his lips. He leans closer. So does McKay.

"We could always rename it," McKay suggests. There are only a few scant inches between them, and his voice is low.

Sheppard lets this drag out, a shiver of anticipation running up his back. "Any ideas?"

"We could name it after me." McKay grins too. "I mean, as the foremost astrophysicist in not one but two galaxies, it seems only apt -"

Sheppard interrupts what he's sure would be a lengthy recap of McKay's skills and career by kissing him.

Judging by the way McKay kisses him back like he's been starving for it, hands running through his hair and trying to pull him even closer, that was a good call.

It’s dizzying and overwhelming, and it’s also the most natural thing in the world. When they break apart, McKay’s lips are red and kiss-swollen. It’s a sight Sheppard could get used to.

“I’m really glad you made it back to us,” McKay says, chewing his lip.

Sheppard takes his hand. “I had to make it home,” he says, quietly. It’s like leaping headfirst into an abyss, but knowing that someone is there to catch you at the bottom. “Everything I care about is here.”

#stargate atlantis #mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #my writing #i had so much fun writing this #i am living my most self-indulgent life this 2021

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

The Guide: Chapter 1/? (Ezra x f!Reader)

gif from @spectroscopes

word count: 5.2k

chapter warnings: reluctant saviour to lovers, injury to reader, one mention of rape, little angst, world building :)

summary: The Guide to Everything Ever is expanding, you are sent out to the furthest reaches of Nowhere to catalogue the planets there. What should have been a quick research mission quickly turns to disaster when you crash on a small forest moon. Injured, with no means of communication, you have to rely on the good will of a mysterious stranger...

a/n: first ever Ezra fic lets gooo!! i am super hyped for this i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3

masterlist // asks are always open :)

While The Guide to Everything Ever did cover everything ever, it was a little misleading in the boundaries of everything. History was no issue, there was even a large section of the book on prophecy, millions of consequences mapped out on a fold out flow chart. No, the issue was with physical boundaries of everything.

A long time ago the boundaries of the civilised universe were drawn up. From Eden to Xion-5, trillions of stars and quadrillions of planets all included inside the red line separating us from the somehow even more vast expanse of Nothing. There was nothing in Nothing, that much was well known. That was until a group of explorers did what explorers do and found Something. Something in Nothing makes Nothing impossible so the leaders of this great universe came together and decided The Guide to Everything Ever had to include this new Something in their Everything.

That is where you come in.

The Guide to Everything Ever has always relied on first-hand experience. The first edition was a disaster. It only contained the things everybody knew: how to fold a bedsheet and how to get your dog to not hump the postman. The only vaguely interesting part of the Guide was the planetary comments. Even those could send the most interested scientist to sleep! They tried using robots for the first edition, a mere collection of data from far away planets. This was not successful and The Guide only sold four copies.

The next edition was more ambitious. The editors worked out people were a lot more interested in different planets than they were in barbarian fortifications but they did not want to read reams of boring data from a robot called Steve. They wanted a real Steve to give his experience on these new planets. Honest, often humorous, and yet entirely educational extracts of missions across the stars. It didn’t matter that space travel was accessible to everyone. It saved everyone a lot of time waiting in those cold and boring shuttles to get from one side of the universe to another. They could sit in the comfort of their own homes and learn about the man-sized carnivorous plants of Ereta, the beautiful fabrics created on Lii, or which drinks to avoid if you ever find yourself in a Beetjing bar.

The Guide was a success from that point onwards and expanded each year. Soon the job of researcher became a coveted occupation. You were lucky to get into the academy. Only ten new researchers were added each century. You worked your entire life to get in and it paid off, you were off on your first mission into the furthest reaches of Nothing to report back on the wild ‘verse that filled it.

A long time ago space travel was thought of as the most exciting thing anyone could ever do. It was for a few decades but two centuries later it was commonplace. A lot like the London Underground, you just stuck your headphones on and let that distract you until you reached your far more interesting destination.

For your trip you had chosen to watch Anzarch Hospital. A rather cheesy Martian holovid show, it had been going for years. You were on season 85, with only ten episodes left until you were entirely caught up ready for the season finale which was due to air when you returned from this trip. You would rather be at home watching the episodes but this trip to the end of the line was necessary. It wouldn’t take long, a few rotations at least and then you could go to Annie’s party and watch everyone’s favourite doctor finally find out who killed her robot nurse wife.

Nobody ever said Martian holovids were high class, but they were fun.

The computer interrupted your binge, alerting you with a ding that you were within range of your destination and would be stepping out of hyperspace. You pressed a few buttons, accepted the action, and went back to the episode.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when the lower pitch dong did not sound to let you know you had dropped out. Confused, you switched off the holovid and moved back to the cockpit. It was a new ship, it shouldn't have hyperdrive issues yet. But well versed as you were with glitchy hyperdrives you knew what to do. You pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, dragged the ship out of autopilot and twisted one final knob to drop out safely and without panic.

Your routine was correct. The ship dropped out of hyperspace but as the darkness cleared so did any sense of calm. You were already in the thermosphere, hurtling down to the forest covered grounds at electric speeds. Alarms blared as soon as the devices registered the new atmosphere and severe lack of control.

“Please slow down, your destination is ahead at 750 km,” The computer said cheerfully.

“Stupid thing! You’re going to kill me!” You yelled over the alarms.

“That’s not very nice,” The computer replied, “It’s not my fault the hyperdrive isn’t working,”

“You knew?” You shouted. The sides of the ship rumbled and rattled as the change in air density dragged along the surface. The holoprojector vibrated off the table, crashing to the ground and smashing into pieces. There goes all your holovid downloads, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Destination in 400km,” Every minute of your training was coming back as you worked through every combination of buttons and levers on your dash. Nothing was working.

“Computer? Is there still a parachute in this model?” It was archaic but you prayed that your ship was old enough to still be fitted with one. If it, wasn’t you were never going to slow down fast enough?

“Yes, would you like me to deploy it?” The computer asked.

“Yes!” You shouted at the machine.

“Deploying parachute,”

The parachute erupted from the back of the ship with a loud hiss and pop as it opened into the air. The sudden draw backward lurched you forward, smacking your head onto the metal dash in front of you.

You groaned, holding your hand to the injury immediately. A good splattering of blood now set across the screen and was dripping down your face into your eyes.

“Destiable approach im one minu,” The computer said. You frowned, trying to concrete over the throbbing pain in your head. “Systeeee affectabed,”

“Please tell me I’m not having a stroke,” You pleaded. You were not. You could speak and understand language perfectly. The computer, however, was not okay.

Computers are all well and good, very helpful things to have around that is until their processors are catapulted out by a poorly fitted fabric parachute.

You didn’t have time to worry about the broken computer as the trees below were coming closer and closer.

“Fourteenth millennia remaaaa,” The computer slurred. You ignored it. You didn’t need a reminder of how closer to being impaled by a huge tree you were. Instead of panicking you did the only thing you could, strap in and hope that it was all over quickly.

You pulled the straps of the pilot’s seat down tight over your arms, gripped the armrest tight and shut your eyes. The ship whistled through the air, the drag of the parachute doing very little to slow it down. You screwed your eyes shut, cursing every god you have ever known at your terrible luck. You would never see your family again, never see your friends again, and even more importantly you would never find out who killed the nurse in Anzarch Hospital!

The first contact with forest sent the ship off its course, spinning wildly out of control as the craft hit branch after branch. You screamed as the ship tumbled to the ground.

Finally, you came to a stop. Upside down, hanging from a tree, your ship rocked from side to side. You groaned, aching all over from the rough treatment of your descent. You spat out the blood that had pooled in your mouth and tried to think of a plan. Much like the now dead computer you couldn’t really think in words. More drawled sentences drowned out by pain.

The smell of fuel was the thing to get you moving. You gently unbuckled yourself from the seat, careful to not drop yourself on the ceiling and injure yourself anymore. You climbed around the small circular pod to reach the door.

Inhospitable atmosphere. Air unfit for external respiration, respirator advised.

You grumbled and cursed as that warning meant you’d have to climb up the wall of the still swaying pod to reach your kit. It was heavy and difficult to put on at the best of times, this was quite possibly the worst of times.

With a sharp tug the suit and helmet fell out of the cupboard above your head, narrowly missing you as it fell. Carefully, so as not to trip on the steel beams of the ceiling at your feet or cause the ship to swing and fall any further, you pulled the suit on. It was soft, having never been worn before, lightweight and fit you well. The helmet was heavy, a seal at the bottom to prevent any toxins leaking in and the filter was attached to the back of the dome. It was not ideal but you hoped you could find civilization quickly and would be able to take it off fast.

Helmet on. Bag on. Boots tied. Out the door.

In the small amount of luck, you still held, the ship was only six feet above the ground. You sat on the top of the door and jumped out, landing gracefully on your feet in a large patch of unusual plants. The air filter quietly hummed as it set to work cleaning the air around you and you inspected your surroundings. That was where your luck ran out, as you gathered yourself together you looked to your wrist, to the screen of your watch to look at a map to discover the direction you should go, only to find it smashed beyond repair. You had no guidance.

Dark forest was all you could see in any direction. The canopy was so dense only a small sprinkle of light made its way to the floor. Bouncing off the particles in the air, the space around you glittered in the light. It was silent, only the wind rustling through the grass and twigs under your boots made any noise. You picked a direction and walked, hoping you would come across someone soon.

You found a single well-trodden path after an hour of walking through waist high grass, the pollen of which had now covered your suit in a green blue film that made your hands itch terribly when you touched it, bringing up red rashes almost immediately.

The path made its way through the trees, more light coming through as you made it to the edge of the forest. You couldn’t make out much beyond the break in the trees as the contrast between the darker interior showed the outside in white light. You smiled; open space probably meant civilisation!

As you approached the light your eyes began to strain. Sharp pain cut into your eyes, you groaned and squinted bringing your hands to your helmet to cover them automatically. It was no use as a migraine was quickly taking hold. You continued forward, finally breaking the tree line, feeling the heat of the sun through the thin fabric of your suit.

Then everything went black

“What a curious creature,” A low voice woke you. Slowly you gained consciousness, immediately aware of the throbbing pain throughout your body, you pushed to sit up only to feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, “Careful now,” The stranger warned you. You peeled your eyes open and looked up at the creature that spoke. Dome headed in a yellowed fabric suit, Light reflecting off his head obscured his face. The creature spoke kindly and you would have believed the tone too if it weren’t for the pressure of his foot on your forearm and gun in your face. “What’s a thing like you doing in these parts?”

“I-I’m injured,” You tried to speak confidently but your pain overtook your tone as you opened your mouth, “My ship crashed not far from here,”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” The creature mused.

“Please,” You choked out as darkness threatened your vision once more, “Help me,”

The creature frowned, contemplating his decision as if he were choosing a candy bar at a corner store. You tried to move from under him but the effort was too much and you fell into unconsciousness again.

As your eyes closed and breathing softened, the stranger released his foot from your shoulder. His boot left a muddy footprint on the white material that covered your arm. He watched you for a few more seconds, then presuming you were dead he stepped over your body to the blue rucksack that had fallen just behind you. He was in desperate need of medical supplies and clean clothes wouldn’t hurt either.

The stranger rooted through the rucksack, pulling all kinds of things out. Clothes and food, writing equipment and a flip up device that he did not recognise as anything useful. There were no weapons, and no survival equipment of any kind. You were packed for a Sunday stroll, not a trip to the Green. Whoever you were, you were not like the usual people who came here.

The stranger’s cool demeanour changed when he saw your identification card. A gold card, approximately the size of his palm fell out of the bag and into his lap with a soft tap. He picked it up and inspected it, instantly knowing he was screwed. The Guide’s golden emblem was easy to recognise, while he couldn’t read the language that inscribed the card, he could make assumptions. You were a researcher. It was a well-known fact that Guide researchers were protected. If anyone found out you were dead, he would be convicted no matter what he said. There would be no planet in the entire universe he could hide on from the Guide.

Begrudgingly, he had to save you.

Without any other option, he shoved the contents of your bag back inside its original case and threw it over his shoulder. Then came the difficult task of moving you. It wasn’t for lack of strength that the stranger had difficulty with this task, more to do with the fact he had only one arm. He knew it wasn’t far to his camp, he had only been walking for five minutes before you fell into his path.

He couldn’t carry you. With only one arm it didn’t matter how strong the man was he could never hold you up well enough. He tried to wake you first, it would be far more helpful to him if you could walk. He shook your shoulders to try and rouse you but you were out cold. He had no choice but to drag you.

A quick assessment of your body told him you were not injured too badly, apart from the sores developing on your hands from exposure to pollen and a wound on your forehead inside your helmet. He checked your pulse again, feeling it strong through his gloves he was happy that you were not dead and would not be wasting his time. He grabbed the fabric around your shoulders and pulled you back to his camp.

It took a while but he made it there safely without cracking your helmet or injuring you anymore. He set you down on the floor of his tent, pulled his helmet off for comfort, then got to setting up a recovery bed for you.

The stranger pulled a rolled-up mat from under his cot and placed it on the ground and finally rolled your body in its final place on top and he waited for you to wake up again. It wouldn’t take long, he heard you mutter something as he carried you back and even in the low light of his tent, he could see your eyes moving behind your eyelids. The stranger sat on the edge of his cot, watching you carefully with his weapon in hand in case you woke up violent.

After a few moments, you began to stir. The first thing you noticed as you gained consciousness was the pain in your body. Every inch of your body throbbed but nothing more than your head. You felt hard ground beneath you, but no leaves or dirt, it was cold to touch. You peeled your eyes open, met with a low orange light bouncing off dark tent like material.

“Do not be alarmed,” A man said from across the room. You immediately turned your head to see but saw nothing more than a dark blob, “You are safe,”

You found it very hard not to be alarmed. The last thing you remembered was getting out of your ship into a forest, now you were in a small dark tent lit by one single golden lightbulb with a strange blob sat across from you.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up to sit up from your position on the floor. Noticing the blob was more of a man, and without a helmet, you figured it was probably safe to remove yours. With a sharp tug and a hiss from the oxygen tank you were open to the air and you set the helmet down next you. You rubbed your hand across the back of your neck, screwing your eyes shut as a headache shot through your skull.

You studied the man in the soft light. You could not guess his age, simultaneously old and young, you guessed he was a little older than you. He had tanned skin and dark hair with a curious white, blonde streak in the front. A surprisingly well-kept moustache and a spattered beard covered his lower face and a white scar on his left cheek all together created an intriguing character.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. His kindness was unsettling. There was a gentle tone to his voice and a kindness in his eyes but everything outside of that was the complete opposite. You could not remember how you got here; all you knew was the pain your body was in. Had he attacked you? Had he saved you from something else? He could have killed you, but he didn’t. Something must have enticed him to save you and bring you here. Then you saw it.

In the stranger’s hand, he held a gold card. Your identification card. The golden emblem projecting from the card flickered in the poor light, showing your name and number and rank.

“Should I be asking for an autograph?” The stranger looked back up at you, a smirk on his lips, “I’ve always wanted to meet an author,”

“I-I am not an author,” You coughed, clearing your throat before speaking, “I’m a researcher,”

“You pen those books though, don't you? The Guide?” He asked, “There’s not that much literature being produced this day and age,”

“Technically, but we like to think it’s a team effort,” You shrugged, “I just collect the data and write preliminary reports,”

“Does your team know you’re lost here?” The stranger asked.

“No, I… I don’t know,” You said sadly. The computer had broken before you could send a distress call. With no way to get a message to them from the outer ‘verse it would take weeks for anyone to realise anything was wrong, “I would have to find a signal strong enough to send a distress message but the only way I could do that was with my ship,” You thought aloud. You paused for a moment, trying to remember what actually happened when you fell from the sky, “Where is my ship? Where are we?”

“I never saw your transport I’m afraid,” The stranger said, “You must have walked a considerable distance before crossing paths with me,” You frowned, without your ship you were stuck, “I brought your backpack, if that's of any aid to you,”

You immediately lit up. Taking that as a yes, the stranger reached over the cot and pulled up your rucksack. It was caked in mud and a lot less full than you know it should have been, but you ignored his looting and grabbed the bag from his hands.

The only things left inside were your underwear and a hygiene kit. Your stomach twisted at the thought that you had lost the most important item in the bag. Dumping the contents on the floor you searched through every pocket. The Stranger watched you, one brow raised, wondering what you were looking for.

“Did you take it?” You asked, “It won’t work for anyone but me, you might as well give it back,”

“I do not understand,” The stranger looked puzzled, looking down at the things on the floor to see what had upset you.

“My Guide, where is it? I don’t care about the other things, I need that back,”

“There were no books in there,”

“That is Federation property,”

“You’re going to have to explain what it is you’re so agitated about; I do not know what your Guide is,”

“You do, because you stole it!” You exclaimed. Raising your voice made your head hurt more, you flinched and screwed your eyes shut again.

“I am many things but I am not a thief,” The Stranger was offended by your accusation. You scowled at him. He was a liar and a thief, “I took the food from your bag as payment for my saving you,”

“The Guide uses my biometrics, it won’t be of any use to you or anyone you could sell it to,”

“Hold on, do you mean the flip device?”

“Yes!”

“That thing’s important?” He seemed genuinely surprised, “You can have it, it’s no use to me,”

The stranger stood up and walked the two steps to the other side of the small space. From a cluttered table he picked up the black computer. You sighed in relief, there could be some hope for you yet. He passed you the gadget which to your amazement was still in working order. It had got a little scratched in the crash but you pressed your thumb to the lock and it opened it instantly.

Every researcher had their own personal guide. Similar to an ancient flip phone, used commonly on Earth in the early 2000’s, each Guide was a little bigger than your palm. Though small, it was very mighty. Not only did it store every piece of information a researcher collected, but it also allowed communication through text, audio and holo. Through the System there was unlimited access to other researchers' files, yet unpublished information and access to the ‘verse's existing records. There were maps and history of every planet, and more importantly to you at that moment, census records.

As you had expected, you had no signal on the surface of the moon to send a message to headquarters for a rescue. Instead you focused on what you could find out.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the man’s suit. Though a little hard to read in the dim light you could make out what looked to be an ID number. You had to know who your captor (or saviour) really was. 875-162.

You typed in the worn black ink digits and waited. Nothing was notorious for its poor reception. The stranger was no longer interested in you know you were engrossed in the computer and not trying to attack him, he got up and was rustling around out of view.

Finally, the page loaded. A photo matching the stranger, though a little younger looking, flashed up in holo. You quickly covered the beam with your finger so as not to alert the man with you. You swiped down to read the information.

“Ezra,” You said under your breath as you read the page.

“I don’t remember giving you my name,” Ezra spoke, making you jump. You looked up, cheeks growing hot as you realised you had said it out loud.

“I searched your ID number,” you said, embarrassed you’d been caught, you told the truth. Ezra frowned, looking around him to see where you had seen it. You pointed to the suit piled up on the floor. The numbers were faded and hard to make out from the distance but you had worked it out. Ezra followed your finger and chuckled lightly.

“I forgot such identification exists,” He said, “You have good eyes to make it out from there,” He added.

You hummed in agreement. You were in perfect condition, had to be for the work. Perfect condition except for the concussion and various bruises on your body.

“Well now you know my name, can I enquire as to yours? I doubt that everyone calls you Researcher 42,” Ezra read your name from the ID card beforehand. Leant against the shelves next to him, he looked down at you.

“Some do,” You said plainly.

“That ‘some’ includes me, does it,” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting you to become so cold.

“Seems like it,”

“42 seems a little impersonal considering I just saved your life,”

“I’m meant to stay separated from my subjects. Anonymity helps with objectivity,” You explained. That wasn’t entirely true. You had always made friends with at least one person in every planet or city you researched. It was how you got the inside scoop, the local knowledge that made your articles so popular. Guide Guidance said that researchers stay anonymous for objectivity, but your popularity said otherwise. You just didn’t want to get any closer to Ezra, even just a quick glance at his record told you that he was not someone you wanted to be friends with.

As he had already shown you, he was a thief. He had been convicted of fraud, arson and two counts of murder. No wonder he was here. Most of the places in Nothing were hot beds for criminals like him. Nowhere in Everywhere would hire him, you expected that he had been hired by a contractor to come here and work for his freedom. There wasn’t much freedom stuck on the green though.

“Whether you give me your name or not, you’ve not got much choice in staying separated. A helpless thing like you will need protection here,”

“And you’ll offer that for free, will you?” You asked sarcastically, immediately knowing he would want something from you in return. You were already indebted to him for saving your life.

“There are a few things I desire,” He looked over your body, smirk twitching on his lips. You curled your lip and moved away from him.

“If you’re going to rape me, I’d rather try my luck out there by myself,”

“Oh no! No, little mouse I would never. I have done some felonious acts but I am not a savage!” He exclaimed quickly covering for himself. You regarded him sceptically. He had supposedly killed two people; he’d already crossed a line most people would not. You didn’t believe he wouldn’t step over that line too. “No, The Guide will want you back, I imagine anyone who returned you would be well rewarded,”

“Possibly,”

“Here’s my offer. I provide protection and shelter whilst you are here, and come that fateful day your deliverance arrives, you will negotiate considerable compensation for me,”

“What compensation would you want?”

“Enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my days free of obligation, a ship to get me off this rock and a clear record,”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can see how well you fare in the forest alone. Food is pretty scarce this time of year and I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to push some more… basic human morals,” Ezra smirked as your eyes double in size. In all your travels you had never encountered cannibals, not human cannibals anyway.

“I- I can’t promise anything,” You stumbled over your worlds as you accepted faster than you should have. You didn’t know there was anyone other than Ezra on this planet, but you were not in the mood to find out.

“We will discuss details when the time comes,” He said. You nodded. “Now we have all that out the way,” He stood up from the floor, “I have to get to work,”

“What about me?”

“You aren’t coming with me,” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you just said-,” you started to protest until Ezra pulled a gun from seemingly nowhere, you immediately shut your mouth and flinched, “What is that?”

“Protection,” He held the gun out, waiting for you to take it.

“No, no, no! You said-“

“Until your people come to your aid, and give me my money, I’ve got to keep working. Any time wasted is money lost out here,” He explained impatiently. He stepped back closer to you and dropped the gun in your lap, “I assume you do know how to use that even if you don’t carry one yourself?”

You looked at the gun, assessing it properly. It wasn’t complicated, a barrel you assumed was already full of bullets and a trigger. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, apart from the electrical tape that was holding it together. With no more protest from you, Ezra assumed it was fine and stepped away, resuming his routine.

“I will be back at sundown. Help yourself to some food,” He told you.

“My food,” You corrected him.

“Remember who is dependent on who here, 42,” He said scornfully. With that he put his helmet back on to his head and left the tent leaving you all alone.

You waited a few moments to make sure he was gone before making your move. You couldn’t stay with a murderer. You were safer in your ship, wherever it was. You could make a distress call and be rescued. Ezra would never know.

You pushed the gun from your lap onto the floor and tried to stand up. Sat down you could feel how sore your limbs were, your back ached from just sitting up for a few minutes and you were pretty sure you could feel every bone in your feet. A light touch to the forehead told you there was a sizable egg growing on top.

Standing up the pain was worse. You immediately became dizzy, gripping onto the metal shelf quickly to stop yourself from falling. You cursed under your breath and took a deep breath. You could do it.

Or maybe you couldn’t.

You took one step towards the table of things Ezra kept, and fell back on your ass. You were lucky not to pull the shelves down with you as it rocked forward slightly. A few items fell off, narrowly missing you. You dodged the heavy items, cringing as the metal thumped to the ground.

Listening to your screaming body, you gave up. You shuffled back to your previously comfortable position against the wall of the tent and looked around you for something to keep yourself occupied.

There at your feet lay a small book. Ezra wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to meet an author, he apparently was a bibliophile. You picked the paper up, stretching to reach it over your bruised and aching legs. It was well worn, obviously water damaged as the pages curled and the image on the front as warped beyond recognition. The title: “Welcome to the Green”.

You were not going anywhere.

sooo what do you think? i had so much fun writing this fic, i hope you guys enjoyed it too. let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :D

TAGGING usuals and interested people :): @hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @fandom-blackhole @writeforfandoms @dindja @amneris21 @yespolkadotkitty

#ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #x reader #ezra prospect angst #enemies to lovers #prospect movie #ezra #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #the guide #molly writes

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recollins · 4 years

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hi! can you do one of reid and he has a secret girlfriend/fiance/wife (idk your choice haha) that the team doesnt know about then something happens to spencer (hospital maybe) or the team meets her by chance and everyone is surprised and start piecing together why reid declined to go out all those times and stuff? you have free reign over this drabble I know it'll turn out great anyways! thanks!!

Of course! This is so cute! Sorry, I know this took a hot minute, but I apparently don’t have the ability to write short drabbles (and of course my internet went out for like an hour when I was ready to post 🙄). I hope you don’t mind it went a little long, hopefully you enjoy this!

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader Words: 3,531 Content: Fluff Warnings: Knife injury, stitches Masterlist

The tentative hand tugging on your pencil skirt was right on time. With a smile, you sat the stack of book returns on the shelf and turned to smile at your favorite visitor. As soon as she saw she had your attention, June held up the most recent book you’d recommended to her, beaming as she said excitedly,

“Zero found his mom! I was happy he was gonna live with Stanley but now he has his her too!”

“See? And you were worried it wasn’t gonna be a happy ending,” you teased the enthusiastic seven-year-old as you crouched down to her level. “Did you like it?”

June nodded enthusiastically, her blonde curls bouncing wildly with the movement. “I loved it! I would’a been so scared with all those lizards though! I don’t know how Zero and Stanley were so brave!”

“It’s not easy to be brave, but doing the right thing can show you that you’re a lot stronger than you might believe,” you told her, and to your surprise you saw uncertainty clouding her soft blue eyes.

“Miss (Y/N), do you think I could be brave?”

You nodded and reached up giving her chin a gentle squeeze before you stood. “You already are. I mean, you walk here from school every day by yourself. That’s pretty brave, if you ask me.”

To your surprise, June dropped her eyes and gave her small shoulders a dismissive shrug. “I’m not as brave as my big brother. He can climb all the way to the top of our tree and I’m too scared to even go past the first branch.”

As you did every Wednesday, you rested a hand on June’s shoulder and led her with you over to the children’s section of the library. Instead of instantly taking her to seek out a new book for the week, you led her to the reading nook and nudged her towards one of the chairs as you sat across from her.

“You remember Dr. Reid, don’t you?” you prompted, and June’s smile flickered back to her face as she gave an eager nod. How could she not? Spencer had come by the Story Circle – a kids book club you hosted every Saturday – and had eagerly joined in on your discussion of that month’s book, The Hobbit.

Though not [as] gifted as Spencer Reid (honestly, you didn’t think anyone else really was), June was an incredibly smart little girl and read well over her normal age group. It turned out that The Hobbit was one of her favorite books, and she and Spencer had spent hours talking about it after the club had ended.

“Well, he’s an FBI agent. Remember?” June nodded again. “Do you think he’s brave?”

“He is,” she confirmed instantly, and a smile came to your face. “He’s probably the bravest person ever!”

“I think so too,” you admitted, grinning back at her. But you think your brother’s pretty brave too, huh?”

June nodded, a little slower this time, trying to figure out the point you were about to make. “But he’s not an FBI agent like Dr. Reid.”

“He’s not. But he can still be brave, because there are different kinds of braveness in the world. Dr. Reid goes out and finds bad guys, and your brother can climb trees and not get scared.” June’s brow furrowed as you added pointedly, “and you walk all the way to the library by yourself. Everyone’s brave in their own way, but Dr. Reid’s bravery isn’t any different from yours. They’re all just as important, and all just as impressive.”

June’s smile took up her whole face, and to your surprise she hopped off her chair and rushed over to hug you tight. You laughed and hugged her back as she said, “thank you Miss (Y/N). you know what?” You pulled back and raised a brow at her in question. “You’re just like Gandalf. You’re wise and you always say things that make other people feel better. Like he does with Bilbo!”

You laughed with her as you got to your feet, taking her hand to lead her towards the shelves you wanted. “So then does that make you Bilbo?”

“Uh-huh. And Dr. Reid is Thorin, ‘cause he’s really smart and clever, but he’s really nice too. And he’s a leader. And he’s probably brave enough to fight Smaug.”

“I bet you’re right,” you agreed, already looking forward to telling Spencer all about this tonight. He loves little kids, and knowing June thought about him so highly would definitely make his day. “You know, speaking of bravery and dragons… I think I know a good book for you this week.”

You paused at the end of one of the aisles and knelt down – June following your movement – and you tugged out a book you’d been waiting to recommend to her. She took your offering and studied the cover as she read out,

“The Two Princesses of Bamarre?”

“Yep. Do you remember reading Ella Enchanted last month?” June nodded slowly. “This was written by the same author. It’s about a little sister who has to be really brave and go on an adventure to save her big sister. There’s dragons, ogres, and fairies in this one.”

June’s eyes widened with every word, and as you both stood she peeked up at you. “And true love?”

That was what the two of you shared – you were both hopeless romantics.

“Would I give you a fairytale story without that?” June giggled and shook her head. You nudged her gently back towards the reading nook, knowing her mom wouldn’t be by to pick her up for another hour at least. “I’ve got to finish putting the books away, so you get started on that and see if you like it, alright?”

“Thanks Miss (Y/N)!” she said eagerly, already cracking the book open on her way. You just grinned and shook your head as you headed back to the books you’d left on the shelf. The front desk phone ringing hadn’t even caught your attention, and you were just grabbing the books again when the other librarian Amy came bustling over to you, handset held out.

“It’s Stafford Hospital asking for you,” she whispered, and instantly your stomach flipped. Why was a hospital several cities over be calling for you? Warily you took the handset and said,

“This is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Nurse Lesser from Stafford Hospital. We’re calling you because you’re listed as the emergency medical contact for Spencer Reid.”

You nearly dropped the phone, sucking in a sharp breath as your heart skittered to a stop. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m not able to go into specifics right now, but if you’d be able to come down and speak with –“

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way,” you said quickly, already racing for the front desk. As soon as the call ended you practically threw the handset back to Amy as you grabbed your purse. “I’ve got to go, I’m so sorry. I’ll see you later!”

Amy didn’t even get a chance to respond before you were booking it to your car.

The normally fifteen minute drive to the hospital took you less than ten; you’d be sure not to ever mention how many traffic laws you’d broken to get there so fast. Not that you really cared about that, though. Your mind was in overdrive, heart stuttering painfully against your ribs, lungs refusing to let you get a full breath. All you could hear was emergency medical contact for Spencer Reid.

Heels and all, you practically sprinted through the ER parking lot, desperate to find out what had happened. You and Spencer had been dating for just about five months now, and though he’d listed you as his contact as soon as you’d made things official, this was the first call you’d ever gotten for it. You knew dating an FBI agent came with risks like this, but you really hadn’t been prepared for the instant panic and fear that came with knowing Spencer had been hurt.

Once inside, though, you had no idea where to go or what to do. Maybe you should’ve thought to ask that during the call, but you’d flown into panic hyperdrive and had been on a one-track-mind purpose of getting to your boyfriend as fast as possible.

You paused in the lobby for several moments, looking around desperately until you spotted someone that looked like a nurse.

“Excuse me!” you called, racing after him. The young man paused and looked back at you as you asked quickly, “I-I got a call. I’m an emergency contact for a patient –“

“Which patient, ma’am?” he asked, glancing down at a clipboard in his hand.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s with the FBI, I don’t know – they wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong –“

“I’m sorry ma’am, he’s not one of my patients. If you want to wait in the lobby –“

“You don’t understand. I need to know – can you just please find out where he is? Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D. They just called me –“

“I’m sorry, did you say Spencer Reid?” a woman asked from behind you. As soon as you were distracted the nurse practically bolted from your side, but you were too busy studying the group of people behind you.

The woman who had spoken – a petite, beautiful blonde – was coming up to you, confused concern on her face. You recognized her instantly from Spencer’s description of his team, and for a moment you worried he’d be upset. He hadn’t wanted you to meet his coworkers just yet – and certainly not like this – but right now that didn’t matter.

“You must be JJ,” you started, not missing the blink of alarm she gave you as she nodded slowly.

“Yeah… I am. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Oh, right. That had probably been a lot creepier than you’d meant.

“No, I’m sorry. That was super weird of me. I’m (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), Spencer’s girlfriend. He’s told me all about you guys.”

JJ and the others behind her all made noises of surprise. One of the men you recognized as Derek Morgan actually choked on his coffee as he spluttered, “I’m sorry, you’re what now?!”

Heat flooded your cheeks when you realized everyone was staring at you like you’d just sprouted a second head. Nervously you brought your hands together in front of you, fingers twisting together as you repeated a little quieter, “um, I’m Spencer’s girlfriend?”

“Spencer has a –“ a beautiful dark-haired woman scoffed, mouth hanging open as she tried to think of a way to finish that sentence. She must be Emily. “I had no idea Spencer had a girlfriend.”

“Surprise?” you offered, almost instantly cringing at how stupid that was. Thankfully, one of the older men seated behind the others gave an amused snort. Derek, Emily, and JJ all turned to stare at him as Emily asked incredulously,

“What, did you know about this, Rossi?”

“Of course not,” the man – apparently David Rossi – scoffed as he nodded at you. “But unlike you all it doesn’t surprise me that our resident genius would be dating a beautiful librarian. It doesn’t get any more Spencer Reid than that.”

Your cheeks were burning now as the others made noises of agreement. The last man to speak stepped forward and held out his hand to you.

“As I assume you already know, I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

“Spencer’s unit chief,” you confirmed, shaking his hand. “Though I never pictured it like this, it’s really great to meet you all finally.”

“It’s great to know you exist,” Derek quipped; Emily smacked his arm.

“You don’t know why Spence is here?” JJ prompted, and the surprise of meeting your boyfriend’s team flickered out the moment you remembered why you were here. At the look you gave her she said quickly, “don’t worry, he’s fine. He was cut by an UnSub we were chasing and he needed some stitches. We’re just waiting for the doctor to give us the clear to see him.”

Rossi patted the chair beside him and invited, “you’re more than welcome to sit with us, if we haven’t scared you off.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, taking him up on his offer and settling beside him. The others gathered a little closer, clearly ready to learn more about you. Derek wasted no time on jumping into the questions.

“So (Y/N), how long have you and Reid been dating?”

“Five months on the 18th,” you told him with a smile. His eyes widened in surprise and he made a noise of absolute shock.

“You’ve been datin’ for almost half a year and we didn’t know you existed?!”

“Um, surprise again?” you offered, getting a snort out of JJ this time. “I’m sorry. Spencer said he was waiting for the right time. He wanted to give us time to get comfortable with our relationship and make sure things were serious, and then things have just kept coming up. He definitely didn’t want to spring it on you like… well, exactly like it just happened…”

“He was going to tell us at the Halloween party, wasn’t he?” Emily asked you, and at the bewildered head nod you gave her she explained, “he was insistent we would all be there, and when we had to fly out on a case he was really upset. I thought it was just because he has an unnatural love for Halloween, but…”

“Wait,” JJ cut in, snapping her fingers. “When we invited him to lunch last week and he’d said he had to return a library book…”

The team around you ahh’d as they all chuckled. You looked around, still not getting their amusement, but thankfully Rossi caught on to your uncertainty.

“Reid’s been acting dodgy with us lately, and we’ve all been trying to pinpoint it. I can honestly tell you it’s a relief to know he’s in a relationship, not the mob.”

“You’re the only one that thought that,” Emily started, and from behind her, Aaron cleared his throat.

“No he wasn’t.”

The others turned to give him incredulous looks as JJ asked him, “you actually thought Spencer Reid was in the mob?”

“Hey, you and JJ thought he was in a fight club!” Rossi defended, and this time you had to snort.

“A fight club?” you laughed; Emily just offered a shrug as JJ said,

“He had bruises on his – oh.”

Ah, there was the burning in your cheeks again. The others laughed as Derek rubbed his hands together, looking around.

“Guess this means you all owe me your bets.” At the noise of protest around him, he said quickly, “I was the closest! I said he was crushin’ on someone!”

“You guys had money on his caginess?” you asked them with a bemused laugh. JJ, Rossi, and Hotch gave you apologetic smiles as Emily argued,

“That doesn’t count. Garcia wins, she said he had a secret girlfriend.”

“That’s not even fair,” Derek grumbled, shaking his head and crossing his arms irritably. “How is it the only one of us that was right is the one who isn’t even a profiler?”

Before they could go any further a voice called out, “I’m looking for Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Instantly you scrambled out of your seat, rushing past the others to the Doctor peering down at you.

“Yes, that’s me. Is Spencer okay?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m happy to report he’s just fine,” he assured, and the group around you all made noises of relief. “He needed a decent amount of stitches but the blood loss was minimal and luckily there won’t be any long term damage. He’s ready for visitors, if you’d like me to take you back.”

Though you wanted to see him you didn’t feel right stepping in front of his team. They were his family and he’d known them all much longer than he’d known you. But when you looked back at them, JJ and Emily ushered you to go first.

“Go warn him that we’ve met, because as soon as we see him, he ain’t livin’ this down,” Derek assured you, giving a playful grin. With a laugh, you just gave a nod and followed the Doctor back into the patient rooms.

Spencer looked up at the sound of your heels, a huge smile spreading over his face. Though you instantly smiled back, you made a noise of distress seeing his bandaged arm. Rushing to his side, you gingerly took his arm and held it up, running your fingers lightly over the wrappings.

“Baby, are you okay?” you asked softly, looking up at him in concern. Spencer smiled and reached out, cupping your face with his free hand and brushing his thumb over your cheek in comfort.

“I’m just fine. I’m so sorry, I wanted to call and let you know what’d happened, but I left my phone in the SUV. I know the call from the hospital had to have taken you by surprise.”

“You know…” you started, giving him a smile as you leaned into his touch. “Not as much as finding your team in the waiting room did.”

He actually gasped, his mouth dropping into a shocked ‘O’ as he stared at you in mild horror. “Oh no. I – I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t even think about that. I didn’t mean to throw you to them like that –“

“Spencer it’s okay,” you laughed. “It wasn’t what we’d talked about but I liked meeting them. Although apparently they were making bets about why you kept ducking out of things with them.”

He frowned, an adorable pout coming over his face. “They do that a lot. And they give [me] a hard time for being from Vegas…”

With a laugh, you finally let go of his arm and reached up, cupping his face with both your hands and pulling him down into a kiss. He hummed against your lips, the hand on your cheek sliding into your hair to hold you to him. Your lips moved against one another softly, tongues brushing briefly before you broke apart to keep from going farther.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” you said softly, letting your fingers slide over his face to sweep his hair back behind his ears. “Did you catch the guy that did this?”

He nodded, a hint of pride in his soft brown eyes as he gave you a smile. “I did, actually. We managed to stop him before he killed a teen, and even did it without him taking his own life. He cut into me instead of his neck. It was close.”

You knew how bad that must’ve shaken him. Spencer had told you his hardest cases were the ones he had to watch someone take their life, almost more so than the cases with kids. To hear he’d been the hero warmed you to your core, and you knew exactly what would make him even happier.

“It’s funny, I was just telling June about how brave Dr. Reid was, and you go and prove me right.”

As expected, Spencer’s face lit up with a smile at that and he sat up a little taller. “You told her I was brave?”

“I did,” you confirmed. “And it’s been decided that she’s Bilbo, I’m Gandalf, and you’re Thorin.”

“I’m Thorin?” he asked in surprise, and you gave an eager nod. “Why?”

“According to June, you’re smart, nice, and clever. She’s a pretty perceptive first grader.”

Of all the things you loved about Spencer, his genuine humility was one of his best qualities. You knew he didn’t see himself for the incredible man he truly was, and watching the soft blush on his cheeks at June’s compliment warmed your heart even further.

Before you could sweet talk your boyfriend any further, though, you heard commotion in the hallway. The rest of Spencer’s team all piled into the room, with Derek in the lead, a phone to his ear.

“Oh yeah, baby girl. I’ve got him right here. I’ll let him tell you why he kept his girlfriend from us for five months.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as Derek held out the phone; he shook his head and Derek gave a deadpan frown. When Spencer refused again, his friend stepped up and pressed the phone to his face.

“No, Morgan, I don’t – oh, uh, hey Garcia –“

You could hear the squeaking of a very upset woman on the other end and you laughed along with the team as JJ and Emily came up on either side of you.

“So, (Y/N), how does dinner with the team Saturday night sound?” Emily mused, and JJ elaborated,

“We have about six months of embarrassing Reid to make up for, and Rossi makes a mean lasagna. You in?”

“Oh, I’m definitely in,” you laughed, catching Spencer’s eye as he rambled off a desperate apology to the phone in Derek’s hand. He raised his brows to you, silently asking, is this okay?

The smile and wink you gave him assured that yes, this was better than okay. This was as close to perfect as meeting someone’s family would ever get.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #drabble #thats a lie #this is not a drabble #this is 3.5k words lmao #my bad #Anonymous #female reader #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds #rea writes #rea replies

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theutterlyboredwriter · 4 years

Text

Bounty and the Hunter: Good Girl

Summary: Sometimes you need to do a little reflecting after sucking the dick of a bounty hunter who could at any chance kill you…

Rating: Explicit (I know that you won't listen but if you're under 18 don't read or I'll tell your parents)

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT (it is 1000% cringey but a girl is doing her best), cockwarming, P in V sex, cumplay (is that a warning??), mentions of prostitution, cursing, a little touch of violence, cursing, sexy themes, if there's anything else let me knowww

A/N: Hello again!!! I know I said that I was gonna try and get this up on Valentine's Day but then I accidentally deleted a quarter of this so I had to rewrite it:( ANYWAYS I hope y'all like it!!

"I'm not done with you yet."

The words caught you off guard. You hesitantly turned around and slowly began to walk back to the pilot, wishing he'd just let you change into some clothes.

"Yes?" You answered meekly, standing behind him like you had when you fixed the dashboard.

There was a nice silence, the hyperdrive gave a low hum that you knew would help ease you to sleep. Sleep. Sleep sounded so nice, even though you hadn't been awake that long.

It was now that he turned around to look at you, the chrome helmet reflecting the fearful look on your face. The comfortable feeling you felt between his thighs was gone; it seemed to be a momentary blip.

"Your bounty is 60,000 credits. What do you usually charge?"

"Um, what we just did is usually 400 credits, and um all the way is usually 1500 credits. But that depends on what all that includes…"

Though you couldn't see his face, something told you that he didn't like the prices you'd just named. So slowly you began to get quieter until you just stopped speaking.

"No."

Suddenly you thought back to your first day at the first club you'd worked in when your first customer got angry at how much you were charging for a lap dance.

"I'm not paying that shit, listen whore you'll give me a dance for 20 credits and be happy about it," he'd yelled at you throwing credits on the floor for you to pick up.

When you refused, he'd slapped you; and though he was a thin man he had mustered enough strength to slap you to the floor. Rage had fluttered through your body and you could've killed him, opting to kick his ass out of the booth and tell the floor manager that he was trying to steal.

You remembered how the lights flickered and the music had stopped playing, as if it could sense the tension that existed, much like the lights had done a few hours earlier. That was the last time that a man had put his hands on you in anger; you didn't want someone to have that power, nor did you want to feel that anger ever again.

Suddenly you were snapped back to the current time and realized that once again your worth had been debated by someone who didn't matter.

"You asked what I usually charged, and I told you, that isn't a debatable fact," you said with a small trance of frustration.

"We're going to be lowering those rates for the duration of our time together. What we just did will be 100 credits,"

"200."

He was silent for a moment before giving a begrudging, "Okay."

"Sex is 500 credits, non-negotiable." Once again, he was just staring at you; you imagined that underneath the helmet he was squinting at you.

"Fine. But if anything else happens we adjust the price upwards."

He nodded and turned around to look out through the front of the ship.

You turned to leave the cockpit but was stopped by one last question of his.

"Is there anything you won't do?"

You chuckled, caught a little off guard by the question.

"Why? Are you into some messed up shit Mando?" He didn't answer, and you couldn't bring yourself to turn around and risk the chance of him staring back at you.

"No, there's nothing that I won't do…yet" you answered.

The ship was very cold, and your underwear did little to warm you up. So, after you knew that he was finished speaking you turned around and made your way down the ladder so you could get into some clothes and try to get some sleep. The ladder made more sound than you would've liked, but once you were in the lower half of the ship you were very glad to be alone. The fresher was smaller than the bathroom that you had in your old apartment. It didn't allow you much space to try and change clothes, but you were thankful to have a private spot on the ship. Walking out of the fresher you saw the pile of your belongings and a blanket. You tried to create a small spot on the floor, out of the way, for you to lay down in. Clad in a long shirt and leggings and covered in a blanket, you fell asleep to the muted whoosh of the ship in hyperdrive.

The dreams that you had in your small break of sleep were unpleasant to say the least, images of pain and carnage. Murder and violence flashed across your brain. You couldn't wake up; it was like someone was forcing you to stay asleep. The screams of pain and agony rang through your ears and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't wake up.

Then you felt a hand grab your shoulder and try to shake you awake. Without a thought, the back of your hand hit the hard metal of Mandalorian armor. You hadn't gained full consciousness yet, but pain rang through your hand. You slowly started to wake up and see fuzzy figures, but the silver armor was clear as day.

"What the hell was that?" The Mandalorian asked now standing over you.

You looked around, confused and tired.

"It was a reflex, I guess. Sorry." You rubbed your right hand, hoping to stop the warm throbbing that was quickly developing.

"Do you always scream when you're asleep?"

Had you really been screaming? You wanted to reassure him that you didn't, but it had been so long since you'd been with someone who had been around to watch you sleep. But rather than run the risk of being thrown out, you opted to just lie.

"No, I was just having a bad dream."

"Alright. When we land, you're going to have to check out the ship," he said walking over to a little door that you assumed housed his bed.

"What's wrong?"

"For a moment, the power looked like it was going to fail, everything almost went offline."

He stepped into the little room, shut the door, and once again you were alone. You were still exhausted but the dream, now a vague memory, still had you on edge. In an attempt to try and clear your mind, you chose to lean against the cold metal wall of the ship and mediate. An old friend of yours taught you to meditate as a way to cleanse your mind of the trouble that the day brought. At first you had been skeptical but didn't want to offend your friend who wanted so much to help. Now you found it nearly impossible to go through the day without taking a few moments to try and silence your mind.

Your head leaned back against the wall, letting your shoulders fall and your arms go limp. The soft humming of the ship in the background of your mind as you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. In. Hold. Out. Hold. The words of your long-lost friend rang out in your head as your body slowly relaxed and fell into a steady motion of deep breaths. The thoughts of the day began to trickle out of your focus; the steadiness of your breathing was all that mattered. It wasn't long before you felt yourself on the brink of sleep. As you started to succumb once again to the warm embrace of sleep, a thought entered your mind.

Protect the child.

You shot up in a panic. That wasn't your thought, it had been forced into your mind. Why had that come to you? How did it come to you? What child was it referring to? Your implant had made sure that children weren't ever a worry in your line of work, and the Mandalorian didn't have a child…did he? No, you thought to yourself. He would've said something if he had a child on this ship. Then what child?

Fear struck you in a way you hadn't experienced in years. Something deep in your soul knew that this message was the beginning of something big, something to be scared of.

You laid back down on the floor and tried to fall asleep, telling yourself that you'd be able to handle this better once you'd slept. As you fell asleep once again, you heard the words protect the child again.

When you woke up, it was because of the loud cursing that came from the cockpit of the ship. You decided not to investigate, choosing to get yourself ready for the day before you met the Mandalorian while he was in a fit of rage. The cursing had ceased by the time you were dressed and showered, so you decided to see if you couldn't try and fix the issue of power that he had mentioned last night.

Out of the front windshield you could see a planet in the distance, you let out a silent prayer that he wasn't going there to deliver you to someone.

"Hi. You mentioned something about the power last night, I thought I could take a look at it."

"We're going to be landing in a little bit. You can look then." He was still annoyed.

You nodded to yourself, noting that in the future it would be best to leave him alone at all costs. Looking around, you took a seat in the passenger's seat. The memory of how turned on he'd made you came back, and you tried to fight a blush that took hold of your face.

How can you be attracted to him? He could kill you or give you to people who will kill you. You've never seen his face! You know nothing about him, you told yourself. All valid points, but there was something that despite your better judgement still found yourself attracted to him.

You were jerked out of your thoughts as he turned his seat towards yours and grabbed your wrist before putting on what looked like a bracelet.

"It's a tracker. If you take it off, I'll know. If you put it on something else, I'll know. If you try to kill its power, I'll know. I found you once, I can find you again. If I have to find you again, I'll kill you."

You couldn't help but sit there in shock. Finally, you nodded and looked at the cross between a handcuff and a bracelet, a physical reminder of your capture.

The two of you sat in silence after that. Being around him was terrifying, you were trying not to get on his bad side by talking, but you knew that if you talked to him you could probably make him like you. All of it surrounded a common goal, don't give him a reason to turn you in. When you were getting ready this morning, you'd seen the people in carbonite, he could easily do that to you. But he hadn't, you kept reminding yourself. You knew that you had talent and had proved it to him last night. What you didn't know was if you were talented enough to stay out of trouble and stay alive.

Maker, you thought to yourself, I'd give anything to hear his thoughts. Not talking was beginning to take a toll on you. You'd never met a stranger, you had friends no matter where you found yourself. It was a trait that you prided yourself on, it was a skill that had gotten you out of a lot of trouble in the past. Yet, as you sat in silence with a single handcuff on, you felt powerless.

The planet slowly got closer, and the fear grew in your heart. There wasn't much that you'd be able to do if he were really here to turn you over, but it didn't stop you from trying to plan different escapes. Your hands weren't bound so it would be easy to grab the blaster from his belt. Killing him wouldn't do anything to help you. You could knock him out and kick him out of the ship. You weren't a pilot; you'd crash and burn. Eventually you had to face it, you were pretty much fucked.

He landed the ship in the middle of nowhere. You didn't have a clue what planet you were on, the rocky ground giving little in way of aid.

"I have some business to take care of. See if you can't figure out what's wrong with the ship. I'll be back." The Mandalorian said, getting up to leave the cockpit.

You just nodded, trying to prove that you had no intention of leaving.

"If you leave, I'll find you and kill you," he said before climbing down the ladder.

A painful lump formed in your throat as you watched him leave your sight. Sweat began to bead on your forehead and roll down the back of you neck. He wasn't going to turn you over. Relief ran through your body, and you let out a most welcome sigh of relief.

Once you had seen him walk away from the ship, you decided to get up and explore the ship a bit more. The layout was fairly simple, the only thing that was left for you to discover was his weaponry and what looked to be the carbonite chamber. Since you had the time to spare, you started to clean up the ship the best you could. The cleaning supplies that he possessed was limited to say the least. For the next 3 hours you scrubbed, wiped, scraped, and cleaned every surface that you could on the ship. When you were done, he still hadn't returned, and truth be told, the ship didn’t look any different. Since this was the first time you'd been with him while he was out on what you assumed to be a job, you didn't know how long it should take. That didn't stop you from worrying.

"Why do I care if he's safe?" You asked yourself as you ate a meal bar that had been packed in your bag from the club.

This would be the perfect time to try and escape, you thought. You were scared to say something like that out loud, you didn't know if he'd set up cameras to watch you while he was away. The only thing that you knew for certain about the Mandalorian was that you shouldn't underestimate him. Besides, you knew that you weren't capable of a life truly on the run. He was far more experienced and talented at the hunt and chase than you were and there wasn't a doubt in your mind that he'd find and kill you.

At some point you made your way back up to the cockpit, hoping that there was something to fix or work on. Being alone wasn't something you enjoyed. Your mind needed a distraction from its thoughts. Looking around at the dashboard you came to the conclusion that had been coming together for the past few hours. This ship is a piece of shit. It resembled a toy that was long past its prime, but was held together by tape, glue, and love. Everywhere you looked was evidence of a fight or altercation of some sort. In a way, all the damage gave the ship personality. Maybe its personality matched that of its owner, you wondered.

Slowly the day passed, and he still hadn't returned. You were now really worried, a plethora of scenarios as to why he wasn't back came flashing to your mind. Maybe he was just taking a long time, there had to be people who were better at hiding than you were. Maybe he was shopping…for eight hours. But the thought that you couldn't help but obsess over was that he was getting ready to turn you in. You didn't want him dead, but it was better than the alternative that ran through your mind. Just as you were starting to get really antsy and see if there wasn't a way you could track him on from the ship, you heard the cargo door open.

You weren't fluent in anything but basic, however you could make out a few words in Aqualish. Mostly curses, something about money, and a scream that didn't need any translating. Then there was silence, you didn't hear a blaster or any grunts to indicate a violent fight. Maybe he'd used the carbonite chamber. You could hear footsteps making their way towards the ladder so you sat in the passenger's seat and tried to make yourself as small as you could. He walked in, the sound of his shoes filling the silence that rang throughout the ship. The Mandalorian looked around at the cockpit before turning to look at you, his gazing burning into your skin.

"C'mere," he said softly.

This wasn't a tone he'd used with you before, it put you at ease. You stood up and walked up to him, noticing how he seemed to tower over you.

"I've had a long day and right now all I want is to feel your cunt around me. Is that okay?"

You struggled to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. All you could bring yourself to do was nod with a stunned look in your eyes.

He sat down in his pilot seat and pulled himself out of his pants. He was half hard already, and even then, he was still much bigger than most of the men you’d been with before. You awkwardly stepped out of your pants and underwear, leaving you in just the tunic. While you hadn't expected anything in the way of foreplay, you were quite unwilling to go in dry especially with a man as well endowed as the Mandalorian who sat before you, languidly stroking his cock. Standing before him you now got a better view than what you got last night. His pants were pushed down to the top of his thighs and you got another glimpse at his tan skin and the chocolate-colored curls around the base of his cock. You watched as he caressed himself, taking his time to tease every ridge and vein that was now painfully taut. He had now turned to look at you as you stood waiting for him to give you a direction of what he wanted you to do exactly. You quickly realized that you were more than ready to take him, watching him begin to masturbate to the sight of you had turned you on and left you ready for more.

He patted his left knee and you walked over to him trying desperately to keep steady breaths. You'd never reacted to a customer like this before, and you couldn't understand what was causing you to act like this. Once you were standing between his thighs, he grabbed your hips and turned you around so and slowly began to pull you down onto him. Right before he entered you, he quickly asked, "Are you safe?"

Impatiently you nodded and muttered, "Implant."

With that confirmation he pulled you down onto him and thrusted himself into you. Your breath caught in your throat and for a second you forgot how to breathe while he let out a rather loud groan and pulled you to his chest. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming in the best way and he hadn't even moved. Once a few seconds had passed and you had adjusted, you started to lift your hips up before he pulled you down and held you flush to him.

"Stay like this. I don't want you to move."

This was not something you'd done before. You weren't going to argue, feeling him fill you like this was not a feeling you wanted to be rid of. So, you sat like that, your feet dangling off the ground, back pressed up against the metal that covered his chest, whimpering every time he made the slightest movement. His hands were holding you down, and you knew that within a few hours bruises the shape of hands would develop along your hips. The thought of him marking you sent a wave of heat through your body and down to your now dripping cunt. "Fuck." You said softly.

You weren't sure how long had passed before he lifted his grip off your hips and turned to face the front of the ship so he could leave. It was a little weird, you were just sitting on your captor's lap as he was buried deep within you, watching as the ship left the rocky planet and flew into space. Once you were safe in hyperspace his hands returned, only this time to your thighs. His right hand rubbed little circles up on your thigh while his left hand made its way under your shirt. He was pleased to find that you hadn't worn a bra today, as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. Every little movement that he made sent a chill through the most sensitive part of you.

"Do you want me to move? You feel so good clenching around my cock, I can tell you needed this as much as I did."

He'd been inside of you long enough to take away your ability to speak, leaving you to whimper and nod.

You waited for a change in motion, pace, anything. Then slammed himself as deep into you as he possibly could, and an utterly guttural moan ripped out of your throat. You clenched down on him hard, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as his hands guided your hips up and down on him. He was using you to get himself off, replacing his hand with your clenching cunt.

"I love when you squeeze me like that. If I knew you felt like this I wouldn't have taken so long today. Oh! Good girl let me hear those pretty moans," he groaned out into your ear.

He worked up to an impossibly good speed, pounding into you and hitting spots that you didn't realize existed, telling you how good you were for him in between your moans. At some point your hands found their way down to his thighs, your grip tightening every time he drove himself into you. "My good girl, so good for me, squeezing her tight pussy around my dick. Such a good girl." The pornographically loud sound of your wet pussy being abused was music to your ears, heightened only by the moans and whimpers coming from the man behind you. You could tell that he was getting close, his whines becoming louder, and his thrusts are becoming sloppier by the second.

"C- I want—ugh! I'm gonna cum." He yells.

You nodded and locked down on him, squeezing his cock with a vicious force as you let out a weak, "Cum in me."

That set him off as he held you down, thighs shaking, moaning loudly. You feel him deep inside, pulsing as you milked his cock for everything it had to offer. The feel of his warm cum all over your fluttering and spasming pussy left you unable to do anything but just whine. Slowly, you began to roll your hips around, helping him work through the last of his orgasm and giving yourself one last moment to relish this feeling.

"Maker. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He asked, gloved hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You lean back against him and just hum a soft yes. You even close your eyes for a second, wishing that you could stay like this forever. There wasn't ever a time that you were so satisfied with a client, no one had ever made you feel this good. But true to character, the Mandalorian was no normal customer, so it shouldn't have been a shock to feel his ungloved finger circling your clit.

With his gorgeously thick and soft finger, he circled your clit. It was all too much; your body shook uncontrollably as he ripped a near earth shattering orgasm out of you. You tried to run from the feeling, tried to push him off and stop the overwhelming pleasure that he brought you, but he wanted you to sit there and take it. Your vision went out and you could've sworn that you'd lost consciousness for a minute, coming back to the sound of the Mando's heavy breathing.

When you were fully aware and capable of using your legs, you slowly pulled yourself off of him, letting out a sad whine as the fullness left. As you stood up and tried to balance on wobbly legs, a hand came between your thighs, gathering up the cum that was dripping out of you.

"Open up."

You turned around and eagerly opened your mouth. His fingers pushed into your mouth, as you sucked them clean of the taste of the two of you. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, making sure that you weren't leaving a single drop before he pulled his hand away from your mouth. When he was satisfied with your work he nodded and started to tuck himself back into his pants.

You grabbed your pants and pulled them on, reminded once again just how cold the ship was. Unlike last night, you decided to stay with him in the passenger's seat.

As the lights of hyperdrive flashed across your eyes, you were reminded of a life where you were free and innocent. Ideas of living a peaceful life in your mind with no idea of what the future would hold. You didn't expect to be here, working as a prostitute, everyone you ever knew and loved dead. You didn't expect to be hiding from the people who took your family from you, you'd always thought of yourself as a fighter. It was amusing just how different life was from what you expected as a child. But that was all naivety, even as a child you'd been taught that the life of someone like you was one full of challenge and hardship. You just never expected to be one of the last jedi, seeking refuge with a Mandalorian.

#theutterlyboredwriter #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #din djarin smut #smut #reader insert #sorry if this is shit #i tried but tbh im still ass at writing smut #star wars

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onlyhereforangst · 4 years

Text

WWR

Ok y’all if you thought 18x05 was long, you in for a trip. Get ready for lots of caps, lots of not PG-13, and lots of overanalysis. I hope this lives up to the hype since it took me forever and a day (literally almost every minute of the 20 minutes of scenes took practically an hour to breakdown, I have a problem I know). Anyways, let’s get sweaty under the cut because the day ain’t young no more 👇🏼

Their bickering in the car but Nick smiling the whole time is a huge married vibe but also he’s so happy she’s alive and will take any shit she gives him vibe and I’m here for it. Pluuuuus Ellie avoiding nicks question about the phone call 😭 he’s so freaking concerned for her (he’s been through his own version of PTSD), his voice drops all the teasing and he actually opens up a little bit - really wants to make sure she’s ok. He needs to be there for her and ugh poor Ellie, those walls are going back up after that hug- a momentary lapse in her usual self. She’s so far outside of her comfort zone talking about feelings and weaknesses and she immediately deflects. Nick respecting that deflection is also huge growth for him, knows it’s not ok to push through like a person like him would normally do and force her hand. He knows she needs space but also clearly ready to be that ear to listen or shoulder to cry on whenever she needs it.

His joke about notable mustaches only to be the butt of the joke about using the word notable later is hiiiiiilarious.

Her comment about Zillow 😂 um excuse me ellie you looking for houses and to settle down 👀 but then(!!) Nick pushes her down the stairs first when shots start, getting her out of harm’s way and putting himself in danger like he always does my heart 😩 like he’s still on the stairs by the time she’s in a cell “safe.” And side note damn they are good shots, oof.

The toilet bowl scene is easily one of my favorites. Nick freaking out over Ellie moving hers and him not being able to had me DYING. Like legit cackling over his worry she’s suddenly way stronger than him 🤣🤣 and then he gets SO pissed they took their car hahaha like so mad he hugs the damn wall in frustration. But then he claims he’ll rip out the bars of the window (you know, to make up for not being able to move his toilet and still prove he’s macho) and Ellie’s comment about superhuman strength & his agreement LOL. His anxiety level of being trapped and more so Ellie being trapped is getting to him already. He is reaching for any possible way to get them (read: her) out of there safely it doesn’t matter that the plan sounds outrageous. Cue him moving back to pissed and breaking the toilet with his damn foot like 🥵 we get you strong Nick but no need to show off. Hot damn. His “I really think we’re stuck in here” after that IDK why but had be laughing again. I’m pretty sure I said “no shit Sherlock” at my TV watching live because thank you Captain Obvious.

Aaaaaand then when she pauses and finds the bomb bricks but goes so quiet oooooof he’s on high alert. You can practically hear his heart pounding and then he goes and starts panicking slightly when she doesn’t respond with our first use of a first name, “Ellie we have a wall between us, what is it?” But his tone is so frantic and his eyes are darting around putting the whole picture together and my heart aches for him. He’s starting to realize just how helpless he is to save her. The exact thing he likely swore he’d set out to never let happen again (Ellie in danger) after last episode, is happening again. And this time, it’s not like he can go hunt the guys down, he’s quite literally stuck. Helpless with no way out. Aaand here’s where Nick starts to lose his patience. Pissed at himself for not saving her before, not being able to save her now. Pissed at everything. He cannot comprehend how she is in this situation AGAIN and he can do nothing. But oh lord, he doesn’t even realize it’s about to get worse...

Him brooding over this crappy situation in a corner and being the cautious one is so unlike him (but also so telling as to how unnerved he is by her being in danger once again and not wanting to do anything to make it worse) and Ellie calls him on being “so careful, cowboy” and hot damn again she really does like a man in uniform doesn’t she??? 👀🔥 and she not picky on the type of uniform either 😏 but Nick immediately deflects because he’s not *quite* ready to talk feelings so let’s get down to business about counting bullets BUT the second Ellie starts to worry again he goes into hyperdrive protective and caring boyfriend partner. Without hesitation he tells her they’re going to figure it out because goddamnit he HAS to figure this out for her. He can’t fail, again. And he’s so so SO worried about her & her mental health right now and I sincerely love it. I know Ellie doesn’t want to have that conversation but I stan (I can’t believe I’m using that word, I’m not hip enough for that word) an empathetic boyfriend who supports their significant other when facing mental health issues (like PTSD in Ellie’s case) ❤️❤️❤️ Nick breaks my heart, he wants to be there for her- wants to be the one she feels comfortable enough to open up to and he just gets so dejected when she rejects his probing again (but I don’t blame her, it’s *hard* to open up about these difficult topics), his body language slumped over the bars and tone is just so defeated even if he tries to snap back into his usual Torres self (newsflash it ain’t working bruv because she’s not totally wrong in calling you hovery). Yet naturally he gets annoyed because he JUST CARES ELLIE DAMMIT LET HIM CARE. Like you go through this entire list of him trying to protect you from everything that could go wrong because HE CARES. HE WAS TERRIFIED HE LOST YOU ELLIE. HE TRULY THOUGHT HE’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. NEVER TOUCH YOU AGAIN. NEVER TELL YOU HE LOVES YOU. HE CARES. AND HE CANT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU AGAIN. HE LITERALLY WANTS TO SAVE YOU (his own words because god damn this show plays with my emotions 😭😭) FROM ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE HE COULDN’T SAVE YOU FROM GETTING KIDNAPPED AND HAVING TO FIGHT YOUR WAY OUT OF A PLANE RIGGED TO BLOW. Ok done with yelling for now but man this part gets me. The implications are so important even over trivial stuff. He felt helpless and Nick Torres cannot do helpless, so he tries do to everything else in his power to keep her away from any danger no matter how little it seems. Even hot coffee is too much for his precious babe and while he knows she’s not some delicate, fragile flower- he knows she can hold her own (& has called her a badass as proof), his heart can’t possibly take another explosion on an airstrip. Even if that airstrip is something like a burnt tongue. Ok I die now 😩😩😩

But let’s come back to living because this bullshit Nick “I always tell you what’s going on with me...you ask I tell you” exCUSE ME. Is this the same man who claimed he was being overprotective and that Ellie was like a sister to him?!???!! Yeah, I call bullSHIT that you tell Ellie what’s going on with you. (And Ellie calls BS too, btw buddy).

But when Ellie finally decides to open a little I love it. I think she finally understood at least just a bit that he just, simply cares about her & her well-being. So she gives him a tiny taste of what she’s going through. And god Nick’s face when he understands the gravity of what she’s having to face mentally. Like I know he knew but I don’t think he knew just how bad. And you can just see that hatred towards his perceived failure turning inward once again as the mood shifts in these cells to somber. Plus Ellies last comment here with them *needing* to find a way out of there- girrrrrrrl poor baby girl 😭 she’s struggling so hard right now and trying so hard to not let it show and not let it get to her but you know she’s terrified. You know she’s desperately triggered. UGH Ellie 💔💔

We cut to Ellie desperately trying to figure out a solution to getting the fuck outta there and once again my heart aches for her triggered self. Nick seems desolate and frustrated, shutting down slowly as it seems less and less likely they’ll get out. Buuuuut then the GUM. Ahahahahahah Ellieeeeeee how do you know about that last piece of gum for “breath emergencies”??? AHHHH this man’s jeans are so damn tight (& yes trust me I would know, I observe) but like also you staring at a spot on said tight jeans that’s only maybe five inches from a different outline 👀👀👀 GIRL I FEEL YOUUUU. GET. IT. Plus she knows exactly what he calls it and I freaking love that. His excuse for why he has to save it is also hilarious 🤣 his breath emergency later hmmm doubt you wanted to save it to MacGyver something Nick sooooo you got another thing in mind?? 😏 and then LMAO it’s mushy because his pants are sweaty I’m rolllllling. Your pants too tight Nick? (this is not humanly possible btw) ALSO is this why later Ellie says she expected Nick to be more sweaty??? If it is and now rewatching I kind of feel like it is, omg what a great callback on her part 🤣🤣

Nick trying to coach her on the proper way of opening the cell door is hilarious because bitch which one of you was able to move their toilet Nick 👀😂 but oh damn now it’s when shit goes downhill fast.

Nick not being able to see anything and his frantic questioning is amazing compared to Ellies absolute panic realizing she is once again facing down a bomb. I feel like her calming breaths are a coping technique Jack has been helping her with but man kill me now, Nick’s face?? When he realizes what he thought was helplessness earlier has just shot yo exponentially??? Oof with a capital O. This poor man needs a damn drink and yet all he can have is a club soda boy I *feel you* on that (side note #letsgetthisbabyoutmybellyasap). His woman has gone and gotten herself into another bomb encounter for the second time in a week. And he CANT DO A DAMN THING ABOUT IT. Can you imagine the absolute inner (and outer, give it a sec) freak out he’s having?? He wants to save her from hot coffee for Christ’s sake and now he can’t save her from a rigged bomb. Talk about a shitty situation.

I just love the Torres Teachable Moment little discussion. Like Nick’s smirk gets me. I really don’t think he knew she had a name for it or realized that she caught on to what he was doing (trying to help her grow as an agent without being obvious or “degrading”). And then we move on to comparing arm length and I crack up 😂 “my arms are longer than yours” and “no they’re disproportionately short for your body” HAHAHA like what the hell have you guys been doing to know this?? Do you stand *that* close together with your arms down to know their lengths comparatively and how much do you stare at Nick, Ellie? Daaaaaaamn. From his gum to his arms to his body I see you 👀 I’m not hating tho I would too 😏 I think what I loved most about this whole jail scene (aside the ending obvs) is the quick flipping back and forth from joking & teasing to dead serious & worried. Like they’re both trying so hard to keep it above board and light- trying desperately not to think of the implications of what’s happening but then (usually Nick) those intrusive thoughts sneak through and he can’t help but redirect them back to serious. It shows their inner warrings with themselves and just how hard this is for both of them. How much they want to appear strong and unflappable but they both know deep down the whole situation is eating away at them. And Nick bringing up her standing on a bomb only moments before he tells her he’s going to shoot the wall- OOF. Ellie’s genuine terror for him injuring himself and her then not being able to do a damn thing about it because she’s standing on a FREAKING BOMB is so painful to watch. Like she’s stuttering she can’t get it out fast enough, she needs to stop him, she can’t fathom him getting hurt while she’s helpless (uh, hello there theme of the episode how have you been). Nick’s facial expressions through this scene are also so telling. He goes from “this isn’t a big deal” to “oh shit she’s panicking” to “holy shit is she going to open up, is she really talking about this” to “fuck it’s my fault she had to go through that and it’s tearing me up inside every second” to “hooooooly fuck is she about to say what I think she’s about to say?? Is she about to confirm what I know deep inside but am too afraid to say aloud?? Is it true??” And ELLIE OH ELLIE. Reliving that *has* to be hard, has to. To finally bring it up after she’s been dodging it all damn day...you know the thought of him getting seriously injured had her more than rattled. And she cracks open those cement walls around her heart so briefly, the glimpse in it provides I think a turning point for Nick. Finally seeing that it’s not just him, she’s in deep too. Even if she can’t say it, can’t say she was fighting to see him again 😩💔 he knows. She says he only has one bullet left and to save it and they’ll figure some other way with tears in her eyes my HEART. But Nick gets it. Nick gets it because he’s been in the exact same situation. His eyes as they process the implication of her words and the fear for his life running through them 🥺 his simple “ok” is so unlike his normal self, you just know he’s once again doing anything and everything he can for. Even if that means standing down and not fighting for his way (the natural instinct for him). He knows what she needs is reassurance he won’t accidentally shoot himself. So he does it 😭 But him pacing (as a man of action suddenly faced with forced inaction) & Ellie begging for an inventory over and over (a woman of logics and data faced with PTSD) is so painful. You can tell they’re both struggling and neither wants to admit it but also they both need to do something - for Nick that becomes finally deciding to shoot a foothold in the wall and for Ellie that meant trying to go over their facts again and again but suddenly she’s once again terrified Nick is going to injure himself. The one man she fought to see again might hurt or even kill himself and she can’t do a damn thing because she’s standing on a bomb for fuck’s sake. Aaaaaaand cue the blow up. Cue Nick voicing his worst fears of Ellie accidentally triggering the bomb. Cue Ellie getting defensive because she’s so damn used to be babied and treated like she can’t take care of herself. Cue the “overprotective hovery man crap” line that had me rolling on the floor (tbt ROFL). Cue Ellie calling herself a girl but Nick calling her a woman like DAMN get me where it hurts Nick- that right there is a man who respects the living hell out of this fiiiiiiine representation of a woman in front of him 🔥. Cue Ellie saying because I’m “me” like um FUCK YES IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE YOU AND HE’S TOO SCARED OF LOSING YOU ELLIE. Cue Nick finally losing his shit and getting reeeeeealllllllll like hallelujah do you hear the church bells?! Even Ellie knows to finally pause and listen. Nick never loses it on her, never. She knows this shift is serious and it’s happening. And omg his confession can I just have a moment of silence for the GROWTH.

Thank you, it needed commemorating. The same Nick who didn’t belong to a team is the Nick that is out here claiming he can’t sit idly by while the love of his life might get blown up again. He’s NOT OKAY WITH THAT AND NEITHER AM I. NOT AFTER THIS GODDAMN SCENE. His head bob accentuating just- how- important this is to him is so in character (thank you Wilmer) and theeeeeeen shoot me the way he has to fucking collect himself from almost crying. The emotion- there just aren’t words. Literally he has to look up to the sky and blink back those tears you know are threatening to fall at the thought of the woman who he still *technically* hasn’t told that he loves her could potentially die, again, for the second time in a week. So guess the hell what? He’s telling her (sort of). He’s telling her he would do anything, anything, put himself in danger’s way if it meant there was even the tiniest chance it would save her. Pardon the callback but- HE WOULD RISK HIS LIFE TO SAVE HERS. DON’T YOU REMEMBER ELLIE. YOU SAID I KNOW. DO YOU KNOW NOW. DO YOU. BECAUSE GOOD LORD CAN YOU MARRY THIS MAN ALREADY BEFORE I DIVORCE MY HUSBAND AND DO IT (jk love you honey 😘). But like damn, she knows it now. That look- she bites her lip and has tears in her own eyes at the realness she can feel even through a cement block wall. It’s a feeling she’s not used to. She isn’t used to being a person someone would literally risk death for. She doesn’t think she deserves it (sip on that like whiskey, mull it over, let it sink in & cry about it). Even if she knows she doesn’t need saving (and so does Nick), she finally realizes it isn’t about that. It isn’t about he feels like she can’t do it. It’s about the overwhelming pull that your life isn’t greater than the one you love. That love, real true love, is knowing you would do anything for that other person (and they the same) because the world would be worse off without them in it. And Nick will never be okay with a world without Ellie. Never. Their joint quiet after his confession is so powerful. There’s no claims of falsehood, there’s no trying to quip back at him, there’s no trying to stop him. It just settles into the room- into their hearts. They’ve crossed a line and it means so, so much. Nick can feel a weight lifted off his shoulders as he loads his gun and gets ready and Ellie can feel a weight settle on hers from the need to reciprocate. And not out of pity, it would be out of truth. But she knows it isn’t the right time. She knows she has to do it, and she will. She held back earlier when she couldn’t say she was fighting for Nick, but his outburst and confession gave her the courage in this scene. She finally has confirmation she means to him like he means to her. And she has to know, she has to know if he means it or if it was heat of the moment so when the dust settles she inquires, “what’s going on over there?” A pulse check. A way of asking without asking—did you mean that? And the shock of confirmation of her face as Nick, dead as a doornail serious says, “close calls make you live harder”….holy hell. That’s the moment it snaps for her, everything snaps into place—the agony he’s gone through not only this week, but the past couple years of close calls. He’s done beating around the bush, he’s living harder, he’s going all in, he’s getting what he wants. He refuses to let anything like a damn jail cell rigged to blow stand in his way. And she knows, she knows just how important she is to him. He might not have said those three words, but that phrase- that phrase was a direct window into Nick Torres’ soul. And by god I love it.

But Nick pulling a prank on Ellie like that is also so Nick- the little shit. The genuine concern in her voice when she yells his name 😭 like dude, her worst fear, something causing ongoing trauma in her head right now is the ONE THING you decide to tease her with??? I should expect nothing less but damn that’s low 😂 her checking on his status update with Gibbs though feels like such a role reversal from earlier and it cracks me up, side note.

When they’re getting ready to stand down the returning brother and Nick gets in position next to the wall but can’t even look ahead- he’s just staring at Ellie, oof. In that moment he’s brutally and painfully aware she can’t hide for cover. Not only can she not hide, he can’t cover her because he’s (locked in a cell but also) out of bullets. He’s once again near helpless and the woman he loves (and has now finally kind of told) is a sitting duck. Someone get this poor man a damn club soda, I repeat.

And the little talk between the two parties- I love that Ellie takes point. Love that Nick lets her. Like damn that’s a supportive partner right there and I 👏🏼 AM 👏🏼 HERE 👏🏼 FOR 👏🏼 IT. He knows she can handle this shit and he will willingly let her. But nooooooowwwww weee gettinggggg to the goooooood paaaaaaart.

Ok first, “good to see you” - this man has missed her face. Straight up dying to see her in the flesh. Just listening to her voice and not seeing the emotions written on her face is not enough. Seeing her alive, smiling at him, he needed it. But of course, let’s keep it light, act natural Nicholas.

“I thought you’d be sweatier” - excUUUUSE ME ELLIE. Not only did you just call out his reference to his sweaty jeans earlier, you also WANT TO SEE HIM SWEATY DON’T YOU. THAT SMIRK SAYS YES DON’T LIE. And honestly, I don’t blame you shhhhh.

“The day is young” - can I get another excUUUUSE ME NICK. Words- they don’t- function. Because that knowing smile of hers- SHE’S OKAY WITH IT. GET YOUR MIND OUT THE GUTTER YOU TWO THERE’S A HOMICIDAL MAN UPSTAIRS. YOU’VE GOT TIME TO GET SWEATY TOGETHER TONIGHT YOU HEAR ME. THAT DAY IS YOUNG AND SO ARE YOU SO GET THOSE BRICKS AND THEN YOU CAN GET TO BANGING LATER. I just fucking can’t with their smirks. I can’t. This isn’t the normal banter, this is the fuck me banter and I’m okay with it. Because right after the I-wanna-get-in-your-sweaty-jeans banter we have Ellie putting her HAND ON HIS GD HIP AS HE PASSES ONLY TO MOVE UP TO BOTH SHOULDERS. AND THEEEEEEEN HOLY HELL SOMEONE LIGHT A MATCH BECAUSE THIS BITCH ABOUT TO EXPLODE FROM SEXUAL TENSION. Is it possible to rewatch this scene a thousand times in slo-mo and still not have watched it enough? Because that is me. That will always be me. How are they so in tandem, so in sync as they look up mere inches from each other- directly into the other’s eyes knowing exactly how serious this situation is and yet pausing to freaking gaze longingly (read: have eye sex) at each other. And I’m sorry Nick looks down at her lips like three times??? For a good while too?? Sir nothing you said required you to look there. nothing. And also there’s no way his hands aren’t on her I thiiiiiiink they’re on her upper arms (based on the last shot as he’s walking to get the bricks) but like hold her tight Nick please. Also while Ellie doesn’t look at his lips (in this scene) holy shit those are some come-hither eyes if I’ve ever seen them. “I’m sure” ABOUT YOU. SHE’S SURE ABOUT YOU NICK. SHE’S SURE SHE’S READY TO GET SWEATY WITH YOU NICK. Like literally, this girl had been leaning up against the cement wall for a looooong time before he has to pass her and now, NOW that Nick has to pass her- SHE STANDS UP TALL. TO GIVE HIM NO SPACE. WHILE SHE’S STANDING ON A BOMB. BITCH YOU WANTED IT. That was a damn power move Ellie and I am not mad about it. She so easily could have leaned back, given him a ton of space to get around, but nooooooo she stands right there, middle of the tight opening and says yes Nick come get 1mm from my face, touch me here, touch me there, touch me everywhere don’t care 👀 while you pass. I’m sure I’m okay with it because you’ve just eye fucked me and it’s exactly what I wanted. And I mean come oooooooon just the underlying emotion behind both of their words. Nick isn’t just asking if she won’t move her foot- it’s his way of asking if she’s ok and she looks SO much better, more relaxed now that he’s with her. The tense, anxiety-ridden Ellie that was asking for inventory or snapping about him being overprotective, is now at ease despite still standing on said bomb- all because Nick is right there with her and if that doesn’t make you 🥺😭 I don’t know what will. Like she can’t even take her eyes off of him even after rude brother interrupts this gold moment of theirs until Nick has already completely turned his head towards the dude. She’s just so relieved to see him standing there, so close to her, feeling his warmth underneath her hands again.

Side note to prove my earlier point, when Nick casually reaches through to throw the bags of bricks through the door Ellie is leaning on the wall and THERE’S SO MUCH ROOM. HE COULD HAVE EASILY PASSED.

Nick looks like he literally wants to murder the guy, enraged that he’s the one who put Ellie in this situation again. We would’ve seen swan!Nick if it wasn’t for Ellie choosing this moment to finally share her feelings. Because remember- she’d decided she was going to reciprocate but knew it wouldn’t come off the right way before. Now’s the time. Now when the immediate threat to their lives is gone (excluding bomb of course). Now when they’re alone, they’re together, and she can look him in the eye so he knows she’s serious. He can read the truth in her eyes rather than doubt her words said across a jail cell wall.

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you” - well damn that got your attention didn’t it Nick??? So used to putting Ellie first, putting yourself second its weird to hear it come from someone else isn’t it? That someone is worried for your safety? That someone needs you living and breathing just as much as you need them doing the same? His eyes immediately change from Imma kill this man to did I just hear this woman right.

“I’m not okay with you getting blown up either” - first off, the parallelism is what makes this absolute *chef’s kiss* because Nick has literally zero chance of being blown up if he runs after this dude. Shot? Yes. But blown up? No. Ellie has chosen these words precisely to call back to what Nick said earlier. To make sure he’s aware she understood the weight of his earlier confession and is making the same one. They are on equal footing- their feelings are not only reciprocated but just as strong as the other. She could’ve said anything else but choosing his exact words was so poignant in the moment. It’s like the difference between saying “I love you” & “I love you too” compared to “I love you” & “I really care about you.” And the way she says it with such confidence, she isn’t playing around, she didn’t even *have* to bring up their previous conversation, she’s got determination etched across her face with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She means this, and it’s dying to bust out of her. And so the shock to Nick’s system is quite frankly understandable. This is Ellie - someone who hours ago didn’t even want to tell him who she was trying to make a phone call to. Ellie who has walls the size of Mt. Everest erected around her heart. Ellie who could have brushed off his earlier comments said from the safety of a cement wall between them. But no. This Ellie is all-in, she’s ready to own up to her side. She’s ready to lay it on the line just like him. Equal footing. If Nick is ready to jump, then so is she. And he’s just so taken aback- glancing at her lips, blinking through the shock as he processes. Processes the weight of her words on their relationship. He knows he could laugh it off, make a joke about his superhuman strength not allowing him to get blown up, or he could man up and take them both forward. Ellie doesn’t even flinch under his stare, if anything she becomes more confident, more resolute in her words and her stance. Her eyes searching his for what his reaction will be and for a brief moment I swear there’s a tiny bit of worry, a tiny bit of unease that he wasn’t ready for her to repeat his words back to him.

“Well, what are we gonna do about that?” Oh YOU HEARD. That smirrrrrrrrk Nicholas stop iiiiiit, Eleanor’s standing on a bomb you don’t need to light her on fire!! Because this is a challenge, a goddamn challenge. Staring straight into her soul saying, “oh you want me and I want you? How about we blow this popsicle stand and go get fucking sweaty ok? Because that’s what I want to do about that 👀🔥🔥🔥” and not only is the smirk sexy as hell but it’s also got this glint of elation. Like he could not be happier she said those words back to him. That he finally took Ziva’s advice, wasn’t a wuss and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT IT PAID OFF. But his words also tell of a little nervousness. And not necessarily in a bad way, more as in a leaving it to her way. Putting her in the driver’s seat of this relationship knowing it’s where she’ll feel most comfortable. Given all she’s been through, like all of it not just the past week, he knows that she needs to be in control of how fast they move. And once again his chivalry and thoughtfulness of her is just- I cry. He doesn’t just assault her with what they should do next, he leaves it for her to decide. For her to weigh in on how far and how fast she wants to take them. And by the little shy smile Ellie gives him- she knows what he means. She knows her words have hit their mark and that he respects her enough to let her lead the way. And now she has to make her decision, a decision we DON’T GET TO SEE BUT I’M NOT BITTER IT’S FINE. But a decision nonetheless.

I honestly go two ways on this- the most obvious of hell yes they kissed right then and there and started *something* and then the bitter realistic one of they were probably interrupted by Gibbs (who was literally outside like right then based on timing) but also may have just continued to stare into each other’s eyes- still slightly taken aback by everything they just shared and what it means for them. Still unsure of how they “work” as people who *love* each other, not just partners. Having that reality sink in as they continue to face off and wait for a rescuer. That reality sinking in could lead to obviously very good things (that we better see on our screen or I will fucking riot) or a slight nervous closing-off. Like not quite closed off closed off, but a tiny retreat when the gravity of the day falls down on both of them. I don’t think either will believe they only said what they did because of the situation/moment they were in, but it’s still a lot to deal with after all is said and done. I sincerely hope they unpack this in the coming episodes and give us some direction of what happened after that jail cell scene.

I love the Torres told McGee about what happened today and I’m so curious about how much detail he told him lol but I also love that McGee has now received genuinely good advice from Torres twice now (the one about the reunion and now this). Just goes to show you the brotherly bond they have ❤️ but also that the advice was the same advice he literally lived out that day. Close calls make you live harder, almost as an affirmation to himself (Nick about what happened), but as something he knew McGee needed to hear too- they all do.

And then this bullpen scene - one, how far of a time jump is this and whyyyyyyy won’t they telllll meeeeee. They hate me. Two, Ellie coming over so close just to hand off a file that he doesn’t even look at 👀 three, THEIR SMIRKS. WHAT DO THEY MEAN. Because Nick is holding back the world’s biggest smile as Ellie gets close to him and Ellie is just all nonchalantly checking him out with a brief eye-sex scene. Like damn this fine man doesn’t want me to blow up and I don’t want him to blow up either 🔥 Now does this mean they absolutely got together and did the nasty after they got out of that cell? Of course not. We can only dream, and write fics. This ending scene is very reminiscent of what NCIS loves to do with their power of open-ended persuasion at the end of an ep, see On Fire for example. The ending music and comments combined with the shot of Gibbs leaving in the elevator is literally there to try and persuade you that he killed Xavier. In this ep, the ending music and voiceover combined with their looks at each other is there to try and persuade you they totally got it oooooon. Not to say they didn’t, but I don’t trust NCIS one damn bit.

All in all, cannot *wait* to see where they take ellick the rest of the season. Emily hyped this ep and man, she did NOT disappoint. Let’s see that shift that is going to ripple for the rest of the season now like Wilmer promised 🤞🏼

Oh and my only side note because this was insanely insanely long and if you’re still reading I’m proud of you for hanging in there with me & my screams into the void, send me an ask screaming back it’s ok I’ll love you for it—waaaas the whole team poking fun at Torres for using the word notable was downright hilarious. That and Gibbs trying to do everything himself, I can’t. Comedic gold. I love. I would go from dying of laughter to intense emotions so fast in this ep I got whiplash and for that, I am thankful to Gina. She always delivers 🔥

#ellick #WWR #ncis #lol this is literally a total of 6k words #what is wrong with me #don't answer that #hope y'all who stick with it enjoy 😘#18x06

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Text

One of the Bad Ones

From a little thought of mine <3

Masterlist

Pairing: (platonic) female!oc & crosshair

TW: sad/depressing thoughts, a little bit of human experimentation, self-depreciation, PTSD

Word count: 1895

QUICK NOTE: this is a concept with my oc Dain and her (platonic) relationship with Crosshair. Dain is a chiss jedi who hates the republic. She was the TechnoUnion's test subject years before Echo got there. She was rescued by the Batch and Co. when they went to rescue Echo. If you want more details, let me know!

There were good days and bad days for Dain. This day would be one of the bad ones.

Hunter and Wrecker were getting some much-needed rest, recovering from the day before. Tech was messing with a small part of the hyperdrive in his bunk with Echo helping, not getting the rest they needed. That left Dain piloting through the ridiculous amount of traffic on Pasaana, their new mission destination, with Crosshair as her co-pilot. A content silence consumed the ship, only Tech’s fiddling with a blow torch, Hunter and Wrecker’s soft snores, and the clicking of controls filling the cramped space.

Dain was consumed whole by her usual track of mind. The horrors of Skako were always her first destination. It was hard not to think about it, she was there for years. She constantly had to rhyme off the different things she could see, focus on the light reflecting and refracting around the ship, squeeze her eyes shut and dive into the life forces of her crewmates to bring her back from the fluorescent-lit laboratories and chilling surgical tables. Her limbs disobeying her commands as her captures messed mercilessly with her eyes. She could feel the tiniest of needles embedded in her iris, the sorry excuse for a numbing agent being injected.

She could still feel the helplessness that she constantly felt every second she was conscious on Skako. The bacta tube she was confined in when the surgeons needed a break still haunted her. Her long hair frail and coarse flowing like a separate entity, her oxygen mask so tight around her face practically another body part. She felt like she was being slowly and carefully pulled back to it, she could feel the warmth of the liquid seeping up her calves and past her knees, almost above her waist.

“You okay?”

Those few words violently pulled her out of the tank she was sinking into.

She didn’t feel the little drops staining her cheeks. Of course she wouldn’t, she was too messed up to feel the things that made her organic. She saw a sparkling on her cheeks refracting the light of the speeders and pods held up in front of her.

Dain quickly wiped them away. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Simple question,” he said, his usual snark present.

“I am perfectly adequate; I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas from.”

“Your bullshit doesn’t fool me,” Crosshair sighed.

Dain whipped her head around to his dead serious face gazing out at the fully stopped highway. “I beg your pardon? I am not, as you say, bullshitting.”

“You’re suffering. You really think this act is convincing?”

She was perplexed.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He went back to prepping the ship from its parked mode to move a couple inches further.

Dain did her part in guiding the ship the few little inches. They stayed in silence for quite a while, Dain trying to stay afloat by following the train of speeders and pods zig and zagging across miles and miles towards the capital city. Crosshair had propped a tiny black book on his raised knee, sketching away like he always did when he had extra time.

“How could you tell?”

Cross continued with his pen. “Hm?”

“How could you tell?” Dain asked a little louder.

“Well crying doesn’t cover anything up,” he gestured with his pen to her newly wet cheeks.

She quickly went to work wiping them dry, the force drawing a deeper blue to her skin. She dropped her hands in her lap in defeat, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t control it.”

“Nothing special.”

“I misspoke. I can’t feel it.”

Crosshair seeded his sketching of the pods and speeders.

“I remember what lacrimal feels like, seeping from the tear ducts,” she continued. “But I just... I don’t function like that anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say. What do you say to such a horrific fact? What did they do to you?

“I, um, overshared. Apologies.”

“No,” he objected. “It’s, uh, fine.”

Dain sunk into her seat, pulling her knees up to her eyes instinctually. Making herself as small as possible eased a little itch in the back of her mind.

She was a leader before all of this, she didn’t want to shy away into a corner and fade away in her own shadow. She stood with purpose and commanded respect. She was a decorated soldier, higher in rank than most Jedi. She had a family who she loved and who loved her. She depended on the Wolffe Pack as much as they depended on her. She was one of them.

She held a burning passion against the Republic. She fought to someday end the war so she could help burn it down and build something better in its ashes. Something that didn’t negotiate living being's lives like they were poker chips to be tossed in a pot.

It was all gone. It disappeared. She only wanted to melt into the soil, maybe help the earth flourish with trees and wildlife beside a rushing river. She didn’t hold a passion for anything she used to. She wasn’t the leader she needed to be, she didn’t have a family, she didn’t have anything to fuel her anymore. She was empty and purposeless. Maybe I’m better off melting into the earth.

“Here.”

Crosshair tossed the little black book and the pen to Dain, landing in the space between the armrest and herself. Dain stared at it for a moment, unsure of what he was playing at.

She slowly unfurled herself, her feet setting on the floor without a sound and her nimble hands bringing the book and pen to her lap.

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know. It’ll drive you insane,” he started.

Dain’s shoulders deflated. “I know.”

“It’s impossible.”

She eyed him wearily. And I thought this was going to be a pep talk.

“You just have to escape long enough.”

She stayed silent and a small bit of intrigue nipped at her fingers.

“Try it,” he gestured to the open landscape in front of them.

Dain shimmied to the edge of her seat to prop the book to a blank page against the dash in a free spot of any controls.

“Any requests?” She asked without an ounce of cheek in her words, only what seemed to be defeat.

“Nothing you can remember.”

She looked around the desert in front of her. Only a city that looked like a birdbath all those miles and miles away and the pods and speeders backed up were to see. Nothing she could see really sparked interest in her, nothing ever did anymore.

Just as she was about to toss the book back, she found her subject. A little patch of orangey clouds against the scorching sun. The entire sky was filled with them, the light bouncing off every fluffy edge and casting long shadows, but this patch’s edges were sharply defined and outlined against the glowing of the sun. There was no double meaning, no metaphor she could attach to it. Nothing sad to see in the clouds, it just looked graceful and meaningless.

She scribbled away on a page, not having enough energy to criticize her chicken scratch. She remembered a piece of advice from someone she hadn’t thought about for what felt like decades. You always get caught up in what you think you’re seeing, not what’s actually in front of you. Exasperated laughter echoed in the aftermath.

She proceeded with that in mind, trying to stay out of her head and only taking what was in front of her to transfer messily onto the textured parchment.

Crosshair was the smallest bit surprised the broken woman in front of him kept sketching away for more than five minutes. He half expected her to toss it back and retreat into whatever hell her mind had become.

He didn’t believe it when Anakin told the rescue team on Skako that it was Force Marshel Dain Lec in the bacta tank, floating eerily like a dead specimen with a tight black shirt and shorts that gave away how much she looked like a dead, decaying skeleton.

She was basically a myth in the GAR. Force Marshel Lec was one of the most decorated soldiers in history; her battle plans and strategies were studied by captains, commanders, and generals. The Bad Batch admired her work, it was exactly their style of getting things done. But she only worked with Commander Wolffe and his battalion, she didn’t ever grace the rest of the GAR with her presence. The fact that she was one of the only Chiss serving the Republic only added to the mystery of Dain Lec.

But it wasn’t just her bat shit crazy plans and strategies that she was known for, her humanity and empathy were only dreamed of. The regs all had their fair share of generals who hated them for existing, some even had the unfortunate fate of serving under Krell, but the Wolffe pack only spread the word of her immense empathy and compassion. Ruthlessness and compassion never went hand in hand, but somehow the universe broke logic and made Force Marshel Lec.

Crosshair couldn’t put the myth to the face. Sitting beside him, still sketching away on the consul, was a shrivelled and washed-out woman who couldn’t feel her own tears. Granted, it had only been a few months of her being dumped on them along with Echo, and she hadn’t been in the thick of the action yet, only drawing up plans and flying the ship, but he couldn’t imagine what else an escaped science experiment could do.

“You underestimate my abilities a staggering amount, Crosshair,” Dain’s permanently shaky voice broke his thoughts and sent him into a panic.

His thoughts staggered. “You- you-”

“Force users can’t read other beings' thoughts, but I can most certainly piece together the ones that float by.”

Crosshair thought someone raised the temperature in the ship by 20 degrees.

“I... I...”

“I’ve made the best snipper in the GAR speechless,” a small smile spread across her lips. “It’s perfectly fine, no ill will befalls this situation. I’ve endured far worse than the judgement of others.”

He didn’t know what to say. Again. He felt embarrassed over anything, over the fact he’d stoop to such lows. Why was he like this? Why did he have to point out the worst in people who were already suffering enough? Was it some kind of ego thing? Was he that insecure?

Dain tossed the book and pen back to Cross, making him jump. She looked at him intently, trying to catch his gaze that was anywhere but on Dain.

“Cross.”

He sighed and met her foggy crimson eyes. It didn’t seem like a confrontation. She brought her knees up to her chest again and fidgeted with something in her lap. How could she be considered a leader? Stop it.

Her gaze turned to one of sympathy. Pity.

“You should consider your own advice, you really think this act is convincing?”

He scoffed and leaned back against the co-pilot's seat, turning his attention to the backed-up traffic.

She sighed deeply, like the weight of the world was getting heavier with each conversation they had. “I’m still here, even if everyone here doesn't want me to be.”

A/N: HELLOO PEOPLE!! It's been a while!! I haven't been writing a lot lately, that's not true, I've just been writing a long marvel fic and making new OCs that no one's interested in I'm sorry for that. If you want more of my bb Dain, please let me know! I'd love to share her with y'all!! Go drink some water, get a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much!! I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WAS OOC, I TRIED MY BEST OKAY

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #sw #bad batch #the clone wars #tcw #echo #tech #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #omega #original character #anakin skywalker

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knowledgequeenabc · 4 years

Text

you belong to me, my snow white queen, there’s nowhere to run

I’ve been so dead inside I never posted my NNQ fics but, happy belated tenth, Ninjago! the fandom has been wonderful and I’ve made so many friends, seen so much beautiful work, made it through so much because of this silly little plastic ninja show. <3 This fic’s title comes from “Snow White Queen” by Evanescence (yeah I know don’t @ me), if you wanna. set the mood for this one. We’re gonna be following Nya after Skybound for a bit and it won’t be pretty.

Nya remembers it all.

It never happened, of course. That was the condition of Jay’s last wish: that none of it had ever happened in the first place.

Yet she remembers.

It’s good that she does, honestly. She’ll recognize the threat if it ever presents itself again. Plus, the others don’t remember, so they can’t worry themselves about it.

Jay wanted to tell them. “No more secrets,” he said. She’s proud of him, she really is, at least he’s learned from dragging them through hell and back …

But she can’t do it.

She remembers Jay’s eyes, glinting bright and worried in a dim room, as he asks if she’s sure about this; Nya remembers her voice hardening to keep vulnerability from bleeding through as she nods. She’s well aware it’s unwise to keep a secret this heavy, thank you, but they’re both heart-wrenchingly familiar with secrets. What’s one more?

Getting angry at Jay for keeping secrets and then turning around and asking to keep this one … it’s hypocritical. She sees the recognition of the fact in his eyes, but there’s understanding mixed with it; it’s his secret, too. It’s their burden to shoulder behind closed doors, afraid to face their family. After losing Zane and getting him back, after Chen and Garmadon, after Morro, peace feels fraught, like walking a tightrope over another storm. How would the others react to knowing they’d broken again? She doesn’t want to deal with the answer to that question.

So Nya does what she does best. She squares her shoulders and marches through each day, reminding herself with each skip of her heart, each flash of her life before her eyes, each time the world blurs that it’s over now. It spits in the face of every lesson life’s beaten into her bones, reverting to stubbornness and pride and the kind of independence that would rather see her amputate an injured limb than get help for it, but it’s a twisted kind of easier to wrestle her pain in silence. The sky pirates made it clear that she needs to stop being afraid to rely on her team, and with a distant sense of guilt it occurs to her that applies to her emotions about this situation, too, but ...

But that fight’s over. And Nya honestly wants nothing more than to take the lesson to heart and put the rest behind her. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all.

Slight problem with that plan: she’s beginning to get the feeling they don’t want to stay asleep. Nya’s good at compartmentalizing, and has been ever since she was an orphan child balancing school and keeping the forge afloat, but the neat dividers are starting to give.

All she can do is watch as the cracks spider out like the Tiger Widow’s web.

~~~~

Lloyd sits on the edge of the ship’s deck at night, sometimes.

Who knows what he’s thinking. Nya knows her little brother would rather sort through his feelings behind curtains, and they’re all working on helping him open up, but sometimes there’s nothing to do but be there with someone while they watch the world turn.

Tonight, thoughts zipping through her head with manic intensity and no distraction to stop them, she joins him, letting her legs hang over the edge of the Bounty. He acknowledges her with a smile and inches closer, then turns back to face the clouds, eyes searching the scene like there’s a cosmic answer somewhere in the moonlight poking through the blanket of grey. The sky roils in dark, angry sheets, air thick enough to slice with a knife. Nya remembers another storm out at churning sea, splinters from a shipwreck, a missing friend and her bubbling fury in the aftermath, and shudders.

Lloyd doesn’t speak, but he’s gripping a photo of his father with white knuckles and a pinched face. And she understands.

Never once has Lloyd gotten to choose his path. His only crime was wanting Garmadon in his life, and the gift he received in return for it was becoming fated to finish his father off, once, then twice. It’s a painful game, to be destiny’s plaything.

Self-centered as it is, Nya wants to think she gets it. Rarely does she get to choose, either. Being folded into the fate of Ninjago via kidnapping from blacksmith shop had been exciting until she was relegated to damsel in distress and left on the wayside. Then when she’d forged her own path as Samurai X, she had to give it up and be the water ninja instead. Water ninja. Kai’s sister. Jay’s love interest. The girl. Nadakhan’s prize.

Never a thought for what Nya wants to be. Just roles and labels to live up to whether she likes it or not, forced upon her like a wedding dress sewn for someone else.

And the one choice she could make ended up …

Her chest tightens until she’s dizzy.

Once the world sharpens back into focus, Nya casts Lloyd a sympathetic glance and quietly traces the feathery outlines of the clouds with her eyes. It’s a good night for commiserating, and she’s not feeling talkative, either.

She wonders what she is now, and her throat tightens.

~~~~

Nya catches, out of the corner of her eye, the breathless headline on the tabloid lining the rack at the grocery store—“DEVASTATING FACTS ABOUT THE GIRL NINJA!!” —and bites back the urge to scream herself hoarse.

The public eye is an unforgiving one, she knows that, she’s long since resigned herself to it. But sometimes it grates, the way everyone seems to presume they can weigh in on Nya.

The people out there don’t know anything about her. All they care about is that she’s the girl, and there’s drama behind her they can gobble up like starved mutts.

She doesn’t let on about it much, because being imperfect is kind of one of her worst nightmares, but she knows she’s made mistakes in the past. She was prideful, even haughty. She strung Jay and Cole along for way too long because the attention got to her head, and the paparazzi will never let her forget it. Nya should have been the bigger person and cut it short, instead of letting Cole keep going with it because he was mad Jay didn’t trust him, or letting Jay’s jealousy fester as long as it did. Bit late for that, though.

It’s hardly like her faults stop there. Being hunted by Nadakhan and upset by Jay’s refusal to understand her “no” meant no, on top of the fact that her independence would only ever be conditional sinking in from becoming the water ninja … it was a perfect storm of stress, and it made her nasty. Jay keeping secrets and endangering them all was the last straw. She blew up, lashed out, furious that she couldn’t trust anything to go right.

She still regrets it. The bruises on his skin after his rescue are still imprinted on her eyelids when she wakes up, sometimes.

So she’s not perfect, by a long shot. But …

(Greedy eyes following her every movement, wanting her as she runs. Blinking to find another family member gone. Fighting for her life as the pirates capture her. Being wrestled into someone else’s gown. Pushing desperately against Dilara’s spirit snatching away her autonomy. Venom seeping into her gown, frigid then BURNING, the ability to think slipping—)

Nya loosens the death grip she has on her basket. Takes a deep breath in, then out.

They don’t know anything about her. Tabloids and TV hosts and publicists can gossip all they want about Nya’s mistakes; they’ll never convince her she deserved to die for them.

~~~~

Kai is many things, and stupid is definitely one of them, sometimes. But he isn’t stupid when it comes to how Nya’s doing, and she knows this. If anything, she’s the idiot for thinking she could keep herself under wraps from him for long. Kai must have noticed the tough veneer she’s painted over herself, and how secretive she’s being with them, because Kai knows she doesn’t like to be open about feeling unwell, and Nya knows that it worries him.

Ironically enough, that worry is why she knows she can’t ever tell Kai what happened. Ever since she revealed herself as Samurai X, he’d learned not to hover, and Nya’s endlessly grateful that he’s understanding enough to trust in her strength. Nowadays, Kai’s concern manifests in significant glances, questioning hands on her shoulder, hugs a little tighter and lingering longer than normal, discreetly asking if there’s anything she wants to tell him.

He’s taken to all that behavior in hyperdrive, of course, because there is no way Nya’s snippiness and constant tension and nights in the kitchen making tea after nightmares slipped his notice.

But that’s fine. Nya would rather deal with the quiet apprehension radiating off him now than the full-blown panic she’s bound to have on her hands if Kai ever found out that she’d lost her life and he’d been helpless to do anything but watch.

She has an idea what it’ll look like, too. He’d taken Lloyd’s possession hard enough—Nya had caught him pummeling punching bags in the training room until his knuckles bled, noticed the heaviness in his eyes when he looked at their little brother, or at Cole, and no matter how much she insisted that he hadn’t failed, Kai refused to let himself believe it. Uttering a word about the Sky Pirates to her older brother, Kai who had practically raised them both, Kai who had only ever become a ninja to save her, Kai who had blamed himself so ruthlessly for Zane and Lloyd and Cole?

It would break him.

She just can’t do that to him. She’ll stitch her lips shut if that’s what it takes to make sure he never finds out.

So when Kai fixes them both mugs of chamomile tea at 2 in the morning, and casually remarks on the strange amount of repairs she’s been doing on the perfectly intact Bounty, Nya just smiles tiredly at him and fires off some sarcastic retort that’s sure to rile him up.

She loves her older brother, which is why she made the decision to take this secret to her grave.

~~~~

Nya notices while brushing her hair, one day, that she’s neglected to pay attention to it; the sleek black strands are almost to her shoulder, rather than brushing against her chin like she’s used to. Once she’s teased out every last snarl, she goes to cut her hair, but hesitates right before the scissors snip.

When she looks in the mirror, sometimes it’s Dilara’s face flashing before her eyes, not her own. She has to look for the minutiae, the details that count, like the flinty sharpness in her own eyes, the scar near her chin, the odd mark forming on her cheek, obsessively contrasting them to wide, sweet eyes on a deceptively cherubic face.

Nya wishes—no, not wishes, look where wishing had gotten them all—that Nadakhan had cared to see the differences. Maybe that way, she wouldn’t have felt the eyes on her back, always following her, waiting for her to fall into his grasp. Maybe she could have avoided the desperate game of cat-and-mouse. And just maybe, she wouldn’t have been grappled into a suffocating gown, or had her agency ripped from her as Dilara took her face, or died—

Right, that had happened. How Cole and Zane go about their days knowing they’ve walked through the doors of death, she can't begin to fathom. Nya wonders when she’ll stop feeling like she has to hide in her own home from eyes that are no longer watching, wonders when she’ll stop feeling the white-hot burn of venom leaching into her blood, and it’s Dilara’s face that brought it upon her.

Nya sets the scissors down, and tries not to flinch at the way they klink against the counter. She doesn’t want Dilara’s face anymore.

Maybe she’ll let it grow out.

~~~~~

It wasn’t even that rough of a touch, Nya despairs later. Cole, even in spars, always knew his strength, and he barely glanced her sternum with a ghostly hand as she knocked him off balance.

Apparently, on a bad day, that chilly touch was enough to send the phantom shock of Tiger Widow venom racing through her system; Nya forgot how to breathe for a second, and the next she broke her stance and pushed. Already off-kilter, Cole stumbled, his back hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In the instant before the others could be alarmed, they locked eyes, concerned meeting terrified. She forced her voice to stay even as she said, “I think that’s enough training for today.” Then she ran.

Now, here she is, her door slammed shut and locked, and her back’s pressed against it as she tries to remember what it feels like not to buzz like an entire hornet’s nest. She’s fine, she repeats to herself. The mantra is soothing simply in its repetitiveness; it gets her mind off of the sensation that won’t leave her alone ever since she lived it. She’s fine, she’s alive, and she’s not losing her grip on consciousness because all her organs are shutting down. Nya is fine, not actually feeling the venom seep into her skin through the coarse fabric of the wedding dress, cold for just a millisecond before erupting into white-hot pain across her skin. If her vision is off, it’s because of the tears welling up despite her stubborn efforts to blink them away, not the spots that danced across her world as Flintlocke’s fatal accident slowly claimed her life-

Her breath catches in a sob. Nya furiously muffles it behind her hand.

It didn’t even happen. She’s been through so much, she’s been in danger so many times, and this is the one that sticks? So it killed her, yeah, admittedly that’s a big step above the other times, but it hadn’t happened to anyone else except her, and Jay, and she can’t, won’t, make those words leave her lips. Every other problem in her life, she’d risen above, she’d fixed and wrestled back into her control, and then she’d gotten to square her shoulders and quip to the boys how easy it had been.

How does she fix something that’s only broken in her memories?

~~~~~

Nya remembers it all.

She almost wishes she didn’t.

#ninjago #nnq zine #nya ninjago #nya smith #n1njag0 #happy tenth anniversary ninjago #abc writes

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godtier1 · 3 years

Note

let's go with Misfit and/or Armor for DinCobb :3

Thank you Niki!! I’ve cross-posted this to ao3 as well cause I *really* wanted to bring us to 600 fics ehehehehe

Prompts are: “falling in and out of a restless sleep. Feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair.”

And

“getting out of bed too soon, insisting they feel much better, and collapsing/passing out”

Din was between bounties, hurtling through space on hyperdrive, when the call from Cobb came in. He was lightly dozing when he was woken up with the sound of beeping coming from up above. He shot up in his bunk, hitting his head on the top, before cursing loudly and slowly making his way to the cockpit. Whoever was calling couldn’t be important enough to make him hurry.

“Hello Cobb,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. He could hear Cobb laughing, and his visage on the other end had his hands on his hips.

“Howdy. Didn’t think you were going to answer,” Cobb replied, sounding rather amused. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I didn’t know where you’d be, so I wasn’t sure what time of day it would be for you.”

Din straightened his stance and cleared his throat.

“You, um, didn’t wake me, don’t worry,” he said. Then he could feel his face grow hot as he continued, “I was actually planning to swing by Tatooine soon, if you’d be up for a visit.” Cobb’s crooked grin faltered at that.

“Ah, actually, I was kind of hoping you might be available even sooner. Like, the day after tomorrow soon.” Din could tell from the holocall that Cobb was shifting back and forth from foot to foot. It had been a while he’d seen his friend seem so worried. He checked his coordinates and what time it was currently on Tatooine.

“If I left now I could probably be in Mos Pelgo by sunrise the day after tomorrow.” Din thought for a moment before commenting. “Are you… are you okay?”

Cobb just sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah I’m alright.” He laughed nervously. At Din’s concerned stare, he continued.

“I finally found someone here on Tatooine who would be willing to take the tracking chip out of my head. I’ve been trying to find someone for years who would do it, and this is the first time I’ve had any luck.”

Din let out a soft gasp at that. He knew Cobb had been a slave in his youth, had seen his brand on more than one occasion, but hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility that he would still be chipped.

“That’s fantastic Cobb!” Din exclaimed, feeling truly ecstatic for his friend. “What can I do to help? You said you need me there?”

“That’s… yeah, so here’s the thing,” Cobb began, a weary look on his face. “There ain’t a lot of docs on Tatooine that will take out a slaver’s chip, right? You can get in a lotta trouble doing that. But on the flip side, if someone were to pose as a doctor and offered to take a chip out…”

Din sucked in a harsh breath.

“They could leave the chip in and sell you back into slavery.”

“Bingo,” Cobb replied with a tired sigh. “That’s why I need someone I know I can trust to see me through this. I hate to impose Din, I really do…”

“I’m setting a course for Tatooine as we speak. Where are you getting the procedure done?”

Cobb laughed, sounding optimistic for the first time during this conversation.

“Mos Eisley. I really do appreciate you, you know that right?”

Din blushed again, feeling too hot under his helmet.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you soon?”

Cobb gave Din a little wave.

“See ya soon friend. Safe travels, as always.”

————————————————————————-

When Din spotted Cobb outside hangar 3-5, he could feel his heart do a little flip against his ribcage, which was a more common occurrence the longer he’d known the man. He waved in greeting, expecting Cobb to smile and eagerly approach him. Such was the song and dance Din had grown accustomed to. However, Cobb just looked around himself nervously before walking quickly to Din’s side.

“Hey Din,” he said quietly, looking rather pale. “Alright, here’s the deal. My procedure is in an hour, in the seedy district in the center of town. I’ve requested that they let you be present for it, which is awful, I know, I’m sorry. I promise, you won’t have to watch, you’ll just need to be sure they don’t take me while I’m under. Once I’m awake, I should be able to get myself back home.”

Din paused for a moment, taking in all of Cobb’s words, before hesitantly putting a sturdy hand on his shoulder. Cobb jumped slightly at the touch.

“Alright, I can do that. Though I’m not about to let you go home by yourself, you know that right?”

Cobb sighed.

“You sure? I know how busy you are, I hate to intrude more than I already have.”

Din shook his head in fond exasperation.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll worry half to death if I don’t go with you.”

Cobb grinned sheepishly, before offering Din his arm.

“Shall we?”

————————————————————————

Cobb had been all too right when he had called their destination the seedy part of town. There were suspicious folks around every corner, hoods up or masks on, concealing their faces. Cobb lightly tugged on Din’s arm and led him to a non-descript looking building.

Once inside, things moved very quickly. Before Din knew it, Cobb was lying on his back on a makeshift gurney, the doctor and her assistants prepping him for surgery. Luckily Din was not a squeamish man, so he wasn’t worried about feeling faint during the operation, but when he saw the medical assistants strap Cobb to the gurney and place a piece of leather in his mouth, he began to panic.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, alarm seeping into his voice. The assistants paused in their task, before the doctor shooed them back to work. She turned to Din.

“Standard procedure, surely you understand? We can’t have him flailing all over the place while we’re trying to work.”

It was at that moment that Din realized they would be operating without anesthesia, and his stomach dropped into his boots. He chanced a glance down at Cobb, who was just as frazzled. He was already sweating profusely. Din stood by the gurney and dabbed at Cobb’s forehead with his cape. Cobb leaned into the touch with a shaky sigh.

“It shouldn’t take long, right? That’s what you said? So just hang in there, I’ve got your back.”

Cobb nodded, and Din slowly offered him his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline.

———————————————————————-

The procedure was quick, barely fifteen minutes, but it was the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Din stood by the whole time, far enough to be out of the doctor’s way, but close enough to keep holding Cobb’s hand. Cobb let out muffled scream after muffled scream, squeezing Din’s hand hard enough to bruise.

When the doctor held the bloody tracking chip aloft, Din could cry from relief. He knew how much this meant to Cobb, so by extension, it meant the world to him too.

Once Cobb’s head was stitched and bandaged, the medical assistants immediately hoisted him up to standing. Din was at his side at once, protesting the decision to have him up and about so quickly.

“Sorry,” the doctor replied, “we don’t have a recovery room here, and I have another patient soon. You’ll have to find somewhere else for him to recuperate.”

Cobb leaned heavily against Din’s armor, his knees slowly buckling under him as he breathed heavily and tried to stay upright. Din wrapped a hand securely around Cobb’s back to steady him as he glared daggers at the doctor through his T-visor.

As they walked back into the oppressive Tatooine heat, Cobb staggered along at Din’s side, barely conscious. Din gave him a quick squeeze.

“I’ll find us a hotel room for the night, alright?”

Cobb shook his head, then seemed to regret it as he winced at the sudden movement.

“I’m fine Din. I just want to go home.”

Din raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You’re in no condition to travel, Cobb, and it’s a long ride back to Mos Pelgo.”

Cobb brought a shaking hand to his mouth for a moment, looking rather sick, before swallowing thickly and slouching back against Din.

“Please. Just take me home.”

————————————————————————

By the time the pair reached Cobb’s home the dual suns had long since set, leaving Mos Pelgo bathed in the dim lights from the sparse dwellings around them.

Cobb had passed out miles back, leaving Din to grip him tightly in front of him on the speeder to keep him from falling. He carried Cobb bridal style into his home, where he gently deposited him on his bed. Din quickly removed his armor, sans helmet, before joining Cobb under the covers. Cobb blearily opened his eyes, a low whine escaping his throat, before he closed his eyes and went back under once more.

Din sighed as he laid on his side, facing Cobb in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first or last time they would share a bed like this. Each subsequent time they did this, one of them always grew a step bolder. A hand on a bicep. A pair of legs tangled with the other’s. Cobb’s forehead against Din’s helmet.

Tonight Din grew even bolder still. Once he was sure Cobb was really asleep, he gripped the lip of his helmet and pulled, fresh air chilling his face. He looked down at his sleeping companion, through his own eyes for the first time, and smiled as he carefully brushed a strand of hair away from Cobb’s angular face. He battled with himself for just a moment before leaning down and sweeping his lips against Cobb’s forehead, mindful of the bandages covering his left temple.

He could practically feel Cobb smiling.

——————————————————————-

“What are you doing up?” Din asked in alarm as he entered the bedroom the next afternoon, cup of soup and glass of water in hand.

Cobb was standing shakily by the bed, grasping tightly to the dresser to stay upright. He slowly raised his head and smiled weakly up at Din. His strength might have been gone, but his charm was certainly not.

“Howdy Din,” he rasped as he let go of the dresser, only to sway alarmingly and clutch on to it again. If Din hadn’t been so deeply worried, he might have chuckled at the similarity to Grogu when he stumbled around.

“Cobb,” he warned as he put his food on the dresser. “You shouldn’t be up and about. For kriff’s sake, you just had surgery less than twenty four hours ago.” Cobb just waved him off nonchalantly.

“M’fine, I have things to do. Gotta stop in at Werlo’s, gotta check on the vaporators, gotta…”

Then his eyes were rolling back in his head and he was pitching forward, and Din just barely reacted quickly enough to prevent him from hitting the ground.

———————————————————————-

Despite the circumstances of the surgery, Cobb’s recovery was swift. He was just as stubborn as Din had expected him to be, insisting on changing his own bandages and making his own meals. Din just rolled his eyes and let him do what he wanted, hovering by closely just in case he needed a steadying arm.

When Cobb took off the bandages at last, a prominent scar resided on his left temple. He would wear it proudly for the rest of his life.

Then when Din was sure Cobb was finally healed well enough to hold a blaster, he held out the still bloody tracking chip to him. Cobb stared at it for a moment, looking surprised, before his lips turned up in a wide grin.

“How far do you reckon I would need to blast this thing to kingdom come?”

#fanfic prompt #feel free to send me prompts anytime!#my ask box is always open!#dincobb

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Text

apocalypse: tom holland series pt. 3 (finale)

a/n | this is the final part of the apocalypse series (sad face)! i felt it was a strong way to end the story without dragging it out. i definitely got a lil teary eyed writing this so brace urselves! (& thank you to all of the readers who stuck w me through this trilogy, u are greatly appreciated).🤍

summary | a toxic storm that has wiped out most of the world’s population has you taking shelter and fighting for survival with an unexpected ally.

cw | language, a tiny argument, lots of panic, fluff, and truly poetic smut. you’re welcome.

Read Part 2, join the taglist :)

The toxic fog enveloping your car seemed to have a personality; to be alive. It clawed its way up your windshield and clung to the side mirrors, threatening to seep in and join your quest for refuge. It whispered to you as you drove, Tom fast asleep in the seat next to you. Any time the fog started to get under your skin, you could just look over at your sleepy passenger and take a sigh of relief knowing that you weren’t alone; and you had a pretty good feeling that, no matter how much further the world sank into apocalyptic ruin, you would never have to face it alone again.

Driving far down a nameless road on your way to find Tom’s brothers, you heard a distinct grumble come from the sky, a noise you’d been able to go the last two days without hearing. Another low, loud clap of thunder made you yelp, waking Tom up. The sky started to look darker, more menacing...and your heart rate started to skyrocket.

Tom rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Hey, love, what is it?”

“Tom, I think the rain is coming again,” you said shakily, brain too focused on scoping out what neighborhoods were closest to find shelter in. There was no way in hell you would risk bracing the storm in a car.

“Are you sure?”

“Just look outside.”

That finally woke him up, as his eyes went a little wider looking at the state of the sky above you.

“We need to find somewhere to stop,” he murmured, taking the map off the dashboard and turning it every which way, trying to orient himself. “I think there’s a town a few miles north of here- take your next left and follow the road, and hopefully we’ll see some houses.”

The clouds grew larger and more threatening as the seconds passed, your speedometer not able to keep up with your pulse.

“How much further?”

“Just another mile or so,” Tom said, strangely calm.

As he spoke, it was as if someone had thrown a black curtain over the planet, and you had to turn your brights on just to see in front of you.

“Tom, we're running out of time,” you felt your whole body go cold, the warmth of his hand suddenly placed on your arm putting your body in a sort of shock.

“We’ll make it, y/n,” he said, his voice faltering. You saw houses start to appear behind the mist.

“I’m just going to pull into one of the closest ones,” you decided out loud. Tom grumbled in disagreement.

“I think we should drive a little further to the bigger houses up ahead, they’re more likely to have generators.”

You shot him a look of disapproval. “Why would we stay on the road any longer than we have to? I’m pulling over here-”

He spoke harshly. “y/n, do not stop driving.”

You started to panic more as you saw lightning not too far ahead. “Tom, this is absolutely idiotic.”

“We need to give ourselves the best chance of survival.”

“By driving right into the rain?!” Against your best wishes, you pressed the gas pedal into the floor and continued to move forward.

Once the larger houses started to come into focus, you heard light patters start to hit the metal roof of the van. Tom looked up at the car ceiling, a string of expletives leaving his lips.

“Fuck. Fuck. Tom, it’s raining!” you yelled, gripping the wheel tightly enough so that all of the blood had drained from your hands.

“Just keep driving!”

“We’re going to fucking die!” You made an executive decision to careen into the empty driveway of a nondescript house, but the garage door was closed. “How the hell do you expect us to make it inside now, genius?”

He swallowed hard and looked around frantically. “It hasn’t picked up yet. We can make a break for it...but it has to be now.”

You felt the fear palpably pinpricking your eyes. “Tom, what the hell were you thinking-”

He reached in the back and grabbed his coat, wrapping it around you in your seat, ignoring your comment. “I’m going first so I can knock down the door if it’s locked. Don’t waste any time and run the moment you see it open.”

You didn’t have time to reply before he tossed his hood up over his head, threw open the door, and jumped out of the car, running straight into the rain.

“Tom!”

You were scared out of your mind watching him sprint to the porch of the house. Right as he made it, he cried out in pain, clutching his arm close to his chest. But he kicked the door in and stumbled inside, falling over the threshold. You felt stiff, frozen, going insane with worry and fear- but if you waited any longer, you knew you wouldn’t make it. You flung open the door, running as fast as you ever had to the porch, Tom’s coat protecting you from the few drops that fell to the ground. Seemingly, right as you were under the cover of the roof, the sky opened up, and once again the world was engulfed in torrential tar.

You slammed the front door shut behind you and fell down to your knees when you saw Tom curled into a ball on the floor. You tried to turn him over as you let a panic attack get the better of you. “Oh my god, Tom, please be okay, are you with me? Tom?!” You could barely see him through the thick tears streaming down your face. After the longest minute of your life he slowly groaned and opened his eyes, seeing you but closing them again as he winced in pain. His arm was still tucked tight into his body.

“Love, I- I got...b-burned,” His face was scrunched and pale as he let his arm fall to the floor, and you saw the atrocity that was at least a two inch circle of burned flesh painted bright red on his forearm.

“Oh god, fuck, Tom, what do I do?” your voice cracked as you continued to cry, completely stuck in place.

His breathing became choppier and his eyes fluttered open and shut again. “I don’t- I don’t know...”

“Baby, don’t leave me,” you lowered your head to his and sobbed, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Please be okay. God, please don’t leave me.”

Truthfully, you had no idea if this was all it took to kill a person. You couldn’t think straight as you heard the love of your life whimpering, his body vibrating softly as he fell into some kind of paralyzed sleep.

You stood up as your body went into hyperdrive, running through the house and looking around for something, anything that might help. In the master bathroom you found alcohol, antibiotic ointment and bandages, and thanked whatever was up there beyond the rain as you rushed back to Tom, still lying on the foyer floor. He was unresponsive.

“Stay with me, Tommy, come on,” you untwisted the bottle of isopropyl. “This might hurt a bit, sweetheart,” you whispered as you poured it out over his wound.

That jolted his system awake and he cried out as it sloshed around the exposed burn. By some type of miracle, the acid clinging to his skin seemed to disperse as the alcohol flushed it out, washing into a sizzling pile on the floor. Tom’s entire body relaxed suddenly, and he took a long, jagged exhale. Careful not to touch the burn, you squeezed the ointment across his arm and wrapped it up in the long bandage you’d found. Tom opened his eyes again, found your worried stare, and his eyes filled with tears of relief.

“Thank-...thank you.” His eyes shut again.

“Tom...” you whispered, putting a hand up to cup his cheek, one of your tears falling onto his forehead, making him flinch. “Are you okay?”

His chest rose and fell a few times, bringing you some semblance of comfort. “I’ll be alright, darling,” he said quietly, resting his own hand over yours. He was eventually able to meet your gaze and sat up slowly, ignoring the pain and moving to cradle you with his good arm. Somehow, it was the tightest, most loving embrace he’d ever held you in.

You wept into his chest as he kissed your forehead. “Love, please don’t cry.”

You brought your face up to his and kissed him desperately, body still shaking. “Tom-”

“What, darling?”

“I- I love you s-so much.”

“I love you too, y/n. I love you too.” He nuzzled your nose up with his own so he could bring his lips to yours again, the taste of him mixing with the salty tears clinging to your face. “Thank you for saving my life.”

You spoke quietly as if the rain would hear you. “I was so scared...I thought you were- I thought you left me.”

“I could never, sweetheart.”

Tom tried to lift up his hurt arm and frowned. “I feel like my body is made of lead.”

“We should get you some rest,” you said, standing to help him up. “There’s a big, comfy looking bed in the master bedroom.” You shined your flashlight around the hallway until you found a candle, and took the matchbook from your pocket to light it. The house was only growing darker, and you knew that soon you wouldn’t be able to see. Supporting his weight as you walked to the bedroom, Tom finally collapsed into the blankets with a contented sigh.

“I’ll go look for some food-”

“Baby, don’t go anywhere.”

You looked at him quizzically, and he motioned for you to come lie with him. “I want to just stare at your beautiful face for a while, is that alright?”

You smiled and crawled in next to him, wrapping the thick comforter around you both and cozying up in his chest. You took a deep inhale to revel in his comforting smell, and he kissed your forehead over and over again, tickling your face. You giggled into him, and he let out a small, breathy laugh.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

You brought your face to his to kiss him tenderly, and you rested your hand in the crook of his neck as you fell into a slow rhythm. You didn’t think you could be any happier in that moment, just to have him back, completely tuning out the downpour coming from outside. You pulled back to look into his eyes backlit by the candle.

“How is your arm?”

“Feels much better now, thanks to you,” he said, moving it slowly back and forth, getting used to the discomfort. “But let’s not worry about me, darling. I want to focus on you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as you heard his tone change. “What are you talking about?”

“I believe I owe you something,” he said, moving to place his mouth right under your jawbone, giving you chills. “You did save me, y’know. You deserve to be properly thanked.”

He moved to support himself with his good arm and lightly rested his bandaged one on your waist, continuing to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Tom, what are you doing? You need to take it easy-”

He shut you up with a hard kiss to the lips, and started to tug down at the neckline of your t-shirt.

“No, love, what I need right now is you.”

He used his body weight to push you flat against the pillows, moving on top of you and pressing his lips further and deeper into your skin, now wriggling your shirt up and over your head. You started to giggle again, unsure of how to process it. Tom lifted his head up from kissing your belly button to look at you inquisitively. “What?”

“Aren’t you tired?” you whispered, fingers running through his curls.

“My veins are pumping with adrenaline right now, darling, and you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

You tugged at the shoulder of his hoodie to bring him back up to your face, kissing him again and sucking his bottom lip lightly between your teeth, starting to feel the heat rush up through you too. He sat up on his knees and took off his sweatshirt and tee underneath in one fell swoop, his injured arm seeming to be the furthest thing from his mind right now. You couldn’t make out most details in the candlelight, but were able to see the love and lust swirling together in his eyes in some mesmerizing way. Placing your hands delicately on his lower back, you smoothed them over his skin all the way up to his shoulderblades and loved feeling him shiver underneath you. He pulled away from your liplock to stare into your eyes, and you pushed the pads of your fingers a little harder into his back, whispering. “Why did you wait so long, then?”

He rested his forehead on top of yours and smiled through his words. “I guess I was too busy falling in love with you in the dark.”

You had never seen Tom this way, hungrily nipping your skin and letting his hands explore your body as if they’d never experienced touch until this very moment. He left hot paths of kisses and bites across your neck and chest, all the while relentlessly grinding his hips into yours, which you encouraged with your own bucks upward. Eventually, you had your legs wrapped around his bare body, and he gave you the slowest, deepest kiss humanly possible as he eased himself inside of you, both of you shuddering at the feeling.

“Tom-” you inhaled sharply and would’ve done absolutely anything to have all of him just then, rolling your body upwards into his. His ragged breaths were drowned out by the sound of the violent rain falling above you, but you had become an expert at hearing his voice through the noise.

“I’m so...fucking...in love with you.”

He continued to slowly push into you, his body shaking underneath your grip more and more with every bit further he felt himself go, lapping at your mouth with his own. He refused to break eye contact, and his glossy stare sent you reeling, only able to breathlessly speak a few words back.

“Show me.”

Your toes curled, you aimlessly pawed at his back. He sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, the shadows of your bodies intertwined flickering onto the walls. He fucked you slow and hard, with every thrust sputtering out sweet nothings into your ear. Every twitch and flex of muscle you felt through his skin just made you fall deeper into a state of bliss, and you swore you had never felt a love like this before.

Through lofted breaths, Tom moaned in time with you rhythmically gasping out his name. He was littering your neck with bruises, you were carving scratch marks into his back; and you pushed each other over the edge at the same time, sealing in your bond as apocalyptic soulmates.

He had collapsed next to you, his heart still in full sprint as he pulled your tired, loved-up body into his own, nudging his face into your hair and rubbing aimless circles on your arm with his thumb. The candle was dwindling and the storm raged on, providing an almost soothing white noise throughout the still room, only accompanied by the sound of you existing with one another. You fell into a deep sleep for countless hours, only waking up because Tom was standing over the bed, shaking you.

“Wh- what?”

“y/n, you have to come see this,” he said, hand still clasped around your wrist before you’d even wriggled out of the blankets.

He guided you by flashlight to what you assumed was an office, and you were shellshocked as you stood in front a computer screen, bright with power.

“I found a generator.” Tom smiled brightly, waiting for you to put the pieces together.

“So...there’s power?”

“Babe, there’s connection. My brothers have been sending me messages for weeks.”

Your jaw fell open as you looked at the monitor, sure enough alight with internet, a phenomenon of the past. “Your brothers, they’re... alive?!” You couldn’t find the words as you saw Tom shed a few joyful tears, the two of you hugging and jumping around like excited toddlers.

“We can talk to them, y/n. My family is still out there waiting for us, and in the next wave of light, we’ll be able to find them,” he said through cracks in his voice, happier than you could ever remember him being.

“I’m so happy for you, Tommy,” you kissed his cheek, but didn’t convince him as he could hear the sadness hiding in your voice. He knew you were thinking about your own family, and how you knew you’d never see them again.

“Love, listen to me,” he kneeled down in front of you and you followed suit so you were both sitting on the fluffy rug of the office. “I know you’ve lost so much. But you found me, we survived. And we’ll keep surviving—we don’t have another choice.” You sighed and nodded. “I know.”

“And it’s not the same, I know, but...you have a family now, with me, with us. We can rebuild together, darling. Fuck the storm. No matter what it throws at us, we have each other to help us through it.”

You reached for his soft hand, melting under his sweet ramblings. “...I know.”

“I never thought it would take the world ending to find you,” he said, lacing his fingers between yours. “but I did, and I’ll be forever thankful for that. We’ll be alright now, sweetheart. I’ll live the rest of my life to keep you safe.”

You gave him a knowing nod and sat in silence in the dark of a room that wasn’t yours, listening to the world unravel on the other side of the wall. Your chest flurrying with a mix of hope and heartache, you resolved yourself to understand that this was living now, that you would have to adapt to this new normal. You were petrified of what the future held, but seeing the boy sitting across from you, holding your hand and your heart in his steady gaze, helped you to breathe through the fear.

The rain had taken everything from you—but it had given you your everything, too.

#apocalypse #series finale #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

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