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beardedalcoholic · 15 days

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Battle Gods

First Medical officer of the Galactic Union Revka Jihar looked on in awe as the human zipped from one console to other.

Sliding her chair from one side of the room to the other only to go back she displayed a true mastery of her job. Coordinating rank upon rank of human shock trooper forces into position, confirming approval of Human Medium Force Allowed, checking and double checking the health status of hundreds of humans, receiving reports from multiple divisions of engineers and mechanics about the status of one drop group or another…it was overwhelming to the Kalarian to watch.

“Shock Troopers stand by to stand by for final approval on drop, med squads confirm ready stations for injured, eng corps get those fucking launch tubes in the green before I come down there and fire you out one by one until I am satisfied my boys won’t hit atmo looking like strawberry jam, Hell Jumpers get to your pods and strap in we have yellow light on drop and I am not waiting for any Late Lucys should we get green.”

The rapid-fire communication of the humans had never ceased to amaze Revka, how they could say so much with so few words using only inflection, context, tone, body language and a myriad of other factors that they themselves seemed un-aware of.

Keys rattled like gunfire beneath First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove’s nimble fingers, screens bloomed in thin air only to be replaced by others as they were dismissed. Within barely a handful of human minutes Frist Rank Hargrove sat back limply in her chair with her arms hanging down the sides as she breathed deeply in seeming exhaustion, Revka knew better though, he had seen this human go cycles without rest or nutrition.

An alert from the single remaining screen in front of the human grabbed her attention and her head snapped up from its slumped over position, the gleam of anticipation and sudden movement reminding Revka of the humans’ predatory lineage. Jumping to her feet with enough force to send her division command chair sliding back on tracks laid into the floor to the edge of the large room they occupied Amelia commed the captain of the ship.

“Captain Shelsa, Shock Trooper Command…I have green on all drop requirements, personnel and approval…Awaiting Final Command.”

Amelia Stood disturbingly still and focused as she awaited the order from her captain to release the humans upon the world beneath them. Revka stood in the back of the room next to the abandoned chair, furiously making notes upon his digital clipboard without even looking down at it.

Being the first species other than human to witness the deployment of Shock Troopers into an active battle field Revka was not about to miss a single documentable moment of what he was witnessing. The tension in the air radiating from the human in the middle of the large room was almost enough to choke him, the human had not moved in the slightest since her last communication, her muscles seemed to bunch beneath her skin tight command suit as the micro-cycles slid by, until…

“Shock Command, Captain Shelsa…you are green for trooper drop, repeat you are green for drop…Amelia!” First Rank Hargrove’s head snapped up at the sound of desperation and pain in the captain’s voice.

“Yes Captain? I am here.”

“…Amelia, these, monsters attacked earth…they struck down schools and hospitals…these invaders took my baby girl from me without warning or reason given…invoke the Battle Gods….”

First Rank Amelia went dead silent and painfully rigid from this last command. It was well known humans had music for all occasions and that they would perform different tasks with more or less efficiency depending on if music was being played to them and depending on the task or musical selection.

Revka felt his feathers bleach of all color at the last command…it was not a command given with hopes of leaving survivors, the Battle God Queen was something of a legend among different species due to the effect said music had on humans…but these last words were spoken with such cold venom Revka had to grip the deck plates with his talons to keep himself from bolting in fear. Revka watched as the Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator calmly answered in the affirmative, slipped an Augmented Reality Visor over her eyes and seemed to deflate as tension left her body.

Walking to the middle of the room First Rank Amelia began to glow softly as synaptic relays lit up across her suit, lines of light racing from her toes to her visor and everywhere in between, muscles slid with liquid grace beneath her suit as she stalked forward.

It started gently…hands lifting to flow through screens only she could now see through her visor…hands and arms moving like the conductor of a symphony Revka had seen on earth. With each movement a new small screen came to life around Coordinator Amelia, each screen containing a new face…the faces of her boys…the faces of humanities most feared ground-based battle troops…the Orbital Shock Troopers known only as the Hell Jumpers.

No words were spoken at first, Amelia simply stood there under the gaze of over five hundred trained, battle hardened, soldiers. Soldiers that were about to be dropped from orbit onto a planet light years away from home into a raging warzone with nothing but a small pod made to break away on impact to protect them from the heat and violence of atmospheric entry. None looked scared, no tears were shed in fear or pain, this was simply another good day to die for these individuals Revka realized.

“Kikiki! Kakaka!” The suddenness of Coordinator Amelia’s cry and movement nearly had Revka molting a full tails worth of feathers. Amelia slammed one foot down to her side so that she was bent at the knees.

“Kauana kei waniwania taku tara” Hands slapped into her thighs and stomach muscles in time to her chant.

“kei tarawahia, kei te rua i te kerokero!” Feet stomped and hands slapped as she continued her chant, voice raising to echo throughout the room.

“He pounga rahui te uira” Amelia’s voice rang with a clarion call to battle, it vibrated with the rage of an entire race that had been wronged as she raised a fist and slapped her arms.

“ka rarapa ketekete kau ana” Revka felt sorry for himself as he watched the display before him as he had not thought to make arrangements for his newly born clutch of whelps should he perish on this mission.

“To peru kairiri mau au e koro e!” Looking at the many images of the Shock Troopers arrayed before and around the still stamping and chanting Coordinator Revka could see that each one was focused upon her with a burning intensity.

” Hi! Ha! - Ka wehi au ka matakana,” Eyes narrowed, teeth were bared in rictus smiles, pulses throbbed in necks, nostrils flared in anticipation as the chanting grew somehow louder and more fervent.

“ko wai te tangata kia rere ure tirohanga” First Rank Amelia stamped and pounded her feet into the ground as if to defy fate to move her, as if she was seeing the future and challenging it to be anything other than what she demanded it to be.

“ngā rua rerarera” Hands slapped and struck with force that would shatter the bones of Revka’s species like she was trying to beat reality into submission and bend it to her will.

“ngā rua kuri kakanui i raro! Aha ha!” With one final strike First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove let loose a sound that would haunt Revka’s rest cycles for the rest of his life.

The sound that echoed throughout the room seemed to contain all the suffering that had been felt at the hands of the enemy, all the pain of loss and the rage of those who could not do anything to seek retribution for those wronged. Screens lit up as each trooper dropped from the belly of the ship into the planet’s gravity well, each and every face pulled into a mask of rage and determination beneath face shields snapping into position.

Revka thought that perhaps the spectacle was over now that the humans had been sent planet side…until Coordinator Amelia’s arm snapped out and with a few deft movements brought up a simple non-standard screen.

The media screen floated barely a hairs breadth from the end of Amelia’s finger tips as she scrolled down a list of songs. With little more than a thought a song was selected and broadcasted to every shock trooper, soldier and crewman.

Drums beat and strings were plucked with a sense of anger lurking behind the sounds, after only a few seconds of this First Rank Amelia began to sing in a tone of voice unlike anything Revka had heard from the normally bubbly and flirty Coordinator, like gravel grinding in honey and rising into an angry cry tinged with desperation.

I feel the pressure is building in me

My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe

I hear the screaming, I feel the disease

It's burning me up and there is nothing to breathe

Will you crawl with me

Will you stand with me

Would you follow me

Would you believe with me

Tell me you'll breathe with me,

tell me you'll die with me

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Yell it out, do or die

Let me hear your war cry!

The battle that followed after the start of this terrifying song was less a battle and more a chaotic slaughter of the enemy. Humans that had been forged of star matter and tempered over eons of living on a death world and driven by madness channeled from a world in pain through musical Battle Gods dark and ancient tore across the land. They fell from the skies in gouts of flame like avenging angles come to strike down the very gates of Hell, no enemy was spared, no mercy given nor asked.

The battle had been long and hard, the final count of the dead had come out to one hundred and seven troopers lost out of over five hundred…a small number but one that was felt like a hammer blow among those that knew them.

Revka had stayed and watched the entire time as Coordinator Amelia somehow split her attention between directing troop movements and battle plans all while continuing to dance and sing to various songs of battle and victory. When the final call of victory came over the open channels the music was allowed to stop and First Rank Amelia fell still. Her arms hung limp at her sides…screens showing haggard and haunted faces of her soldiers, her troopers, her boys signing off one by one as they went to seek medical aid or further orders, synaptic relays dimming from a fiery blaze to a pale glow until they too fell silent and dark.

Revka walked slowly from his position in the back of the room towards the silent and still figure of the human known among the crew as Battle Siren…the one human who was expected to endure the responsibility of coordinating hundreds of war machines, who was given authority to make decisions in battle and who had to carry the weight of those decisions. As he got closer Revka noticed a new taste on the air, sharp and salty…not sweat, he didn’t have sweat glands and the skin suit Amelia was wearing prevented her body from needing to sweat…tears? Yes, Revka could taste the salt of tears on the air.

Slowly coming around to face the Battle Siren Revka was somewhat surprised to find a river of tears slowly falling from under the AR visor. With a deep breath as if she was emerging from deep waters Amelia lifted the visor from her tear-soaked eyes and seemed to stare through the bulkheads and deep into the void, then in a soft whisper she said a single sentence that would be taken to the Galactic Council and repeated again and again among those who thought to strike out against the humans.

“They sowed the wind with their strike against our young and injured…so too did they reap the hurricane of our vengeance.”

With that single sentence spoken a new sound began to emanate from the Coordinator, a long drawn out note not unlike the tune of a bell. Revka backed away and made his way out of the room, the Battle Siren had begun to sing a new song but not one of war and conquest, rather a song of pain and history filled with conflict but also about seasons changing and hope prevailing. The humans may have had a great pantheon of voices to channel inspiration from when going into battle, but so too did it seem that they had ones for peace and healing.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are weird #humans are space fae #humans are space oddities #ao3 fanfic

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art-finds-a-way · 11 months

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The sky was dark with the promise of a downpour as they stepped outside. It was cloudy all morning but it just got worse as the day progressed.

In the middle of the huge courtyard stood the burned out transport. To be honest there wasn't much to see on it, the troopers saw what happened to it, it was a clear case of vandalism and arson. It also would have been a waste trying to save it, the damage was too extensive and it would cost a lot to repair it. It was yet another addition to the junkyard.

"I'll hear out our mechanics opinion on it but I'm quite sure we can write it off." said Kallus after walking around the transport.

"I'm afraid so too." answered Tora. "We lost a considerable amount of equipment in this sector recently."

"Yeah, I see a pattern." Kallus held his chin, visibly in thought. "We might need a new strategy here and try to lure out the ones warmongering before we face a full blown rebellion."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet but I'm working on it. First I'll need—"

Kallus stopped as suddenly the clouds opened up and rain started to pour. And it didn't joke around, within seconds a thick curtain of raindrops surrounded them.

Tora glanced up with a small grimace. It really couldn't have waited five more minutes for them to get back inside... Never mind though, she wished to take a shower and clean her armor thoroughly anyway.

She looked to the side with a scowl, seeing Kallus opening his coat. Then the agent proceeded to take off his coat and hold it up above his head, protecting himself from the rain, but to Tora's shock he stepped to her, far beyond her personal space, to be able to shield her from the rain too. Her heart jumped to her throat as she stood but a few inches from him, under his raised arm.

"Well, lucky I didn't change before coming out..." said the agent, his voice almost lost in the rapid music of the raindrops, Tora was sure she could hear him only due to their closeness.

"B-but you'll ruin your coat. And-and your uniform... I'm dirty..." she stuttered in utter embarrassment, trying to pull away from Kallus, debating which one was more awkward, accidentally making his tidy white uniform dirty or intentionally keeping her distance from him.

"Never mind that, it always can be cleaned." answered Kallus the least bothered, making Tora blush even harder. How could he be always so nonchalant and generous. And direct... Very direct. She already experienced this way too many times, but apparently personal space was a foreign concept for the agent...

She had no other choice than align her steps with his as they walked back to the complex in the pouring rain, huddling under his coat.

She dearly wished that no one saw them like this... Especially Jax.

continuation of a pic I had of Kallus wearing his long white coat, also a snippet from the scene I wrote for it

#star wars oc #tora ge'per #agent kallus #alexsandr kallus #kallora

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syeunko · 2 years

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Corona on Hope St

Official move-in 9/17, first night alone 9/18

At 26, I have now started using my age as the explanation for many things. Sensitive to jetlag? I'm getting old. More tired than usual? I'm 26.

And I was so, so tired. Exhaustion felt like a better word for it, exacerbated by my international jetlag and accumulated tiredness. I distinctly remember crouching against the wall of Nami Nori, wondering if aging was supposed to be like this, if I needed to now block out a full week after any international trip to properly recover. I was so confused; Hanna drove the entirety of what was a very efficient and smooth drive, and Soo carried (literally and figuratively) most of the heavy weight into the apartment, also done quite quickly and seamlessly, so this level of tiredness was uncalled for. My conclusion: aging sucks.

I physically couldn't finish my food (which should've been my first red flag), felt briefly like throwing up, and went home to nap. My second red flag should've been the fiery, livid anger I felt toward Soo’s friend after being awoken from my nap to go out, even though we had all (kinda) agreed upon it before said nap. I said to Hanna pretty vindictively, "I'm going to be a b*tch and I'm going to make him regret it." Oops. I still feel bad about it.

Hanna and I slept on a naked mattress on the floor with no blankets, no pillow, no sheets, nothing unpacked. I woke up the next morning with a sweat, fever, raging headache, and a serious sore throat. My first thought: “I don’t want to shower and go to church.” Oops again. I thought it was my tiredness finally manifesting itself into a cold, but took a COVID test per standard protocol. When I saw the two dark lines appear, I was SHOCKED. I imagine this is how women feel (on a lesser scale, obviously) when they first find out they are pregnant.

After being greatly humbled and proven wrong about my invincibility to COVID (I blame my weakened immune system), I proceeded to cancel in-person church, as well as my shower, and ran errands the whole day. 15k steps!!! We are troopers.

This weekend was a surrealistic blur. There are moments I remember with pinpoint clarity, like pulling up onto Hope St for the first time, watching my new roommate Grace walk towards me with her dog, Riley, the fizz of the yuzu seltzer at Nami Nori, walking the next morning with Hanna to get breakfast, bullying my way into buying pants for Soo, the moment my rapid test concluded I had COVID, consequently getting babied by Soo and Hanna thereafter, the list goes on...

Hanna moved around my furniture/things in my room and forced me to drink water and eat. Soo was oddly concerned about the fact that I had no shower curtains from the very beginning and made sure I got the liner/hooks and set it up for me. Both of them wouldn’t let me hold anything and lugged all my newfound room organizers and random items back to my third-floor, elevator-less apartment. Right after he left, I plopped down on the floor (I couldn’t sit on the mattress because I was disgusting from sweating relentlessly the whole day) and started uncontrollably bawling for a good twenty minutes. LOL

My theory is because that was the first time I was finally by myself in a ridiculously long time, all my pent up, inexpressible emotions detonated immediately. My grief at leaving Logan/엄마, distress for not being able to do more for Soo and Hanna, finality of leaving Boston, stress of an unfamiliar environment, coupled with COVID/moving fatigue = BOOM!

I don’t know if this is very presumptuous of me or if it’s God-given confidence, but I have never had trouble believing I was someone worthy of being loved and receiving that love. In some of my goodbye cards, friends have mentioned how they think I care very deeply about my friends and family, which led me to believe maybe I wasn’t as selfish and uncaring as I thought. But after this weekend of only receiving from Hanna and Soo, I am nothing compared to my friends, and I am so…so…undeserving.

Besides my family, Soo is the person I have loved the most. He was my closest person for the past half-decade, and I’m almost anguished I wasn’t able to do more. And if Soo is my oldest friend in Boston, then Hanna is the newest. Equally astonished and sorry for seemingly only receiving…I love you guys more than my snotty, emotional drivel could express!

In any case, I am now moved into 29 Hope St, Brooklyn NY 11211. What a doozy.

PS: Fatigue is different from tiredness. Youth and inexperience made me ever so bold as to assume fatigue was a dramatic way to express tiredness, but I realize that is not the case. I stand corrected.

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kyber-erso · 3 years

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Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his ward's hand as they manoeuvred through the crowd, ignoring the slip of nervous perspiration between their palms.

Only the man's frown and wild, graying beard were visible from under a curtain of dark wool.

His companion, a boy of a height barely to the older man's waist, remained hidden under a hood of muted sapphire. A wisp of the child's hair caught in the light, a shock of blonde against angelic and unusually tense features.

Settling like a fog, cool tendrils of the dark side swirled into the life around them, curling curiously between sunlit stalls and down darkened alleys. Searching.

Despite the roar of the densely packed crowd, the aged Jedi could still hear his own heartbeat, pounding urgently beneath his skull. Vader had found them.

A gang of laughing street children bustled past carelessly, casting the scents of spiced meats and sweet, bubbling honey high into the canopy of colourful silks above. The boy watched them disappear into the fray with a numb sense of yearning, jolting from stillness as his guardian tugged him along.

The crowd thickened as they neared the beating heart of the markets, slowing their pace. Frustration rose in Obi-Wan as the pair struggled through the press of beings, but he found a small measure of relief in knowing they were well hidden from their pursuers. A fleck of blood red confetti caught on the older man's beard and he spat to dislodge it.

The ocean was close – he could taste it in the air. That’s where their ship was supposedly waiting. So close.

Obi-Wan fought to ignore the commotion behind them as the troopers began ransacking stalls. It was easy to do in the context of Vader’s, all-encompassing shadow.

Part of him yearned to turn, to see with his own eyes the monster Sidious had stitched from the charred remains of his brother, but to do so would be to expose his ward. He would surely not be able to contain his anguish. They would be caught.

A woman’s shout cut through the throng, followed shortly by the joltingly familiar sound of rapid blaster fire. Cries of outrage and terror erupted behind them. The boy flinched against him at the uproar, muffling a small sound into where he was pressed tightly against Obi-Wan's side.

Beru’s face overcame the older man's vision, ashen with blood loss, yet her voice strong with determination. Run, my darling…

Obi-Wan freed himself from the boy’s memory with effort, dazed for a moment by the sheer strength of the projection. Fear spiked in his throat.

Any force sensitive on the planet would have glimpsed that too.

Vader’s attention crashed over the pair like a raging storm front. The Sith was some distance away, but the strength of his gaze still physically buffeted the pair. Sensing the presence that has heralded the death of his family, the child couldn’t resist throwing a terrified glance behind them.

Through a brief gap in the scattering crowd, the boy's eyes met the sith’s own. A clash of azure against unforgiving crimson. Fate. A bleeding seed plated into a field under a great, open sky.

He will be mine.

“No!” Obi-Wan cried, twisting to shield the child from view. The corrupt connection between the child and Sith shattered like glass, the violence of it almost overshadowing Luke's resulting, agonized scream.

A blast from a troopers rifle exploded the stall of their left, and the force swelled with increased panic, the beings around them surging to escape the danger. Obi-Wan hauled the disoriented boy into his arms and dived into the turbulent currents, barely evading Vader once again.

#star wars #luke skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sskywallker art #fic #a new hope #ooooo this was fun #not perfect but was fun #thanks pom!!

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worth-more-than-two-thousand · 3 years

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Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know.

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry!

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes.

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run.

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder.

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand.

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will.

Oh, if Fives could see him now.

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?”

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space. “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha.

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?”

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame."

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!”

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.”

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?”

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling.

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands.

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear.

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.”

Or not.

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at.

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking.

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp.

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone.

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all.

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town.

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy.

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment.

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away.

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious.

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building.

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers.

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock.

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock.

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself.

He looked ridiculous.

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death.

What if she was with someone new?

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all.

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open.

Two Y/C/E eyes met his.

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face.

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him.

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter.

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand.

He guarded his heart.

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back.

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?”

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“...good.”

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten.

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear.

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear.

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty.

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes.

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling.

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing.

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were.

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation.

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face.

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.”

#fic request #echo #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #the bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #tbb #echo x reader #echo x you #echo x fem reader #sw tbb #sw the bad batch

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Okay (maybe cos I’m a clean freak) but imagine cleaning dins armour after all that guck! Like he’s in the shower trying to get it out of his hair and he trusts you to help clean it but it’s taking forever and it’s late. He insists he can do it in the morning but you just want to do something nice for him. You guys stay in opposites of the crest cos his helmet is being cleaned but he’s looking at you afar and thanking the universe that he has you 🥺✨

This got soft, but I hope you enjoy! I also realized I read this prompt a little wrong but its still more or less the same 🥺💕

Also! Slight S2 E1 spoilers. Very minor but you've been warned!

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"You are filthy!" you proclaimed as soon as the Mandalorian was within eyesight. Before you can say anything else, the little one is running up to you, coming as quickly as his little legs will allow. Swooping down, you scooped him into your arms, but much to your dismay, he was just as filthy as the Mandalorian.

"Rough....day," he said quickly, unsure if whether mission, day, week, month, or year was the most adequate conclusion. You groaned slightly when you saw his normally pristine Beskar covered in dirt and...some sort of goo you weren't going to question.

"And you stink," your nose crinkled when a got a waft of his stench. Groaning slightly, you lifted the small green bean and gave him the once over, noting that he was in no better shape.

"Really rough day," he said with a tilt of his helmet and a light shrug of his shoulders. You'd spent almost the entirety of the last year with him and you'd gotten adept at reading his body language. You were positive there was an almost sheepish expression on his face - one that matched the expression of his son.

"Oh Din," you sighed lightly before handing off the Child back to him, "I just cleaned everything. But I suppose, honestly, that none of that matters. What matters is that the two of you are safe."

"Yes," he agreed as you started to walk off, the two of them following closely behind. The Mandalorian's stomach grumbled loudly as soon as he smelled the delicious stew you had simmering in the kitchen. A warmth spread throughout his body, and he was glad for the Beskar armor covering his body. Otherwise you might see his flushed cheeks, "I-"

"Any troopers?"

"No."

"Droids?"

"No."

"Ewoks? Jawas? Moon wolves?"

"No, no, and no," he said as you turned on your heel, arms crossed over your chest as you studied him. Despite him looning over you, clad in all of his armor, you were the one making him nervous. He was sure it wasn't just anger or annoyance in your eyes, but something else...was that concern in your eyes? Worry?

"Then what the hell happened?!"

"Krayt Dragon...?" it came out almost as a question as your mouth dropped open, your eyes widening in shock at his confusion. You looked between him and the lightly cooing child, trying to figure out in the hell they survived.

"What in the kriffing heavens!" your voice was sharp and high pitched, reverbing off of the metal walls of the Crest, "a Krayt Dragon! That's insane! And you brought the baby! You didn't think to come back and give him to me?! What if something happened to him, or you, you big dunce!"

"It all happened so fast," he held his hand up defensively as you poked at his chest. He backed up a few steps as the child laughed in amusement, "a-and it was fine. All fine..."

"You could have been killed, you tin can! Is there anything in your head or is that beskar too? And the baby! What about him?" you weren't mad at him per se, but you were worried. A millions thoughts ran through your head as you realized all the things that could have gone wrong. One slightly different move and they could both be dead. Sometimes you wondered if Din was aware of his own mortality.

"But we're okay," he said softly as if that was going to stop all your worries, "safe and sound."

"Judging by the state of both of you," you raised an eyebrow as you pointed between them, "you came close to being very not okay. I hope at least it was worth it."

"We helped the village," he admitted as you nodded sharply, "but nom Mandalorian. Although I found some Armour."

"Well, I suppose that's a start," you said as he nodded in agreement, "now, go and take off the beskar, shower and put on clean clothes. The stew will be ready by the time you're adequate to rejoin less smelly society."

"I-"

"Its not open for discussion," you crossed your arms over your chest, "and give the bean a bath too. Leave his dirty clothes with yours."

"I-"

"Now," you insisted firmly and with that, the Mandalorian decided not to argue. Among many things, he was a fool, but he also knew better than to argue with you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When he stepped out of the refresher, the lights throughout the Crest were off, save for the lights in the kitchen. He called your name softly but no response met his ears. He exchanged a quick glance with the Child before going around and looking for you.

At first he was worried when he didn't see you, but his fears were quickly alleviated when he heard soft singing from your quarters.

He poked his head inside and before he could say anything, you turned and offered him a soft smile. That's when he saw what you were doing - cleaning and polishing each piece of his beskar, one by one.

"Take off your helmet and leave it outside the door. I left it dark so I wouldn't see you. Go on and eat, and I'll leave it back outside the door for when you're done," you told him softly as you finished with another of his pauldrons. He made a small in the back of his throat as he felt his stomach do somersaults.

"What are you doing?" his voice cracked as he set the little one down. He immediately waddled over to you, plopping down at your feet.

"What does it look, tin can?" you teased, "go on and do as I say. Everything will be clean and ready for you soon. The clothes are drying."

"W-why?" he asked softly as you laughed at him, "you didn't have to..."

"I know," you acknowledged, "but I wanted to do this. Its okay to let others help sometimes. For once, let me take care of you."

"Okay," Din's voice cracked as he nodded, his heart melting at your words. Your gentle smile caused his heart to thump rapid, "I'll go...and leave it here."

"You can trust me," you promised, "go on and eat. I'll be done soon."

"Thank you," he almost whispered as he moved out of the doorway and started to pull off the helmet. You listened to the soft clank as a smile crossed your features. Knowing he trusted you was everything. There was a pause for a moment before his voice reached you again, this time soft and unfiltered, "cyare?"

"Yes?"

"I..." he trailed off a second and you just listened to his soft breathing.

"I know," you said after a few moments of gentle silence, "now go on eat! Rest now."

"Of course," he agreed as he started to pad away. Under his breath he whispered to himself, "anything for you."

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian x reader #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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cc-1010fox · 3 years

Text

Coruscant Guard Weapons in Clone Wars

Dc-17 Hand Blaster

was a heavy blaster pistol wielded by the clone troopers of the Grand Army of the Galactic Republic during the Clone Wars. An advanced firearm, it was fielded to elite soldiers in the army, most notably Advanced Recon Commandos, clone trooper commanders, and clone jet troopers.

https://starwarsrepublicclonetroopers.fandom.com/wiki/DC-17_Blaster_Pistol

DC-15A Blaster Rifle

The DC-15A blaster rifle, or DC-15 long-rifle, was a blaster rifle produced by BlasTech Industries which was one of the most common weapons used by Clone Troopers during the Clone Wars.

https://starwarsrepublicclonetroopers.fandom.com/wiki/DC-15A_Blaster_Rifle

DC-15S Blaster Carbine

The DC-15S Blaster Carbine, produced by BlasTech Industries, is a semi-automatic and rapid fire blaster which also has a stun feature. As well as a unique fully-foldable stalk. The rifle was used by clone troopers throughout the Clone Wars and became the more favored weapon amongst its more powerful counterpart, the DC-15A Blaster Rifle, due to its compact size and usefulness in close quarter engagements.

https://starwarsrepublicclonetroopers.fandom.com/wiki/DC-15S_Blaster_Carbine

Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon

The Z-6 rotary blaster cannon was a blaster cannon used by the Galactic Republic and the Separatist Alliance during the Clone Wars. The Z-6 was a powerful and rapid-fire weapon for Republic troops during the Clone Wars. Heavy Gunners were specialized clone troopers who used the Z-6.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Z-6_rotary_blaster_cannon

RPS-6 Rocket Launcher

The RPS-6 rocket launcher, also known as the Sienar shoulder-launched missile, was a model of missile launcher manufactured by Sienar Fleet Systems. They were the main model of infantry-portable shoulder-fired rocket launcher used in the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/RPS-6_rocket_launcher

Riot Shield

The Riot Shield was a personal energy shield used by law enforcement and planetary defense forces however the Coruscant Guard utilized a physical shield. Riot clone troopers were specialized clone shock troopers of the Coruscant Guard and were utilized during the Clone Wars by the Galactic Republic for riot control and other police actions.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Riot_clone_trooper

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Riot_shield/Legends

Stun Batons

A stun baton or shock baton was a non-lethal short-range melee weapon that immobilized organic targets with a powerful electrical shock

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Stun_baton/Legends

Electrostaff

An electrostaff was a melee weapon which was capable of generating an electric current and was in the form of a simple staff. Essentially, this weapon was much like an elongated stun baton, whereas the stun baton would be used for very close combat, the length of the electrostaff allowed the user to keep opponents at a distance.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Electrostaff

#coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thire #commander thorn #the clone wars #courscant guard weapons #this is a working list so I’m sorry if I missed anything #pls feel free to add on!!!#CG REFERENCE

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carminite-wyrm · 3 years

Text

A Kingsglaive Time Loop AU, Part 1

Nyx Ulric wakes up, the memories of a burning city, of betrayal and loss, fresh in his mind. It is not the first time that he wakes this way, and it won't be the last.

Or: Nyx has a very, very bad time.

Now with a Part 2!

Nyx gasped awake, the scent of ash and burning flesh, and the sound of war and ruin still fresh in his mind, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest. He lay there, eyes quickly taking stock of the room he was in, a room that was so familiar to his senses, a room that he could have sworn should have been reduced to so much broken rubble, like the rest of Insomnia. He could see the fading curtains, the walls that were slightly cracked, the photos of his family and friends. By all appearances, this was the same damn apartment he’d lived in for nearly the past decade, down to even that one corner where it would always leak when it rained. Off to the side, he could see his phone, the date and day clearly marked upon it. The day that the ceasefire, and the peace treaty, had been declared.

He slowly ran his fingers over the worn fabric beneath him, the soft texture slowly easing the rapid pace of his heartbeat. He finally managed to drag himself into a sitting position, and lifted his left arm into the thin strip of sunlight that managed to peek through the curtains. There was no sign of the magical scarring that had crawled up his arm like wildfire, when he had put on that damn ring. His arm moved freely, none of the pain he still remembered slowing him down.

With a groan, he stumbled to his feet, shaking his head as he tried to dispel the…dream, it had to have been a dream, one born from that crippling loss that had nearly seen him lose Libertus, alongside the other fellow brothers and sisters in the Kingsglaive. There was no way everything had been real, even if there were elements of reality to it, such as that damnable giant daemon that had nearly been the cause of Libertus’ death. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, away from the panic and adrenaline of oh shit everything is going to hell and the King is dead and so was-

Yeah, there was no fucking way any of that was real. It had felt real, sure, but Nyx was pretty damn sure that rationally, there was no way the King would have deigned to give him of all people the all-powerful ancestral ring that held together the shield over the city, and much more to boot. After all, didn’t the King still have people like Marshal Leonis, who definitely had the proper skills and strengths to guard something as important as that? Not some random Glaive who was in the process of serving out yet another punishment for insubordination.

Feeling almost like he was a ghost in his own body, Nyx decided the logical thing to do was to find Libertus and Crowe, his two best friends. Not just because he wanted to make sure they were fine, of course, but also-

Oh, who was he kidding, the dream – and yes, it was absolutely a dream, Nyx affirmed to himself – had in fact rattled him enough that he wanted to hug those two for at least an hour.

As he stumbled out of his apartment, blinking at the sunlight above him, he tried to remember where he was meant to be going, where he would be able to find Libertus and Crowe at…around midday, now that he checked his phone. His phone buzzed then, from where he had haphazardly crammed it into his uniform pocket. Taking it out, he smiled slightly at the message, which turned out to be from Libertus, and handily reminded him that they were meeting up in one of the training grounds.

Nyx tucked the phone away, and decidedly pushed aside the little part of himself that quietly reminded him that this was exactly how things had played out, in the dream. He still had to hold himself back from desperately clinging to Crowe and Libertus like his life depended on it, when he finally met up with them, though he did still give them both a slightly calmer hug, to their surprise.

That dream was just a combination of recent trauma, his own over-active imagination, and also probably more trauma.

Right?

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

Thirty minutes later, he was watching the news report about the coming Peace Treaty with Niflheim, the other Kingsglaive around him murmuring in discontent. As Commander Drautos -and how could he be a traitor, how could any of them be traitors- debriefed them, Nyx found himself having to hide his hands in the pockets of his uniform, the phantom urge to reach out and just end the man keeping him on edge the whole time, to the point that he almost missed Crowe being called away for a separate assignment.

Two days after he had woken up from that terrible dream, he watched as Libertus stormed away, the death-glazed eyes of Crowe staring up at him from inside the bodybag.

And on the 16th of May, four days after that dream, everything fell apart.

Nyx screamed wordlessly as he watched King Regis die at Glauca’s hands, the scene identical to the one he had dreamt, as Lunafreya spoke words that almost fell on horror-deaf ears, that only registered because he could almost speak them word for word himself.

He stumbled as the King’s magic disappeared, only kept upright by the fact that he already knew, somehow, what it felt like to lose that connection, the steel-spark buzz of power fleeing from where it had lain within him.

He received Drautos’ call almost in a fugue, his words echoing those from his dream. And it was only the memory of that dream that meant that the bullet from that traitorous bastard Lazarus only went through his arm, instead of through his shoulder, though the shock of it still had him on the ground. He mouthed the words Lazarus spoke, as he gloated, as he was goaded by Lunafreya into putting on that ring.

Libertus ramming into Drautos- no, Glauca, with the car, nearly made Nyx laugh out loud, it was so ridiculously accurate it felt like it was scripted. And when he faced the old Kings of Lucis, in that otherworldly time, it was only the faintest sense that he needed to save Libertus and Lunafreya, no matter what, that stopped him from cackling hysterically in the face of those reticent ghosts.

Nyx died with burning scars tracing up his left arm, with the rising sun in his eyes and the ruins of a dead city behind him.

And then he gasped awake, the scent of ash and burning flesh, and the sound of war and ruin still fresh in his mind, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest.

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

All in all, Nyx thought it was perfectly justified that he missed the treaty announcement, and the subsequent debriefing, curled up in bed for the past hour as he realised, truly, that this wasn’t all just a horrible dream. That he was indeed reliving the same five days, the five days that would culminate in the fall of Insomnia, the deaths of almost everyone he’d cared for, and his own death at the very end of it all.

The ringing of his phone had eventually stopped, if only because he’d thrown it haphazardly off to another end of the room, and probably broken it in the process. With that in mind, he absently gave himself another twenty or so minutes before Libertus or Crowe, or both of them, broke into his room demanding if he was alright.

Oh shit, Crowe.

He dragged himself off his bed, and stumbled over to his sink, as the image of Crowe’s corpse rose unbidden at the thought. He stood there, hunched over the sink, as he desperately tried to bring some semblance of rational thought back.

He just. Needed to make sure Crowe wouldn’t go on that damned set-up of a mission, the one that would have Luche -that fucking traitorous bastard- killing her for- For what, exactly? Luche had only talked about what Niflheim had promised him and the other traitors, after he had revealed what he had done.

Alright, then. Nyx nodded to himself, taking a moment to wash away the acrid taste of bile. Crowe first, everything else can wait.

He had four days, or three, if he discounted this one, before Niflheim would attack during that farce of a treaty ceremony. Four days to figure out how to avert disaster.

Nyx briefly entertained the thought of just, grabbing Crowe and Libertus, and heading for literally anywhere other than Insomnia, before roughly brushing it aside. No, he had a second, well, third chance, somehow. A chance to make things better, to make it so that no one (except those who really, really deserved it) had to die, so that the Empire wouldn’t be able to run rampant with their magitek armies and tamed daemons. And what sort of hero would he be, if he just ran away from that chance?

A sharp knock on his door, and the sound of it being flung open, had him spinning around in surprise, stumbling back into the counter in barely-concealed panic, before he registered that 1) it wasn’t a magitek trooper or some other sort of attacker 2) it was Libertus and 3) Crowe wasn’t with him.

Somehow, he had forgotten that Libertus had his apartment’s spare key.

“Oh shit, Nyx!” Libertus crossed the room with surprising speed for someone on crutches, eyeing how Nyx was practically trying to meld with the countertop. “When you didn’t pick up the phone-“

Libertus broke off with a yelp as Nyx grabbed him, half in a hug, half so that he could drag him in closer.

“Lib. Where is Crowe?”

“She’s off at some confidential briefing with the Commander, Nyx, are you alright?” Libertus managed to extract himself from Nyx’s grasp, giving him a once-over with a critical gaze. “You look- you look like shit, Nyx. And you weren’t at training. Do I need to get you to a doctor?”

“N-no. I’m…fine.” Nyx slowly inhaled, then exhaled, before trying to make himself look a little less like he’d just had a breakdown for the past hour and then some. “I am definitely fine. But I need to see Crowe.”

“Nyx, I’m sure it can wait.” Libertus sighed, filling a glass with water and passing it to Nyx, gesturing for him to drink it. “Me and Crowe covered for you during the briefing you missed saying you came down with something, though Commander does want a confirm on that. Though, man, you actually look terrible.”

“Just…had a bad dream, that’s all.” Nyx admitted.

Libertus raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head.

“You know that you can tell us anything, right? Anything that’s troubling you.”

“I…”

Nyx considered telling Libertus everything. Telling him about Crowe’s death, about the Glaives turning traitor, of Commander Drautos being that hated General Glauca, of the city burning under an Imperial onslaught, of the Old Wall and the old Kings. Of how Nyx had died.

But would Libertus even believe him? Nyx barely could believe it himself, and he’d lived it. Twice.

Libertus was one of his best friends, his brother in all but blood. But even so, he was fairly certain that Lib was probably going to check him into a hospital, at least initially, and he couldn’t afford to spend time trying to assure him of his sanity when he only had four and a half days.

“I’m fine, Lib. Really. Just had a bad dream, about Galahd.” Nyx paused, before he added. “And that giant daemon.”

“Oh.”

“Now, please, I need to meet up with Crowe.”

“She should be out of that meeting by now, I told her to meet up with us here, after I checked on you.”

Almost as if on cue, Crowe burst into the unlocked room.

“Oh good, you’re alive.” Crowe said, looking at Nyx and Libertus. “Wow, you really do look out of it.”

“Crowe!” Nyx swept her up in a hug, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, Nyx. You good?” Crowe asked.

“You’re alive.” Nyx breathed, clutching her harder. “You’re alive.”

“I…am?” Crowe looked over at Libertus in confusion. Libertus shrugged, mouthing ‘Bad dream’ at her. Nyx instinctively lifted his middle finger at him, having caught the action even as he swallowed back his tears. “Look, Nyx, I’m fine, alright? Now, sit down, and let us catch you up to speed. Some shit’s gone down.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” Nyx nodded, slowly moving to sit down. Libertus and Crowe both perched themselves nearby, Libertus taking the other seat, whilst Crowe leaned against the counter, wrinkling her nose at the mess in his sink.

“So…what’s happened?” Nyx asked, though he knew what it was they were going to tell him. But…well, he couldn’t just tell them how he knew that anyways, might as well give himself plausible deniability for some of his foreknowledge.

“Niflheim wants a peace treaty, at the cost of all other regions of Lucis besides Insomnia. And the King accepted it.” Libertus spat.

“There’s…not many in the Kingsglaive are happy about things at all. The general sentiment is that the King’s throwing away our homes.” Crowe continued. “On that note, the Commander’s given me a mission to recover the Princess Lunafreya from Tenebrae, I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”

“No.”

Libertus and Crowe both turned to stare at Nyx, who was clutching the glass of water in his hands like a lifeline as he spoke.

“What-“

“You can’t. Crowe, please,” Nyx looked up at her, trying to convey the importance of his words, the desperation behind them. “Don’t go on that mission.”

“Nyx, I have to-“

“I don’t want to lose you, Crowe.” I don’t want to lose you again.

“Look, Nyx, you know I can handle myself.” Crowe patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t let some bad dream get you all worked up, what did you dream of, me dying?”

Nyx dropped the glass, sending shards scattering across his floor. Distantly, he heard Libertus cursing, and Crowe…saying something, something that he probably imagined was supposed to be soothing, but couldn’t hear over the rising static as he remembered Crowe’s death, Libertus’ fury, Luche’s smug shitty face, Drautos half covered in that cursed armour-

Eventually, things slowly came back into focus, and he blinked as he looked up at Crowe and Libertus’ slightly relieved expressions. His neck ached, and it was only then that he realised that somehow, he’d gone from sitting in one of the terrible bargain chairs he had in his flat, to being on the floor, back pressed to one of the walls.

“You back with us, hero?” Libertus asked softly.

“Y-yeah.” Nyx croaked out, tilting his neck back and forth for a bit in an attempt to ease the soreness. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. Guess I must’ve accidentally hit the nail right on its head, then.” Crowe said, crouching down and slowly extending her hand. “Now, let me help you up.”

Nyx nodded, getting his breathing under some semblance of control, and he briefly closed his eyes, waiting until he felt calm enough to actually move.

He let Crowe hoist him to his feet, and went in for another hug, this time getting both her and Libertus in it. They gradually relocated to sit on his bed, Nyx practically wrapped around his two siblings-in-all-but-blood.

“You died, Crowe. You died and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Nyx sobbed; the words slightly garbled considering his face was mashed into Libertus’ shoulder. “A-and Libertus left, and then everything just, went to hell and then some, the city was attacked-“

He broke off, unable to put the rest of what he’d seen and lived into words.

“Look, hero, you know what I’m capable of, right?” Crowe said reassuringly, after a silent minute, slowly carding her fingers through his hair. “Whatever it was that your subconsciousness cooked up, it won’t happen, alright?”

“It-“ Nyx choked up, the words he desperately wanted to say lodged in his throat.

“I’ve called you in as sick, so the Commander won’t be all up our collective asses when you don’t show up for duty for the rest of the day.” Libertus said, patting Nyx on the shoulder. Nyx felt like he should be flinching from that, even though he knew that there wasn’t any kingly power burning its way through his body. Yet. “Come on, you should get some rest. Proper rest, after I get you something to eat. I’ll be here, though Crowe needs to go prepare for that mission of hers. We can see her off in the morning.”

The meal that Libertus cooked up an hour later tasted like ash in his mouth, and as Nyx was herded to bed, he couldn’t help but think that he had failed, once again. But he couldn’t go after Crowe, not now, not when Libertus was already keeping a cautious eye on him, not when all they knew was that he just had a panic attack, and a dream terrible enough to spark it.

And on top of all that, he had no idea what to do now, not when he knew that Libertus and Crowe probably wouldn’t believe him at this point, not when he’d made everything out to be just a bad dream. He’d had some sort of grand plan, to convince Crowe to not go on that mission, in the hope that it’d derail at least part of the Empire’s plan, derail it enough to give him time to figure out how the hell else he’d be putting a spanner into the rest of their planned invasion.

That plan, at least for now, was in utter shambles.

Now that he thought about it, actually thought about it, there were so many things that would eventually lead to the fall of Insomnia.

Crowe’s death, which would fracture the Kingsglaive even further than what the initial ceasefire announcement had done.

Lunafreya’s arrival, and subsequent kidnapping, which would be the bait that would draw the loyal Kingsglaive to their doom at the hands of the traitors, and signal the initial attack on Insomnia.

The theft of the Crystal and the fall of the Wall, which, he still didn’t know exactly how that had even happened.

The whole mess with the – rebels? Faction? – that Libertus had joined the other two times, the ones who had bombed the signing ceremony.

The death of King Regis, which would inevitably ruin much of their chances to stop the invasion, because it would mean that no one would have their borrowed magic anymore to help them against the forces of Niflheim.

How to deal with those giant daemon weapons withoutbringing forth the Old Wall, an act that would cause a decent amount of destruction in itself.

And General Glauca, that traitorous Commander of the Kingsglaive who was, Nyx admitted, quite possibly the greatest threat to everything he held dear at this point.

He could deal with rescuing the Princess, having done it twice already. Could probably even deal with the traitorous Glaives, hell, he knew at least Luche and Tredd were in on it, and if he took those two out then the others would lose a good part of their leadership.

But how in hell was he going deal with everything else? Nyx wondered, not a little desperate, as exhaustion finally set in, and he fell unwillingly into a fitful sleep.

He woke again, sometime in the evening, eyes tracing the cracks along his ceiling as he tried to parse his racing thoughts. There was just so much to do, so much he had to stop or fix before the Empire burned the city to the ground.

Well, he eventually thought, a little sardonically, I could always just knock Luche out now, and maybe he won’t kill Crowe tomorrow.

He sat bolt upright at that thought, and tried not to fall out of the damn bed in his haste. He fumbled blindly for his boots, and looked around for something heavy enough to give someone a bad concussion. The frying pan hanging on the rack above the shitty little stove, still a bit damp after Libertus had washed it, looked like it would do nicely.

He couldn’t kill Luche yet, even if every bit of him really wanted to do so. It’d probably de-rail things to the point that his foreknowledge would be rendered completely useless, and he hadn’t yet come up with ideas on how to deal with the next few days to make that murder as feasible as he wanted.

But he could just. Make sure that Luche wouldn’t be able to kill Crowe, or at least he’d be able to give Crowe a better chance at surviving the ambush, if he couldn’t convince her not to go in the morning.

Nodding to himself, he opened his door, preparing to march down the hallway and bait Luche into sticking his head out so he could bash it in with roughly three kilograms of steel. Fortunately, no one appeared to be outside of their own flats, though considering it was late in the evening by now, that was unsurprising.

He knew Luche had a habit of sleeping early if he had the opportunity to do so, so Nyx was fairly certain that if he knocked on the man’s door now, Luche shouldn’t be aware enough to register it was Nyx holding the frying pan before it hit him.

Sure enough, Luche opened his door with bleary eyes, and Nyx had a moment of vicious satisfaction watching the man crumple to the ground with a single hit of the pan. Now that Luche was unconscious, and not dead (there was a pulse, Nyx had checked), all that was left to do was shove him somewhere in his own apartment and hopefully have him out of commission for the next day at least.

“Uh, Nyx?”

Nyx looked up from where he was dragging the surprisingly heavy Luche the rest of the way into the apartment. Libertus was standing there, one crutch held limply in his hand.

“This…isn’t what it looks like, Lib.” Nyx winced, as Libertus looked incredulously at where Nyx was holding onto Luche’s limp arm.

“Is it?!” Libertus’ voice somehow reached another octave, as he cautiously approached Nyx.

“Look, this is going to sound incredibly crazy, but would you believe me if I told you that Luche is a traitor and he’s going to try to kill us all, except for the fact that I just knocked him unconscious.”

Libertus’ expression told him that no, Libertus didn’t believe him, and also that Nyx was…probably in some deep shit now.

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

Nyx awoke, for the fourth time, in his bed, in his flat, a burning ember of phantom pain deep in his chest, clutching at where the piece of the collapsing hospital ceiling had stabbed right through him.

Well, he thought, somewhat hysterically, that could’ve gone better. Much better.

#ffxv #ff15 #ffxv fanfiction #final fantasy xv #ffxv kingsglaive #nyx ulric #carminite writes #in which i decide that i'm gonna make nyx suffer for more than 3k words #we'll eventually get to the Good Ending (TM)#just...not yet #Running Onwards (A Timelooping Nyx AU)

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ahsoka-lives · 4 years

Text

Apprentice

SUMMARY/ AN: INQUISITOR CAL SOULMATE AU The first words your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist after they’re spoken. Reader is almost in Cal’s position except the backstory is different(you’ll see what I mean and reminds me of Rey a bit). I’m sure you’ve all read a fic that started with the Bracca scene so I tried to change it up. Gif is by @ciricinnamonroll and it’s sos os goood. Please lmk what you guys think!!

WARNINGS: A bit violent and a little sad

WORD COUNT: 1594

The weather on Bracca was as cheerful as ever. Grey and dark blue clouds were scattered across the sky as the rain carried on into the night. You were exhausted, no beyond exhausted. If you were to spend one more minute on top of that frigate you would have fallen asleep up there.

You’d been a scrapper for as long as you could remember, Bracca was all you’ve ever known. The woman who raised you claimed that you just appeared on her doorstep in a small wooden basket, barely a few months old. She took you in and raised you as if she was your mother but she was already old when you arrived. She passed away when you were young, leaving you to learn the ways of the junkyard planet by yourself. You were eternally grateful for the time you had with her but there was part of you that ached for that feeling of belonging again, for a family. Everyday alone here was the same; Wake up, go to work, take the train back to the husk of an Imperial Walker that you called home, and do it again the next day.

One day, you told yourself, one day you would meet your soulmate and then you would get to have that feeling. You dreamed of the day you would look down and see the first words of your true love on your skin. You knew only a handful of people who had theirs and the envy you felt was unparalleled.

Suddenly the train began slowing down but it was way too soon for it to be your stop. The calm chatter of the train transformed into hushed gasps and you could almost feel the tensions rise. You jumped to your feet and looked toward the commotion at the front of the train car.

“Imperial troopers!” A small boy who couldn’t be older than 15 yelled from against the window.

“Troopers are stopping the train?” You mutter aloud to yourself. This was unusual, sure troopers were just about everywhere nowadays but they almost never did random stops.

The train finally came to a full stop and the doors to hissed open. The sound of the rain pattering onto the ground could be heard from inside. Two troopers walked onto the train and side-by-side inspected the car while ordering identification papers from everyone on board. This was also unusual, your stomach began to churn with anxiety. What was going on?

“Everybody outside now!” A trooper ordered with the usual lifeless tone. Within seconds all of the passengers filed out onto the muddy Bracca terrain. You pulled the hood of your poncho over your head in an attempt to protect yourself from the onslaught of rain.

Standing side by side perfectly still were two Imperial Inquisitors. You recognized them from a propaganda poster that the Empire used to trick young boys into willingly enlisting but you weren’t sure of their purpose. Living out here kept you hidden from a lot of the Empire’s atrocities and you considered yourself lucky. As you were pushed toward the Inquisitors by the wall of troopers that formed behind you, you fixed your gaze to the mud that caked your boots.

“We are here today because we received word that one of you may be a traitor to the Empire.” A bitter voice called from behind her winged helmet. “It would seem that one of you is a Jedi.”

Her words sparked visible confusion from the group and everyone began exchanging worried glances between one another. A Jedi? Aren’t those extinct?

“If this traitor doesn’t come forward and reveal themselves, all of you will be executed. Show yourself, or we will spill all of your blood!” She shouted angrily and the sound of blasters being aimed could be heard from behind you. Mere moments passed before she sighed in mock disappointment. “Very well, open fire.”

“Wait! Stop!” The young boy from earlier shouted from his place next to you and stepped forward, arms raised above his head in submission. Shock ran through the line of your peers at the events unfolding in front of you.

“Kestis, time to play your part in this.” The woman commanded and stepped away from the other Inquisitor.

The second Inquisitor reached to his hip and grabbed a small piece of equipment. In one fluid motion the Inquisitor released it from its clasp and brought two fiery red blades to life. You let a loud gasp slip past your mouth and terror flooded throughout your body. The man called Kestis stalked toward the boy like a predatory animal and that he was. The boy was backing away with fear written all over his face and your heart was racing. Rapid eyes moved from the Inquisitor to the boy and you couldn’t help but think they had to be mistaken. This little boy couldn’t possibly be that much of a threat.

“Kestis, he has to prove himself first.” The woman growled from behind him, clearly aggravated.

“Fine, we’ll do this your way.” The deep voice of the man just a few feet in front of you sent chills down your spine. He deactivated his weapon and placed it back at his side before extending a menacing hand to the boy. When the boy hesitated his wrist was grabbed harshly and pulled into Kestis’s arms. He kicked against the Inquisitors hold and grunted useless “get off”s and “let go”s, your heart ached for him. There has to be something I can do.

Before you knew it he had dragged the boy to the cliff side and the Inquisitor hoisted the boy up by his collar and held him over the edge with ease.

“If he lives, he’s a Jedi and I get to kill him myself. If he dies then we kill them all.” His voice was riddled with irritation, Kestis clearly didn’t like to be told what to do. The Inquisitor gave the line of bystanders one last glance before turning back to the child. “So long, Jedi.”

The gloved hand left his collar. Screams left the strained throats of those around you and the rain seemed to quiet itself to allow the sound to echo louder. Your hand shot out helplessly as if to grab the boy and a scream of your own left your throat raw. The next few seconds defied all of what you thought possible

It was as if the air obeyed the profound “NO” that you screamed and halted the movements of the plummeting child. He floated over the edge of the cliff for just a moment before your reflexes pulled your hand back to your chest. While the words “What did I do” rattled around in your brain, you cradled the hand that acted on its own and the boy fell. His screams were heard only for a moment as he fell from earshot.

“So, it wasn’t the boy.” The woman hummed curiously as the two Inquisitors turned toward you. Tears pricked your eyes and mixed with the rain against your cheeks as guilt filled your consciousness. “You don’t even know what just happened, do you?”

You were panting and staring at the rogue hand, barely paying any mind to the Inquisitors ahead of you. They paused unsure of what was to be done with you. The Inquisitors seemed to be arguing over the issue but you really didn’t care, your mind was still reeling at what just happened around you, to you, and to that poor boy.

“We can’t just leave her here, Kestis.”

“We shouldn’t kill her either, she doesn’t even know what she is.” Kestis bit back in a hushed but aggressive tone and stared down the woman in front of him.

“Do what you want, I’m done here. Troopers, they’re free to go.” The Inquisitor snapped and turned on her heel to leave. You were finally pulled from your trance at the damning sound of his boots stomping over to you.

Your eyes snapped up and your instincts kick in once again making your feet start to step away from him. The man let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist pulling you to him while he simultaneously brought his masked face to sit in front of yours. From this close you could hear the heavy breaths that left his modulator.

“You’re with me now.” He gritted and within seconds a burning sensation tore into your skin making you scream out in pain. “Oh come on, I barely touched you.”

You yanked your wrist from his grasp and looked at him appalled. Thankfully, the burning quickly subsided and you blinked away the tears to let your eyes focus on the words forming in your skin.

Oh my gods, this is it?

“You’re who I’ve been waiting for?” Your unnerved state was evident in your tone. Kestis hissed and pressed his hand over his wrist as the words you spoke burned into him. He hurriedly ripped his glove off and pulled up the sleeve on his uniform as if they were the cause of his pain. The cold rains of Bracca fell onto the newly revealed skin and soothed his skin.

“What an interesting turn of events.” He chuckled as he read the words over and over again. He was surprised to say the least. “You’re really stuck with me now, hun.”

He pulled his glove back on and laughed once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. His soulmate and a new apprentice all in one.

#inquisitor!cal #calquisitor #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jfo #soulmate au #sw #star wars

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oceanera12 · 4 years

Text

Cody in SW: Rebels

To those of you who do not know, an early draft of Rebels season 4 was supposed to have Cody in it. It went a little something like this:

Thrawn knew there was a clone involved with the rebellion so he called in someone who knew about clones.

Aka: another clone. Aka: one of the only clones still working in the empire. AKA: Commander Cody.

It got scrapped because there was already a lot going on but--

I just can’t get over the fact we almost had a Cody and Rex reunion scene. But what would that have even looked like? Because on one hand--

GOOD (aka- his chip is either removed, off, or just not working)

Cody shows up for his briefing from Thrawn and is frozen in shock as Thrawn plays the recording from when they caught Rex.

He plays it cool with the Empire, pretending to be one hundred percent loyal with them and is giving them actually some semi-good info on Rex’s battle tactics. Not enough to do some huge damage but enough to get Thrawn to trust him.

Rex finds out about a clone working with the Empire through spies and whatnot and he’s just: “A brother is responsible for all of this???” Of course, he doesn’t know it’s Cody.

Cody holding back flinches and looks of anger whenever someone calls him. “CC-2224. You’re needed on the Command deck.”

Everyone treating Cody like a lifeless, feelingless, droid and Cody hates it but he needs more information before he jumps ship.

Thrawn being the only person that actually treats him like a person, but also being very suspicious of the Commander at all times because something is off.

When Cody finally runs into Rex on a mission, Cody is in Stormtrooper armor and Rex doesn’t know it’s him-- but Cody knows it’s Rex and he almost gets shot because of it.

Cody ends up fighting Rex hand to hand combat. Cody drags him/leads him out of the room and when they are clear of everyone Cody pins him to the ground. Rapid Mando’a starts and when it starts it can’t stop--

“Rex, listen to me. Thrawn is closing in on your location and has information about your next strike. You have to move up the date otherwise the entire operation will be blown open. Now-- would you stop struggling, vod, I’m trying to help you!-- Now I don’t know the exact location of the plant, but I can give you the rough coordinates.”

And Rex is just ???? because Mando’a is not a normal language to know and also why the kriff did this Stormtrooper know his name and also call him vod??-- AND HOLY KRIFF THE IMPERIAL CLONE?

And suddenly Rex knows that voice and he stops struggling and feels this feeling of hope rise up unbidden and whispers, “Cody?”

Then Cody’s voice comes to a screeching halt because he hasn’t heard that name since before the General was killed and suddenly Cody can’t breathe.

Rex refuses to leave Cody on the Imperial ship, even though Cody insists he can get more information. Rex is like, “Nope. We have other spies and you need help. Like, serious help.”

And thus three Rebel clones become four Rebel clones.

KRIFF, What if they call themselves “The Good Batch?” or something!? Clone Force 99 (version 2.0)???

BUT THEN

BAD (aka- his chip is in full function. CC-2224 reporting)

CC-2224 doesn’t feel a lot of emotions but for some reason, the traitor clone fills him with a rage he hasn’t felt since the Jedi traitors.

All Imperial officers quickly learn that CC-2224 is merciless and ruthless, even by Imperial standards because not only is he hunting a traitor of a brother but two Jedi. This is personal.

All of Rex’s planned attacks start failing. Really badly. Like no survivors badly. And no one knows why until--

One mission a rebel manages to activate their com as this ruthless, efficient and downright scary Imperial trooper comes breaking through the lines and tears everyone apart in seconds. And Rex just goes, “That’s no trooper... that was a clone.” And the Rebels are suddenly very thankful that Rex is on their side.

Of course, Rex recognizes that style and knows who it is. How could he not? Cody fought beside him for years. But he keeps his mouth shut knowing that his life is about to get infinitely worse.

Rex plans the next attack taking only Ezra and Kanan with him. It’s time to end this once and for all.

CC-2224 knows what’s coming and he’s ready. He has vibro blades and knives, detonators, a few blasters and a sniper. Plus some of the best troopers he could find aboard the ship.

The ambush is swift and takes Ezra down (he’s fine but won’t be able to continue in the fight because of the blaster through his shoulder)

CC-2224 fights Kanan as Rex drags Ezra to safety. Kanan’s own emotions are that of anger and fear because despite the fact that this is only one clone-- it’s still a clone. One of the men to have killed his master and now Ezra is hurt because of them. Kanan is injured but not out.

Rex jumps into the fight so Kanan can take a moment to center himself and it’s just a flurry of fists and trying to get a shot off. Rex is having flashbacks to Slick’s betrayal his heart breaking as he disarms Cody and tackles him to the ground.

CC-2224 manages to get his blaster back and raises it ready to shoot the traitor clone and Rex knows it won’t miss--

Then a lightsaber stabs straight through Cody’s chest.

Rex runs over as the clone falls, pulling off his helmet and then his brother’s helmet. For a brief second, the anger and rage in Cody’s eyes fade into one of sorrow and horror, the pounding words of “good soldiers follow orders” fading into the background.

“Sorry, vod” is gasped out and then Cody dies, finally free of the enslavement of the Empire.

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Stay Safe Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome one and all, welcome to what I like to consider my specialty: a good ol’ dustup. Also this chapter is very long, I do apologize. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko

Part One [Should Have Known Better]

Part Two [Tranquil Turmoil]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

The morning of the long-anticipated fracas broke blessedly clear.

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and got to your feet, tiptoeing past the still-sleeping shock trooper.

Someone had hung your clothes up to dry. A certain cape and flight suit were also slung over the indoor line, and beskar armor was laid out in uniform rows on a blanket off to the side.

Your eyes fell on the form that was currently propped up beside the door, his arms crossed and the chin of his helm resting on his chest. All he wore at this point was a thin liner shirt and compression leggings; for some reason he had kept his gloves and boots on. Again, you were uncertain if he was actually sleeping, or simply being very still. You chose to err on the side of caution and carefully, so carefully, you crept to where your clothes hung.

They were still a little damp, but you could definitely put them back on. The mud was gone as well. Rinsed out with the rain, no doubt.

Risking another glance at the downright underdressed Mandalorian (he hadn't stirred), you yanked your threadbare intimates off the line and quickly shimmied back into them under the cover of your loaned tunic. Moving as swiftly as possible, you hauled up your pants and then jerked the oversized tunic over your head to trade it out with your own. There was a heart-stopping moment where your elbow got caught in the tunic's shoulder before you managed to free yourself without any excessive noise, stumbling slightly.

The whole process took maybe three harried minutes, but when you looked over to the doorway again you noticed with a jolt of horror that the Mandalorian's head was now tipped against his shoulder slightly, as if to turn it away from where you were standing.

"Sorry." You whispered, feeling silly for worrying when you received no reply. Your hands neatly folded the borrowed tunic and you tucked it under your arm as you heard the child wake up. "Good morning, sweetheart." You murmured to them, tracing a finger over one of their oversized ears while they yawned and rubbed their eyes. "Let's get some breakfast and leave these two to rest a little more. Big doings today. Need to be at our best."

The baby wriggled in their bassinet, tiny hands clasping at your tunic when you lifted them up.

You turned to depart, but paused by the door curtain. "Hey, say goodbye to your papa." You urged them softly, freeing up one of their hands to flap it enthusiastically at the slumbering man on the floor. The baby giggled, clearly enjoying this new game. "He's working really hard, so we have to work hard too, okay?" You informed the child gravely, beeping their nose afterwards. "Can't be whining about Nevarro. We've got to be strong."

...

The Mandalorian took the child off your hands shortly after he emerged fully-armored from the barn. He didn't actually say anything, he just extended his arms and you got the gist.

You watched him walk away, gloved fingers gesturing animatedly at the baby. It was as if they were having a conversation without words, the baby offering him contemplative noises in response to his motions.

Winta, Omera's child, tugged on your sleeve. "Mama asked me to come and get you. She said you have a really important job tonight so she wants to make sure you're okay." The child relayed.

"Lead the way, kiddo." You replied, your brow furrowing in confusion. What could Omera possibly want with you?

After her child brought you to her, Omera sent the young girl on her way and then indicated for you to sit on the porch alongside her. You were silent for several minutes while the woman patched a hole in one of their sieve baskets, unsure if she needed the time to gather her thoughts.

"Winta's father, my husband, was a strong man." Omera murmured, her brown eyes far away. "He believed he could protect everyone, much like your Mandalorian seems to believe. But…" She inhaled, turning to look at you. "He was not invincible. A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good."

"What…" You gulped, your words suddenly refusing to cooperate. "Wh-What happened?"

"A contingent of Klatoonians circled around to the hut that we had hidden the younglings in." The older woman said softly. "Winta's father made the choice to protect the children and provide them a distraction so they could escape."

Your heart ached for her. No wonder many of the villagers seemed to look upon Omera as a leader of sorts. Her husband had paid the ultimate price to save the future of their settlement, a price that left her counting the cost every day. And now…

The realization dawned on you that the reason for this conversation was...that future had been entrusted to you.

"Nothing and no one is getting past me. I swear." You promised her, meaning every word. "We've all trained for this. With Cara and the Mandalorian, and everyone's planning, I know that-"

"Are you prepared to make the same choice my husband made?" Omera interrupted, her question devastatingly pragmatic. "Are you prepared? What if one of your friends must make that choice? What then?"

"I…" you hesitated. Friends. "I don't really know. All I know is that I'm going to do everything I can to keep everyone safe. No matter what it takes." You clenched your fist. "You have to count the cost and take the plunge sometimes."

"Let's both hope that our costs will be low in the light of tomorrow's dawn." Omera extended her hand and you clasped her forearm, her own fingers cupping your elbow. "Your Mandalorian seems to care for that child very much." She observed, seemingly at random until you followed her gaze to where the armored man was sitting on a rock.

He was shifting his weight back and forth, absently knocking out a rhythm on his cuisses. The child played in the grass at his feet, waving their arms as the man aimed more of those odd gestures at them. His fingers were strangely nimble for someone wearing such thick gloves. You wondered privately if it was some kind of secret bounty hunter code.

"If you don't mind me asking, was...was your husband good with children?" You queried.

Omera shook her head with a wistful smile. "Maker, no." She chuckled. "At least not at first. Until we had Winta, he was a nervous wreck around the younglings. But once she was born, he…" She trailed off, her smile fading. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. I'm still...it's-it's difficult to talk about him." She squeezed your arm apologetically. "Hold on to your friends for as long as you can. You're still so young."

A lump of uncertainty swelled in your throat and all you could do was nod in response. Could you even call them friends?

The Mandalorian suddenly barked, "spit that out!", the sharp order making both you and Omera look up. When you glanced over, the armored man was on the ground trying to wriggle what appeared to be the business end of a mudjumper out of the child's mouth.

You snorted, struggling to stifle your giggles and almost succeeding. Until Omera erupted into peals of laughter, that is. The Mandalorian's shoulders shot up around where his ears would be, and he slowly turned to look for the source of the noise. As strange as it was to say, you could tell he was sheepish just by the little two-fingered wave he directed at you.

The armored man scooped up the child once the mudjumper crisis had been averted, long strides carrying him to where yourself and Omera sat. "You two see something funny?" He asked. Maker, was he being playful?

"Nope!" You squeaked. "Nope, nothing at all."

"Does the little one do that often?" Omera inquired, smiling again when the Mandalorian heaved a sigh and nodded rapidly.

"Ask them, they're the ones that ended up keeping him from choking most of the flight here." He replied, tilting his head in your direction.

"He's young, everything is new and interesting." You surmised.

"He's fifty." The Mandalorian said flatly. "This is a little old man in nerf's clothing. Don't be fooled."

"No he's not." You crooned, taking one of the proffered tiny green hands and gently swinging it back and forth while the baby babbled happily. "With those eyes? They're just a sweet innocent little baby convor."

"With the killer instinct to match." The Mandalorian retorted. "Did you see that mudjumper? This kid has a slimy body count."

"Do you?" You asked the child, smiling when they shrieked in reply. "Have you got a body count, baby bird of prey?"

"For tonight." The Mandalorian said, suddenly back to being all-business. His rapid changes of conversation would be the death of you. "I know you're stationed with the little ones. If everything goes as planned, you won't even see action."

"I can hope, but I'll be ready either way." You murmured. Omera's hand squeezed your arm again and the widow got to her feet, waving goodbye to the baby before she departed with her mended basket. "Her husband had my job and he…" You trailed off, swallowing. "I-I guess I'm a little worried." You admitted quietly.

"I don't want you pulling any heroics." The armored man grunted. "Enough of these people are hellbent on being the front lines. They've never been able to think about revenge before, and now that they are, well." He turned, actually looking at you. "You have the important job. Foundlings are...excuse me, younglings are the only way this place will live on."

"I understand." You hesitated, then asked, "can I hang onto that vibroblade for tonight? The one I've been practicing with?"

"It's yours." The Mandalorian answered firmly.

"What, no, that thing's power cells alone probably cost a fortune. Just let me use it ton-"

"I said. It's. Yours." The man growled, propping his boot up on the porch. You got the impression that he was glaring. "You need it, you use it, you keep it."

"I hope I don't have to use it." You mumbled, wishing you didn't sound quite so scared.

"For your sake, I hope you can use it if it comes down to it."

…

I hope you can use it if it comes down to it.

You scoffed to yourself, pacing back and forth in front of the hut doorway. More than anything, you prayed that the front lines would hold. You prayed that everyone would stay safe and that you wouldn't have so much as a glimpse of action.

Your prayers appeared to go unanswered when you heard the crash crash crash of ground-shaking footfalls. The children began to whimper amongst themselves, one girl bursting into tears when a thunderous salvo went off. That would be the AT-ST.

You knelt beside the little girl, doing your best to soothe her panic. "It's just loud. Just noise. Like thunder, you know?" You reasoned quietly, relieved when she blinked back her tears and nodded.

There was the sound of running outside, and the guttural yells of the raiders began to reach your ears. That boded poorly. The barricades were supposed to funnel them to the villagers, had the place already been overwhelmed?

Your brow furrowed. "Stay put, and stay quiet." You instructed Winta, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "You're in charge of the others if I have to leave at some point. I'm counting on you, Sneaks."

The little girl nodded solemnly, holding the baby in her lap. The large-eared being blinked up at you with those enormous eyes, lower lip quivering slightly.

"Hey now, it'll be okay. Don't you worry!" You cajoled, rising to your feet with an easy smile. You turned on your heel to go check the doorway again--

You caught a fleeting glimpse of a hulking form and then the stock of a blaster rifle slammed into your stomach, crushing all the breath out of your lungs with a single, calculated blow. You crumpled to your knees, retching. The world spun in grayscale, a set of boots dizzily coming into your field of vision.

The barrel of the blaster pressed against the side of your head.

The younglings.

The younglings! Move, damn it!

All of Cara's training rushed to the forefront of your brain and you lunged into the raider's legs, knocking him flat on his back. His shot went wide, blowing a hole in the ceiling overhead. In the breathless second before he comprehended that he had missed, you managed to draw the vibroblade. Swinging from the side with all your strength, you watched his face tear under the brutal assault of the steel.

It was terrible. It was so much worse than you could have imagined. What had you even been thinking, getting involved in something like this? This was nothing like the brawls you had gotten into over mining deposits or repair jobs. This was a thousand times worse.

A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good.

Could you make a choice like that? Did you trust yourself with a choice like that?

A soft whimper from behind you effectively put an end to your moral quandary and your eyes narrowed.

You staggered back up, sucking wind, your shaky fingers tearing the knife loose. Armed with the whirring blade, legs akimbo over the limp form, you weren't even afforded the time to move forward before another Klatoonian made their way through the door.

You lowered your head slightly, gripped the vibroblade a little tighter and gritted your teeth. The raider foolishly wasted his opportunity to attack you immediately, deciding instead to leer at the terrified younglings behind you. That is, until he seemed to notice the body you stood over, his eyes widening and the blaster he held jerking upwards.

At that point it was too late. You were already on him like a wild nexu, yowling and snarling as you used the momentum of your attack and lower center of gravity to tackle him backwards out of the hut. Your elbow rammed into his arm, knocking the blaster to the side before he could use it.

Half of the fight is the noise you make. If you're louder, you're stronger! You're scarier! Cara's instructions rang in your head.

You braced the pommel of your blade with your palm and shoved it home between the helmet and armor just like the Mandalorian had shown you. It was strangely simple, the raider gurgling and flailing their arms before collapsing.

You yanked the blaster from his limp hands, fumbling to find the trigger on the unfamiliar weapon. This was bad. They weren't supposed to have even gotten this far! Something must have gone wrong on the front lines. Had Cara or the Mandalorian been taken out?

Focus. Don't panic. Focus. You inhaled, staggering a bit as another bombardment from the walker rocked the ground. That was the problem. They hadn't gotten rid of the AT-ST yet. No doubt all manpower was currently dealing with that issue, leaving gaps in the front line that the raiders were exploiting.

You tore your eyes away from the body in the dirt beside you, glancing around. The Klatoonian raiders appeared to have the upper hand. The AT-ST loomed in the distance, its two red viewports glowing like the eyes of a massive beast. Everywhere you looked, you saw villagers engaged with the raiders. It was chaos.

You pulled the trigger as a knee-jerk reaction when a raider rushed at you. The gun had more kick than you expected, bucking hard against your shoulder and the raider was still coming for you. You frantically fought with the trigger, realizing almost too late that the gun needed to be primed before it could be fired.

You braced yourself better this time and your aim was true, dropping the raider what felt like bare inches away from you.

Count the cost and take the plunge.

Your back straightened up and you returned to your origin point, nervously shifting your weight back and forth on trembling legs. Despite your fear, despite your inexperience, you vowed you would not be moved from this spot. Protect the younglings.

The fight felt like it just went on and on. You pulled the trigger again and again, your shots missing more often than not, and when the gun ran dry you fell back on the vibroblade. It didn't matter whether you entirely stopped the raiders that were running by the hut, you reasoned, as long as you took a chunk out of them on their way through.

It was not...particularly glamorous. Your knees were shaking, stomach rolling, jaw clenched. Nothing at all like the propaganda imagecasts, where there was always brilliant sunlight and wind blowing while someone gave poetic rallying speeches. This was an ugly fray in the dirt, a true skirmish, and you were scared out of your mind.

Nothing and no one is getting past me. Nothing and no one is getting past me. Nothing and no one is getting past me. The phrase cycled like a mantra, something for you to latch onto as you struggled.

Like you were doing the drills with the Mandalorian, you could practically hear him barking louder! and you obeyed, snarling and snapping your teeth when you engaged the enemy. You operated on sloppy muscle memory from all the training, all the instruction that had been crammed into the last few days carrying you through the fray. Several times you missed your openings and then you panicked, resorting to brute force to deal with the problem at hand. You knew you were too stiff, constantly flexing your fingers to keep them from cramping up.

The vibroblade was getting hard to hold, its handle slick with blood and the sweat from your own palm, but you doggedly kept at it.

Your arms were so heavy.

How the hell does he manage this in full beskar?!

Several villagers came to your aid at different points, blaster fire briefly taking some of the paranoid burden off and reminding you that you weren't alone in this. You were grazed in the shoulder by a raider's shot when you missed another strike, the pain bright like lightning behind your eyes, but it wasn't as if it made your arm any heavier. Shake it off and keep going, rookie! The adrenaline will hold the pain!

You would take care of it later.

Right as your second wind was abandoning you in the dust, there came the high shriek of abused metal. The walker, it seemed, had finally taken the bait, toppling into one of the ponds. Not two moments later, it exploded spectacularly in a massive fireball.

Your ears still ringing from that, you almost didn't catch what happened next. You glimpsed a helmeted form climbing up one of the barricades, and then-

"Kote!" The Mandalorian roared triumphantly, slamming his gauntlet into the center of his beskar chestplate. The metal rang like a bell, echoing across the battlefield and drawing all eyes to him. Gods knew he certainly cut an impressive figure, silhouetted against the burning walker.

The Klatoonians seemed to slowly realize that their largest advantage was now a smoldering pile of refuse, and the ones left alive began to flee back into the woods in a panicked rush. The villagers pursued, borrowed weapons and makeshift spears urging the raiders off of their land with deadly force.

You dropped to one knee, your breath wheezing in your chest with every inhale. That whole event blew Cara and the Mandalorian's drills clean out of the water. You felt like you could sleep for a year.

Younglings.

You got back up.

There were only six bodies littering the ground around you, but it had seemed like an insurmountable force while you were fighting. Now you were a little embarrassed at your level of exhaustion. Again, you wondered how in the world Cara or the Mandalorian managed while lugging their various armaments and protective gear.

You stumbled back inside the hut full of children, startled when two more of them silently crawled into your lap alongside the kid once you plopped down. "It's all but over. Few more minutes. You all did so great." You praised them, smiling tiredly and bumping their foreheads with your own. "I know that was pretty loud stuff, but you guys kept your cool. I'm very proud." Your throat burned, voice grating painfully from all the no-doubt incredibly intimidating noises you had made.

"Are they going to come back again?" One of the little boys asked, his eyes wide.

"I don't think so. Your parents did a fantastic job at keeping you all as snug as womp rats in a haystack." You bit your lip, a little overwhelmed with the myriad of tiny, tear-streaked faces staring pensively up at you. Maker only knew how bad you looked right now. "Hey, the words to that song I taught you all got spooked right out of my head. Can you guys help me remember it?" You asked, grasping desperately for something to distract and occupy.

"Will you pay, can you pay…" Winta trailed off uncertainly.

"Calamari flan!" Another child supplied helpfully, wiping their eyes. "Build a ship as best as you can." More variations. You felt yourself getting a little misty, but you chalked it up to a combination of relief and exhaustion.

The children slowly curled up around you, little voices arguing sleepily over the lyrics in a matter of seconds. The baby snuggled into the crook of your forearm, their tiny thumb tucked into their mouth.

Stars, you were tired.

Your eyes kept sliding closed only for you to jerk them back open seconds later. Your mouth was still dry and sour with leftover adrenaline, every muscle aching from the exertion of the earlier battle. The younglings drifted off one by one, their discussions dissolving into nothingness.

When Cara shoved open the flap of the hut she looked fresh as a daisy, if a little damp. "Holy sh-stars." She whispered, just barely curbing her swear in time when she spotted the mangled raider. "How did you-?"

"Can you round up parents?" You requested softly, indicating downwards at your full lap. "I don't think I can move currently."

She nodded, retreating from the hut. You buried your face in the sleeping baby's robe, inhaling their clean scent in an effort to ground yourself. They were fine. The younglings were safe. You had succeeded.

Somehow, somehow, you had succeeded.

The Mandalorian was the next one in, his dark and bulky form sparking a momentary rush of panic. You had your knife out and in front of you before you could even think, the vibroblade whining in your tight grip as you clutched the children close.

"Easy." The beskar-wearing man breathed, raising his hands. "Just me. Just me." He glanced around, then crouched and leaned in. "Parents are on their way. There's some wounded, but no dead."

"No…?"

"Yeah." A sob rattled your aching chest at his affirmation. "Steady. It's over now." He rasped, easing the knife out of your trembling hand and switching it off. "I saw your work outside. You're really something, aren't you?"

You were positive you were hallucinating the warmth in his tone. "Had to...keep them safe." You reasoned sluggishly. Then, "How do you move in that stuff? Feel like my arms are going to drop off."

"Practice." He replied. His helmet tapped your forehead and you realized you had dozed off for a second. "Stay with me, stowaway. We're almost done."

"Mmhm." You mumbled, obediently keeping your eyes open. He didn't move away though, simply maintaining the even pressure of his cool helm against your heated skin. It gave you something to focus on, something to help you stay conscious.

Battered, weary parents filtered in one by one, children getting picked up or ushered out still half-asleep. Omera hugged you fiercely tight before she departed with Winta, her gratitude warming your whole body.

"Sleep now?" You asked the Mandalorian hopefully as he rose.

"We need to know how much of this blood is yours." He muttered, pulling you upright. He grunted in surprise when you nearly collapsed, quickly grabbing hold of your belt to steady you. "Focus, stay with me. Do you remember getting hit?"

You cast your mind back over the disjointed memories of fighting, scrunching your eyebrows in thought. "My shoulder hurts." You remarked intelligently.

"Is that the only spot?" The Mandalorian questioned, his fingers already prodding.

In reply, you scooped his hand up and proceeded to thump it clumsily on the middle of your chest. "Burns to breathe."

All you remembered after that was the way that the world tilted and your cheek pressed against his breastplate.

…

It was raining.

Rain was so rare on Nevarro, a gift and a curse. Places flooded rapidly, but the moisture farms would flourish for months. Divining was regarded with a healthy amount of superstition, for in the water witchery of dowsing rods one could theoretically gain enough insight to keep their wells from drying and their steads from peril.

You hummed sleepily.

Rain was so, so rare. You should get up to watch it.

When you opened your eyes, you realized you were not on Nevarro. The memories came hot on the heels of your realization, the younglings, the fight-

You sat bolt upright, wincing in pain when your shoulder protested the rapid movement. "Ah, ouch-"

"Don't you even think about getting up." Cara's stern voice made you flinch guiltily, and you tucked your leg back beneath the blankets. The soldier loomed over you, a broad smile softening her features after a moment. "Glad you're awake. You snore like a bantha, y'know."

She passed you a tankard full of water and you hungrily gulped, the liquid dribbling down your chin. "Where's-" you rasped.

"Shush, you're so bad at this. Everyone is fine. Everyone." Dune stressed. "You just sit where you are and keep your shirt on." She settled down onto a small stool beside you, leaning forward and clasping her hands. The thick waves of her dark hair hung over her face as she joked, "It's good to have you kickin'. That baby's been gettin' on my last nerve. Oh, and the one with the big ears, too."

"I'm sorry." You whispered, ludicrously feeling as if you had been shirking.

"Don't apologize." Cara chided you. "I'm sure Mando'll come breezing back in here with at least two brats in tow. You can feel sorry then."

"How long did I sleep?"

"Through the night, half into the afternoon." Cara waved a hand. "Usual rookie nap. You probably blew through your calories for the entire week just from shaking, right?"

"How'd you guess?" You mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"You know, I haven't always been this much of a badass." She laughed at the incredulous look you sent her way. "I'm serious! I know it's hard to believe that I wasn't assembled in a factory, chiseled from the Maker's own marble to slay, but the truth is that I am human. I've been scared stiff loads of times." Her hand landed on your good shoulder. "The important part is still going to work, even when you're scared stiff. So I'd say you succeeded."

Your stomach growled, making you grimace. "Speaking of calories…"

Cara got to her feet, moving to the doorway. "Hey! Mando! They're awake! Stop playing in the mud and get me some stew!" She shouted.

"How are the younglings holding up?" You asked.

"They're fine. Resilient little buggers. With some luck, most of the younger ones will think it was a nightmare." Cara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "They bounce back."

You heard steps sloshing through the puddles long before you actually saw the armored man, and you couldn't help your smile when he did come into view. He was covered in mud up to his thighs, his flight suit spattered liberally across the knees and elbows.

"Good to see you conscious." He greeted you, handing Cara a steaming bowl. "The sleep after battle is the best kind."

One of the children dragged at his arm, their body also covered from head to toe in grime. "Come on Mando, we have to keep learning!"

"Learning?" You asked curiously. "What are you teaching them?"

"Something important. It's," the Mandalorian hesitated, one large hand resting on the child's head. "It's a little like that song you showed them."

"Can you pay, can you pay, Calamari flan?" The child grinned, hammering out a rhythm on the Mandalorian's beskar-plated forearm. "Clean my ship as fast as you can!"

"Yeah. Like that. But different." The armored man shrugged, not seeming overly bothered by the little one currently beating a tattoo on his arm. "Rest up while you can. There was some significant structural damage during the raid, so we'll have our work cut out for us over the coming weeks."

Strangely, the implication that you would be staying didn't cause you distress. "I don't want to be dead weight, so you'd better not do too much without me." You requested, offering him a wry smile.

He cocked his head to the side, then nodded. "'Course."

…

Over three weeks of laborious rebuilding later, you found out what he had been teaching the younglings. There had been some secretive fumbling, a few slip ups that had you suspicious, but you were just as surprised as everyone else when the children all filed into a line in front of the evening bonfire.

The baby was there as well, held in the arms of one stoic Mandalorian. The children all bore old pots and pans, salvaged from the makeshift target range, and your brow furrowed as they dropped into strange stances.

"They wanted to learn." Was all the Mandalorian said, shrugging and carefully setting the kid down on the ground. Then, he raised his hand and struck himself on the chest like he had done during the battle.

The beskar rang out and the younglings started their performance, Winta carefully enunciating a string of words in a language you could only assume was Mando'a. The children stomped and reeled in unison, each one hammering enthusiastically on their own 'armor' and then the armor of the next child in line to keep time.

Cara whooped and started clapping along when the Mandalorian actually moved with them, his greaves rattling as his boots scuffed their way through the motions of the dance. For a dance it was, wheeling and enthusiastic. His modulated voice quietly echoed Winta's, prompting her occasionally when she got stuck on certain words.

The baby squealed and waddled around, waving their arms in delight at all the commotion while the other adults began to clap in time. The whole display had your emotions knotting in your chest. The younglings had clearly put a lot of time into learning all the steps of this particular dance, their little faces scrunched up in concentration. And overseeing it all was the sturdy form of the Mandalorian, his beskar glowing orange in the firelight while he chanted softly. It was beautiful, achingly familiar and yet alien all at once. Comradery, children at play, songs you didn't know the words to…

You watched his hands as Winta shouted, "Oya, oya manda!", realizing that his careful gestures were lining up with the cadence of the song. He was saying things with his hands. That was what he had been doing at the kid before! You felt a little stupid for not putting that information together sooner, but now you were seized with a burning desire to know. What other secrets did he keep close, tightly wrapped in beskar?

The kid wandered your way and you scooped them up, holding your palm flat so they could beat their tiny hands down onto it as if they too were clapping along. Their massive ears perked up and they babbled madly at you, making you smile anew.

When you glanced back up, you could have sworn the Mandalorian was looking at you.

Then again, it might have merely been a trick of the wavering light on his helmet.

...

It wasn't until much later in the evening that you finally mustered up the courage to enquire about the song. After you had tucked the kid into bed, you quizzed him on it. "What is that called? The song and dance, I mean."

"It's a piece of my culture." The Mandalorian informed you solemnly. He had posted up at the doorway by Cara, one ankle slung over the other in a relaxed pose. "The Dha Werda Verda. We're taught a few verses when we're young so we can learn how to move in sync with one another. If you step wrong, oftentimes that means you're punching your neighbor in the head. We try to learn how to avoid that early on."

"Oh. So it's kind of a training thing?"

"In a sense, yes. But at the same time…" He paused, brushing his thumb absently down the center of his breastplate. "It's tradition. The Mandalorian culture is not a peaceful one by nature; our expressions of art are made for war." He tilted his head towards you. "There are over seven hundred verses in the Dha Werda Verda alone. It serves as both poem and battle cry."

"And you just taught it to a group of younglings." You deadpanned.

"I taught them a little." He corrected you. "Just like your song that you taught them. They'll make their own versions of mine soon enough, and theirs will be associated with peace. With safety." He shifted his weight, staring off into the darkness. "I did not...I didn't have anything else to offer them."

"I wouldn't say that. It's because of you and Cara that a lot of them still have parents." You pointed out. "I bet these people will tell stories about you two!"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, looking back at you. "It's thanks in no small part to you that they still have younglings to pass the tales along."

Well, that was a weighty thought. You silently mulled it over, concluding, "I don't need them thinking about me like that. I'm not really...well, you know. Heroic. Not like you and Cara."

Cara spoke up from her position on the porch, dryly saying, "take the damn compliment, will you? Not every day that a Mando wants to share glory."

The Mandalorian huffed, muttering something under his breath that had Cara reaching over to punch him in the arm. You chuckled at their antics while you watched them bicker with one another, a strange sense of peace coming over you.

"So, what happens if you take that thing off?" Cara asked suddenly, her head tilted slightly to look up at the armored man. "They come after you and kill you?"

"No." He was silent for an inordinate amount of time and you thought that was the end of his explanation, but then, "You just can't ever put it back on again."

Cara raised an eyebrow at him. "That's it?" She sounded disappointed, and you couldn't really blame her. After the gravity of everything that you had heard regarding Mandalorians and their helmets, it was a little anticlimactic.

The Mandalorian nodded.

"So you could slip off the helmet and go settle down with that beautiful young widow?" Cara gestured outwards at the village with her bright blue glass of spotchka. "Raise your kid, sitting here sipping spotchka?"

You took a noisy slurp of your own spotchka for emphasis, grinning at Cara when she chuckled.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "We raised some hell here a few weeks back. That's...too much action for a backwater little town like this. Word travels fast. We might want to cycle the charts and move on."

Cara murmured, "I wouldn't want to be the one that's gotta' tell him." Her hand waved vaguely towards the bassinet where the child slept peacefully. "The kids love him, y'know."

"I'm leaving him here." Both you and Cara gawked up at the armored man, startled by his announcement. "Traveling with me...that's no life for a kid."

It was a reasonable thing to do. Practical, even. He was a bounty hunter. That didn't exactly scream 'conducive to child-rearing', last you checked. But why did he sound so torn about it if he had already made up his mind?

"I did my job. He's safe. Better chance at a life." He continued stiffly after a moment.

"It's gonna' break his little heart." Dune's tone was faintly accusatory.

"He'll get over it." The Mandalorian replied quietly. "We all do."

The three of you stared out into the darkness in silence for a good while after that. This felt...strange. On the one hand, you could understand not wanting to endanger the kid any further, but the idea of making them sad about anything...this concern was a new phenomenon.

You had always been a firm believer in the notion that children were smarter than adults gave them credit for. It had made it easier to justify not saying goodbye to any of them when you headed off on your next grand adventure; you reasoned they would put it together on their own and really, there was no need for long, drawn-out farewells.

But now, for the first time you could remember, the idea of leaving was...it made you anxious. And it wasn't even you that was preparing to leave!

"Wh-When do you want to-"

"Two days, maybe." He cocked his head at you, "I can't bring you back to Nevarro. But you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'm sure if I put you on a platform, someone can get you to Nevarro."

"I...can I think about it?" You implored, relieved when he nodded.

"Give me your answer tomorrow."

…

"Thanks for coming along."

"It's no trouble. About time I started pulling my weight in the security department anyhow." You checked your knife for the hundredth time and Cara grinned at you.

"Nervous?" She teased quietly.

You winced. "Is it that obvious?"

"Listen, you've got nothing to worry about out here aside from falling asleep due to boredom. I promise." Cara assured you, giving your shoulder a light tap. "I just walk the perimeter out of habit at this point. There's been no issues for weeks."

"I know, I just…" You were loathe to continue, certain that you would sound like you were whining to this veteran of a soldier. "I guess I'm still a little uneasy from the big, uh. Fight."

"The first sip of real action usually leaves a bitter taste in your mouth." She murmured. "I'd be concerned if it didn't."

Oh. You glanced sidelong at her, studying her face. "Does it fade away after a while?" You questioned.

"Yes...and no." Cara seesawed her hand with a grimace. "Everyone reacts differently. Some people can process it, some people crush it down into a little ball until it explodes." She shrugged. "You never know." Her eyes focused on a point somewhere behind your left shoulder and she came to an abrupt halt. "Who…?"

You turned to follow her line of sight and your brow furrowed. It was not someone from the village, but it also didn't appear to be a Klatoonian. Not nearly bulky enough. The long-barreled rifle on their back caught your eye.

"Stay close, we're following them." Cara whispered, already stalking forward.

The two of you flitted from tree to tree, pursuing the oblivious figure. They had something in their hand, something that you could see blinking red every now and then, and they were heading towards the settlement at a steady pace.

They finally stopped at the edge of the treeline, slinging the rifle off of their back. It took them a few minutes to get set up, nimbly attaching a scope before hoisting the gun and beginning to calibrate the viewfinder.

Cara motioned for you to stay put, the soldier slinking ahead to the next tree. You had a death grip on your vibroblade, finger hovering over the button. A quiet, persistent beeping noise drew your attention and you searched for the source, locating it a second later in the form of a tracking fob attached to the person's hip. It blinked red and you realized that this person was a bounty hunter.

A bounty hunter. Did that mean they were after someone in the village?

A shot rang out and you cringed back against the tree, only realizing after a moment that it had been Dune who shot first. A commotion rose from the village, the sound of the blaster no doubt attracting the attention of anyone who heard it.

You rushed forward to Dune's side as she rolled the smoking body over with her boot. The fob on their belt continued to blink and beep softly even after she yanked it free. "Who were you tracking, buddy?" Cara mused aloud, very clearly unphased by the fact that she had just ended this individual's life. That made sense, though. How many times had she done this before?

You heard a rattling sound that seemed to be rapidly approaching from the direction of the village. Beskar. "Oh boy." You said weakly.

"What, what's-" Dune paused, obviously hearing the noise as well. "Oh. Well, brace for impact." She grimaced. "Mando drop inbound."

With a resounding crash! the Mandalorian stormed the treeline, not even bothering to break his stride so he could maneuver around the underbrush. He somehow exuded fury, his tense body language screaming danger danger danger!

Unconsciously, you shifted so Dune was between you and him. She shot you an amused glance, standing her ground with her arms crossed.

The armored man slowed only marginally once he appeared to notice the two of you, his shoulders slumping. "What happened?" He called, his voice rasping through his modulator.

"We caught a hunter." Cara replied, waving the tracking fob. "Fob doesn't sound like it's for you or me. Or for this lovely person who is currently cowering behind me." She ribbed you, making you huff in embarrassment and shuffle out from the safety of her shadow.

He obviously wasn't on the offensive anymore but Maker, he was terrifying when he was! The Mandalorian extended a hand to take the fob, moving in a slow circle and then halting when he faced the village. "It's for the kid. They're...they're after the kid." He gritted out a word you didn't know, "Osi'kyr," then dropped the fob on the ground and crushed it with one violent stomp. "I have to take him and leave." He said after a moment of staring down at the destroyed object.

"They'll keep coming?" Dune asked.

"Where there's one, there's more." The Mandalorian sighed heavily, "I know hunters." He pointed at you suddenly. "Choice?"

It took the barest split-second of thought. "I'm with you." You hesitated, then added, "I can help keep the baby safe."

"Good." He sounded like he was relieved, of all things. "We have to move fast."

Part Four

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #eventual romance #slow burn #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin imagine #fight fight fight #I love me a good swing sesh #also dancing #who doesn't love dancing #pedro pascal

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redrobinhoods · 3 years

Text

illicit affairs | Chapter 3, Tokyo Smoke

AO3 Link | 4,500 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 2, /end

Chapter Summary: Riyo and Fox come to terms with the limits and definition of their relationship

Riyo woke up first.

It took her a moment to remember where the weight on her torso was coming from. She hadn’t slept with another being in her bed in many years, but the last thing she remembered from last night was closing her eyes and focusing on the steady heartbeat of the man holding her. Now she found herself laying on her side with a warm body before her. She didn’t dare shift her position for fear of waking him up, but dropped her head to her chest to look down at her torso. Fox’s arms still crossed around her waist, but his forehead now lay against her chest. She took a few moments to take in the sight.

She’d dated before, back on Pantora, but dating on Pantora and dating on Coruscant were entirely different beasts. She’d been afraid that on Coruscant others would only see her for her position, and so far she’d been right in her assumptions. But Fox was different. He had seen her as a person first and a politician second, and perhaps the latter only because of the bounds of his command. She’d been worried that she may have taken advantage of him in the hospital and in her room when she’d pulled him down into her arms. But now, with his arms still wrapped around her waist in sleep, she felt at ease. She’d never considered dating one of the clones before, certainly not one belonging to the Coruscant Guard. They were supposed to be loyal only to the Republic. Then again, so was she, in a way. Loyalty to the Republic and to her people were supposed to come before all else in her life. That was the vow she had made. But this, this felt right.

She brought one hand over and lay it across his neck, feeling the raised scar tissue underneath her touch. She found herself running her fingers over one in particular, large and ragged. It had to have nearly claimed his life. She could imagine Fox lying prone on the ground as one of the other guardsmen tried to stem the flow of blood from the commander’s neck. The image scared her. She’d known that the Coruscant Guard were all flesh and blood underneath their armor, but knowing that was different than holding it in your hands.

“Some petty thief.” He muttered sleepily. “Didn’t expect them to lunge towards me.”

“Did it hurt?” She continued running her fingers over it, trying to picture the scene in her head.

“For a moment, before shock set in. I lost a lot of blood.” He said it so casually that it hurt her.

“When you saved my life, did that hurt?” The thought had been bouncing around in her head ever seen she’d glanced back at his body in the museum.

He brought one arm up so that he could lay a hand on her hips. He began tracing slow circles in the satin. “Like hell. I almost wish it had been worse so I could’ve passed out.” He looked up to see the despair on her face. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, for you.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain because of me, Fox.” She moved her hand up from his neck and cupped his jaw, running her thumb over his cheekbones.

“It’s what I was made for, Riyo. We clones were born to die for the Republic. I’ve always been fine with that. Or I was, until last night.”

“And what happened last night?” She prodded. He pushed himself up so that his head lay on the pillow next to hers.

“Well, you see-.”

“Fox, Fox come in!” His commlink beeped from across the room. Fox sighed and pressed his forehead against Riyo’s.

“I think you should answer that.” She said, closing her eyes and leaning back against him.

“Fox, this is urgent. I know you can hear me. If you don’t answer in the next ten seconds I’m sending someone in there, Fox.”

Fox sighed again, then untangled himself from the blankets as he rose, leaving her feeling cold in his absence. “What is it, Thire?”

“Got our bounty hunter to crack. Bounty was placed by Lor Hano, a Trade Federation officer. The same one we had flagged as a potential Separatist sympathizer. He has a home on Coruscant and it’s my understanding that he’s still in town. I’m sending you the address and a squad. I suggest the boys bring the senator back to the office so they can swap shifts. Stone can keep an eye on her in the meantime.”

“Copy that, Thire.” He turned off the comm and turned back to Riyo, who was watching him from under the blankets. “Riyo, I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” She smiled up at him. “But we’re finishing this conversation later.”

“Gladly.” He took a moment to push his hair back from his face before starting to assemble his armor over his body. She sat up as she watched him pull it on, putting the pieces together with ease and familiarity; his fingers barely touching the plastoid except to press the seams together. Her eyes followed the flex of his body under the blacks, she couldn’t believe that she had been pressed against that same body just moments ago. She felt a sadness rising in her chest as he prepared to leave her.

“Fox, don’t die for me.” She begged once he had finished the rapid assembly.

He checked over his armor fitting one last time before walking over to her bed and sitting down beside her. He took her face in his hands and pressed a dry kiss to her forehead. Drawing back, he took a moment to look over her body before returning his gaze to her eyes. “I won’t lie to you and tell you that I’ll be fine, but I want you to know that if I had the choice of who I will die for, I would choose you.”

She looked at him in astonishment as she realized that this is how it would always be for them, if there ever was a them. She’d have to watch him leave every day, not knowing if he would come back to her alive. But yet, she couldn’t ask him to not go. She wondered how he felt to leave her.

“Fox, I think that I lo-.” He placed a finger over his lips before she could finish.

“Don’t say that now, wait until I get back and you have a clear head.” She pushed his hand away, holding it tight in hers.

“I have a clear head now, Fox. I’ve had a clear head for the past four days.” He shook his head, the look in his eyes begging her to stop. She didn’t. “At the museum, in the Natural Formations room when you were talking about forests and fresh air and then you almost died but you’ve barely lived and I want you to experience life. I don’t know how to put that feeling into other words than ‘I love you’. I know that it’s selfish of me to say this now, and you don’t have to love me back, but I really, really want to fall in love with you, Fox.”

He closed his eyes as a shudder ran down his body. A look of pain ran across his features and Riyo suddenly felt horrible for the timing of her confession. Fox had been right, it was torture to say this now rather than later, when she had him in her arms, safe.

“This is Lieutenant Bravo, Commander Fox we’re ready for you.”

Fox looked down to the commlink on his glove, then back at Riyo’s face. He gently withdrew his hand from hers and ran it over her collarbones, smoothing back her unbrushed hair. “I think that I would like to fall in love with you as well, Riyo.”

Before she could react, he was sweeping out of her room and she heard the front door close behind him. She was alone.

---

Riyo felt hollow as she walked through the Senate halls with her escort. It was late morning and many of the senators were already sealed away inside their offices, making the building feel as empty as she did. Her escort left her at the Guard office doors, waiting to make sure that she entered before they retired to the barracks. Commander Stone met her in the main office space, looking far more awake than she did.

"Senator Chuchi.”

“Commander Stone. A pleasure to see you again.” She smiled at the commander then looked around the office. It was quiet at the moment, many of those in the room were sleeping at their desks. Stone didn’t seem to mind, and she assumed that they must’ve been up all night.

“The pleasure is all mine. I am glad to see you under these circumstances, and I know that we will all be relieved when you are no longer under threat. Come, I’ve taken over monitoring the comms from my office. Thire was summoned by the Chancellor.” He waved her over and she followed him into a small room not unlike Fox’s. She took a seat in the chair opposite Stone and turned her attention to the computer terminal that sat against the wall. The program running on the screen was displaying the name and vital signs of each man next to the soundwaves coming from each comm on the channel. She found Fox, or CC-1010, with ease.

“This is Bravo, kitchen is clear.”

“Fox, living spaces clear.”

A crash came through Scout’s comm and his rectangle lit up. “Target located: second level, first room left. Assistance required.”

“Coming, Scout. Hang in there.”

Riyo watched in mild fascination as the terminal lit up with sound of their footfalls as the other troopers ran to assist.

“This is Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, Lor Hano you are under arrest for treachery against the Republic and the sedition of violence against a Republic Senator.” There was a click of handcuffs and Riyo couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face. “Scout, search the bedroom. Kilo, the office. The rest of you, pick a room and report to me when finished.”

The six soundwaves all synched up into footsteps and some vital signs fell back to resting levels as the adrenaline rush faded. She watched Fox’s soundwave blinking twice with the sound of both his and Hano’s footfalls. Then all the lights blinked and vanished.

“Stone?” She turned to see Stone pulling up his own comm.

“Kilo? Kilo can you hear me? Bravo, are you there? Repeat, Bravo, are you there? Fox?”

“Commander Stone!” Jek ran in, looking like he’d just woken up. He probably had. “Commander, there’s been an explosion. Ten south two east. Fire suppression team is engaging.”

“Suspected cause?”

“Hotwired thermal detonators to destroy evidence, sir. It came from the home of a Trade Federation officer we’ve been watching.” Riyo decided that he’d definitely just woken up or had just arrived at the office. She hadn’t seen him in the initial scan of the room. Then she realized what he was saying and she reached up to cover her mouth, stifling the cry rising in her throat.

“I’m going on-site. Stay here with Senator Chuchi.” Stone grabbed his helmet and blew past them, slamming the door behind him. Jek moved to take the commander’s seat across from her. He took in her expression.

“Fox is there, isn’t he?”

She nodded.

Jek reached across the desk to set a hand on Riyo’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be alright, Senator. Unless he’s the one that triggered the blast, he’ll be okay. We’ve all been caught in these situations before. He’ll be pretty bruised up, but he’ll be okay.” He watched her expression for a minute before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “You love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I think so.” She hiccupped. Jek rose and walked over to her side. He stood behind her and began rubbing her back as she tried to steady her breathing to match his. Once she had settled down, Jek disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a pile of face tissue, which she gladly accepted. They sat in silence afterwards; across the desk from one another with Riyo squeezing Jek’s hand. If it hurt, he didn’t say anything.

“Senator?” The door to Stone’s office slide open to reveal Commander Thire, fully armored and helmeted.

“Is he-?” She fell silent as Thire raised his hand in a ‘stop’ motion.

“They’re all fine. Hano manually set off the detonators. None of our men were incapacitated. It appears that you are free to resume your routine without the protection of the Coruscant Guard.” She wished that he’d taken off his helmet so that she could read his expression. Maybe it was as blank as his voice.

“Thank you, Commander Thire, for all you and the Guard have done for me.” She rose and extended her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and gave her the most formal handshake she had ever had, and as a senator she was accustomed to them.

“It’s our duty, Senator Chuchi.”

“You didn’t come here to tell the Senator that she’s free to go, did you, sir?” Jek asked. He looked puzzled, and Riyo wondered if her gut feeling about the commander acting strangely formal was shared by Jek.

“The Chancellor requests your presence, Senator. I am to escort you to his office. Jek, go get some rest.” His voice softened when addressing his brother. Jek looked like he was about to argue, then thought better of it.

She followed Thire out of the office and into the halls of the Senate. It was still empty. She took advantage of the stillness to take a long look at the clone beside her without worry of bumping into another senator or representative. At first glance he seemed fine, but on closer inspection she noticed the slight shaking in his legs and how his fingers twitched.

“Commander, are you okay?” He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze forward. “Thire?” She prodded.

“Lor Hano is dead. He was standing under the detonator when it went off.” He didn’t turn to face her as he spoke.

“But you said that he’s the one that set it off, why wouldn’t he detonate it after he was out of the building?” She couldn’t read his body language; she could always read the clone’s body language.

“I don’t know. Fox is fine.”

“Wasn’t Commander Fox escorting Hano when the explosion went off?”

Thire’s head cocked slightly towards her. “Yes, I suppose he was thrown clear of the debris.” He spoke like he was trying to remember a dream. Riyo was close to tearing the helmet off his head when they arrived at the door to the Chancellor’s office. The two Red Guardsmen at the doors let them in, and she followed Thire to the room with the Chancellor’s desk.

“Senator Chuchi, it is a pleasure to see you.” The Chancellor swept over to greet her.

“Supreme Chancellor, the pleasure is all mine.” She took his outstretched hands and he gave them a reassuring squeeze as he escorted her to one of the lovely couches that circled his desk. She looked back to see Thire standing at attention in the doorway. When she turned back, she noticed the line of red and white standing at parade rest on her left. Each guardsman was covered in a layer of fine dust, some were stained with ash, but all of them stood completely still. She could’ve believed they were statues if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders. Fox was the furthest from her and her heart leapt at the sight.

“It is a pity that Lor Hano will not be brought to justice. However, I’m sure that a great burden has been lifted from your shoulders, Senator.” The Chancellor said as he seated himself opposite her.

“Actually, Your Excellency, the burden was lifted earlier this week by the presence of the Coruscant Guard. You should be very proud of their commitment to duty.”

“Oh, I am, Senator. I was just commending Commander Fox on his actions. I couldn’t ask for a more loyal commanding officer. He has never let me down.” Palpatine smiled fondly at the guardsmen, and Riyo felt a little more at ease. “If you will excuse me, Senator, I’m afraid that I must be going. It appears that I am needed elsewhere at this moment.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” She bowed her head as he rose and took his leave from the room, Thire following close behind.

“Relax. You’re dismissed.” Fox said, at least, it must’ve been Fox. She turned back to the line of clones to see them come back to life. A few terse nods were given to her as the five men left the room, leaving her with Commander Fox. He raised his head slightly in her direction, and she took that as the sign for her to make the next move.

“Commander, would you mind escorting me to my office?”

“Of course not, Senator.” He said, moving to her side. They didn’t speak again until they were out of sight from the Red Guards at the Chancellor’s door.

“Are you okay?” She asked once they were away from all ears.

“A bit bruised, potentially concussed. I think I was thrown clear of the worst of the blast.”

“You think?”

“I don’t remember. I was at the foot of the stairs then Stone was pulling me out of the rubble.” He looked down to see the worry on her face. “It’s just a concussion, Riyo. We clones recover from them much faster than humans thanks to the Kaminii. I did lose my blaster though. Must’ve been knocked right out of the holster.”

Having arrived at Riyo’s office, she ushered Fox in before her, making sure that the door locked behind them. By the time she turned around, Fox had taken off his helmet and lain it on her desk, where he at perched on the edge looking over her.

“We never finished our conversation earlier.” She said, moving across the room to him.

“What a pity I can’t remember that conversation, I must’ve taken a harder hit to the head than I initially thought.” He smirked at her worried look that quickly hardened into frustrated amusement.

“You were talking about being born to die, I believe.” She raised her hand to his face, freezing midair as she took in the tiny cuts around the top of his blacks from the debris.

“Oh, yes. I don’t think I want to die. But I can’t remember the reason.” He took her hand from the air and brought it into his lap, where he held between his gloved palms.

“Is your reason a woman, perhaps?” She ventured. Two could play this game.

“Come to think of it, yes. I think I may have accidentally caught feelings for her when she was giving me the full-body pat down. Not to mention ordering me around like a shiny.”

“Are you a shiny, Commander Fox?”

“In love, very much so.” He cringed slightly after the words left his mouth, eliciting an amused smile from her. He stood up and took her face in his hands, tracing over the green arcs with his thumbs. “May I?”

She nodded fervently, forgetting how to speak. She tilted her head back as he leaned down, closing her eyes when she felt his lips begin to brush against hers. The kiss was softer than she had thought to be possible. His fingers traced over her cheeks as he moved his lips against hers, the motions restrained and calm. Her arms wrapped around his hips and pulled his body to hers. It felt so good to hold him. He pulled away all too soon. She ran her tongue around the inside of her lips after they had parted, tasting the remains of smoke and shattered drywall from the explosion that he had left on her.

“Damn.” She whispered, locking her hands behind his hips, refusing to let him pull back all the way. “I’m going to need you to do that again.”

“I’m at your service, Senator Chuchi.” He said, leaning down and finding her lips again. She fought back the urge to pull him in harder as she relaxed against him, parting her lips and letting him push deeper into her, imagining the same gentle kisses in a very different scene.

“Titles will only take us to a dark place, Commander Fox.” She purred into his mouth as he pressed his forehead to hers to take a shuddering breath.

Fox didn’t respond. He pulled her back against the desk, seating himself on the wood and pulling her onto his lap after him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He bent down and began to press the same soft kisses against her neck. She let out a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him, running one hand through his hair. Still gentle, she was certain that he wouldn’t leave a mark. She considered asking him to bite her, or suck against the soft skin of her neck, but decided that was best saved for another occasion with another wardrobe. She couldn’t be walking around the Senate with bite marks and bruises on her neck. Someone would notice. One day, she’d dress in a high-collared shirt and let him mark her.

“I should be the one kissing you.” She sighed.

“No.” She could feel his lips move across her skin as he spoke. “You did enough last night. It’s my turn now.” He planted his lips in the crook of her neck and pulled her tighter against him. She let out a quiet moan, trying to consider where they were. She wondered how far they could get before it became too much or they were interrupted.

It turned out to be the latter, as she was startled a few seconds later by a hard knock on the door. She pressed against Fox’s shoulders, separating him from her skin.

“One moment, please.” She called.

“Senator Chuchi, your presence is requested in the Cantham House.” Said the person outside the door.

“Tell Senator Organa that I will be there shortly.” She called back. Once the footsteps had faded, she turned back to her companion. “Fox, I-.”

“Duty calls, Riyo.” He planted one quick kiss against her lips and helped her off the desk. “I understand. But we’re finishing this later.”

“My place? As soon as you can get away.” She begged.

“I’ll be there.” He promised.

---

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stone looked over the datapad he was holding to Fox’s bed, where he sat pulling on running shoes that he’d stolen long ago from undercover ops.

“I’m going out for a run.” Fox said, gesturing to the shoes.

“Are you sure that you’re not sneaking out to go back to your office?” Stone scoffed. “Thire, tell Fox he’s crazy.”

“Fox.” Fox paused to look across the room at Thire, who had been trying to sleep. "When you stand up, will you pass me the, uh, kriff, I can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, I can.” Fox tightened the shoe then walked over to the small sink the commanders shared. He filled up a nearby glass with water and grabbed the bottle on the shelf labeled ‘headache’ in bright red.

“Thank you, Fox.” Said Thire as he took the offered objects.

“I think you’re allergic to the Chancellor, Thire.” Stone teased. “You get a headache every time he calls on you.”

“The Chancellor is actually a telepathic Umbaran and he’s controlling you.” Fox shook his finger at Thire in mock agreement with Stone.

“The Chancellor is a wonderful man, you two are just old and calloused.” Thire groaned.

“He’s controlling everything, even now, he moves to destroy the Republic.” Fox shook his head at Thire as he walked backward towards the door.

“I will arrest you for treason, Fox. Go to work already.” Stone was close enough to give Fox a final shove out of the door.

There was nobody in the barracks halls to question Fox. Not that they would, he was their commanding officer and it was well known that he liked to masquerade as a civilian jogger. The light jacket he wore, also stolen from undercover ops, covered up the Republic symbol on his blacks. Of course they had a gym in the barracks, but Fox preferred the feeling of the city air on his face rather than the stale air of the track. In the past, he’d often ended his run at the Senate building, sleeping the rest of the night in his office. But now, this presented him with the perfect opportunity to meet Riyo.

She met him in the speeder lot of her apartment complex. He’d pulled the hood down as he approached and enjoyed watching the look on her face change from apprehension to joy as she ran to his arms. Her hair was down, and he ran his fingers through it as he held her to his chest.

“You scared me, Fox.” She laughed.

“Sorry, I thought this was more subtle.” He rested his head on the top of hers. Her hair smelled amazing, and he wished that he could’ve named the scent or even begun to describe it.

“Come.” She pulled back and grabbed his hand, leading him to her apartment. “How did you get away?” She asked as she turned to lock the door.

“The boys think I’m sleeping at the office.”

“Well then, let’s keep it that way.” She turned back to him and unzipped the running jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and hanging it on a waiting hook. He gasped a little as she placed her hands on his chest and she drew back quickly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just a bruise. You gotta go easy on me tonight.” He pulled her back in, minding the ache across his body. “It’ll be much easier once we get the blacks off and you can see them.”

She laughed, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from his face. “Is that really your best bedroom talk, Commander?”

“Probably.” He chuckled as he looked down at her. She was beautiful, and she was his. “I thought you said that titles would take us to a dark place?”

“Yes, but I plan on kissing every bruise on your body tonight.” She brought her hand down from his brow to rest it under his jaw, stroking his cheeks as he had stroked hers.

“Mm. That does sound nice.” He closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture, letting all of the day’s tension drain out of him. The apprehension of last night was gone, replaced by hard resolve. He had sworn an oath- a decision that he had had no control over- to the Republic, to protect the Republic, to die for the Republic. And he would keep that oath, loyal to his last breath. Because the Republic wasn’t the Chancellor or the Senate building, it was the people. Riyo was the Republic, and he would ruin himself a million times for her.

#foxiyo #commander fox #riyo chuchi #commander stone #commander thire #my fics #illicit affairs fic

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b0n-chann · 4 years

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My follow up to prompt 131! If you haven’t read that one yet I highly suggest you do, as this follows up directly after 131 ends. Pleaseeeee enjoy! Again, thank you @sentimental-ghost for requesting that prompt because it seriously gave birth to this mini series. 😘😘😘

To Love and Protect (part 2)

Part 1? Part 2? I’m still deciding but I guess it’s a follow up so we’ll call it part 2.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

“Miss, we will be landing in Nevarro shortly. Shall we look for the Razor Crest?” IG-11 asks you, not looking up from his position. Although he is a droid, you found his presence helpful and even comforting during your time on the ship.

“Yes. Head towards the outskirts of town, I’m sure they would have landed there.”

“Of course.”

In the next few minutes, the rocky terrain of the planet comes into view. IG pilots the small ship, slowing down to look for the Crest.

“There,” you point out, catching the gleam of the ship in the light. The droid turns slightly and you feel the ship begin it’s descent. Your heart skips a beat, wondering if Din was still there, but know that more than likely, he and the group were already in the city.

You exit the ship and are welcomed by the dry heat of the planet. The desert plains never suited you, the sand and wind always too rough on your skin but you reveled in the heat. Everything had felt too cold since Din left, and feeling something, anything, was a welcome change. The droid follows closely behind you.

“It appears that the ship is empty,” the droid speculates, unable to detect any life forces within the confines of the vessel. “However, I do believe my master did not make it.” You look at him in alarm, and follow his gaze out to the desert. You notice a form on the ground; at quick glance you would have thought it was a pile of rubble but as you squint harder, you realize that it was indeed Kuiil. You run over quickly and drop to the ground next to him.

“Kuiil!” You gasp as you turn the ugnaught over and shake him. No response. “Kuiil!” Still nothing.

“Miss, I do not detect a heartbeat coming from him. I do believe he has passed.” A quiet voice comes from the droid. You know that he’s a droid but his voice is reserved, sad almost.

You did not know the ugnaught well but he seemed trustworthy, and Din must have thought highly enough of him to ask him to join him. Another pang hits your heart as you think this, as you remember his last words to you. You sigh and give Kuill’s hand one last squeeze.

“Let’s get him back onto the ship for now,” you tell IG-11 as you stand up. The droid quickly picks him up as you make your way to the Razor Crest. He places Kuiil in the storage area and you take one last look at the ugnaught, noticing a comms bracelet on him. You take it from him as you try to analyze the situation.

“Do you think he had the child with him?” You ask the droid. What other reason would Kuiil have to return back to the ship without anyone else? Your heart drops, realizing that if that is the case, the Empire would have the kid.

“It is a possibility. I believe we should look for the child to ensure his safety. I am a nursedroid, and am designed to protect.”

You stifle a laugh at his statement. You get up and peruse the weapons case before settling on a few blasters.

“Of course,” you say as you toss one to the droid.

———————

You and IG-11 head towards the city, deciding that if the child was indeed taken, that would be the best place to look. The sun beat down on you as you both tread through the desert sea and you are grateful that you had taken off your extra layers back at the ship. IG-11 signals for you to stop.

“I sense three life forces directly ahead of us, Miss.”

“I can sense the child is close. Maybe he’s one of them?” You contemplate, not realizing what you had just said.

“How do you know the child is there?”

Oh, kriff.

“I...don’t really know, but I’ve always been able to sense when he’s close by.” You shrug, telling the droid just enough. The only person that knows about your connection to the child is Din. “Are you able to tell if he’s there?” You ask to try and distract IG.

“I have been programmed to recognize each of your signatures, the shock trooper included.” Kuiil thought of everything. “I will approach the group first. In the event that they are hostile, I will dispose of them quickly. Please stand by for back up.” IG-11 leaves little room for you to argue. Just as you are about to start, he interrupts you. “Miss, please, I am required to not only keep the baby safe, but you as well. This is the best option. Please, stay behind me.” If he was concerned about your ability, he did not make it known.

You can only sigh in response. “Okay, let’s go then.”

Two storm troopers come into view as you and IG-11 walk over the last dune. You sigh in relief as you see the child with them but instantly your blood boils as you watch one of the storm troopers hits him. IG-11 steps forward and makes your presence known to them.

“Stop that.” The storm troopers quickly draw their blasters on the both of you.

“Identify yourselves!”

“I am IG-11. I am this child’s nurse and this is his mother. I require that you remand him to us immediately.”

One of the troopers laughs. “A nurse droid? I thought it was a hunter. Aren’t IGs usually hunters?

“Yeah, well, evidently this one’s a nurse. And you sure she’s his mother? They don’t look alike at all.” You roll your eyes to yourself. These two were exceptionally chatty. You just hoped they were as lousy a shot as storm troopers are rumored to be.

“I’m sorry, nurse, but you’re gonna have to get out of here.” The first storm trooper shoots at IG as the droid walks closer but misses horribly.

“Are you denying my request?” IG asks.

“No,” the first storm trooper says. “I’m telling you to get out of here.” He walks up to IG, his blaster still aiming at him. IG makes quick work of this, however, and grabs the storm troopers arm and twists it in the other direction before flipping him over, effectively knocking him out. You cringe, hearing the bones in the storm trooper’s arm crack.

“Hey!” You hear the other one cry. Before you can even lift your blaster up, IG grabs him by then helmet and slams him into the ground. Twice. You remind yourself never to piss off the droid. You quickly make your way over to the speeder with the child and open up the bag. He blinks up at you and recognition fills his eyes as he coos excitedly at you, his little arms raised, begging to be picked up.

You are eager to oblige him. “Hi there, little one,” you say as you pick him up. You touch his ear affectionately in greeting. He coos at you and you laugh as he pats his hands on your face in greeting. He keeps his hands in place and a vision forms in your head; he and Kuiil are riding on a blurrg with the Razor Crest in the distance. You can hear Din’s concerned voice calling out to Kuiil multiple times. You see this playing out in the position of the child and before you can reach the ship it feels like you’re falling and everything fades to black and brought back to the present.

“Are you alright, Miss?” You hear IG ask but his voice seems so far away. You shake your head as if to clear your vision and you see the child looking up at you expectantly. Was that the child showing you what happened? You know that you both have a connection, but this is the first time you have experienced anything like this.

“I’m...I’m okay,” you reply. You try not to think about what just happened but realize that if Kuiil and the child were riding back to the ship that something must have happened to Din and Cara. You look over to see IG inspecting the speeders.

“Are you comfortable riding this on your own?”

“I can manage.”

“Very good, Miss.” The droid walks over to you and takes the child from you, strapping him to his front. “I will protect the child for now, I am unsure of how many hostiles we will encounter if we make our way into town.” You nod in agreement; it’s a smart decision and his metal body would offer more protection than you could.

You walk over to the speeder and inspect it, everything appearing to be intact. You haven’t driven one since before you met Din and the idea of being on one again excites you. You get on and turn on the engine, the speeder revving to life. IG follows suit and you both take off towards Nevarro City.

As you travel through the desert you hear the comms bracket crackle to life.

“Kuiil! Do you copy.” Din’s frantic voice comes over. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Kuiil!”

You speed up next to IG, the child babbling excitedly in front of him. You can hear him through your own communicator and you realize the child must have one too.

“Kuiil has been terminated.”

“What did you do?” You hear Din’s voice, scathing. Before IG can respond you answer.

“Coming to save your sorry asses.”

“...You came.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“What are you doing here?” Din asks, effectively ignoring your question. This time it’s IG who answers.

“Performing my base function. To nurse and protect.” With that you and the droid speed up your pace.

————————

Din’s heart pounded in his chest as he hears your voice. You were supposed to be far away from here. You were supposed to be safe.

“Guess your little plan backfired,” Cara says from the front of the cantina as she looks out to the army outside.

“Don’t get me started.”

“I’m just saying, did you really think she’d take that lying down? Do you even know her? Hell, I knew she’d come back here to kick your ass and I can’t wait to see her do it.” She really couldn’t. When Din walked into the Crest without you and told her that they were leaving, Cara had been dumbfounded. It took Cara most of the way to Nevarro to get him to tell her what happened, and when he did, she punched him. Hard. She tells herself that she did it for you to justify it.

“Look, can we figure out what we’re gonna do to get out of here?” Karga says from the bar as he downs a drink and then another in rapid succession. Just as Din begins to say something they watch as all the troopers turn their heads towards the edge of town. And that’s when they hear it. Blaster shots.

IG arrives in the square first, blasters blazing as he jumps off his speeder and uses it to crash into several troopers at the side of the cantina. He continues his assault as you follow shortly behind, providing cover. As you speed by the droid, he grabs you off of the bike by the leg and arm, surprising you as you are turned sideways, parallel to the ground, and watch your own speeder crash into another squad of storm troopers. However, your surprise is short lived as you continue to shoot down more enemies as IG turns you in the air before placing you down behind him.

“Nice moves, IG!” You say between blasts, trying to run for cover. The line of troopers was never ending.

“It helps that you are very compact, Miss.” More troopers go down. IG turns his upper body towards you to protect the child. If it wasn’t such a dire moment you would have laughed; the look on his little green face is of pure delight. The droid begins to move, forcing you backwards and towards a few stacked crates you can use for cover.

“Was that a joke?!”

———————

The three in the cantina watch as you and IG continue your assault at the Empire.

“I’m telling you Mando, if you’re really set on leaving her tell me now because I love her,” Cara says as she watches the droid spins you around as you shoot down troopers. Din doesn’t respond, he eyes still transfixed on you. All he can think of is getting to you.

“Cover me!” He says as he runs towards the cantina entrance. The door opens and he shoots a trooper before kicking another to the ground but all he can see is you. He tries to make his way closer but is caught off guard by two shadow stormtroopers. While he tries to disarm one, another rushes him from his other side and throws him to the ground. Din recovers quickly but before he can counter, a blaster shot disposes of the trooper quickly. Din looks up to see you, your arm extended.

He reaches for you and you pull him up. “You’re here, Beautiful.” His nickname for you slips from his lips. He watches as your expression goes from shock to pure rage as you punch a storm trooper and throw him into another two.

“You. Do. Not. Get. To. Call. Me. That.” You say as you shoot another trooper behind him. Din looks at you in amazement. You are beautiful and terrifying and he’s has never wanted to kiss you more even if he knows he’s risking a shot to the beskar. You both hear IG fall to the ground and notice that backup troopers are arriving. Din looks over your shoulder and walks past you, his gloved hand giving yours a squeeze. You realize he’s going for the E-web and cover him while he lifts it off its base. He swings it around and takes down trooper after trooper as you watch in awe at his strength. You always thought that he was capable but watching him now, he looked invincible.

A loud blast near the cantina catches your attention as they blow up the door and you grab another blaster off the ground and run off before Din has a chance to stop you. You slowly edge your way through the cantina door, guessing that Cara is in there providing cover fire. The storm troopers have their backs to you looking through the large room and you use this to your advantage. You shoot two in quick succession before ducking behind a table to take cover. You take a deep breath, listening for a pause in blaster shots before popping up quickly to take out two more. You move your aim over to the last trooper who has his own blaster aimed at you and before you can shoot, the shadow trooper crumples to the ground, Cara standing behind him with her own blaster trained on him.

“Gods, am I glad to see you,” she rushes over to you and clasps your shoulder. You return the gesture in greeting. You both quickly make your way back to the windows of the cantina to provide more cover just in time to watch Din attempt to swing the E-web around towards Moff Gideon. But he’s not quick enough. You look on in horror as the Moff shoots the case of artillery next to Din, causing a large explosion, sending the Mandalorian flying back off his feet. The blood drains from your face when you realize he isn’t getting up and you try to rush out to him but Cara stops you.

“Wait! Let me go get him.”

“Cara, please! I need to, please,” you say, barely forming a coherent sentence.

She looks at your, her gaze softening just slightly. “Do you think you can haul the tin can back in here?” You know you probably couldn’t without using that which you realize you shouldn’t because of the Empire. They were already after the kid, and if they realized you had similar abilities, it would be impossible to hide. “I’m not saying he’s a goner but you need to stay in here and stay safe for the kid and for him. Cover for me, I’ll bring him to you, okay?” You nod as she runs outside. You take down enemy after enemy as you watch Cara lift Din by his shoulder plates and begins to drag him back towards the Cantina. Rage fills you as you continue to shoot down trooper after trooper; and you enjoy the feeling of hatred and power as it consumes you.

“Hey!” Cara yells, placing a hand on the top of your blaster. You stop and whip your head in her direction; eyed wide and chest heaving with adrenaline. She holds her hands up in front of her as a sign of peace. “There you are,” she says in a quieter voice. You look around seeing IG with the child tucked safely in his pack, and the man you saw on the holocom, Greef Karga. Your eyes finally land on Din and you rush to him, collapsing before him.

“Din...” you say softly. You place your hands in his and squeeze. A sigh of relief escapes you when you feel a soft squeeze back.

“Hi, Beautiful,” he wheezes. You wince at how labored his breathing is. “Sorry, I know you told me not to call you that, but old habits die hard.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” you say, trying to reassure yourself more than him. You can barely focus on anything else besides the man in front of you. You barely register that IG is attempting to remove the grating from the wall.

Din presses a glove hand against your cheek and the familiar smell of leather and blaster residue brings you a small comfort. You feel his thumb stroke your cheekbone slightly.

“I’m not going to make it.”

“Don’t say that, you’re fine. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He gently takes your other hand and places it at the base of his head. You feel something warm and sticky, and your hand shakes as you bring it back to inspect. Blood.

“I can fix you right up but...but I have to...” you begin to say, your hands slowly inching towards his helmet. He stops your advance with his own.

“You know I can’t.”

“But, Din...”

“This is the way.”

You bite back your tears. You want to rip his helmet off of him and tell him he’s stupid. You want to scream and ask him if the creed is more important to him than you and the child. More than anything you want to fall into his arms and tell him you love him.

“You have to know, I lied about everything before I left.” His hand finds your face again and you lean into him once more. “I never wanted to leave you. You...you’re everything to me.” You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel him wipe your tears away. “Beautiful, you had to have known.” You shake your head in disbelief. You feel a pull at the back of your shirt and see the child behind you. As you turn he scrambles up into your lap, looking up between you and the Mandalorian.

“No,” you say. “You’re not allowed to do that. You’re not allowed to say things like that when you won’t let me save you.” You’re body is shaking at this point as you hold onto the child tighter. A blast of fire interrupts you as the cantina door bursts open. A flame trooper steps in through the flames and another pass of fire comes through, the force of its heat throwing you and the child against the Mandalorian. For the briefest moment fear strikes your heart but an immediate calm washes over you and once again you find yourself in a trancelike state. It feels almost like a dream as you watch your hand and the child’s hand raise up in sync as you see the flames comes so close to you before time seems to stop. You exhale and everything comes crashing back as a huge wave of energy is pushed away from you and the child. The fire is forced the other direction, sending the trooper and flames flying out of the cantina. You blink a few times and look down at the child who is looking back at you.

“What in the world was that??” Karga asks but the droid is quick to silence him. Even Cara looks alarmed but keeps quiet as she watches the three of you.

“You had to know...that was why I didn’t want you to be here.” Din says with some effort. “I needed to keep you safe. And I knew you wouldn’t let me go without you.”

“I’m so mad at you still,” you say lamely.

“I know, Beautiful, but let this be my apology.” Din yanks a chain off his neck and presses it into your hand. “Bring this to the covert. Tell them it’s from me. Tell them you and the kid are my family and they’ll protect you.”

Family.

Your heart throbs when he says it. “I can’t leave you.”

“You have to. I’ll hold them off long enough for you to escape. Please, let me do this.”

“Din...”

He places his hand behind your head and brings your forehead down to touch his helmet.

“I love you.”

Said at the same time and you can almost laugh at the irony. Here is a man you thought incapable of loving and being loved, yet so thoughtful and fierce in his loyalty. He wouldn’t let you stay, this was his final act of love for you and for the child.

“Miss, I will stay with the Mandalorian. Escape and protect the child. You are his mother,” IG says as he kicks the grate open. He comes to you with the empty sack, placing the child in it before returning him to you. “Many hostiles are making their way to us, our time is limited.”

You look to Din once more and he nods. You touch your forehead to his helmet one more time before taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. The child coos, his hands reaching out for him.

“Sorry, baby,” he says as he touches the child’s ear. “Can’t go along with you this time.” He shifts his gaze to you and watches as your tears fall.

“Hey.”

“I know,” you say with a watery smile, “good bounty hunters aren’t supposed to cry.” You squeeze his hand once more as you get up and look to the droid.

“Promise me you’ll bring him, IG.”

“You have my word, miss.”

With a quick nod of your head you bring the child up closer to you as you enter the darkness of the sewers. You feel your chest ache with each step further you take away from the Mandalorian, your heart left bleeding next to him.

————————

Okay. OKAY. I SWEAR THIS WILL CONTINUE AND PART THREE SHOULD BE THE LAST. I’M SO SORRY I KEEP DOING THIS. But I love you guys soooo much!!

Tag list:

@momc95 @electricprincess888 @maia-hocane @lamnothome @highonsoundwaves @tedpicklez @renreypoe @mabelleen @cryptkeepersoul @holamor @mando-vibes @lustriix @katialvi @spookyold-saintjm

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innittowinit · 4 years

Text

Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature? (chapt. 3)

Chapter summary:

Eret comfort's Tubbo and cleans him up

(psst it's a tad shorter than usual)

Word count (including other chapters):

5052

Language:

English

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Tubbo hissed as alcohol was dabbed onto his forehead, eret cleaning out his various wounds as they both sat on Tommy's old bed. If he was having it his way, he would have just had a golden apple, maybe a health potion, to stop the pain but Eret insisted on cleaning out the cuts first. Apparently they could still get infected if there was bacteria in them when they were force-healed, the only reason for him being given a potion straight away during the duel, being that there wasn’t enough time to clean them out.

“It hurts” The boy whimpered, voice mellow as Eret held him firmly but gently. He felt safe. Even though Tommy and Wilbur had never forgiven the royal, Tubbo had. He wasn’t sure if he should have but he had. He didn’t have much of a choice when he felt so alone and Eret was the only one offering comfort.

“I know…” Eret had sighed, pouring some more disinfectant on the cotton pad “Can you tell me what actually happened? There’s no way you would have locked yourself in somewhere, you’re smarter than that”

As the older dug through his ender chest for something to help with the pain, he prompted Tubbo to speak, glancing up every now and then to let him know he was still paying attention.

“Schlatt didn’t like that I lost the duel”

Voice shaky and weak, he muttered the dreadful truth, watching as Eret’s confusion turned to sympathy, his suspicions being confirmed as correct. Swallowing hard, he gave a hesitant nod, trying to confirm it even more. Eret hadn’t spoken yet so he guessed he was in shock, or very mad. It didn’t seem like a big shock that Schlatt would become violent when he doesn’t get his way.

Opening his mouth to elaborate only brought more pain. The breath he took to prepare himself for speaking, shifting his broken rib and making him feel lightheaded with the amount of pain running through his body. He wished Eret would hurry up and find his healing, how much could he possibly have in his enderchest.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore” He confessed, and if he was holding back tears, that would definitely be because of the pain and not because he missed his best friend. “Eret I want to join Pogtopia, I can’t stand this. Sure i got bossed around a bit when Wilbur was the president but Wil wouldn’t have done this. I want things to be how they used to be”

Pushing his sunglasses up to cover his eyes better, Eret nodded, pulling a Notch apple out of his ender chest and handing it to Tubbo to eat. “I know Tubster, I know” Lips pierced together, he pushed some of Tubbo’s hair backwards, keeping it out of the way for his rapidly healing wounds. “You deserve so much better than this. If you want to be with Tommy I’ll take you but you need to stay here for tonight okay? Your bodies using so much energy right now, i can’t have you running about in a cave until you're fit again”

Tubbo nodded, that was reasonable. He trusted Eret would keep him safe if he stayed here for tonight, he trusted that Eret wouldn’t tell Schlatt that he was planning on running away. The rapid healing from golden apples always felt a bit strange but this was the first time he had to feel his bone being moved back into place and mended. It hurt like hell but he knew it would hurt more had he not done anything about it.

“Tubbo you’re a good kid” Since he was less fragile and Eret could touch him without worrying about touching anything painful now, he pulled the smaller boy into a hug. “I know you don’t like being called a kid but i promise i’m not trying to be condescending like Schlatt. Tubs, you’re 16. When i was 16 I think my biggest worry was my grades; you’re way too young to be going through all of this and yet you take it like a trooper. Tubbo, i care about you a whole bunch, just know that if anything is ever getting too much for you I’ll do anything in my power to fix it.”

Tubbo felt his breath get caught in his throat. A small smile breaking out from his hot cheeks as he pressed his head into Eret’s shoulder. Beneath all the war and conflict, he really did crave love and affection like anyone else did. Tommy being cast out from Manburg had really broken his spirits but at least he wasn’t alone. At least he didn’t need to feel alone.

“Thank you Eret” His voice was gentle, muffled against his friend’s shirt, and yet it was still clear. It was still obvious just how much emotion had backed those three words.

“It’s all good Tubs. Not a day goes by when I don’t regret betraying L’manburg. Hurting you was the worst thing I've ever done”

“Eret, Honestly it's fi-”

“No, no. It’s not fine. Tubbo, I hurt you. I still lay awake at night remembering those words you said to me. You said ‘Eret how could you?’ and i always find myself asking the same thing.” Chest rising and falling, moving Tubbos head slightly since it was laid against it, Eret sighed gently, running a hand through the other’s hair, reminding himself just how lucky he was that Tubbo was so forgiving. “Tubster, I see you as a brother. I understand how Wilbur is feeling right now because I’ve felt that way about you so many times, I don't know if you see me the same way. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I’ve not exactly acted very brotherly. But i do love you and i want you to be safe”

“Eret..” The hug was somehow still comforting, despite the fact that it had been going on so long, and so instead of pulling away, when Tubbo decided he needed to speak more than a few words, he simply titled his head up and rested his chin against Eret’s chest, rather than his full head.

“I’ve never had a big brother. I don’t really know what it’s supposed to be like but i do know that i trust you. I care about you and I like that you care about me too. Eret do you promise that no matter what Schlatt offers you that you won't join him? Because I know you’re a good person but you're also pretty easily persuaded”

Eret just laughed, his deep voice echoing in the cave-like room “I promise. You should try to get some sleep soon though. You’ve had so much happen today and you’ll need your energy if you want me to take you to Pogtopia tomorrow” he smiled, getting up from the bed and starting to walk towards the bed.

“Stop!” Eret had stopped in his tracks “Will you stay? I know they’re not allowed to hurt me in Dream smp land but what if they come? What if they take me back to Manburg? Eret please..”

Taking off his sunglasses and laying them on the floor next to the bed, just in case he dozed off, he sat on the end of the bed, watching Tubbo get comfortable beneath the sheets.

“Can I tell you a story Tubs?”

“I’m not a little kid”

“I know! But wouldn’t it be nicer than thinking about today?”

That seemed to be enough convincing for Tubbo as he nodded, eyes slowly closing as he listened to Eret make up a story on the spot about a prince and a dragon and a big kingdom that the Prince saved.

Eret was absolutely right, he hadn’t had a single nightmare that night, all he had dreamt of was a nice fantasy world where he lived happily with all of his friends. No war. No conflict. Tomorrow was the festival of Manburg, he’d give his speech and then he could sneak out with Eret by his side. He would have his own happy ending soon.

#mcyt #fanfiction #writing #hurt/ comfort #tubbo #eret #dream smp #fanfic

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animetrashlord-007 · 4 years

Text

M.I;; Chapter Seven

Word Count;; 4.3k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them boys eat cake.

Published;; 08.14.18

Notes;;

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and the cafeteria was bustling. Students congregated in small groups and the noise level continued to rise as people poured into the large, open space. Most teachers chose this time slot for their meal break so the majority of students followed suit. Since it was one of the few times everyone in the group had available most days, they often joined in on the lunch rush madness.

Kuroo and Oikawa were bickering over something inconsequential, as per usual. Ushijima stared between the two, taking small bites of his hayashi rice. He had planned to wait for them, since that was the polite thing to do, but it became obvious pretty early on that his food would go cold before they settled down enough to eat.

“I was being a bro and this is how you repay me.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“I did a quick tidy up in my room and freshened up the place before you arrived and gave you time and space. The ultimate bro move.”

“You call that a tidy up?! Your side of the dorm was a pigsty! How can you say it was for me? If you weren’t being a pervert, I wouldn’t have had to go to your bed in the first place!”

“Well, I’m a little too busy to make the bed everyday, you know.”

Ushijima nodded at the approaching figure, clearing off the garbage from the table and brushing off the empty seat beside him. Oikawa and Kuroo continued their conversation, their tones rising to match the volume of the rest of the student body. Ushijima held back a sigh. Weariness doubled the effort and drained the limited energy he had. He took another bite of his rice.

“What, too busy screwing Suga?”

“Ah, but Oikawa-san, you misunderstood the situation.” Kuroo, who was just about to respond as well, slammed his mouth shut and turned to face their approaching friend. Suga’s warm smile was contagious and soon the entire group perked up. Ushijima pat the seat next to him, a silent plea to the setter to sit between him and the others. “We weren’t having sex.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo piped in. “You could have come in.”

“As if!”

“It was just some light BDSM. What’s a few spanks between friends?”

Suga laughed, though his smile no longer reached his eyes. “Kuroo is just a really good friend. He’s straight, after all.”

“Exactly. See, he gets it. It was just some fun between friends.” Slapping his knee, Kuroo cooed at Suga and called out to him as one would a pet, drawing out his words and blowing small kisses at the end of his sentences, “Now come here, sweetie pie. We missed you.”

With his wide smile and twinkling, sweet eyes, Suga slapped Kuroo upside the head before sitting next to Ushijima.

“Ouch! You’re gonna leave me by myself? Sugar buns? My lollipop? Baby cakes?”

“You’re not by yourself, Kuroo-san. Oikawa-san is right next to you.”

Kuroo chuckled, swivelling around to face his usual target, mischief brewing in his eyes. Following Oikawa’s groan and pointed glare at Suga (who threw up a peace sign in response and started eating), the two delved back into their usual bullshit.

“Cheer up, plum pudding. I’ll let you sit on my lap if you’d like.”

“Stop calling people weird names!”

“Honey bear, do you need a hug?”

“Get lost, Kuroo-chan!” The two began to wrestle, Oikawa throwing off Kuroo’s arm while Kuroo inched closer and closer to the setter. It wasn’t until Suga was taking a sip of his drink and the table slammed against him, spilling the drink onto his shirt, that the two stopped. The fearsome aura Suga exuded was enough to stop even the heartiest person dead in their tracks. With a smug laugh, Oikawa continued, “No one wants you around, not even Mr. Refreshing, sweetum.”

“I can’t believe you’re angry at me just because you wasted your chance to fuck Ushijima.”

There was absolute silence at the table for seven seconds, just enough time for the words to be processed. Once everyone was back on the same page and Kuroo’s implication was explicitly understood, the floodgates of Hell were about to shatter.

Ushijima choked on some grains of rice, coughing and spluttering as he reached for his water bottle, a tinge of red on his cheeks that matched his watering eyes. Suga, who had been in the middle of pointless small talk with the ace, let his jaw hit the ground while snapping around to face the others, shock written plain as day across his features.

“Not again,” Ushijima managed to gasp out between gulps.

“Again…?”

“Are you telling me again that I need to bone Bakatoshi?” The air chilled around the group as a murderous atmosphere surrounded Oikawa, his eyes darkening and all traces of his cheerful facade erased.

“Again?!” Suga squeaked, looking between each of the boys while slapping Ushijima’s back.

“Yeah, because you need a good dicking, you little bit-”

“Kuroo-chan,” - a shiver ran down Suga’s spine at the whispered words, the air around them further darkening - “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Ushijima knew he wouldn’t get around the table fast enough to stop them before they embarrassed themselves in front of a large majority of the school. He also knew that his energy was too low to keep them both in check right now, especially after the effort it took just last night when he felt somewhat less crappy than he did right now. What he fully understood, though, was that he had to do his best to stop them anyway. That’s what friends do, after all.

And it was in this moment that Ushijima knew there was a heaven as four angels descended upon the group, their bright eyes dancing in anticipation as they bounced and skipped and beamed at the boys. Soft, gentle smiles greeted them and their voices were melodic and calm. Giggles erupted between them as shy glances were exchanged.

“We’re sorry to disturb you!” One of the girls started, twirling her black hair between her fingers, oblivious to the scene that had been playing out only seconds prior.

“We saw you from across the way and, well…” the brunette on the right chimed in, trailing off when she made eye contact with Oikawa who was already back in character, his face brightening as he watched them each in turn.

“I made extra treats today and thought…” the second brunette added but also fell victim to his heartstopping smile and gorgeous chocolate eyes.

“Oikawa-san, you like milk bread, right?” It was the black-haired girl again. She was more confident in herself, voice nor gaze wavering as she spoke. “Ushijima-san, Kuroo-san, there’s plenty for you as well. Cookies and cupcakes, too, if milk bread isn’t your thing.”

“And some for you too, cutie,” the tallest girl in the group, the leader if her strong tone and protective stance in front of the others was anything to go by, winked at Suga as she placed the bag of goodies on the table. She had short, wavy blue hair with dark roots peeking out at the top, a few black strands braided from her fringe and pinned to the back. She was spunky and cute, the type of woman that would never put up with Oikawa’s bullshit, and was obviously doing this for her friends.

“Thank you so much! You’re all so sweet and beautiful!” Oikawa grinned, jumping from his seat to stand next to them. He towered over the girls, even the leader, which in turn caused the two shy brunettes to back away and hide further behind their friends. Honing in on this, Oikawa smiled at them and asked their names, opening the gate for mindless chatter and casual flirtations.

Kuroo pretended to gag as he listened to Oikawa and his honeyed, fake words before joining the new group, wrapping an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder and nodding along with him. There were a few others around the room (mainly women) that allowed their curious eyes to land and linger on the group, gaping at how smooth the two men came across. Charisma oozed off their tongues, lulling their admirers further into a trance.

“So… again, huh?” Suga murmured, his volume low enough to avoid being overheard.

“Yes. That’s part of the reason they started fighting last night. Kuroo is having too much fun riling Oikawa up and Oikawa is stressed over something. He’s letting his guard down and letting it get to him. The idea that he wants to sleep with me is absurd, but Oikawa isn’t himself lately and is allowing the idea to fester and irritate him.”

“Or maybe he wants hot, angry, hate sex.”

Once again caught in a coughing fit, Ushijima smacked his fist against his chest, a blush reddening his ears. Suga laughed, the sound loud and joyous, gaining a curious look from the girls. He waved them off and as soon as their attention was focused elsewhere, Suga nudged and prodded the ace, raising his eyebrows in a rapid, suggestive notion.

“Not you, too, Sugawara-san. That’s exactly what Kuroo said…” Ushijima sighed and let his head fall against the table.

“You sure are taking it in stride.”

"It’s all speculation created for the sole purpose of upsetting Oikawa. It’s baseless.”

“Hmm, true. I guess the real question is, would you do it if it were true?” Ushijima didn’t respond. He didn’t want to provide any more ammunition but that didn’t stop Suga from taking it how he wanted. “You’re a super trooper, Ushijima-san! A real man! No wonder he wants to sleep with you!”

“Who wants to sleep with that idiot?” Oikawa hissed as he slithered into his seat, his eyes sharp like knives as he glowered at Suga.

“You,” Suga sneered, pointing his finger at the brunet.

“I know where you sleep, Suga-chan!” Oikawa laughed, taking a bite of the milk bread left behind by the girls who had since disappeared.

Slapping Oikawa’s back, Kuroo fell into the seat beside him. He slung his arm around his shoulder once more and tugged the setter to his chest. “Listen, Oikawa, I think we should be each other’s wingmen. You’re hot. I’m hotter. We’re loveable, at least until they get to know you better. We’re perfect for each other.”

“Honestly, I hate to admit it, but you’re not wrong about us making a good team. Very wrong about who’s hotter. The other stuff, though? I’ll give it to you. And yet here I am” - grabbing Kuroo’s wrist and bending it backwards, Oikawa waited until the blocker cried out in pain before flinging his arm away - “preferring to die rather than spend unnecessary time with you.”

“Geez, when did you become so violent? Stop spending so much time with Suga!”

“Get lost.”

“Yeah, get lost, sweetie,” Suga snapped.

“Fine, fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted. You’ll miss me soon enough, anyway. Bye-bye Ushijima, see you back at the dorms.”

With a wave, he departed, stopping to chat with a few members of the volleyball team on the way out of the cafeteria. Now that the aggravator had left, both Suga and Oikawa calmed down, placid smiles resting on their faces as they chatted. Their lunch break was coming to an end and Ushijima was considering taking a nap instead of attending their study session when he felt someone tug at his shirt. Blinking twice, he tried to refocus and clear his bleary eyes, yawning in the process.

“Ushijima-san, are you okay?”

“I think…” Oikawa started, squinting as he observed the ace. “I think he got brain damage from that shelf.”

“Don’t joke like that!”

“I’m okay, thank you for your concern.”

“So boring! Why couldn’t it have rewritten his personality and made him fun!”

“That’s what we say about you, Oikawa-san!”

“‘We’ as in you and your lover?”

“How many times do I have to tell you it isn’t like that!”

“He called you Koushi. That seems a bit intimate, especially given the circumstance. Wouldn’t you agree, Bakatoshi?”

“Perhaps. But you call me-”

“See? We all agree. You’ve hit rock bottom, Suga.”

“For the last time - we’re not dating!”

“That’s worse, Suga-chan. It truly is an act of desperation. A cry for help, even. Do you need someone to talk to? Because Ushijima is right here and he’s a great listener. It’s one of his only strong points. Just don’t expect a meaningful reply.”

“You’re such a dick, Oikawa-san! Be more considerate of his feelings!”

“It’s fine, Sugawara-san. I’m used to it,” Ushijima shrugged, indifference and exhaustion etched into every fiber of his being.

“You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you? Everything you do makes me think you’re on a downward spiral.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Suga muttered under his breath, his hands covering his face as he tried to regulate his breathing and let the other setter’s words roll off his back.

“Idiot 1, comfort Idiot 2 while I go find Kuroo.” Oikawa nodded to himself as he stood. He pointed a long finger at Ushijima and tutted. “Do us all a favour and just listen to him, don’t try to speak. You’re shit at it.”

“I can’t decide who I want to kill more. Ushijima-san, let’s change schools.” Suga looked up at the ace once they were alone. When he saw Ushijima’s lip twitch and a small chuckle echo from within his chest, Suga continued, “Or at the very least, let’s ditch those two and become roommates instead.”

“I’m worried they might do something illegal if left unsupervised.”

“Ha! That’s a good point.”

They finished their food in comfortable silence. Once they cleaned off the table and divided the baked goods into fourths, they left the cafeteria and walked toward their usual study spot: the library. The librarian seemed pleased at the lack of the rowdier two members of the group, offering additional, friendlier help. It was a nice change. The peace and quiet was more than welcome but the group felt lacking at the same time.

Settling down in their preferred seats and pulling out their respective textbooks, both of the boys read and studied in silence. Ushijima didn’t need any help with the current curriculum and Suga was working several weeks ahead. It was a relaxed session, with the two chatting on occasion and sharing their cookies and drinks. After a few hours passed, Ushijima closed his books and packed up his supplies. A headache was starting to fog his already exhausted mind.

“Are we done?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Ushijima-san.”

“Sugawara-san… I apologise for earlier. I should have been quicker to respond to you and given you a proper explanation.”

“Huh?”

“You were obviously concerned and when Kuroo-san and Oikawa-san didn’t answer, I should have taken it upon myself to answer instead. We were all tired but that’s no excuse. I hope you can forgive us all.”

Suga scratched his head, a nervous bead of sweat rolling down his temple while he watched Ushijima bow in apology, the whole situation becoming too formal and stuffy. “It’s fine, honestly. I hope you can forgive my outburst as well.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t apologise for those jerks, though. They don’t deserve you as a friend-”

“Well, well, well. Look at you studious nerds,” Kuroo chuckled, walking behind Suga and placing his arms around his neck, resting his chin on the setter’s head.

“You have no room to talk, Kuroo-san. You have a hard-on for Chemistry.” Kuroo scoffed, placing his hand over Suga’s heart in mock pain and pretending to cry. Knocking his hand away, Suga glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, “Where’s Oikawa?”

“Why would I know?” Suga and Ushijima shared an exasperated glance. “I haven’t seen him since I was banished by you all.”

“I’ve decided, Ushijima-san. I’m going to kill Oikawa.”

Oikawa strolled into his dorm an hour later, his skin glowing and bright. His face was void of stress. No longer wearing a mask (in both a metaphorical and literal sense. The green tea soothing essence masks he bought last month do wonders), his face was relaxed and smooth. He hummed to himself as he put away his spa bag. Once settled in, he acknowledged the simmering ball of fury in the corner of the room. He never made eye contact with Suga’s two oversized bodyguards, both of whom waited behind the silver-haired setter, one with a frown and the other a smirk.

“What’s wrong with you? Did Ushijima speak or something?”

“How did your talk with Kuroo go? You know, the one where you were going to lecture him and belittle him like you did me. Or maybe, and I know it’s a long shot, you’d grow up a little and work out that petty bullshit between the two of you?”

“Oh! I forgot about that!” Oikawa’s eyes widened as he tilted his head toward the blocker, the words bouncing off the tip of his tongue. “Kuroo-chan, you’re trash and Suga deserves better.” Flashing a peace sign and a large, fake smile, he looked at Suga again. “All done!”

“I told you I’m way better than him,” Kuroo snickered, shifting on his feet.

“I know I deserve better, which is why I’d never date him! How many times do I need to say this?!”

“Oi, I’m right here!”

“Did you work out your issues, then?”

“I have no issues!”

“Stop lying!”

“Like you can talk! Stop denying your feelings!”

“I don’t have any!”

“You can say that again,” Kuroo snorted. When everyone stopped to glare at him, he threw his hands in the air and huffed. “You know I’m right!”

Suga left first, rolling his eyes and mumbling about needing a drink. Kuroo followed behind, waving goodbye to his dormmate and flipping Oikawa off with a sneer. When it was time for Ushijima to leave as well, his legs wouldn’t listen to him. He remained grounded in place. Oikawa tapped his foot in impatience, holding both of his forearms with his hands, resting them in front of his chest.

“Well, Idiot 1? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not really.”

Oikawa waited. He waited for Ushijima to leave. He waited for him to at least move. He waited for his line of sight to shift, to break eye contact. He waited for him to speak, to explain something, to explain anything. When no answers arrived and instead new questions began to surface, Oikawa gave in.

“Come on then, let’s go.”

Oikawa interlaced their fingers, holding onto Ushijima’s hand as he dragged him out of the dorm and through the school. It became clear where they were headed so it came as no surprise to Ushijima when Oikawa stopped in front of the gym. Grabbing the spare key that was hidden under a rock (an obvious spot, but how Oikawa knew to check there was beyond him), Oikawa unlocked the door and pushed Ushijima inside.

“Alright, let’s play.”

“Right now? Should we even be here?”

“I’m offering to work with you, to set for you and your first response is to question me? You really are an idiot. Can’t you just live in the moment and enjoy yourself?”

“... Okay.”

Oikawa grinned, triumph stretching across his face as he bounded across the court and wheeled out the volleyball trolley. With Ushijima’s help, they got the net up and the court ready. Without warning, Oikawa took his shirt off and tossed it to the side. Quirking his eyebrow, faking confusion as he tapped his finger along his lip, he motioned for Ushijima to do the same.

“What’s wrong? We’ve seen more of each other than this before. Besides, there’s somewhere I want to go after this and we need to be presentable.”

The tables turned when Ushijima stripped down to just his boxers, leaving Oikawa flabbergasted.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“You said we need to look presentable.”

“How does that equal stripping down to your damn underwear?!”

Ushijima shrugged. “It makes sense to me.”

It was nothing new and yet it felt like Oikawa was seeing him properly for the first time. He looked attractive, and Oikawa hated it. He rubbed the back of his neck as Oikawa stared at him, his arm muscles flexing and bulging. Oikawa continued to look him up and down until their eyes met. He refused to be outdone or intimidated. With a light laugh, he brushed the unspoken exchange off and went to stand in the middle of the court, gesturing for the ace to follow before taking off his own pants.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was odd to play in just their boxers. Oikawa found himself losing focus more often and ended up spiking the ball out of court when he saw Ushijima bend over to collect some of the stray balls. After a few more rounds of serving practice and setting some spikes for the ace, Oikawa called it quits. Even though the majority of fault fell on him, Oikawa blamed Ushijima for the practice failing.

“I thought volleyball would be fun since it’s something we both enjoy but you’re hopeless, Bakatoshi.”

“Maybe we should try with our clothes on?”

“Maybe if you weren’t being a pervert and staring so much, it wouldn’t be a problem!”

“I wasn’t-” Oikawa’s irritated tapping echoed throughout the room, his foot setting a relentless pace. It was getting late and Ushijima could just about pass out at this point. He was in no mood to argue. ”Sorry…?”

“Whatever . There’s a bakery nearby. Let’s wash up and go.”

If playing in their underwear was hard, trying to wash together was worse. Oikawa shut it down pretty fast, forcing Ushijima to wait until he was done even though the shower room was huge and they could have each taken opposite corners. It proved more troublesome for Oikawa, however, as his mind kept wandering to how built and muscular Wakatoshi was. There was a voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t cease, that insisted he reenter the shower and approach Ushijima. It would be easy. There was no one around. He could just walk in, help him scrub his back, wash off the extra soap, clean his hair. Would it be weird? Was why he even thinking this way about Ushiwaka of all people?

He wanted to blame Kuroo, to say he poisoned his thoughts with all his suggestive, crude remarks, but in the silence of his mind, he knew the truth. He was starting to fall-

“Oikawa-san, do you need help?”

“What?!” He squealed, latching onto the nearest towel and pressing it against his body. His distraction had cost him too much time. Ushijima was dressed again, looking as handsome as ever, and staring at him with concern. Oikawa was still undressed, water dripping into his eyes from his wet hair, his clothes waiting for him by the mirror and sink. “I’m fine! Get out!”

“Okay.”

The walk to the bakery was silent and awkward. Oikawa refused to look Ushijima in the eyes and neither would speak. When Ushijima thought of something to say, the timing felt wrong so he looked off toward the horizon instead. The sun was setting and the air was beginning to chill. The streets were empty as they navigated toward the family-owned bakery. A few street lights flickered on here and there but the plethora of colour dripping from the sky was enough to keep the roads bright and clear. Once Oikawa announced that their destination was just a few stores ahead, Ushijima noticed that most of the other family-run businesses were closed already.

“Will they be open at this time of night?”

“Would we be going if they weren’t?”

The sharpness of his tone ended the conversation, cutting it short with brutal efficiency, leaving no room for even a peep or murmur. It didn’t help that Ushijima was practically a walking corpse by this point, either. His body threatened to give out under him with every step. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and seek out the comfort of his bed but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the rare moments he spent alone with Oikawa.

As he had been briskly informed, the bakery was indeed open. The elderly couple behind the counter beamed when they saw Oikawa. The man disappeared behind a makeshift curtain into the storeroom while the woman greeted them, talking with Oikawa as one would a son.

“Tooru-kun, take a seat. We’ll get your order right out for you, okay? Do you and your friend want some tea?”

“Thank you, ma’am! We’d love some!”

With a bow that each of the boys reciprocated, she wobbled to the refrigerator and grabbed out a jug of iced tea and started to cut some fresh lemon slices. Ushijima sat across from Oikawa. Without his usual cologne and fragranced body wash, he smelled musky. His hair stuck up in every direction, unkempt and carefree much like the setter himself. His eyes were distant, as if he was deep in thought. After a few minutes, the couple brought over the tea and a small cake. When they were alone again, Oikawa pushed the dessert to Ushijima’s side of the table.

“I didn’t know what to get you. I didn’t want it to be too personal and for you to think we’re friends or something. I figured you liked volleyball, and cake is standard for birthdays…” Oikawa laughed in embarrassment, his cheeks tinged pink as he continued, “I didn’t plan it very well though. It was a last minute, snap decision. I really screwed it up, though, huh?”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Bakatoshi, only you would say that. Well, whatever. Happy birthday.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did. What do you take me for? Do you think I’d willingly hang out with you for any other reason?”

“I didn’t think anyone knew.”

“Idiot.”

“Thank you, Tooru.”

“Just shut up and eat the cake already.”

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