#(i say after one completed module)

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

after a lot of muttering under my breath focusing really hard on my screen i suddenly gasped and went 'MY FINGERS ARE VOWELS' so that's how my night's going

[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Safe

~900 words

Gotham is dangerous. You know that. The whole world knows that. But that doesn't mean your job lets you go home before sunset. You didn't intend to be out so late, but your coworker had an emergency, and of course, no one else could come in. So, great, now you're walking Gothams streets when you should be warm in bed. At least your boss promised you overtime.

You're pulled from your thoughts at the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. It makes you tense, your fingers curl tighter around the pepper spray in your pocket. A quick glance in the window you pass revels a bulky, disgruntled, stumbling group of figures following you. Your throat tightens, and you walk a little quicker. You should have called Jason. Why didn't you call Jason? Usually, he walks you home if your shift is this late. Because it's a short walk. Because you can handle yourself, and he's busy, and you weren't supposed to be out tonight. You remind yourself, cursing silently. This is fine. You can handle yourself.

You count them as you pass the next window. One quickly turns into two. Then three. And then, your heart skips a beat as a fourth figure turns the corner in front of you. Okay, change of plans, cross the street and enter whatever rundown 24/7 shop is open.

That plan is quickly derailed when they start shouting at you, threatening you. Your steps slow, fear pooling in your gut as your mind races to find a way out of this situation. Your fingers slip against your phone, weighing calling GCPD.

Faster than you can process, a hand grabs your arm and tugs you into the alley, causing a strangled noise to leave your throat.

"Move." A heavily modulated voice. Rough leather gloves. A lingering gunpowder smell. Jason. No, not completely– He's Red Hood right now. A towering, intimidating mass of heavy weaponry and unyielding armor.

"C'mon." He pushes you along quickly, a steady hand guiding you by the small of your back into a shadowed hiding place in the alley.

You don't quite manage words, but the relief spreading through your body nearly brings tears to your eyes.

Jason crowds you against the wall, cool, sturdy armor, a shield between you and the dim light of the street. He tilts his head towards the entrance of the alley, listening as rough, slurring voices call for you. But they don't come closer, agitated by the loss of what seemed like easy prey and eventually fade. His helmet tips down to focus on you.

"Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, unable to form the words just yet.

He nods, slowly taking stock of you. "You're out late." The words coming out half questioning, half accusing but so, very gentle.

"Work– someone called out. No one else could take the shift."

"You should have called." He says evenly, voice softening as he takes in your shaky tone. He dips his head to rest his face place against your shoulder, and you're not quite sure who's more relieved that he's here.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have listened." You say quickly, knowing full well what could have happened, what he sees every night when he spends his nights protecting Gothams streets. He always tells you to call if you need anything, but the idea of bothering him while he was saving lives? You couldn't bring yourself to dial his number.

"You did listen," he replies, soothing and silencing your worries as he nuzzles into your neck again. "That's what makes you so special. You listen to me. You follow my lead, right into safety. I don't even have to say anything and you trust me. You just do it. You're perfect."

Jason pauses for a moment and pulls back to trace his thumb over your jaw.

"You know that?"

His words send your heart into flutters and you hope, that even with his focus on you, always on you, he doesn't see the goosebumps forming under his touch.

"Shouldn't you, you know, go after them?" You ask after a moment, careful to change the topic from yourself.

He hums softly. "Batgirl's already on it. I'm walking you home."

"You don't have to do–" You start, gulit settling in your chest.

"I do. I want to. Let me?" He runs his thumb over your cheek, slow and almost reverent. The leather slides over your skin, the gesture so familiar it might as well be indented into your skin. You don't have it in you to read into what it means. But it soothes the guilt nonetheless.

You nod once, relenting. How could you deny him? It makes him smile beneath the helmet how easily you agree to him. For both your sakes, he needs to see you home safe.

He hesitates, glowing eyes of his mask studying you. He carefully steps out of the tiny hiding place he shielded you in, and if the adrenaline wasn't fading from your system, maybe you would have noticed the reluctance seeped into his movements. He offers you his hand.

You take it without a second thought.

He squeezes your fingers once and begins to guide you home. Gotham is still dangerous, dark and cold.

But Jason's there. And there's nowhere safer for you than with him.

[toxicanonymity]

rat in a cage.

1.2k, m!ghostface x f!reader | slasher master

A/N: This is NOT the Every Inch ghostface/universe. This is a completely standalone one shot. SUMMARY: Ghostface is pursuing you. When you both get trapped in a lab on campus, you make a temporary truce. WARNINGS: I8+ Dubcon P in V, cockwarming, degradation, choking, creampie, lab rats in the building, huddling for warmth lmaoo, reader can sit on him and be partially lifted.

Before you realized you were both trapped in the building, you got into a scuffle and caused his knife to fall down a drain in the floor. He got on top of you, pinned you with his weight, and choked you, but it wasn't a choke to kill. His gloved hand was applying just enough pressure in just the right places to feel good. That's when it hit you that he didn't want to kill you. He could've snapped you like a twig from that position if he wanted.

You smiled, and he released your throat.

“Mm,” you sighed. “take off your mask if ya wanna kiss me that bad.”

Ghostface tilted his head and looked at you. The voice modulator kicked in. “what makes you think I want that filthy mouth on me?” He grabbed your jaw and squeezed your mouth open. He brought his other gloved hand to your lips and gagged you with two gloved fingers.

"I asked you a question," he prodded.

"I 'unno" you mumbled into his fingers and reached for his crotch, trying to wedge your hand between your torsos. His fingers slid out of your mouth and his hand flew to your wrist to stop you. He pinned your hands above your head, one of his gloves wet with your saliva.

“You don't wanna kill me,” you breathed.

You seemed to have him at a loss for words. He was a different guy without his knife -- still menacing, but not lethal.

“Not tonight." He got up and left you on the ground. He swiftly made for the exit, robe trailing behind him.

But the door was locked. Awkward.

—

Now you've been trapped long enough that he’s run out of clever, taunting things to say, so he just doesn't talk. The main sound is lab rats squeaking and trying to burrow for warmth in their enclosure. It's cold in this building. You don't have sleeves and your legs are bare, too.

Ghostface sits against the wall with his knees up. You're shivering in a corner by yourself, replaying your interactions with Ghostface in your mind. Has he ever really, truly hurt you? He's had chances to kill you. Why didn't he? Your teeth start chattering.

Eventually he sighs and says "Get over here." You look at him, pondering it. He opens his arms and adds, “This offer expires in thirty seconds.”

You scurry over to him, planning to sit between his knees but he straightens his legs out so they're together, and he lifts up his robe for you to get underneath. He's wearing joggers and a matching sweatshirt underneath. You're more scantily clad. "Why don't you just give me the robe," you ask.

"Don't press your luck," he answers.

You duck under his robe and straddle his thighs with your knees on the floor. "You're gonna wanna get closer than that, little rat."

You scoot forward and he lets the robe down on top of you. It's a little heavier and warmer than you imagined. When he's chasing after you, it moves like it weighs nothing.

It's pitch black under his robe. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you into him so your crotch meets his. You gasp when you feel the shape of his warm package against your crotch. "Feel somethin’ ya like?" He asks.

"You're warm," you answer, laying your cheek on his chest with your eyes closed under his robe. "Who are you?"

His laugh is as dark as it is quiet.

You tuck your arms under your chest and he keeps his arms wrapped around you. He smells good. A woodsy, minty scent. He caresses you as he holds you. God, he feels like. . .a man. A real man. His breaths get deeper, his chest rising under you. It happens gradually, but at some point there's no mistaking the bulge you're sitting on is hard, and it's for you. He brings his arms into the robe. His gloved hands pull your skirt up over your ass with a soft grunt not caught by the voice changer. Then he takes his gloves off.

His hands are huge and warm on your bare ass cheeks. He kneads them and his hips lift under you, the swell of his hard cock making you dizzy with need under the pitch black darkness of his robe. You sigh and he wedges a finger under your pointless little thong and snaps it. You reach back to un-wedge it from your ass cheeks and when you pull it out, he slips his finger between your ass and the garment. He slides his finger all the way down, under you, until he reaches your wet little hole. You're beginning to gush.

He sighs, then the voice changer says - "You're making a mess on me, princess."

He lifts you with a grunt, then pulls his joggers down under his cock. He sets you back down, angling you strategically so your front meets his smooth, thick shaft. It's throbbing and burning hot, right between your legs. You sigh. His hands return to your ass and he moves your body, grinding you against his hard cock a few times.

Then, to your horror, you help him take it further. You pull your thong to the side as he lifts you and notches himself at your entrance. You whimper as your cunt swallows his tip, then your body spreads itself apart for him as you sink down his thick shaft. Ghostface shudders and you gasp when your bodies are flush.

“Good,” he whispers in a deep, human voice. Your body accommodates him and you get even wetter. You begin to move, needing to fuck yourself on his cock, but he holds you down and makes you still. “Sit,” he commands at full volume ghostface voice. “Stay.” The hair on your neck stands up.

You sit still on his cock.

“Good,” he says, then adds, "Hmm." He pats your head where it rests on his shoulder.

You sit there in his lap, wrapped around the body of this man, in total darkness under his robe, absolutely full of his cock. You relax enough that you begin to get sleepy. You yawn.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity. You feel stretched out, even after you relax. Your walls occasionally twitch around him, and his cock throbs and moves inside you. You’re cozy under his robe, comfortable in his arms, and throbbing on his cock. The warmth of his robe and the feeling of his arms around you lull you to sleep.

Almost as soon as you drift off, he thrusts his hips up and jolts you awake with the punch of his cock. He braces one hand on the floor and has the other arm around you. He leans back so you're held against his chest and he's fucking up into you. He grunts and sighs and the modulator harshly spits, “yeah, you're a good little bitch.”

He keeps fucking you from the bottom, and you feel a heat bubbling in the pit of your belly as his big cock pistons into you. Then he holds you tight against him and fucks you slower, grinding your pubic bone against his, and it's rubbing your clit and making you spasm. "You like that?" He asks.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, then his voice is changed again. “Gonna make me cum if you're not careful.”

His words make you clench down as you see stars. You moan into his sweatshirt, and the pleasure pulses from your clit as your whole body jerks and your cunt chokes his cock. You're not finished coming when Ghostface holds you down.

You try to get off him, but he holds you down harder and erupts, filling you with his hot seed. You can't deny how good it feels with him pulsing inside you as your own climax wanes. At least you're alive, you think. At least Plan B exists.

When you begin to get off his cock, he doesn't let you. He keeps you plugged, impaled on him, long enough that you both fall asleep.

----

thank you for reading. my main ghostface series, unrelated to this one shot, is Every Inch.

i have a michael blurb with a kinda similar premise here. idk why i'm into this scenario but i guess i am lol.

[e-nonsense]

TELL ME YOU SEE ME

pairing. jason todd x reader

warnings. reader is a little pathetic, character death and revival, eventual smut, sub!jason, soft dom!reader, virgin!jason, lots and lots of consent

request. here

a/n. thank you both for this ask, not sure if this is what you wanted exactly, i couldn’t really fit it all in with what i had going

you giggled as dick grumbled about the piece of gum stuck in his hair, your legs swinging over the ledge of the building he’d cornered you on.

the former robin had followed you after you’d ‘stolen’ jewels. turns out selina had taken off with hem and you were just the distraction. but that didn’t stop you from playing your usual pranks.

like that time you superglued bruce’s utility belt closed, or put little animal stickers on the cowl of his suit.

all that had changed so quickly. the lightheartedness and awkwardness you emitted had disappeared.

everyone saw how losing him changed you. you weren’t loud and weird anymore, you’d stick to yourself, keeping your weird thoughts to yourself. actually now that you think about it you didn’t have many weird thoughts anymore.

maybe they died with jason too.

“oh come on. i haven’t done anything wrong, have i?” you grinned at the robin in front of you. there was a hint of a smile on his lips, head tilted at you.

“i guess not, but i am gonna need gordon’s glasses back.”

“buzzkill, birdy.” you pout before pulling the glasses off your face and handing them over to him with a grumble.

“thanks kitty cat,” jason grins, before leaving to go back on patrol.

you were half asleep, dreams of him haunted you every night. you’d see his face all the time, flashes of his brutal state would come over you, you remember his funeral too, well the one you and dick had for him because bruce buried him without everyone.

“hey kid,” dick muttered, his hand on your shoulder as he looked down at his brother’s grave. this was the last thing the first robin thought would happen when he got back from space.

you don’t say anything, no jokes or pranks. you just stand there like a peace of you was in that grave with him.

you spun in your chair waiting for the computer to finish decrypting the information dick had brought to you. you’d broken through the locks and safety measured on the drive easily.

apparently it belonged to some new criminal mob boss, red hood, he called himself. you hadn’t encountered him yet, you assumed your turn to meet this lunatic was soon or never, seeing as nobody new about your whereabouts these days, except dick.

and there. you were in. you grabbed your phone to make the call to dick.

you heard it before you felt it, the soft click of a gun and then the cold nozzle pressed up against your neck. “i wouldn’t.”

the voice was distorted, your fingers stilled against your key board.

“you’re a hard person to find, kitty cat. very hard, i leave for six years and then you’re off the grid too. but i finally found you.”

“excuse me?” stupid, you scold yourself in you mind, what idiot snarks when— oh yeah, you would.

he laughed, a cold, creepy sound coming from what you assumed to be a voice modulator. then you heard a soft hiss of air and a thud, his helmet placed on the desk in front of you.

“c’mon kitty cat. you don’t remember me?” he uses the gun to tip your head back.

“what..?” your eyes widen as you stare up at him.

“ah, there you go. you’ve changed, not as much spunk and crazy anymore.”

you snatched the purse of some mugger, knocking him out before handing it back to the lady he stole it from. the woman smiles before going on her way. you hummed softly as jason landed in the alley in front of you, “nice work, kitty.”

you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grinning proudly at his praise, you were sure if you had a real tail it’d be wagging happily right now. “really?”

“oh yeah,” he nods, even at sixteen jason wasn’t completely a fool, he could tell how much his words meant to you.

he stared down at you. “c’mon kitty cat, i’m gonna need those files back. can you do that f’me?” was it mean to use your feelings against you like this? yes, definitely but jason was also trying to determine whether or not you still had those feeling for him too.

your shake your head, dick needs these files to stop red hood. but jason is red hood, so you’d be hurting him— no you have to help dick.

“i can’t.”

“sure you can, just take it out and give it here.”

“no.”

he pressed the gun harder into your neck, reminding you that it was an option, but he wouldn’t pull the trigger, it’d be useless to anyways. the gun was unloaded, not a single bullet inside, he couldn’t risk accidentally shooting you.

“fine,” you scoff, unplugging the hard drive and handing it over.

“i’ll see you soon kitty cat.” he leaves, leaving his helmet behind with you, the camera in it would keep an eye on you and you most definitely wouldn’t give the helmet up, he knew that.

it wasn’t long later until you saw him next. he didn’t intend to stay away anymore. this time when he came to you, it had properly registered in your mind. this was jason, jason was back.

so when you hugged him so suddenly, words tumbling out of your mouth messily. “i missed you so much.” you whisper, arms tight around him.

you sniffled and his heart broke, fingers gently running through your hair as he held you. his body tensing when the words ‘i love you’ escaped your lips. you hadn’t seem to realised because you kept going on, soft rambling, refusing to let him go.

he tried to speak, only to be cut off by you once more.

“i didn’t know how to say it, but you always got me.” you whisper, looking up at him. “tell me you see me.”

“i see you, doll.”

—

you didn’t expect him to be a virgin.

not with the looks of a god and the voice of an angel.

but you embraced the fact, you loved it even that he wanted you as his first. even though you were the one begging, on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

“can i touch you?” your fingers hover over his undressed body, he nodded.

“words, jay.”

“y-yeah.” he shivers under your touch, a soft groan leaving him.

“you’re so pretty,” you murmur, meeting his eyes as you lick a strip up his cock, swirling your tongue around his head. “taste so sweet too.”

his hand grips the sheets, staring at the arch of your back and the way your ass sticks up. you take his hand, leading towards your hair, “can i?”

“yeah, yeah go ahead, kitty.”

your lashes flutter as i pushes your head down towards his cock, you mouth falling open immediately to suck him up. you hum softly, as if you were gaining more pleasure from this than he was.

he holds your hair out of your face while you gag on the sheer length of him, his cock so thick it stretches your mouth open so far that you know your jaw will ache this time tomorrow.

he groans out your name, shameless with his noises. he pulls you off him, you whine trying to go down on him again, he thinks he could cum at the sight. “i wanna feel you, please.”

you can’t deny him, not when his big icy blue eyes stare down at you.

jason todd does not fuck like a virgin. you learn that when he can’t seem to stop fucking you into the bed. gasping into your ear while you babble on about how good he is.

how pretty he is.

how nobody could understand you like him.

how much you love him.

he can barely hold himself in but he doesn’t wanna stop right now.

“oh— oh jay.” you whimper softly, “so so good.”

he’ll wait, just to hear your little praises and whines, to hear that you love him.

“i know, i know baby. i love you too.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hey! can you write ghostface! ethan smut? where the reader knows and they have sex? I know for a fact he whimpers 🤭 thank you!

YESS YES YES

Heaven

Warnings: Smut (obviously), p in v, Ethan’s a lil nervous, super cute, a little plot

Yeah, ethan was a good guy. But was he that good to where you still liked him even after you knew he was a murderer?

After helping his father and sister on something, he was still wearing the mask. He took it off while walking, just to put it back on when he reached your parents house.

Your parents were gone for a few days, and you were taking a break from studying for just a day, then it was back to your dorm.

He didn’t knock on the door, or go through the back one even. He climbed up to your bedroom window, where he suspected you would be. Which you were.

He opened it silently, hoping to surprise you. Your back was turned to the window while you bent over and rummaged through a drawer. He closed the window and made his way to you, knife still in hand.

“Goddamnit!” You groaned in frustration. You turned around, when someone grabbed you. You screamed and kicked, but the person who grabbed you put their hand on your mouth.

The person took their hand off and let you go for a second. They took off their mask and of course-

“Surprise, (your name).” He said into a modulator.

(Stu and Ethan are my favorites so I had to)

“Ethan! Don’t scare me like that!” You hit his arm.

“You need to lock your windows.” He said, and pointing the knife at you.

“You sound like my parents.” You rolled your eyes, and he smiled widely.

“I missed you.” He said.

“I missed you too.”

He smiled again and sat down on your bed, putting the knife on the floor. You sat down next to him.

“So… why are you here?”

He shrugged “I just- I don’t know.. I just don’t like to be alone, after... I mean I know I haven’t actually killed anybody yet, I’m just helping them, but I mean still…”

“No, no, Ethan it’s fine. I don’t care, you know you can come to me at anytime.”

“Yeah.” He said, with a small smile and he laid his head on your chest. You played with his hair, and you picked out a movie.

After a while, let’s just say the movie got boring. Then, Ethan’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when there was a sex scene.

Ethan had just lost his virginity last week, to you. He made a joke saying how he’ll “die a virgin.” Good thing you were there.

Ever since then, you’d been closer. You didn’t quite understand it, were you guys a thing or not?

It didn’t matter at the moment, because Ethan’s hard on was very obvious through the Ghostface outfit he was still wearing. You paused your movements and stopped messing with his hair.

“Ethan..” you said, he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we… talk?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sure.” He sat up.

“Ethan, I like you. I really do. But I don’t know if you like me too, I mean like are a we a thing, are we not a thing?”

“Wh- of course I like you! I mean…” he took a deep breath. “Y/n, I’ve wanted to say this forever. Would you wanna be my girlfriend? I know this isn’t like.. ideal but-“

“Ethan. Ethan-“

“I do really like you and-“ he ranted on.

“Ethan!” You said, louder and interrupting him.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

He stared at you, and you stared back. You both slowly leaned in to each other, and kissed. It was slow and passionate.

He slowly led you down to the bed, him on top of you.

You both moved quickly to take off your clothes, then he realized.

“Uh… do you have a… condom?” He said, embarrassed. His cheeks went pink as he finished the sentence.

You smiled “In the drawer.” You said, and pointed to a drawer, he quickly fumbled off of you, almost tripping on his own shoes. He couldn’t believe it was happening, again, and now you guys were actually dating.

He grabbed it and went over to you again, he was thankful that the Ghostface outfit was easy to take off. He took off his boxers and put the condom on.

Then, he realized that you weren’t even completely naked. You were too busy watching him.

He slowly moved his hands to your bra, and unclipped it.

He then took off your underwear, and he tensed up. He was scared that maybe you wouldn’t like it, or you didn’t really like him. Maybe you’d leave him the second he got you.

“Ethan, calm down, it’s okay, it’s me. If you don’t want to do this or your not ready we don’t have to-“

“No, no I want to. Do you want to?”

“I do.” You said with a smile.

“Uh, this is—an embarrassing question, but can you uh… ride me?” He sat up, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed at him, and he feels like he’s done something wrong.

“Can I? I would love to.” You said with a smirk.

“Okay, because I still dont exactly know what I’m doing and I want this to be good for you-“

“Calm down, it will be. I want it to be good for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He said, taking another deep breath as you straddled his lap. You held onto his shoulders, and his hands awkwardly were at his sides.

You guided his hands to your hip. One thing you couldn’t get over was his muscles, his cock wasn’t huge, but it was definitely big. But his muscles? No one would think that a quiet boy like him would have his muscles.

Finally, after what felt like hours for Ethan, you slowly hovered over his cock and then you slowly lowered yourself onto it. He screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back a little.

He couldn’t believe it, he was literally having sec with his GIRLFRIEND. A girl, who he could now call his girlfriend. And even after she knew he was a murderer, she still stayed with him.

If this wasn’t heaven, he would say heaven didn’t exist.

[teefigotem]

sorry i'm on a Murderbot Diaries kick again so y'all are getting meta. thinking about that one scene in Network Effect that everyone talks about. you know, the “who the fuck are you” “this is nonstandard communication” aka the one where Three discovers the concept of eldritch horror for the first time. beautiful scene 10/10 no notes.

that being said i’m also thinking about a take i’ve seen a few times saying that ART was way scarier to Three than it was to Murderbot and like. I don’t think that’s completely true. not to say that ART wasn’t mean or scary to Three — being told that someone might peel away your organic parts piece by piece will in fact be terrifying any way you spin in.

but like. okay. ART and Three come to an understanding very quickly in NE, arguably quicker than Murderbot and ART in AC. and some of that is due to the difference in Murderbot and Three’s personalities, but i think a lot of that is due to how ART approaches each situation.

(more under the cut)

so like okay. when ART and Murderbot first meet, Murderbot is entirely a wildcard coming aboard ART, and ART responds the way you would to an unknown, unpredictable threat, i.e. with a blatant but somewhat ambiguous show of force. by dropping its walls ART is doing the equivalent of like. brandishing a powerful weapon in your face. it doesn't explicitly tell Murderbot that it will hurt it. in fact, the only things it says to Murderbot are to tell it that it knows that it's a rogue SecUnit and to warn Murderbot not to hack it. this is the type of approach you'd take with someone who you aren't sure even has the capacity to be reasoned with - it demonstrates that it could crush Murderbot like a bug, because this is the only thing it's confident Murderbot will respond to.

the problem with this, from Murderbot's POV, is that, because the threat is implied rather than explicitly stated, there's no reassurance that if Murderbot doesn't try to hack ART then ART will leave it alone in turn. in fact, it spends the moments after this interaction spiraling about what ART wants with it and whether ART specifically let it on board to torture or kill it. i don't think that was ART's intention with the threat, i think it genuinely did not have the context to realize that Murderbot would take the show of force more as a threat of imminent violence than as a warning against attacking it. but, since it didn't have that context, it approached that interaction like one would approach someone with whom you don't see as an equal and don't have any interest in reasoning with.

contrast that to how ART interacts with Three. on the surface, what it says is scarier. its threats are certainly more violent. but they are also explicitly stated if/then statements: if you hurt these humans, then i will do xyz to you. i do know that in mathematical logic there's still no guarantee made in if/then statements that the then won't come to pass regardless, but the specificity of both the threat and the guidelines provides Three with parameters to follow, and implies that if it does then no harm will come to it.

this was notable to me because ART speaks to Three like a person to be negotiated with from the beginning, and that's. well. because it knows enough by now to know that Three is a person, in a way that i'm not sure it knew about Murderbot before seeing Murderbot's memory files of the governor module. it knows before speaking to them that both Murderbot and Three are rogue SecUnits, but its understanding of what a rogue SecUnit is, what it is capable of, and what it might do has profoundly changed between two interactions. even in their first interaction ART treats Three like a person who may be capable of being dangerous, rather than like a loose cannon who could mindlessly commit violence at any minute.

[absurdthirst]

Unexpectedly Mated {Alpha!Mando x F!Omega!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, heats, denying biological needs, religious creeds, removing your helmet, jealousy, territorial aggression, fingering, first kisses, vaginal sex, rough sex, knotting, mates, marking

Comments: Forbidden to remove your helmet by Creed, Mandalorians deny their basic biological needs as Alphas and Omegas. The helmet blocks the scant of their true mate. Until an open air vent leads Mando to discover that you are his omega.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“You must never remove your helmet.” The creed and these words drilled into you at a young age and you have never forgotten, would never be allowed to forget. The creed comes before all else. The covert comes before the individual. In a galaxy full of alphas, omegas, and betas…Mandalorians stood alone. Defying their biological status to better the covert, to keep the numbers up. You wear the helmet to not only protect your face but to keep you from recognizing your mate. The scent recognition of a mate is instant so the Mandalorian solution is to wear helmets with filters so that one can breed with anyone they prefer. Their minds are clouded with scent so the desire is the driving factor. The younglings are raised by the covert as a unit so the aim is to repopulate Mandalore. You suppress your omega urges with supplements and you’ve yet to breed. Too busy with bounty hunting alongside a certain Din Djarin. You’re drawn to him, that’s for sure, but you’ve never bred with him. He’s not interested in a family, in an ad. He wants credits. He wants to protect the foundling under his care and you’ve gone along for the ride.

“Din.” Your modulated voice calls out to him as he strides ahead of you after you reunited the frog woman with her husband. “The kid needs to eat.” You tell him, knowing you need to find the nearest cantina.

The sigh Din gives you is one of frustration and resignation. He likes the kid, he’s risked a lot to protect him, even his covert. The sins he has committed weigh heavily on his shoulders and he nods. “Come on.” He grumbles to the little one. “I know you’re hungry, we’ll get you something to eat.” Hopefully the Crest will be fixed soon. Unable to take off his helmet unless he is in his bunk is starting to frustrate him, the hermetically sealed space is starting to feel stale with the cycled air and he longs for a single breath of fresh air. He had also hoped to slip away for a moment, needing to find a medical facility to replace his implant. It had been damaged from his fight with Moff Gideon and he’s not had time to have it seen to. While he doesn’t visit a brothel or find a sexual partner often, he can feel the need to rut building up in his system. The alpha side he tries to suppress starts to bleed through his normally calm demeanor. 

You sit with the kid in the cantina, snorting when Din saves him from his own lunch and you glance around at the sailors. They mention Mandalorians and you are surprised to hear of your kind here, especially since Din wants to find them so he can help the kid return to his own planet. “Before we head off, maybe we can freshen up. I need to use the fresher and I’m sure you also want some time out of beskar.”

He groans at the idea of time outside the suit. Letting his skin breath and maybe he can work in a quick tug on his cock while he’s in the ‘fresher. “We’ll have to get rooms.” He reminds you, his head tilting towards yours. “Do you want to do that?”

You nod, “that sounds like a plan. I’m sure this one needs a nap after everything.” You say, reaching out to caress the kid’s ear. He coos at you and finishes his broth with a loud slurp. “Let’s find somewhere.” You say and throw some credits down for the broth. Din nods and you’re soon following him into the inn nearby. You are eager for a shower and some time out of the heavy beskar. Despite wearing it since you were a kid, you have always been weighed down by it. Din gets two rooms and you nod at him when he carries the now sleeping child into the room.

The child’s eyes never open, making Din chuckle quietly as he closes the pod and sets it in the corner of the room. Looking around to make sure the windows are covered before he reaches up and unlatches the edge of his helmet and groans quietly when he pulls it off his head. His hair is sweaty, but immediately the scent of the outside world is much more vivid. Making him inhale deeply and growl quietly at how good it all smells. Being an alpha as a Mandalorian was tricky, his own scent blocked by the helmet, but others could smell him. Making things difficult for him at times, especially when he cannot even walk around his own ship with his helmet unsealed because you are with him. Now, he sits on the edge of the bed, with his eyes closed and breathes deep, unaware that the vent between your two rooms has not been closed. 

You hum as you tilt your head under the water. An actual shower instead of the ‘fresher on the ship is a welcome surprise. You don’t realize the vent in your room is open so Din can smell you as your omega scent wafts through the room, warmed up from the shower and the water flowing onto your face blocks you from smelling Din.

It’s subtle at first. A teasing waft that caresses his nose and makes his cock twitch. The beautiful, heady scent of an omega. Making him groan quietly until the next wave hits him. His omega. The scent overwhelms him and he’s immediately hard, aching and desperate to claim the omega who is meant to be his mate. His mate. His eyes widen when he sees the vent opened, called to it as he follows the scent. It’s the vent that connects your room to his. You’re his mate.

You can feel a tugging in your stomach when you step out of the shower and you frown, wondering if you’re going to go into heat soon. You’ll need to get some more suppressants since you don’t have the time to spend days nesting while you are with Din. He doesn’t want you to be a needy omega holding him back from his quest. You dry off, shutting the door to the bathroom behind you and you lay down on the bed, unable to stop your hand from snaking down to rub your clit, a whimper escaping your lips.

Din snaps the vent closed. Hand curling into a fist as he pants against the shared wall. You’re his mate, his omega. His mind whirls as he tries to reconcile that new information with the stalwart and steady Mandalorian he has been bounty hunting with. He won’t deny that he wondered about fucking you before, it’s only natural that he would given how close you had been. His cock throbs as he imagines you in your armor, slowly stripping it off and walking around your room nude. Building a nest and begging him to join you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

You fall asleep naked on the bed after making yourself cum, relieving the ache in your stomach, enjoying being out of your beskar. You sleep until there’s a knock on the door and you groan, waking up and immediately grabbing your helmet to slide it onto your head. “It’s time to go.” Din says and you call out, “no problem. I’ll get ready and be right out.”

You redress in your beskar, your stomach still aching but you decide you’ll seek out some suppressants later. Opening the door, you find Din standing there with the kid. “Morning buddy.” You coo to the child and look up at Din who looks tense. “Everything okay?” You ask him, tilting your helmet. 

You know that Din can be all business but there’s something off about him. You ignore it and follow Din down the hall to find the sailors who are granting you passage on their boat to find the Mandalorians that are apparently on the planet. Later on, you admire the water as the raft moves along, glancing at Din who is stiff, well, stiffer than normal. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask softly, the sailors moving around behind you.

“Let me go!” You growl in anger, swinging your arm to fling a sailor into the water. Using your strength to try and untangle yourself from the ropes when Din and the child are in danger and that’s when they appear: the Mandalorians.

The redhead who introduced herself as Bo Katan shakes her head. “I’ve heard of your sect of the religion but Maker…I didn’t know how far it went in controlling its followers. On Mandalore, we wish for alphas and omegas to find their mate, it makes for stronger bonds, stronger families. We don’t - that is not something we dictate.” You swallow harshly as her words, feeling a tugging in your stomach that makes you want to lean towards Din but you push that aside. “You can remove your helmet and you would not be dar'manda.” Bo Katan explains and you’re so tempted.

Din stands up, angry at them for tempting him, tempting you. He shakes his head. “You are not mandalorian.” He growls, reaching down and takes your arm to pull you to your feet. “We are leaving.” He tells you, turning and striding away from the group angrily. 

You let Din guide you out of the cantina and you sigh, “Din. Slow down. Maybe…maybe they are telling the truth. As Mandalorians, we are denying our biological need. We are denying nature itself. Why? What- what good is it?” You ask him, the child in the pouch nestled against his hip.

“What good is it?” Din stops and spins around, crowding you slightly and even though you cannot smell it, pheromones pour off of him in heavy waves. All this talk of mates and finding out you are his has him desperate to claim you. To take what is his. “The Creed. That is what good it is. Our secrecy is our survival. We. Do. Not. Remove. Our. Helmets.” 

You shake your helmet, stumbling back away from him. “I do not want to breed with whomever the armorer tells me to. I want to find my mate. I want to feel complete.” You yell, quickly flicking the lock to your helmet and you waste no time lifting it off of your head in public for the first time since you were twelve. It hits you immediately. His scent. He’s an alpha. Your alpha. “You- oh Maker. Alpha.” You address him, your stomach twisting with sudden need for him.

Din hisses, his body jerking at the tone of your voice, the submissive nature of it. Calling to him. His hands curl into fists and he moves, shielding you from any eyes that could possibly see your face. “Put your helmet on.” He demands roughly, knowing that he cannot do this right now. He cannot have this conversation with you in the middle of a spaceport. 

Your lower lip trembles, feeling the rejection, and you shove your helmet back on your head, flicking the lock and his scent is replaced with fresh air through the filter. “Clearly you do not wish to have me as your omega so I am going to go back to the cantina. Perhaps another alpha can help with my heat.” You didn’t get a chance to pick up suppressants and the scent of your alpha has your stomach twisting with the sudden heat, the urge to mate and be claimed by him has you sweating already. You need to be touched and as much as you wish for it to be him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t want that. You spin on your heel before he can answer to make your way back into the cantina.

Growling, Din watches you walk off. Sighing when he knows he cannot follow you. The child is still beside him, looking up and cooing at him as if to tell him that he had fucked up. “Come on kid.” He grunts, turning and walking away from you even though his entire body is screaming to follow you. “I need to find someone to watch you.” He knows he cannot have a conversation with you around the kid, around anyone. He needs to find another room, then he will bring you back for a talk. 

You want to take off your helmet and down a spotchka or five, but Din’s command to not remove your helmet is ringing in your ears. You sit at the bar when you feel a presence next to you. “What’s a Mandalorian omega doing all alone?” He asks and you snort, “I haven’t got an alpha.” You state despite your chest aching, knowing you have an alpha but he doesn’t want you. On your walk to the cantina, you realized that Din didn’t question being your alpha. Which means he must’ve taken his helmet off at some point and found out. You wonder how long he’s known. Why he had kept it from you. “That’s good news for me, sweetheart. I’ve never been with a Mandalorian before and it smells like you might be needing an alpha at any moment.” He says, leaning closer and your stomach pangs with the beginning of a heat. 

“I- I ran out of suppressants.” You confess, turning towards him despite everything in you wanting to run to find Din.

The Frog Lady had agreed to watch the baby, leaving Din to go back to the little inn where you had stayed last night and get another room. He knows that he owes you a conversation, a real conversation and he cannot do that in public. Once he has the key, Din tucks it into his belt and sets off for the cantina. He knows you are angry at him, hurt. He wants to give you time to cool down for a moment, to think rationally again. To remember your creed so both of you can agree that nothing will happen until you can find the armorer again and speak with her. Striding confidently towards the seedy little bar, he is sure that it would work. 

You giggle when the alpha leans in, telling you a joke about Jawas and you are distracted for a moment from talking about your heat. He offers to buy you a drink but you decline, not wanting to take your helmet off, but it’s nice to talk to someone without them just giving you a grunt as an answer. You unconsciously lean closer to the alpha, your body heated as your biological need threatens to overwhelm you.

Walking into the bar, Din unlocks his helmet, unsealing it so he can smell you. Attraction and arousal, pouring from you and he follows the scent. Finding you sitting at the bar, another alpha leaning in, obviously interested in touching you, fucking you. The need to protect you roars to life in his chest and his alpha nature  rips through his self control. Moving quickly to you, barely resisting the urge to pull his blaster on the cocksure alpha who is grinning at his mate. “Get the fuck away from her.” He growls, shoving between the two of you and puffing up his chest, towering over the other man and trying to be as intimidating as possible.

You gasp at Din’s sudden appearance and you stand up from your stool. “Alpha.” You place your hand on Din’s chest plate to keep him back from the other alpha. 

“Hey buddy. Me and this omega were talking.” The alpha says and you wince under your helmet, knowing that he needs to shut up before he gets a blaster in the face. 

“Din, just leave him.” You huff, pissed that he is dictating what you can and can’t do.

“My omega.” Din growls, his hand inches away from his blaster and he stares hard at the man from behind his visor. “Move away.” He warns but the man scoffs and doesn’t look impressed. 

“She doesn’t seem taken. She seems like she’s real interested in getting to know me. ‘Bout to go into heat, needs an alpha buried in her cunt, knotting her.”

His words make you wince as you know Din, any alpha, wouldn’t allow them to speak about their omega that way. “It’s obvious you haven’t claimed her. What’s wrong, Mando? Not got the balls to do what needs to be done. She doesn’t smell like you. She smells wet. She smells ready for a cock. Clearly you aren’t enough for her. She wants to get fucked.” The alpha smirks, pushing Din’s buttons even more.

Din’s hand shoots out, wrapping it around the other alpha’s throat and squeezing harshly. Enjoying the way his pheromones immediately turned to ones of distress and his eyes bulge while his blue skin turns purple as the airways are cut off by the pressure of Din’s hand. “My omega.” Din rasps out, voice dangerously low and threatening. “Mine. Not yours. Mine.” The urge to kill him is clouding his thoughts, to demonstrate that you are his. That he would protect you.

“Alpha. Alpha. Don’t. He’s not worth it. I’m yours. I’m yours.” You promise Din, knowing that fact deep within your bones but you’re still furious with him. You place your hands on his chest plate, your helmet tilted towards his, “please. Just take me back to the inn. Don’t do this.”

Slowly, Din relaxes his fingers and lets go. Getting immense satisfaction when the other alpha gasps for air and immediately grabs his throat. He grabs your hands and ducks his shoulder down, hauling you over his shoulder like he would a bounty. Ignoring your shrieks as he storms out of the cantina with you.

You are shocked that Din is carrying you back to the inn and, you can admit to yourself, turned on by the primal display. "Din. Put me down!" You demand but he ignores you until he's in front of the room he had gotten for you. Finally putting you down. "I can't believe you did that." You shake your helmet and he opens the door.

 "Inside." He demands and you obey him immediately, stepping into the room. Din steps into the room, letting the door close and locking it behind him. “You were going to let him touch you?” He demands, pissed off that you were searching for someone, despite the fact that he had not immediately claimed you.

You feel defiant now despite being alone with your alpha. "I was. I am going into heat. If you didn’t touch me, I needed to find another alpha to satisfy my needs." You declare despite knowing that no one would give you what you need from Din. 

“You’ve worked through heats before.” Din growls, remembering how he had heard your whimpering cries from your bunk as you used your toys. It had been hard to deal with, when he hadn’t known he was your alpha. Wanting to offer you his cock the entire time, but he had respected your need for privacy. “Why not this time?”

“Because - because I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted someone to touch me who wanted to touch me, to make me feel something. I know you already knew I was your omega. You weren’t shocked when I found out you were my alpha. You didn’t - you didn’t sound surprised at all. How long have you known?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He leans back from you, surprised that you are attacking him and not liking it. “I-“ he huffs, rolling his eyes under his helmet and sighs. “Yesterday.” He admits quietly. “The vents between our rooms weren't closed. I-I smelled you when I took my helmet off.”

You are placated when you find out it was only yesterday but you’re still hurt that he didn’t tell you. “I didn’t smell you yesterday. I - I was showering and I -” You frown under the helmet. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“I- we-“ Din shakes his head. “You know what Mandalorians do.” He reasons with you. “The Armorer aligns breeding partners. I-“ He bites his lip under his helmet and sighs. “I was going to ask the Armorer for you, to be paired with you when we find them again.”

You understand where he is coming from but you feel frustrated by him. "Din. We - we are mates. What we have is...it's more than the creed. It's more than just breeding. It's how it is supposed to be. It's primal and raw. We are mates. Destined for each other and you've been by my side for so long yet neither of us knew what the other was meant to be. I want - I want you. I need you. Fuck the creed. Fuck the Armorer. You're my alpha and I - I want you. No matter what the consequences are." You say, "but if you don't want that - want me - I will leave. I'll go back to the covert and you can finish your quest alone."

He wants to argue against your comments, his heart twisting when he hears you say you would walk away. “Always wanted you.” He confesses quietly, breathing deeply and soaking in your scent. “Since the second week together. Watching you wipe the floor with that Twi.” He snorts, smirking slightly under his helmet. “Wanted you all the time.”

You chuckle, remembering that fight when you were both so much younger. You step towards him, "I have always wanted you. Always imagined you when I was in my nest." You confess softly, "I think I knew, unconsciously, that I was yours."

“I thought about you a lot.” Din confesses, taking a deep breath as he remembers what Bo Katan had said about mates being able to reveal their faces to each other. He takes a deep breath and reaches up to slowly start sliding his helmet off.

Your eyes widen under your helmet as Din exposes his face to you and you get your first look at his handsome face. "Maker. You are -" You can see him tense with anxiety and you reach up with your gloved hand to cup his cheek. "Mesh'la." You tell him, unable to tear your eyes away from those beautiful brown eyes. "Do you - you can remove my helmet...if you want."

He’s proud that you find him appealing. His one glimpse of you too fleeting for his own liking, finding you mesh’la as well. “I want to see you, omega.” He hums as he slowly reaches for your helmet. “My omega. My mate.”

You’re nervous for him to fully look at you without your helmets on, and your heart pounds beneath your chest plate. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his without the pixelated visor screen and his brown eyes soften. “Din. Alpha.” You murmur, watching him as he stares at you.

“Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly, staring into your eyes and feeling his cock harden beneath his flight suit as he smells and sees you clearly for the first time. He groans your name. “Omega.”

You ache for him, your heat curling in your stomach, and you wonder what he wants, if he still wants to wait until you return to the covert. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. Do you want us to put our helmets back on and continue on like this never happened until we return to the Armorer?” You ask, a little breathless.

“I cannot pretend I haven’t seen your face, smelled you.” Din groans, his eyes nearly closing in pain when a wave of arousal drifts over him. “I- you’re mine.” He growls again. “You are going into heat, I will take care of you.”

You whimper at his words, your body starting to get overheated with need. “Alpha.” You gasp, starting to work on removing your beskar, needing to feel the air on your hot skin. “I need you.” You pant, efficiently stripping down until you’re in your bra band and panties, boots kicked aside and you slide your hand into your panties, needing to rub your clit for some relief.

“Omega.” He growls, body tense and he steps forward, his need to touch you and take care of you nearly overwhelming his rational sense. He is about to touch you, still completely dressed in his armor except for his helmet. When he sees his gloves, he stops. “Get on the bed.” He orders, starting to strip down himself. Needing to press his skin to yours. “I will make sure you don’t need your fingers. You can have mine.”

You obey his order, shifting to lay down on the bed after reluctantly pulling your fingers out of your panties, and you watch him strip off. “Alpha. You are - you’re mesh’la.” You say, sitting up on your elbows to watch him, seeing the scars from blasters that grazed the vulnerable spots in his beskar and you want to kiss every one of them.

His own groan is one of pride and need, seeing you squirming on the bed, waiting for him. His omega, needy and wet. His hand wraps around his cock and he slowly starts to jerk himself. “You are mesh’la, cyar’ika.” He hums, eyes dark and full of lust. The waves of need and want roll off of you and mix with his own desire to fill the room. “My sweet little, omega. Wanting my cock, needing my knot.”

His voice, unmodulated, makes you shiver, and you watch him with wide eyes. “Yours, alpha.” You promise, reaching behind you to unclip your bra band, tossing it onto the floor to expose your tits to his gaze as he pumps his cock. You are aching for him. “Please. Alpha. I need your touch.”

He’s heard it before. The needy begging and calling to his alpha, but never from his mate. Growling, he scrambles onto the bed, one hand grabbing your breast while the other rips your panties off effortlessly.

You cry out in satisfaction as he quickly pushes two thick digits inside of you. “Yesss.” You hiss, feeling the ache assuage slightly with his digits curling deep inside of you. “Fuck, Din. Alpha. Yes.” You whine, tilting your head towards his.

It will be the first time he’s kissed anyone and it’s fitting that it’s his mate. His lips come crashing down against yours roughly as he curls his fingers inside you. Unskilled, he relies on what he had imagined doing, watching holo vids and jerking off when he was alone in his bunk. His tongue pushing into your mouth when you moan and he makes a feral sound of pleasure of his own.

You moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his and it’s unskilled but passionate. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. You’ve both had sex before, neither of you have kissed and it’s clumsy but you soon get the hang of it.

He feels like he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing you. Pumping his fingers deep inside your quivering cunt, he groans and rocks his hips against your belly. Loving how eagerly you respond to me.

You pant into his mouth, getting closer to orgasm with the way his fingers pump into you. "Alpha. I'm gonna- you're gonna make me - fuck!" You cry into his mouth as you clamp down on his digits, the ache in your belly satiated for a moment.

The first orgasm from his omega nearly makes him cum untouched. Din moans your name as he works you through the way your walls clench and your juices soak his hand. Pleasured pheromones pour off of you and he ducks his head down to press his tongue to your scent gland.

Feeling his tongue on your scent gland has you whining his name and your nails dig into his back, wanting him to bite you but he won’t until he’s ready. “I need you inside of me. Please, alpha.” You beg, gently pushing him off of you so you can shift onto your hands and knees for him.

Din growls, loving the submissive display, looking at your dripping cunt as you move to your hands and knees. Showing him how badly you need him. “My omega is eager.” He groans, slapping your ass and squeezing your hips as he throbs. He knows this first time will be rough. You know it too. Taking his cock on his hand, he shuffles forward and notches it at your entrance. Hissing when he snaps his hips forward ruthlessly and buries himself deep in your cunt.

Your breath is immediately pushed from your lungs and you gasp as he stretches you out. You fall forward onto your elbows and squeeze your eyes shut as he doesn’t hesitate to start moving inside of you. It’s rough and your body feels like it’s on fire. “Yes! Oh fuck, yes! Alpha. I- shit.” You curse, cunt fluttering around his cock.

You’re perfect around him. Gloriously tight and taking every harsh thrust with a choked moan as he starts to hammer into you. Need and the instinct to give you every piece of himself has him gripping your hips like you might get away from him and rocking deep to push up against your womb.

You grip the sheets beneath you, your cheek pressed against them as he pushes into you over and over again. “Fuck. Oh fuck Din.” You pant, thighs starting to shake as he pushes you closer and closer to orgasm with every harsh rock of his hips.

Suddenly, Din stops. Circling his hips as he lifts your and grinds into you. He was going to cum and he wants to make sure that you are satisfied before he gives into any of his own needs. “Fuck, omega, you are so perfect.” He grunts out, panting as he feels you squeeze him. “Are you going to be a good girl and take my knot? Let me breed you one day?”

You whine, deep from your throat. “Yesss. I’ll let you- have as many as you want, alpha. I want to be good for you. Want you to be happy.” You pant, thighs shaking still as he grinds deep and his hand spreads wide until his thumb is pressing against your clit.

“Good girl.” He growls out, twitching inside you. He’s imagined breeding you before, many times, even before knowing you were his omega. Hoping that working with you would cause the armorer to place you together to breed. It was why he let you on his ship. “Fuck, I- you feel so good ‘mega. So fucking tight around my cock.”

Your nails dig into the sheets and you are desperate for him to make you cum. The fire in your belly is burning and sweat beads on your forehead. “Alpha. Please.” You whine, grinding yourself back onto him. “I need - need to cum. It burns.” You almost sob with need.

“It’s okay,” he coos, rubbing your clit as he starts rocking into you again. “Your alpha is going to take care of you. Make sure your little cunt is happy by the time you leave this bed.”

You grind back onto him, his hips still not moving as he rubs your clit, and you practically sob with relief when you cum. Clamping down on his cock, you moan his name, his designation, and soak him. “Yessss.” You hiss, thighs violating shaking as you ride your high.

“Fuck.” He groans, his hands tightening on you as he feels you cum around him. “It’s so good, cyar’ika. My omega.”

You slump into the sheets, the burning dissipating for a moment so you can catch your breath and Din’s fingers dig into your hips. “Alpha. Maker, I need - I want you to knot me. Please. Fuck me hard.” You beg breathlessly.

“Yes, yes, my ‘mega can take it.” He growls proudly. “Take my cock and beg for more.” As he starts to thrust harder, it feels like he’s going to beat the bed through the wall, knocking the headboard against the panel with a loud clang every time he pushes deep.

“I can take it. I want more. Always want more. Please baby. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Alpha.” You demand, your hands coming out to stop yourself from being squashed against the headboard.

He wants to bite you, to mark you as his even though no one would ever see your marks except him. His secret claim on you under your armor. His hisses out your name and manages to increase his frantic pace. “Fuck, fuck, Dank ferik.”

You whine his name, “Alpha. Oh Maker. You - it’s - oh shit. Shit. Shit.” You wail as you cum again, clamping down on his cock and gushing around him, feeling his knot starting to catch and you know he’s close. “Cum. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, reaching back to touch his hand on your hip.

Din collapses on top of you, Pushing you down to the bed, hips never stopping as he drives into you again and again. Fucking you into the bed as if that was his singular focus in life. “Gonna, gonna cum.” He grunts out, warning you. “K-knot you.”

“Do it. Fuck, I need it. Need it, Alpha.” You beg and he pushes deep just as his knot catches, his seed painting your walls with spurt after spurt. You whine in pleasure, feeling satisfied and you tilt your neck. “Make me yours, Din.”

The audible pop of his knot slipping into you releases a feral growl from deep in his chest. Unable to stop himself, his face turns towards your neck and his teeth sink into your scent gland. Marking you as his irrevocably.

You cum again from the pleasure of being tamed and from him knotting you. You sigh into the sheets when Din licks the mark he left on your skin. “I love you.” You confess, “even before I found out you’re my alpha. I’ve always loved you.” You confess with your eyes closed.

Din sighs softly and even though he could not pull away from you because of his knot, he wraps his arms around you to keep you close. “I had hoped the armorer would pair us together.” He confesses quietly. “That's why I let you join my crew.”

He shifts onto his side and you curl back into his chest, “whatever happens…it’s you and me and the kid. Even if we have to leave the covert. I would like to keep you, to keep you safe.” You promise him and he leans in to nuzzle your neck.

“Kar’ta.” He murmurs, feeling like he is complete for the first time since his nature was revealed. His other half is in his arms and he wants nothing more than to keep you there. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome.” He whispers softly, wondering if you will repeat the wedding vows back to him. “Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

You smile and squeeze his forearm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat back, turning your head to look at him, “riduur.” You whisper, kissing his jaw, “my riduur.”

“Riduur.” His spouse. You are married to him now, his - both by your nature and by your religion. “I will keep you and the child safe.” He vows, his hand sliding down to your stomach. “And any who follow.”

You kiss his lips softly, smiling against him as you place your hand over his on your stomach. “We will face whatever we need to face together. My riduur. My alpha. And when we are ready, I’ll happily have your children. Maybe we can settle on Navarro. Get a little cottage and live a peaceful life together.” You vocalize the dream you’ve had for years.

“That would be good.” He knows that it might never happen, but he wishes for it. “First we must finish our quest.” He hopes to find the armorer again and have you declared a clan of three. It will take some time, but you have time. Both of you have implants to prevent a child and his knotted cock twitches inside you as he thinks about filling you with his baby.

“Finish the quest.” You agree, “then we have the rest of our lives together. I love you, Din Djarin. My alpha.” You murmur, kissing his jaw again. “Whatever happens, we will face it together as mates. As partners.” You promise, unsure of the road ahead but you will be together, connected as one, and you will ensure the child’s safety. This is the way.

[hyperdramas]

1-800-got-stress | jeon wonwoo

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

warnings: non-idol au, college/professor au, slight romance (?), english professor wonwoo x teacher's assistant reader, tiny sprinkles of humor, one-sided crush (?), wonwoo is very dense when it comes to reader's romantic feelings (not really though), reader still loves him anyways, cute ending??

now playing: return of the mack, mack morrison

dedicated to: @k1eev (<3)

"After the lecture, I want you all to come see my assistant before you leave. She has the next module printed out and organized for you all." Wonwoo's deep voice is the next thing you hear once you snap back into reality, and many of the college student's eyes dart away from you as you look around, more than likely aware of how long you've been gaping at the English professor.

Jeon Wonwoo was the person always on your mind now—ever since you started as his teacher's assistant earlier this month, you've always been thinking about him.

He was everything you weren't—calm, professional, disciplined and put-together. He knew what to say and how to say it, and what to do and how to do it—you were ninety-nine percent convinced that there was nothing Wonwoo couldn't do.

Not only was he annoyingly perfect at his job, but he was annoyingly handsome too—he was handsome to a massive amount of people, students and other professors included. He had sharp eyes that seemed to grow even sharper with the perfect amount of tiredness, and hard-edged features that you had memorized now with how much you had stared at him when he worked.

Time went slow as Wonwoo talked, deep voice echoing through the lecture hall as he gave his presentation on the deeper story of Romeo and Juliet, asking his class questions as he gaged their attention span.

You thought about how nervous you would feel under Wonwoo's gaze. Your face just heated up at it, imagining how you wouldn't be able to look him in the face without feeling completely inadequate.

It was already hard for you to look him in the face, and you were his personal assistant.

"Please finish the last essay I assigned at the beginning of the month. Since we're starting a new module this Friday, I want everyone to be on the same page." Wonwoo's voice was monotonous as students started to pack their things, and you placed the stack of module papers on the desk, letting the students grab and go.

The class filtered out slowly, some staying behind to ask Wonwoo questions and garner advice from him. You watched them quietly, straightening the closet as you dipped in and out of their conversations.

You had just heard another professor enter the room, asking Wonwoo to go out with her tonight for a drink, (to which he politely refused), when Wonwoo had addressed you.

"Are you doing alright? You've looked really tired today." Wonwoo's thick, stern eyebrows are flat as he stares at you blankly, and you try to read his sharp eyes for any flicker of emotion for a quick second, giving up as you give him an awkward smile.

"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Jeon. I'm not even tired—just a bit distracted, that's all." You reassure him, and Wonwoo nods, looking down at his watch as you finish straightening up your desk.

"You should get some rest. It's not good for you to be tired and trying to assist me, is it?" Wonwoo has a faint smile on his lips when he says this, and you try not to blush or melt under his hot gaze against your skin, fiddling with your collar awkwardly as you nod.

"Here, let me help you with those." Wonwoo's voice is directed to the stack of heavy books teetering on the end of your desk. You nod to him gratefully, allowing him to pick them up as you walk to the other side of the room, unlocking the storage closet door.

He held the books without strain, face still as he waited for you to finish putting your share of books down. Wonwoo followed you, cologne wafting in the air and drifting under your nose as he turned off the lights.

"Thank you for today. You did very well." Wonwoo's voice was sweet as he smiled at you, and you returned the gesture stiffly, making your way back to the desk as you grabbed your things.

"Of course, Mr. Jeon. You did well too, I mean—you did well with the lectures and everything. You teach everything in such a fresh way, it's tough for anyone to not be compelled or interested in what you're teaching." You were a sucker for Jeon Wonwoo, and it was starting to show more and more now—how were you supposed to be normal about him?

"It takes a lot to make the lecture engaging and informative, so I'm glad you think that of me. Many students call me the boring teacher." Wonwoo's voice is lighthearted as he finishes straightening up his desk, and you chuckle, mostly at the absurdity of his words.

"You're quite the opposite of a boring teacher, in my opinion. Your stories and explanations are way more animated than the textbooks could be." Were you showering your superior-turned-crush with embellished compliments? Yes. Did you want him to notice?

...Not really.

"You sure do have a lot to think about me, don't you?" Wonwoo's voice is still playful, even if it has a neutralness to it. You blush slightly at his words, earning a smile from Wonwoo as he smiles. "I'm just teasing you. I appreciate everything you say to me."

A slight pink tint to Wonwoo's cheeks brings an even brighter one to yours, and the two of you fall silent, obviously sensing something between you. Wonwoo's eyes rake over your form, and you shyly look up at him, dark brown eyes behind his frame still making you warm inside as you sigh (dreamily and deliriously, as you might add).

You had made Wonwoo—Professor Jeon Wonwoo, the boring, scarily neutral English professor—blush from your compliments. You would be wallowing in your achievement if you weren't also blushing at the moment.

"Well, I, uh—" You stumble over your words, also stumbling over your book as you pick it up from the floor. Wonwoo watches you quietly, glasses sliding down his strong nose bridge slightly as he watches you head towards the door. "I should get going. It's getting late, and I have to be back here early tomorrow."

"I'll walk you to your car." Wonwoo nods, following suit as he slips his jacket over his broad shoulders and picks up his briefcase. His dress shoes hit the wooden floor as he follows after you, and he turns out the light, leaving you two engulfed in darkness for a few seconds as you stumble back, stepping on Wonwoo's foot.

He grunts harshly under you, and you scramble back, lights in the hallway illuminating your embarrassed blush. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Wonwoo just smiles again, smile lines sending butterflies that go straight to your stomach. "No worries. You couldn't see because of me, and I'm sorry." His cologne is so strong and so him you can't think straight, but you do your best to string your words together.

"Well, Mr. Jeon, I'll see you tomorrow," The two of you had just left the building, now by your car as you unlock the door. Wonwoo watches you with sharp eyes, clearing his throat as you turn to him.

"If—If you'd like, we should converse over dinner sometime. Not as coworkers, but as good friends." Wonwoo's sentence brought a rude awakening to your world, and you stood in shocked silence for a second, processing what he said to you as you blinked blankly.

Wonwoo considered you to be a good friend—you would have never told by how unfazed he was by most things, but he considered you to be more than a coworker or partner. He saw you as a friend. A good friend who was asking you to dinner.

"Yeah, we—we should, Mr. Jeon." You agree, and Wonwoo clears his throat, sharp eyes daring away as he adds, "Oh, and you can call me Wonwoo. We're comfortable with each other now, so we can drop the formalities."

Not only were you Wonwoo's good friend, but you were such a good friend you could now call Mr. Jeon by his real name, Wonwoo. Too many green flags were going off in your head, but could Wonwoo sense he was giving you all these green flags? It only made your crush on him worse.

"Well, I'll get going, Wonwoo." Even his name on your lips felt sweet, and Wonwoo nodded, giving you a small wave as he closed your car door.

"Until tomorrow." He smiles softly again, and you melt into your seat, smiling as you nod back. "Until tomorrow."

feedback & reblogs are appreciated! love u lyrnation <3

[haoboutyou]

my little graduand | choi seungcheol

fluff | 0.8k | no warnings

an: quite literally was checking my finals results when cheol went live so… i’m finally graduating soon!

You were stunned.

Staring back at you, the screen illuminating your face as it sat on the table, your laptop’s bright display shows a page you never thought you would receive.

FINAL EXAM – 70%

“I passed?” you softly muttered, unable to believe your eyes. You could feel your heart pounding. You moved your cursor to the corner, clicking ‘refresh’. It loaded for a millisecond before displaying the same unchanged page again. Still, in disbelief, you’re about to refresh your page again when your phone lit up, the special ringtone Seungcheol had set for himself blaring into the room.

You blinked out of your reverie, jumping at the sudden noise. You stared blankly at the phone a little while longer before finally moving to pick it up. A videocall, you noticed. Smoothening down your hair and propping the phone up, a trembling finger pressed ‘accept call’. A moment of suspense built as the connection was established, and then, there he was – your lover's face appeared on the screen, filling your world with his presence.

“Hi baby!”

Seungcheol’s bright voice greeted you. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness on his face instantly bridged any physical distance that separated you. He was about to jump into the whole reason why he was calling you – he had some free time before heading to the gym – when he noticed in your shocked face.

“Baby? Love?” He waved his hand to elicit some kind of movement from you. Seungcheol was almost convinced your side of the call was hanging until he caught you mouthing something. Increasing his volume, he coaxed you to repeat your words.

“Cheol, I… I just checked my finals results,” you gulped. “I… passed? It says here i scored 70%...” you spoke in hush tones, as if afraid saying it out loud would change the reality of your grades. Regardless, Seungcheol immediately picked up on your words, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Really? Isn’t that a distinction? That’s great, baby! You worked hard!” His smile gradually widened, dimples growing deeper. “Congratulations sweetheart, you’ve graduated!”

“I get to graduate…” Your eyes widened at the sudden realisation.

“Right? You said this was your last module before you can finally graduate.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. He had been on the receiving end of all your complaints and rants about the classes. It was the one module in your entire degree that had the highest difficulty, and he was well aware of how anxious you had been over passing. He had watched you pull multiple all-nighters for assignments, cancel plans to cram study sessions. Hell, you even had his contact blocked when you holed yourself in your room to complete the online exam, only being able to contact you after the designated 3 hours. Needless to say, he had all the confidence in the world that you would pass this module, despite your own pessimism.

“I get to graduate…” You repeated, not believing your own voice. Realisation hit, and your hands flew to cover your mouth. Your eyes started to water, tears of relief threatening to fall down your cheeks. Your voice trembled. But even through the tiny screen, you looked like the weight of world has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Cheollie… I can graduate!”

“Yes baby! My love is a graduand!” He chuckled, before leaning towards the camera. His face took up all the space on the screen, nose scrunching in concentration.

“Are– are you crying?!” Although it’s through a videocall, his worried voice didn’t fail to warm your heart. You let the tears fall freely as you nodded, teary eyes blurring your sight of the phone screen.

“I’m just so happy… I’m finally done with uni, Cheol!” He simply shook his head in disbelief, laughing along when he confirmed that you were okay.

“Yes! My little degree holder~” Seungcheol gaze wandered somewhere off-screen, presumably a clock, and he cursed as he realised the time.

“I have to go baby, I’ll see you at home? We can celebrate together later!” he promised, adjusting his hoodie and gathering his things. “Love you!”

You sniffled in response and shot him a grin. “Mmh, okay. Love you too.” Just like that, you sent him a small wave and ended the call.

-

Seungcheol came home a few hours later, a small cake in one hand and your favourite alcohol in another. However, he found you fast asleep on the couch, no doubt trying to wait up for him. He placed the items in the fridge, then proceeded to gather you in his arms. You curled up into his chest as he carried you to bed. Setting you on the bed, he went to wash up before joining you under the covers. You instinctively reached out for him the moment you sensed him, letting out a satisfied sigh when he pulled you even closer.

Seungcheol took a moment to study your sleeping face. Your eyes were a little puffy, evidence of your earlier waterworks. One hand thumbed your cheek, tracing the content smile on your lips. He planted a kiss on your forehead before turning in for the night as well.

You’ll just have to celebrate tomorrow instead.

[anim-ttrpgs]

The Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy October 17th Beta update has launched today on itch.io for free!

Happy Halloween! We pulled out all the stops just to get the update out in time for you to prep and play it for your group’s Halloween game! The free adventure module that comes with it, “Horror Harry’s Haunted House”, takes place on Halloween after all! In it, your investigators will solve a “murder mystery” in a charmingly spooky haunted house escape room. It serves as a sort of investigation and survival training ground for you and your PCs to learn the ropes before jumping into more Call-of-Cthulhu-esque adventures where death is around every corner. (You can even get two more adventure modules over on our patreon)

Download the new rulebook here on itch.io! Even if you download it for free, just checking it out, talking about it, reblogging this post, etc. helps us out immensely. We are a diverse, largely queer team setting out to slay a dragon, we’ve already been working on this for four years, and we need all the community support we can get!

If you’re wondering what Eureka even is, watch this trailer, or read this post if you don't wanna watch a video.

If you’ve ever tried to run a murder mystery in D&D, what you really needed was Eureka.

If you’re coming from the August beta release, which I assume you are, lemme tell you that a lot has been improved. I’ll go over some of the highlights, and post the full changelog under the cut. It’s still free, but if you could throw a bit of money out way on the itchio page, even if you’ve paid before, that would be a massive, massive help. We’re actually a bit over budget even with the relative success of the Kickstarter, plus for one of us this is their primary source of income.

Trait Overhaul

There’s a few new Traits, and nearly every single existing Trait has been redone to make them better and/or more interesting. Each Trait will now have an even more significant effect on your gameplay experience.

Combat Overhaul + World's Best Grappling Rules

Combat in Eureka is now better than ever, and it was already really good - plus, now you can actually comprehend the dang rules! The previous combat rules, I admit, were a dense and confusing slog to read through, even if they worked really well once you understood them. Now, thanks to our editor, you can understand them! Instead of being split across four chapters, it’s now just two chapters. One chapter explains weapons and is mostly just for stat reference, and the other chapter is focused on telling you everything your character can do during “dangerous situations,” which are not just combat, but really just any kind of scenario where a character can get hurt. As a special highlight to the combat overhaul, Eureka now boasts the first ever set of grappling rules that are viable, realistic, and fun to employ at the table! I’m serious when I say I have never seen them done like this before, and think they offer an actual leap forward in something that TTRPGs have struggled with since early editions of D&D! I also put a lot of my own judo and other martial arts experience to work here.

Monster Overhaul

A lot of what I said about the pre-overhaul combat sections of the rulebooks were also true of the monster PC rules. They were dense, hard to reference, and disorganized. Well not anymore! All six playable monsters in Eureka have been completely rewritten using the skills I have gained as a game designer since first writing them, and, like the regular Traits, they have all been at the very least tweaked to be more interesting and have a greater effect on gameplay, and some have been changed entirely with all new subsystems! Witches brew potions now, fairies actually have stuff to do with the names they collect, and more! Plus, speaking of Traits, every monster can have more regular Traits now, to really help flesh out their personality!

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 302. Half-ass copy-edited up to p. 322.

WHOLE BOOK

Stuck most of the $42+ kickstarter backer submission info into the very back of the book just to get it out of our email inbox and to allow the whole team to be able to more easily see it and work with it. Going to be doing more to integrate this stuff into the actual rulebook soon. 

Changed the headings to hopefully be more legible. Please give us feedback on what you think of this change.

CHAPTER 1

Changed the limitations on how Comfort is used to restore investigator Composure. 

Fixed a typo in the investigation example of play. 

Made it so that Composure rolls for fears in the “Ridiculous” category don’t even always need to be rolled when these things are encountered. 

Moved Character Health and Status, Grievous Wounds, Healing, and Healing Example sections to Chapter 1. 

Changed Partial Incapacitation to give -2 modifiers instead of -1. 

Overhauled the rules for injuries, incapacitation, and grievous wounds completely. A ton of it is changed. 

Added codified rules for medical facilities and what to do in the case of investigator death. 

Added “The Creeps” optional rule. 

Tweak to When is the Party “Split” section regarding how long to go before jumping between groups.

Lots of new art has been added.

Tweaks to Be Prepared to Lose section.

—---------------------------------------------------

Additions to the What is Eureka For section

Changed comforting factors and exacerbating factors for Composure rolls to be +/-2 instead of +/-1 so they make a real difference.

New snoop

Changed the font of the section headings in the Ticking Clock section. Let us know what you think of these headings compared to the other headings, because we are considering changing all the headings to be like this.  

Better clarified some stuff about how Ticks work when an adventure starts at some random time of day.

—-------------------------------------

More art has been added

Made travel take more time and matter more

CHAPTER 2

Changed the CQC skill to Close Combat, as this is more clear and obvious what that means at a glance

Made lots of copy-editing progress. Many paragraphs are shorter and convey the rules more clearly. 

Changed the way the Burnout Trait works. It now causes the investigator to lose flat Composure each day rather than affecting their Composure rolls. 

Changed the Death Wish Trait to not suck.

Changed the Elementary! Trait to use Visual Calculus instead of Social Cues.

Changed Go With Your Gut Trait to not suck. 

Added that wallets and like basic clothing and stuff have a WP cost of 0

Added glasses to item list

Added rope to item list

Added hand warmers to item list

Changed Arithmomania trait to where it only gives a +1 base bonus to Paperwork, and the bonus for having a lower Ignorance of Quantity Tiers of Fear rating is more investigation points. 

Changed Femme Fatale to add a +1 Seduce bonus instead of +2. 

Totally redid the Hardy Trait. 

Added -1 modifier to I’m Okay You’re Okay Trait

Redid the Just Built Different Trait. Now it allows a character “no sell” an incoming Superficial Damage attack once per Scene, reducing the damage to 0, among a few other things. 

Added Renaissance Man Trait. 

Removed Love Me Trait. Might try to reword it another time, but it was too similar to too many other traits and wasn't very interesting. 

Completely reworked Lover Trait. 

Many new snoops have been added.

Changed the Mad Genius trait to be called Lovecraft Protagonist and changed what it does. 

Removed the investigation point cap on Man of Action Trait. Also changed the name to Ask Questions Later. 

Changed My Glasses Trait to only provide bonuses to Knowledge Skill Investigative Rolls. 

Changed Nightstalker Trait so that it provides a bonus to all Interpersonal Rolls while trespassing 

Changed None of My Business Trait to suck less.

Changed Not Finished Yet Trait to suck less.

Changed Showboater Trait to suck less.

Changed Skeptic Trait to suck less.

Smalls is now a real Trait instead of just a joke Trait. 

Removed the +1 Bonus from the Unpredictable Trait.

Changed Wicked Trait to not suck. 

Changed Wizened Trait to suck less. 

Woo-Woo Trait no-longer based on Blacked Out Skill. 

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” here and changed the title to “Disabilities are Disabling”

Changed Basic Physical Therapy on the Wealth Point Item List from 3WP to 2WP. 

Added new section “People Change”

Made Blissfully Ignorant trait immune to “The Creeps.”

Made the Technically… Trait have a +2 bonus instead of +1.

Updated the Hard Boiled Trait to work with the new way that injuries and incapacitation works.

Moved the Hardened Hearts snoop to be the Wicked snoop instead. 

Changed “Empath” Trait to be “Empathetic” instead. 

Made “Did You Know…” a better and more usable Trait

Made Hard Under Pressure a better and more usable Trait.

Changed how the WP cost of an item affects the modifier for rolling for it in-adventure. The modifier is now half the WP cost rounded down. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Gave a proper name to the Wealth modifier attached to certain homes and vehicles, it is now called the Property Modifier(PM).

Lowered the price of firearm ammunition by 1WP

Lowered the price of desktop computers by 1WP

Lowered the price of cameras by 1WP

Combined various hand tools into one entry on the item lists and moved them to Misc.

Made hotels something that is prepaid in WP similar to food budget. 

Made Large Apartment less expensive and Tiny Apartment more expensive

Moved Baseball Bat and Axe out of Weapons and into Misc. 

Changed how Food Budget works.

Removed Net Skill Limit mechanic entirely

Edit to the duration of the bonuses for Femme Fatale

Changed Ninja Trait to a +2 bonus instead of +1

—----------------------------------------------------------

Made “Sleep On It” Trait give 1D6-1 investigation points, and still give Composure.

Added “Real Capybara Hours.” Sometimes jokes are just for us.

Added animals to item lists

CHAPTER 3

Moved the section “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” into chapter 2. 

More art has been added.

Moved Character Health and Status, Grievous Wounds, Healing, and Healing Example sections to Chapter 1. 

—------------------------------------------------

Changed the name of Chapter 3 to “Dangerous Situations.” We are planning to put all the combat and other dangerous stuff into one chapter called “Dangerous Situations” and merge combat, chases, etc. into one thing rather than splitting it up and having it in a bunch of different chapters.

Made it so that the Speed mechanic works with Theater of the Mind as well, and removed that other awkward mechanic with rolling Athletics for how many turns it takes for a character to cross a large distance. 

Complete restructure of the way the mechanics for movement and action are explained, as well as defining things as both Movements and Actions. 

Created a Chapter 2.5. In the future when we are ready to shift the chapter numbers, Chapter 2.5 will become the new Chapter 3 and the current Chapter 3 will become Chapter 4. Chapter 2.5 currently houses the statistics of weapons and other combat items. The plan is that a first-time reader will read the weapon statistics in Chapter 2.5 before they read the combat rules in Chapter 3, which will inform the way they understand Chapter 3. 

Changed damage value and special attributes of pepper spray. 

Made brass knuckles do 1 penetrative damage. 

Made stun guns do 2 superficial damage.

Made it so that bulletproof vests do protect against 1-damage weapons. 

Moved and rearranged like everything from chapters 3-6. 

Close range bonus for guns is now +2 instead of +1

Simplified Stopping Power rules (the actual way it works has not changed, we just rewrote it so that it gives the same mechanics in like a tenth of the word count)

Separated open-faced helmets and full-face helmets, and made it so that wearing a helmet along with body armor gives a -1 penalty to incoming attack rolls. 

“Single Load” is now called “Internal Magazines”

Shotguns at extremely close range now have similar stopping power to a rifle, but at 5-10 yards they still have their double stopping power. 

Changed how Rate of Fire works for guns. Just making it a number instead of distinct actions. 

Made it so that Quick Cycling affects basically all guns except automatics, meaning characters with high Firearms skill can now fire semi-automatic pistols at 3 bullets per Action.

Streamlined Stabilization. It is no-longer a roll and instead a penalty that worsens the more bullets are being fired at once. 

Made Bipods give +2 Contextual bonus instead of +1 to single stationary targets.

Changed Reactions and made them more broadly applicable and usable as a rule.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overhauled Grabs, Throws, Holds, and Escapes to make them a viable option in a lot more scenarios.

Defined “On the Ground” and made it its own section.

Made knock out blows and throws ignore Armor. Knock-out blows are still somewhat penalized by helmets.

Added A Real John Woo Film Optional Rule

More art has been added

Hastily updated the random chase obstacle tables for the new Movement/Action system.

Updated the example obstacles to be more in line with how we designed obstacles for the obstacle tables. 

Redid how Poison works. We meant to make it less convoluted but accidentally made it more granular instead. We did write it better so it will at least feel less convoluted. 

CHAPTER 4

Merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 5

merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 6

merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 7

Added “Psychological Warfare” mechanic. 

—--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 8

The Blacked Out Skill has been changed in two major ways. First we made it more obvious that the Blacked Out Skill applies even to knowledge of the supernatural that is not necessarily true. And also rather than working the way that every other Knowledge skill works, the Blacked Out Skill now gives leads to where answers might be found rather than immediate concrete answers. 

THE GORGON IS FINISHED AND FULLY PLAYABLE!

Added that Alt. Witches have to make their supernatural ability composure rolls at +0 instead of +3. The +3 was a typo.

Started work on the complete monster overhaul.

Vampires have been completely rewritten. Most of their abilities and themes are the same, but the way the abilities work has been overhauled and improved in many cases, as well as now being formatted and structured in a sane and easily-referenceable way. 

More art has been added. 

Changed the +2 Contextual Close Combat bonus for the Werewolf Trait to a +1 Base Bonus

Wolfmen have been completely rewritten. Most of their abilities and themes are the same, but the way the abilities work has been overhauled and improved in many cases, as well as now being formatted and structured in a sane and easily-referenceable way. 

Fairytale Witch is currently being rewritten/overhauled. 

Changed Incredible Strength Mage Trait to have a +2 Close Combat bonus instead of +3.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarified that gorgon blood does not heal gorgons.

Changed the way that monsters interact with Composure and their Tiers of Fear during the act of preying on other people. Instead of just ignoring it or having a bonus (i somehow left both of those conflicting rules in and no one told me), a relevant Composure roll is still made when a monster eats someone, but they do not lose Composure points from it even in the event of Partial Success or Failure. This keeps the narrative benefit of a Composure roll to show the monster’s emotional state, but without making hunting numerically pointless.

Finished the complete fairytale witch overhaul. 

Made the Close Combat bonus for superhuman strength be just +1 for the vast majority of instances. The only exception is wolfman forms. They get a higher Close Combat bonus because their transformations actually make them bigger and taller and this helps a lot in Close Combat.

Reduced Athletics bonus of Incredible Strength trait to +2. 

Merged the Alt. Witch with Mage, and made Mage a Misc. supernatural category instead of its own separate thing. This is going to be a really messy transition for chapter 8 so please bear with us. I am making a brief run though the chapter to clean up the biggest discrepancies this change creates, but I probably won’t get them all until the editor and I have time to actually go through and copy-edit it. 

“Mage” is now its own trait, and what were previously called “mage traits” are now called “mage powers”. Mages now have between 1 and 6 mage powers as part of their mage trait, with worse composure rolls the more powers they have. 

When they engage in their True Nature, monsters now have a chance to recoup some or all of the Composure they lost as a result of using their powers to hunt prey. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fully overhauled the fairy rules. Just one more monster to overhaul! Woo! 

Changed the Curse of Slumber to take effect the next time the victim falls asleep rather than knocking them out spontaneously.

Overhauled the changeling rules to go along with the overhauled fairy rules. 

Clarified something about the vampire’s In Lizard Fashion ability, they wouldnt be able to use this to stop a speeding truck.

Removed the hard limit on how many people a wolfman could eat at once, and also added rules for what happens if they shift to a smaller form with people in their stomach. Made similar tweaks for vampires. 

More art has been added 

Fully overhauled the Thing from Beyond, and that completes the full monster overhaul. All Monsters now consist of a single Trait, rather than needing a pair of Traits. 

Gave vampires’ “wearing the evening” ability a maximum distance of 50 yards and also it is a Movement now 

Made a few more adjustments to some of the monster sections to bring them up to date with the new Movement/Action mechanics. 

Adjusted all instances of poison in the monster sections to account for the new poison rules.

[burstfoot]

Figured I'd make a post outlining Arknights' auxiliary material for those who want to see more of the universe and aren't aware of all that's out there! ANIMATION Arknights Prelude To Dawn (S1) and Perish in Frost (S2, currently airing): [Crunchyroll]

A straight up adapation of the main story, up through Chapter 0 to Chapter 6! It's much more fast-paced than the story, so I wouldn't use it to replace actually reading it, but it's very cool to see some of these scenes in full animation. Lee's Detective Agency: (Youtube)

A mini-series animated in a chibi-style with a comedic tone focused on the adventures of the Kuroblood-illustrated Lee's Detective Agency! Distributed by Crunchyroll globally, but entirely free to watch.

Closure's Secret Files: (Youtube)

A cut-out styled series of shorts hosted by Closure which outlines a lot of the game's basic mechanics!

Holy Knight Light: [Youtube]

A short Youtube OVA focusing around Penguin Logistics delivering a package, celebrating Arknights' first anniversary!

[Upcoming]: Kay's Daily Doodles: (Twitter Annoucement)

Another free youtube mini-series that starts airing December 1st, focused around Ceobe! Here's some additional animations! Each event usually also has a 15 second 2D animated preview of the event, but there's so many of those that I can't list them all. Official Anniversary Event 3D Animations: Lone Trail Where Vernal Winds Will Never Blow Il Siracusano Ideal City Stultifera Navis Invitation To Wine Near Light Dossoles Holiday Under Tides Bonus 3D Animated Shorts: Legend of Chongyue Arknights Special - IL Siracusano Lo Scontro Youtube Shorts: Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 1 Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 2 Amiya's Siracusan Food Guide Part 1 Amiya's Siracusano Food Guide Part 2

Comics, Manga, Manhua

Officially Translated Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Rhine Lab: (Offical Website)

A canon manhua centered around the circumstances that lead to Silence falling out with Saria and joining Rhodes Island with Ifrit, as well as Ifrit's attempt to save a dying infected stowaway on the landship. Essential reading for understanding the Rhine Lab storyline and characters - read it right after Mansfield! One of the characters, Darya, is mentioned in both Ifrit's module and briefly in Lone Trail.

Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Blacksteel: (Official Source)

A short story focusing on the lives of the Blacksteel operators aboard the landship. While it often gets overshadowed by the Rhine Lab manga which is bigger in scope, this is a great read especially if you're interested in Franka or Liskarm.

Rhodes Kitchen -TIDBITS-: (Official Source)

An anthology story related to the cuisine that's important to a variety of operators. While it might seem unassuming, the art is gorgeous and it's really well-written. I particularly recommend the Goldenglow (Chapter 4) and Rosa (Chapter 5) chapters.

Unofficially Translated

Arknights Comic Anthology: (Mangadex)

As the title says, a series of non-canon anthology stories regarding the cast of Rhodes' Island! Note that the link provided only has complete translations up to Volume 4 (and Vol. 4 is missing Ch. 7), and most of the chapters avaliable after that point were MTL'd, so I can't vouch for their accuracy. Chapters I'd recommend are: Volume 1: Chapter 12 (focused on Myrrh trying to improve her medicine), Chapter 14 (focused on Saria and Silence trying to put apart their differences to take Ifrit on vacation, afaik the only place where they are directly referred to as her "moms") Volume 2: Chapter 1 (Manticore tries to make friends), Chapter 3 (The LGD gets drunk), Chapter 11 (Texlapp and Mosexu yuribait), Ch. 13 (Magallan tries to find a pet), Chapter 16 (Ethan spies on the interior lives of Rhodes operators) Volume 3: Chapter 6 (Snowsant, Ifrit, Nian and Shaw are forced to make friends), Chapter 7 (Gummy flashes back to Chernobog), Chapter 10 (FEater and Shaw yuribait), Chapter 13 (Blackout on the landship, as well as Ayerscarpe and Leonhardt yaoibait)

Volume 4: Chapter 4 (Thorns tries to make friends with Weedy [this one is my favourite]), Chapter 6 (Tomimi tail spankings), Chapter 9 (Elysium helps Frostleaf get along with Dur-Nar) Volume 6: Ch. 1 (Whisperain opens up to others) [this one isn't MTL'd afaik]

123 Rhodes Island: (Mangadex)

A series of non-canon gag 4komas! Many of the games' offical stickers are done in this series' art style.

Arknights: Operators!: (Mangadex)

A compilation of 4komas posted on the official ArknightsJP twitter account! Thank you to @sleepywoodscans for their work on translating these, please show them some love!!

[Edit: For clarities sake, the only stuff here that has used MTL is later chapters of the Comic Anthology! Sleepywoodscans’ work on Operators! is all done by hand (they’re a native Japanese speaker). Again, I really appreciate their work!]

Arknights: A1 Operations Preparation Detachment: (Mangadex)

Part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focusing on Fang, Kroos and Beagle, and a catastrophe striking the Columbian city of Tkaronto. Unfortunately, only translated up to Chapter 6, but one of the characters (Elba) has a brief cameo in Light Sparks in Darkness! Edit: Chapter 7 has been translated by @pooce-art, and they're working on Chapter 8!

Angelina: Sketches of THIS Messenger's Journey: (Mangadex)

Also published as part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focuses on the adventures of Angelina travelling across Terra as a Messenger! Recent chapters relate to the upcoming Sami event & IS4, as well as the upcoming So Long, Adele.

Prelude Suite: Unrestrained Play: (Wiki)

Unfortunately, I can't find a full translation for this one - an epilogue to Hortus De Esscapismo focusing on Arturia's background. Of course, major spoilers for Hortus apply - if you can find a full translation yourself.

As well, an upcoming manhua focused on the Break the Ice cast was annouced during the 4.5 Anniversary stream. As far as I'm aware, chapters have not begun releasing yet!

Other:

Arknights Ambience Synesthesia: (Youtube)

A series of concerts (3 so far), focusing around Arknights' music! A live performance has been done every year, with skins released in-game for the concert's theme & 3D animations produced featuring the skin's cast in 2022 and 2023.

Monster Siren Records: (Spotify) (Official Website)

Arknights' official (and-in-universe) record label publishing game OSTs, themes for almost every 6 star operator that releases, and occasional bonus songs.

Arknights: Endfield: (Twitter)

An upcoming 3D action gacha game from Hypergryph, set in the far future of Arknights' universe on another planet. Currently in closed beta testing for their CN servers!

Arknights: Nomad City: The Founders: (Youtube)

A to-be-released CN Arknights board game! Unclear of if it will ever be translated or released globally, unfortunately...

Terra: A Journey: (Wiki)

An upcoming CN lore book focused on the intricate details of Terra's worldbuilding. As well, unclear if it will be translated or released globally.

UNOFFICIAL:

Some fandom-developed tools that might be of use to you are the Arknights Terra Wiki - which just transferred from FANDOM to wiki.gg, and has very detailed information on both game mechanics and world-lore.

As well, the Arknights Story Reader can help you catch up on stuff you don't want to or can't read in game!

Finally, Aceship's Toolbox provides access to a variety of tools, including a levelling calculator, a calculator to ensure the best recruitments, and all the CGs, backgrounds and character sprites that are avaliable in-game.

Conclusion:

Thank you for reading! I hope this provided some new information to you or at least provides an easy reference resource in the future. There's a lot to check out even outside of the game, and I hope you find some stuff you enjoy!

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Does the End Justify the Means?

CX-2 (Clone Assassin) x Reader

Summary- CX-2 never planned on forming a relationship, but once he did he had to protect it. Even if it meant killing hundreds to keep you away from Hemlock.

A/N- SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH FINALE. I feel like people forget that deep down, CX-2 is still a clone being forced to serve the Empire. Maybe I'm delusional though!!! MENTIONS OF BURNS AND TORTURE!!

Word Count- 5,253

"You know, CX-2. There was once a time where I considered scrapping you. The very cloning program that made you..." Hemlock started. "You were hard to control. My methods had little effect on you. Considering you had little to live for, well that didn't help."

CX-2 stood, arms crossed behind his back. He listened intently, staring at the grey border of the wall.

"You were too, hmm. Rebellious should I say?" He walked slow circles around CX-2, studying him. "That was until I found your little secret out." Hemlock laughed at his own wit. "Who knew a medic trainee would have an Assassin Clone falling so hard!" He seemed to think the situation was hilarious.

Silent, CX-2 contemplated killing Hemlock where he stood. It wasn't possible though, he was smarter than that. He probably had a weapon on his beloved as they spoke. Perhaps Scorch was with her now...

He didn't want to think about it, so he didn't. Opting to stare back at the wall again.

"Truly, I created you better than that. The problem with you clones is your loyalty. It would typically disgust me. Though, unlucky for you, this all plays out in my favor." CX-2 swallowed hard at his words.

There were not many things that scared CX-2, but the thought of Hemlock hurting you consumed him. Striking him with a never ending fear.

"You will bring me Omega. Unless, you want an accident to happen. That would be tragic, wouldn't it?" The man asked, taunting the clone. All while fiddling with his gloved hand.

For the first time in many minutes, CX-2 spoke. "I will retrieve the girl."

"Good, I do not doubt your abilities." Hemlock stepped closer, right in The Assassins face. "Dire consequences are at stake..."

CX-2 made sure his next stop was Pabu.

CX-2 had no intentions of forming any friendships, especially not a relationship. You, however, came natural to him. In one of Hemlock's attempts to have complete control over CX-2, a burn was implemented on his waist. He remembers the day vividly, as it was the first time he'd met you.

You were only on Tantiss because of your mother. She worked for the Empire as a medic, a famous doctor of some sort. While you never had the knack for the medical field, you enjoyed helping people. It was in your blood after all.

CX-2 was taken to a special room for clones of high status. You were there by sheer accident. A mishap guided you to his side.

"Uhm, hello sir." You introduced yourself. "I'll be your medic today. What's your name?" You asked, a little nervous to be assessing a clone by yourself. He wore black armor, head still covered. You'd never seen that style before, maybe he was new?

CX-2 just stared up at you, a hard gaze. Out of fear, you started to breathe a little heavier. He could have killed you there and no one would have batted an eye.

"Sir, is something the matter?" You pressed on, trying to mask yourself with professionalism.

He continued to stare, eventually pointing at the chart In your hands.

"Of course, uh. CT-4340?"

CX-2 didn't say a word, just tilted his head. You looked at him with doe eyes. "Are you CT-4340?" you hesitated.

"My code is CX-2." He commanded out, a modulated voice appearing.

You almost jumped at the sound. "I uh, seem to have the wrong chart. I am so sorry, I should get a higher official-"

Under his helmet, CX-2 resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His shoulder dropped, annoyed. This caused his side to jolt. The pain of the burn on him was strong, but he withheld any reaction.

You, on the other hand, seemed to notice the very small twitch his waist gave out. "Where are you hurt?" You asked, the words now flowing with a motive in mind.

CX-2 instinctively started unbuckling his chest piece. You flushed slightly, ashamed you couldn't be more serious in the situation. "Do you need help?" His head rose quickly, falling after looking at you for a second. He didn't respond, just continued to take his upper armor off.

Guess not...

The second you saw his skin, you suppressed a gasp. It looked gruesome, like something had repeatedly been burning him. With a deep breath, you shoved down any lasting fear.

Getting to work, you prepared bacta and bandages.

He was still, almost too still. You'd seen plenty of procedures and medics fixing up clones. There had been wincing, complaining, and fidgeting on lesser injuries. You would have expected tears and need of an anesthetic for any other man. But he was still...

You prayed you didn't hurt him more than he already was. You knew your hands were clumsy with inexperience. If you did, he made no effort to tell you nor pull away.

From then on you saw each other more and more. While your mother made sure you got plenty of experience working on clones, you were extremely busy. Never getting a second to actually talk to CX-2. A particular encounter with a clone in the hangar would change this.

You were helping a trooper with a broken arm- Simply wrapping it to prevent further injury. You crouched down, examining the break.

CX-2 was just passing by, heading to see what his next mission was. He barely took note that a soldier under his command broke an arm. Why would he? Clones die everyday, including ones under CX-2.

He did however take note of you. He recognized you immediately. He surprised himself, why would he care about some medic? He'd never remembered the ones that had worked on him in the past.

At this, he stared at you. He took in your silhouette, something deep down told him to bask in your every feature. So, he did.

Of course you felt the beaming eyes of CX-2. It made you nervous. Was there something on your face? Did you make him mad? It distracted you.

"Ow!" The clone exclaimed in pain, face screwing. He yanked his arm up. It was an accident, you were sure. A response to the pain you caused unintentionally. CX-2 didn't seem to think this when he saw the clone raise his arm to hit you.

It all happened so fast, you didn't have time to lean back or even register what was happening. The next thing you knew was that the unidentified clone was on his back. CX-2 stood over him, a vibroblade at his neck and foot on his chest.

Falling onto your butt, you gasped and regained some sense. "CX-2...."

He slowly turned around to face you. The two of you looked at each other. His hand still expertly rested centimeters from killing the clone.

Adrenaline pumping, you spoke. "it's okay. It was an accident."

He pushed the clone back with his foot, hand raising. With the vibroblade still wielded, he stormed to you. Your heart pumped viciously, though not in fear. If he was going to really hurt you, he would have let the clone hit you.

No, your heart thumped in your ears in anticipation.

He grabbed you by the forearm with his free hand, careful of the blade. He yanked you up, off of your position on the cold floor.

You briefly noticed eyes around the hangar now in your direction. You grew nervous, only at their judgmental looks.

The quickness of it all made your head spin. You stepped out, trying not to fall. His hand still gripped your arm, he stood unmoving. He let you catch your balance, just watching you.

"Excuse me, what is going on here?" A vice admiral questioned, appearing from your left.

CX-2's modulated voice said your name. It was harsh and cold, but you somehow knew it wasn't directed at you. "She is my medic."

"And? What gives you the right to attack a clone for no reason?" The admiral demanded.

CX-2 didn't like being questioned. Before you could get a single word in, CX-2 pulled you with him as he turned to leave the hangar.

"Wha-" You decided not to protest, the man was on some kind of mission. One he had made for himself the second he saw a threat to you.

He guided you two through the complex halls and levels of the lab. You were beyond lost, but he seemed to know where he was going. After a few minutes of paced walking, you stopped him.

"CX-2, where are we going? I don't want to risk getting reprimanded by the admiral." You were cautious, the smallest of complaints could get you reassigned. Tantiss was not for the faint of heart.

"You won't." He would make sure of that. He continued to walk, this time a little slower.

Finally, you found some familiarity in the halls. You noticed he was leading you to the very room you met in. The examining room for special operatives.

He pulled you into the room, making sure the door shut behind him.

"Examine me." He demanded.

You were dumbfounded, "Excuse me?"

CX-2 actually rolled his eyes this time, even when you couldn't see them. In response to your confusion, he removed his left arm's armor.

A gash that went from the top of his shoulder to before his elbow was present. "CX-2..." Your sadden voice spoke.

You didn't actually have clearance to be in that room, nor the supplies. But you worked nevertheless.

"Please, sit." You asked. He followed your instructions immediately, sitting up on the exam bed.

Just as the day you met, you retrieved bacta and med patches. You coated the wound in extra bacta, then prepared the gauze wrap.

"So," You held his arm up gently, starting to wrap it. "How did you get this? Was it your latest mission?" Your hands carefully worked, moving under his arm.

"No." Was all you heard.

"Oh, how did it happen?" You asked, trying to make conversation.

His skin twitched as a subconscious response when you smoothed over it.

"Better if you don't know." He kept his eyes on the wall ahead of him. "Sorry I asked..." You really were. He said nothing.

After a few more moments, you made sure the wrap was steady in place. "I think you're done!" You smiled at him. He dropped his arm at his side.

After, he promptly nodded, but gave little indication on what to do next.

You looked around, feeling a little awkward.

"So... What division are you from?" You tried to ease the tension.

"Project Assassin." He said, being short.

"I haven't heard of that, wha-" He inturpted you. "Tell me about you."

You blinked. You'd only seen this man a dozen times, many of those in passing. Even so, a shot of nerves flowed in you each time. There was something special about him. It was like your heart knew something your brain didn't. You weren't a child though, you knew 'love' was something of fairy tales. That there must be a perfectly rational reason you were feeling this way around him.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Though, if that were true, why did you sit up next to him and tell him everything?

From that day on, the only medic he allowed to work on him was you. The number of visits varied, depending on how evil Hemlock was feeling. CX-2 tried to hide the backstories from you as much as possible, sometimes even ignoring your questions.

Though, late at night, when he'd sneak into your room, he'd tell you the truth. At first he would listen. Anything you'd tell him, you had his full attention. Then, right before you fell asleep, he'd whisper his secrets.

He'd whisper them to the only person he ever trusted, you. Then, it was your turn to listen.

You cried for him, the pains he had went through. He was the perfect clone in your eyes. The only problem was how stubborn he was, no matter how hard Hemlock tried- you were still the only one who could persuade him.

Despite his grunts of protest, you'd just hold CX-2 some nights. Using your fingers to rake through his hair, cradling his head. You tried you best to give him the comfort he had never experienced before.

Everything was going so well. You would continue your training, he would continue his missions, and at night, you would talk and he would listen. You would spoil him with affections under the nights bask.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

The day Hemlock found out about you was the worst day of CX-2's life.

CX-2 was called in for a meeting about his next mission, something he was used to. He only received orders from the highest of officials, so seeing Hemlock or Scorch was common.

"I have... a special mission of some sort. One I cannot risk incompletion of." Hemlock began.

CX-2 stood upright, ready for instructions.

"Now, despite what we have tried to instill into you- I do not want you to listen to any other orders. I think this particular mission requires your mindset." His words didn't effect CX-2, he'd heard worse.

"One of your fellow operative has been captured. Alive. I will not accept him risking our organization."

"My orders?" CX-2 asked.

"Find and neutralize him." CX-2 nodded at his words.

"You have 48 hours to kill him." Hemlock walked up to CX-2, arms folded behind his back. "If you fail, that...medic... you are so fond of? She will reap the consequences of what you sow."

It was impossible to cover up the way CX-2 breath hitched. If he didn't have a helmet on, Hemlock would see his eyebrows scrunch in anger.

"Yes, that's right. I know about her." Hemlock said, his voice mocking. "Oh, don't fret my little assassin. She will remain unharmed, that is... unless you fail your duty..."

"I trust you will locate him and rid the republic of any information?" Hemlock taunted.

"Yes sir."

How? How did Hemlock find out about you? He was so careful... He immediately headed to your quarters. Damned everyone else, he pushed through crowds and odd stares.

He banged on the door, fist closed. If you hadn't opened in the next 10 seconds, he'd shoot the door down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." You 'tsked.'

"Oh, CX-2." You breathed out once you opened the door. Unsure if he was there for pleasantries or business.

He shoved his way past you, pressing the button to close the door shut.

"Wha-" He stormed around your rooms, it was quick considering there were only two. A bedroom and bathroom.

He held his blaster up as he checked every crevice of the room. His eyes glanced back at you quickly to make sure you were still there and alive.

"CX-2." You raised your voice. His head shot your way. "What's happened? You're scaring me..."

He paced up to you, removing his helmet as he walked. "He knows about us." Was all he managed out, throwing his helmet to the floor in favor of grabbing your cheeks gently.

Your face dropped, heart pounding in your ears. "How? I don't understand!" You started to breathe heavily.

"I just had to make sure you were safe." His gloved hands felt cool on your hot skin.

Your mind wandered, what would they do?

"I have to leave now." He said, dropping his hands. "No, wait. You can't just drop that bomb and leave!" You had so many questions, and you didn't want to be left alone freighted.

"I do not have time, if I don't complete my mission he will kill you." Your blood ran cold. "I am so sorry I brought you into this. I should have never stepped between you and that clone." He readied himself to exit the room, turning and putting his helmet back on.

"CX-2!" His shoulders dropped, he stood silent. You walked around to face him.

He let you reach your hands up and lift his helmet off. "I'm not upset at you. I only want more time..."

"I can't."

"I know." At your last words, you pulled him down by the collar of his blacks. Now level, you kiss him. Scared it would be your last.

The few seconds your lips touched felt like an eternity. All the time you needed with him...

Eventually, he pulled away. "I-"

"I know... please be safe..." You asked only one thing of him.

He nodded, placing his helmet back on snug. He then walked out your door, your thoughts consumed with wishes of his safety.

CX-2 would fulfill his mission, killing the compromised Operative. Though, that was only the first time he'd have to leave your grasp to keep you alive...

CX-2 reminded himself why he was currently headed to Pabu. 'Dire consequences are at stake' echoed in his mind.

He would capture Omega. He had no care for the innocent people he might have to kill. In his eyes, all of his actions were justified in the name of your well-being.

He never told you of his endeavors, now being sent on more gruesome missions than ever. He knew you'd be disappointed in him, but he also knew he had to always protect you. No matter the cost.

While expertly leading a fleet of soldiers, the only thing that let CX-2 think straight was you. He filled his mind with memories of your laughter. Of the times you begged him to choose a real name, even when he protested. When you first touched, when you first kissed.

He worried for you until the second he had Omega tied up on his ship.

Even after, he was anticipating his reunion with you. He had the girl, he had what Hemlock wanted. He could see you again.

And he did... Hemlock was consumed with his experiments and testing on Omega. So much he that didn't bother CX-2 for a few days. Oh, it was bliss.

The time you shared reminded you of before anyone knew you were together. You both still had your duties as clone and medic, but spent any free time with each other.

You laid in your bed, a glance at the clock scolded you for being up so late. You paid little mind to it, just enjoying the feeling of CX-2's arms around you.

With your head now buried in his chest, you let your hands wander. Slipping under the top portion of his blacks. He used to shiver reluctantly when you felt his skin, now it seemed like second nature.

You loved tracing his scars, the texture consuming you. While they were painful memories, they were treated with love and tenderness. He looked at his scars and thought of you, how you took care of him so nicely and delicately. Not Hemlock.

A light flickered from his panel brace. The one that rested on your nightstand. It lit up the room, and CX-2 immediately reached for it. he pulled away from you, but was careful to keep a connection with his leg still feeling you.

"I have to go." He said, standing to put his arm and chest armor back on.

While he was always quick and determined when hearing from Hemlock or Scorch, he was frantic here.

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing, do not stress. I love you." He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and an affectionate rub of your thigh before putting his helmet on and leaving.

You sighed and leaned back when the door closed again. This was slowly becoming the new normal for you. You still savored every spare second you had together...

Just as you rolled over to fall asleep, the door opened. "Did you forg-" You jumped up, almost hitting your head on the baseboard of the bed. It was Scorch.

"Come with me. Now." He grabbed your arm and pulled you rough out of bed.

"Excu-"

"You are under arrest until further assessment." He forcefully put you in handcuffs.

You tried to resist, but put up no real fight in comparison to the trained clone. He grew tired of you and stunned you with his blaster.

You fell unconscious.

"You activated me?" CX-2 asked over Comms, like he would in any other situation.

"It seems we have another problem with our favorite girl." Hemlock said.

Omega...

"You see, she has managed to escape with the other children. Did I mention she also freed the zillo beast?"

CX-2 listened intently, not moving a muscle.

"You have been the only operative capable of capturing Omega thus far. I will see that you will find her again. Before she finds some way to leave the planet." CX-2 could hear the frustration in Hemlocks voice. It made him flicker a smile.

"Affirmative."

"Oh, and as a little motivater, I think it would serve you well to know your medic is currently held up in a cell." Hemlock went radio silent, leaving CX-2 to head to the exposed section of the base. The hole the Zillo beast left, and the way Force 99 was headed.

Your head throbbed, vision a little blurry. Raising your head from the cold of the floor, you noticed you were in a cell.

The room spun around before you sat up. Your whole body ached. Not to mention the confusion you were feeling.

Looking around, you saw other prisoners lining the walls. You knew exactly where you were. The hall where all the traitors and experimental clones were kept.

Were they going to experiment on you too? Was CX-2 okay? Did something happen to him that made Hemlock finally get you?

The building shook with a loud boom, it did nothing to help your nerves. It sounded like some kind of cannon went off.

"You okay?" A clone asked in the cell across from you.

"I don't know..."

With the effort and passion of a man whose entire reason for living was at risk, CX-2 and the other Clone Assasins were able to capture the rouge clones.

With his blaster barred in his hands, CX-2 guarded the three prisoners. He was occupied with the thought of what The Empire was doing to you.

You must have been so scared in a cell... He knew you didn't like small spaces. With his new fury, he closed his fist, doing yet another round of the platform they were on.

Boredom was unable to strike you, anxieties kept you busy. Your mind ran wild with the possibilities of CX-2. For a moment you questioned if he had just abandoned you as a whole, but quickly shunned yourself for bringing it up.

CX-2 loved you, and wouldn't dare leave you to rot.

"Look!" A clone yelled out, just as you saw a small girl and a storm trooper running by.

What were they doing?

They crept around the corner, swiftly blasting and taking out 2 storm troopers in the process. The girl got to work on the main computer that operated the cells.

"Hey kid, whats going on?" Someone asked.

"We're breaking you out."

Seconds later, your cell door opened. You slowly walked out, unsure what to do. What would CX-2 do in a situation like this? He'd probably tell you to keep your head down and blend in. Stay out of trouble, 'for his sake.'

You did just that, creeping out of the cell and hiding within the groups of clones.

Apparently, the 'storm trooper' was a clone, so was the girl. They were on a mission to free their three brothers, recruiting clones as they did so.

Was this the big mission CX-2 was called to? To capture the people they were here to rescue?

"We've checked all the cells, they aren't here."

You knew where they probably were... The training room. The very room that tortured and left your beloved marked. You didn't dare say a word. As much as you hated Hemlock and his 'methods,' worse things would happen if CX-2 failed his mission...

"Well... they could be in the training room." Damn, another clone had though the same as you.

They decided to head there, a few turning for an easier escape.

What should you do? Warn CX-2? You weren't raised as a soldier, you had no training. No fighting experience. You knew how to save and help, not attack and kill.

A small hand was rested on your arm, the girl from earlier. "Hi, I'm Omega."

You looked down to her. "I know it's kind of scary, but we have to fight for what's right.." If only she knew your true intentions...

"You're right... i'll come with you..." All you wanted was to find CX-2.

So, you did. Following them to the training room, they planned an attack from the lower circle.. You, however, had a new idea. To come in through the main balcony. The one that led directly to Force 99.

You managed to sneak away and climb the steps that brought you to the main doors.

"Hey, you! Are you supposed to be here?" A trooper stopped you.

"Yes sir," You gave him your chain code, "I am a medic. Hemlock has requested my services in the Training room." You lied, faking a confidence you never had.

"I never heard about Hemlock ever needing a medic in the training room..."

"Well if you want to ask him, while the Zillo beast is one the loose, he has new prisoners, and while his top experiment is lost- Be my guest. I just don't think he'd be very happy with you questioning his methods." You crossed your arms behind your back, something you'd seen CX-2 do many times.

"Fine." He moved out of your way, letting you head to your destination.

You walked to the door, ready to put your mother's clearance codes in. With a steam they opened, leaving you to witness a terrible sight.

The 3 captured clones were out, fighting. You got there in time to see the big clone burst out of the glass, tackling a special operative.

With the sound of the door, the man with a bandana looked your way. Along with CX-2, who rose swiftly upon seeing you. You distracted him long enough for the clone without a hand to blast him in his side.

You gasped as you watched CX-2 fall in your direction.

With an electrospear in his hand, the bandana man stepped to him. He only managed to zap him once before you ran in.

"No!" Your scream pierced out, you threw yourself onto CX-2. Using your body to cover his.

You didn't care if you died then and there, at least you'd die in CX-2's arms. You'd at least die together...

"No, don't!" You squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for a shock that never came. You felt a weak hand raise from under you to grip your clothes.

Tears streamed down your face violently. Pattering on CX-2's armor.

"You do realize the crimes he has committed..." The man panted out, he was also wounded.

"Please, it was for me... It was all for me..." You sobbed out. "Hemlock threatened my life..." You buried your head in his neck, holding him tightly.

"Hunter, no. We should kill them both now." The handless man spoke.

The man you assumed to be Hunter didn't have time to respond.

"I swear we wont follow you... Hemlock is probably on his way to his private ship... I swear..." Your words were muffled but they understood well enough.

"We are wasting time, lets go." Hunter commanded, the two of them left.

You gave out a whimper, "CX-2... Please... Stay with me." You pried his helmet off. He was in a rough state.

His eyes struggled to focus on one thing, but he still tried to find your face. "It'll be okay, just let me grab a med pack." You went to pull away, but he gripped you tighter.

"Let me.. hold," He coughed, "You.."

"You are not going to die on me. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" You tried to joke. He shook his head, 'no.'

"Then let me do my job, and help you." He still held you tightly. "Please... you deserve to live..." He let you go.

It was only half a minute, you grabbed a medics kit that was nearby and began patching him up.

Making quick work of taking his armor and blacks off. It reminded you of the first time you'd done this to him. A very similar wound on his waist.

You forced him a pill, and squeezed out as much bacta as you could from its packet.

"Can you roll over for me, baby?" You asked, helping him get on his side.

He complied as much as he could, and you were able to patch up his other side.

"Okay, this will hold you over. I know the closest procedure room, a droid can give you a proper examination." You helped him stand, an arm under his own to keep his balance.

"You'll be okay, we'll be okay..." You whispered praises and words of affirmation to him. The walk was extremely painful for him, you could tell he was hiding most of it from you.

Lucky for both of you, a droid was able to identify where the blast was and give him a proper cleaning of the wound.

He was still woozy, but forced himself to stand. "We have to go. Tarkin is on his way.." CX-2 strained out. He was stubborn and refused any medication that would cloud his mind.

"W-where? Your ship?" You were scared, not just for CX-2, but your futures as well.

He pressed a few buttons on his panel brace as you picked up his helmet.

"Turn left." He instructed you all the way to his ship, even with the pain starting to blur his vision.

The two of you somehow managed to make it to his ship, you opened the door with his panel brace and sat him in the co-pilot's seat.

You clicked away, starting the ship up. Though, you did need some guidance from him.

You had never flown a ship before, but knew you had to take the risk to save CX-2. It was wobbly, but you raised the ship and let Auto-Pilot blast you into hyperspace. It had a set of coordinates in, ones you didn't know the location of.

A groan made you turn to your lovers direction, you were at his side immediately. Crouching down you spoke, "Hey, its okay... We're far away. You can take the pain medication, its just us two."

He peaked open an eye to look at you, his face barred disappointment in himself. Almost like he was a lesser man if he took the meds.

"Take them. If not for yourself, for me." You pulled them from your pocket. He did take them, minutes later he felt the relief.

You took another look at his wound, it was stable for now. You figured that he would need a cleaning and new bandages in a few hours. Hopefully his medkit was fully equipped on his ship. If it was, you'd be able to last many days without needing to land.

You stood, pulling his head to your breast. "Shhh, rest now. We are both safe."

He truly did feel safe in your arms, like he didn't have to always be on guard. A huge change from his normal. One he'd hoped he could live out with you for the rest of his life...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I got a little carried away with this one... I just had to get this idea written down!!!

Tags-(lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss @dangraccoon

[observeowl]

Second Chance | Chapter 2 - Back In Time

Series masterlist

You didn’t know how long you had been sleeping when you opened your eyes, but it looked like your old home's ceiling. You couldn’t understand what was happening because you remembered selling it after marrying Natasha. Deciding that it must be a dream, you closed your eyes again, getting comfortable on your bed, when you remembered you were involved in a car accident.  

You sat up in shock, looking around the room, and it was exactly how you decorated it in college. You couldn’t understand what was happening and picked up your phone to check the date. You went back to 10 years ago! How is this happening? You went to your washroom to check for any injuries from the accident, but there was nothing. You took a better look at your reflection, and you looked a lot younger. These ten years have done a number on you. 

You took a deep breath collecting your thoughts but couldn’t understand how this was happening. A knock on your door made you snap your head towards it. “Y/N, are you going to be ready soon? You’re going to be late for class.” Hearing the sweet voice from your mother made you rush towards the door, giving her a bear hug. She stumbled slightly, not expecting affection from you. Your family wasn’t huge on affection. A typical day where everyone is gathered without an argument would be the best; the three words would never be heard in this house. 

“What’s happening? Is there something scaring you in your room?” She patted you slightly on your back, trying to look inside. You never realised how small she was. You knew she was shorter than you, but she seemed so big and strong when she took care of you.

You shook your head, wiping the tears from your face. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s gone to work. Are you going to be back for dinner?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright. You better get ready to leave, or you’ll be late. You wouldn’t want to ruin your streak.” She pushed you back into your room for you to get ready. 

On the bus to school, you thought about all that happened to you. Was this going to be permanent? Do you want to return? You could start a new life here and forget about Natasha. 

Once you reached the school gates, you realised you didn’t know what class you had and were supposed to go to. Thankfully, you always had the habit of putting your timetable on your phone’s lock screen. You needed help remembering where the classrooms were and relied on the signs hanging to get there. Your friends were already there and had saved a spot for you in the middle of the class. 

Everyone seemed to be whispering to each other and holding something in their hands, which made you turn and ask Camellia if there were any handouts you were supposed to print out or collect. 

She looked at you surprised. “We are supposed to hand in our essay today, Y/N! Don’t tell me you didn’t print it out!” You widened your eyes and checked your bag for anything that looked like an essay. As you flipped through your file, you saw something stapled and took it out. “Yes, this is the one. Big Questions.” You sighed in relief, knowing you did complete the essay. 

“No one likes this module. It’s such a crappy compulsory mod.” You complained. Having lived in the future, you can say that this mod did not help you in any way the professor said it would. 

While waiting for the professor to arrive, you took out your iPad and laptop as you asked Camellia if there were any other works that needed to be submitted for other mods. You’re used to having a to-do list, but you often start at different applications as you were never satisfied with how they function. You tried writing it down on paper before, but you just couldn’t stand how your handwriting looked. 

“Since when have the roles been reversed?” Diana, who was sitting next to Camellia, spoke. “It’s always Camellia who is the one who asks such questions.” 

You laughed along with them. “I just have a bit of a brain fog.” You compared your notes and updated your calendar with her in time before Professor Eric arrived. 

===

Natasha knew she pushed you too far when she left you alone in the living room, but she was too stubborn to head down to apologise. Instead, she cried in her sleep as she waited for your movement. She knew things were different between them; she always noticed a change in people’s feelings and motives faster than most. So when you began to head to bed earlier than usual and sleep facing away from her, she knew something was wrong immediately. At first, she thought your work was draining you since you had been coming home late, but it dragged on longer than she had experienced. You also didn’t call to complain or ask her to help bail you out of situations you didn’t want to be in. 

During the twins’ party, Steve tried to talk to her about what he was sensing between the two of you. He was pragmatic, perhaps a bit too much. He suggested that if the both of you fell out of feelings for each other, she should get a divorce instead of pulling everyone along. Natasha didn’t accept it, but neither did she reject it. 

She knows she tends to keep it all in, which is why she treasures this marriage so much. You were the only one who stuck with her for a long time, that her friends and family approved of. You bring out the softer side of her even though she had pushed you aside and been mean in order for you to go away. She wanted her brick wall to remain strong, but you had taken out enough to squeeze in and put some back. And this time, your leaving has left a bigger hole that was easier to fill up. 

She knew you didn’t sleep in the same bed that night, so she rolled over freely. But to her surprise, she landed on the floor instead of your space in bed. Looking closely at the bed and her surroundings, she realised she was in her parent’s house. Did her parents bring her here when she was emotionally affected? There was no way she couldn’t remember a single thing. Even when she was black-out drunk, which is rare, she’d never forget bits and pieces of the night. 

“Hey! Why are you still here? I thought you had morning class?” Yelena burst into her room and questioned her. 

Natasha looked at her, confused. “What class? I finished my studies long ago. Instead, shouldn’t you be at work?” Knowing she was going to drink at the party, she took the next day off to sleep in. Nat stood up from the floor and went to the bathroom to freshen up after being rudely woken up. 

“Did you finally drink too much or knock your head somewhere? You’re still in school, idiot!” She insulted her sister and yelled at her mother that her sister had finally gone insane. Back in the bathroom, Natasha found herself staring into her reflection. This has to be a joke. She really went back in time? “Oh god… Mom! Natasha really went crazy!” 

Once her sister ran out, she immediately went to shut and lock the door. This was not a prank; her sister looked like how she was 10 years ago. There’s no way anyone could have faked that, and certainly not her sister herself. Was this a dream? It’s way too real to be a dream. Remembering what Yelena said, she had a morning class to attend and immediately packed her bag according to the timetable on her table. 

“Natasha, what’s going on?” Melina knocked on the door to ask her daughter. 

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I’m going to school, not coming back for dinner.” She said as she swiftly made her way out. 

“Something’s definitely wrong with her. She’s gone crazy after studying too much. She should learn how to relax.” Yelena said, and Melina took it in without saying a word. 

When Natasha arrived at school, she immediately went to find Clint, and he looked at how he was 10 years ago. The prank couldn’t have been this extensive. She squeezed her eyes, taking in that somehow this was real, and she was stuck here until she found a way out. 

“Hey, Nat!” She opened her eyes to see Clint waving at her and Maria beside him talking to someone else. 

“How is it going?” She asked both of them as she sat down. Only Clint and Maria were in Law with her. Steve and Bucky in Economics. Tony, Bruce and Vision in the Information System. Wanda and Sam in Social Science. Thor in Business. Even though all of them were in different faculties, some modules overlapped, so they could meet or discuss over their group chat. They were one of the rare few who could maintain such a big group. 

“Nothing much. You haven’t told me, are you going to the party?” Clint said.

“What party?”

“The party that Fredrick is hosting! I told you this last week, Nat! You said you would let me know.” Clint raised his voice slightly. Not that it matters anyway. Fredrick was a popular kid; almost everyone knew he hosted the parties before the exam season. Those who don’t are nerds. 

“Yeah… I guess I’ll go.” She nodded. She vaguely remembered this when Clint asked her originally. She didn’t go because she wanted to catch up on her studies. But, now, with all the experience in her bag, she isn’t afraid that she’ll do poorly in her exams.

“Great! Finally, the whole group is going to be there!” He took out his phone and started texting the group, and soon everyone started blowing up her phone. Throughout the entire three-hour class, she was hardly listening to her professor talking but rather thinking about her situation. 

Was this a blessing or a curse? She is given a chance to restart. With her memories, she can choose a new path she didn’t take because of you. If she were to go back, you would just continue hating her, but why does she feel bad for wanting to stay here?

“Do you know where Y/N is now?” She asked Clint once the class ended. 

“Y/N? Why do you want to know that?” Maria asked. While you have been talking to Natasha at this point, the two of you weren’t that close yet. 

“I just need to know. I have something I want to ask her.”

“She’s in the Accounting building. Good luck knowing which exit she’s going.” Clint replied, ignoring what Maria said and started pushing her out in order to beat the lunch crowd. The latter shrugged off her friend even though they were close. There was no need for such touching, in her opinion. 

Natasha took her chance and waited at the exit underground, knowing you were the type to head straight home after class. She waited and waited, but she didn’t manage to catch you at all. Eventually, she gave up and went to find Clint to raid his food instead. 

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[queenendless]

Chase (Darth Vader x Fem!Adult!Reader)

A/n: Tales of the Empire gave me ideas. Particularly on a snowy chilly planet ... it's a very open setting as to what is going on in this so bare with me. First time writing SW stuff on here.

So AU with unburnt Vader who's also kinda OOC in this, some fluff and steamy romance with some Anakin at the end, but it's a short ass piece cause of short notice for today.

PLEASE DONT REPOST, EDIT, COPY, PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE AND OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER IF YOU DO ENJOY IT THEN LIKE REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME PLS N THNX.

And May The 4th be with you.

Your cloak blew from the chilly winds.

Your hood covered head raised up to meet at the top of the snowy hill.

Climbing up with the darkening gray storm clouds piling up, heighting the anxious tension filling you up inside, the helmeted figure coming into view struck through your core.

He had pursued after your wandering lost self.

You wanted to see how far he would go, as selfish as that was.

Your fear of the cold blooded, brutal Sith Lord becomes mingled with how you are lustful of his imposing presence.

Your cape fluttered in the blowing cold winds as you hurried away, straight to the ice cave entrance.

He knew you thrive off the chase.

And you knew he was relentless in playing along.

“You cannot run forever, Y/n."

His deep modulated voice bounced off the towering crystal ice walls, using the light shining from the high cracked ceiling to guide you.

“I've come this far.” Your tepid sweet voice echoing back at him had him growling a bit.

“You cannot hide from me.”

You didn't need to be Force sensitive to feel that he was honing in on you quickly.

Your flushed nervous face met your eyes as your bumpy reflection followed your side, his heavy footsteps sounding that much closer. “Doing good so far, all things considered.”

You should have figured uttering those words into existence would jinx your ongoing streak. The moment you stepped back from the dead end and spun around on your heel, you bumped into that armored chest.

You screamed a bit as his leather black gloves grabbed your forearms and pinned you to the wall gently but firmly.

His red lenses hid his eyes boring into your very soul, his giant frame enveloping you, pressing you carefully against the alien texture. His heavy breathing made your breathing go silent like a scared mouse, caught by the big bad beast.

“The game is over.” For some reason, he sounded so smug about it.

“You're unbelievable.” You pouted up at that obsidian face.

“You're foolish.” He scoffed.

“Says the man wearing the robot suit.”

The fact that he released his grip on you and leaned back a bit to actually take off that intimidating helmet still took your breath away.

“It helps with the image.” To hear that warm enriching amused voice again already had you giggling as your hands cupped his sculpted cheeks to pull his face down to peck those tempting lips.

His helmet clanked along the ground as his arms slithered around your waist to lift you off the ground, grinning slyly to you hugging his waist in response.

“It's working, my Lord.” You shakily spoke, weaving through that shoulder length darkened hair to tug him closer, pecking many a time quite desperately.

“This little ploy of yours has gotten us completely off track.” His husky tone was sheer evidence that he did not give a damn. Not one bit.

“Forgive me, Lord Vader, for my teasing.”

You squeaked as those giant leather hands of his cupped and squeezed your ass.

“I shall have to punish you, my dear. Quite thoroughly~” Those blue eyes were riddled with devious intention, marking your neck with ferocious bites along your delectable skin.

Your fevered gasps and lecherous cries traveled the caves as you became a mess under his wet steamy mouth. “A – Ani~!”

The former Jedi turned Sith Lord smirked, devouring your mouth with that needy tongue of his.

“Hush, my love. We're just getting started.”