What Could Have Been (Part 11)

What Could Have Been (Part 11)

Words: 1063 Warnings: Arguing?  A/N: About the requests I have in, (they’re 17 if I’m not mistaken?) I’m writing them, guys! I haven’t forgotten!  It’s just going slowly, because I work full-time in front of a screen and sitting down in front of another one after clocking out isn’t quite appealing. Nonetheless, I’m writing them! I’ll try to go on a writing spree this weekend, hopefully things will smooth down then! :) 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

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Hi! Could you add me to your obiwankenobi!daughter series?? 😇🙏🏻

Of course lovely! I'm taking a short break (watching the mandalorian for my other series) and then ill tag you ❤

What Could Have Been (Part 9)

Words: 1353 Warnings: Canonical violence, probably a poorly written response about hazmat shit A/N: I’m sorry for taking so long guys! I’m starting a new job and shit’s chaotic right now :( 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

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Falling For A Maybank

Summary: Based on the song Falling In Love x Night Troubles.

Requested: No.

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Language, Underage Smoking, Some Angst

Well now really when we go back into falling in love. And say, it's crazy.

“Madam,” JJ says, his hand reaching out to gently grasp onto yours.

He gently lifts you onto John B’s boat from the docks, the cheekiest grin etched onto his tanned face. It’s infectious, causing you to mimic that same grin as you put down the cooler in your hand.

“Thank you, my good sir,” you reply, giggling softly as you handed him a beer.

“Ooo, my favourite,”

His fingers tickle yours as he gently takes the beer from you, goosebumps travelling up your arm at a rapid rate. But you shake it off, taking a step back from him as your smile slightly disappears. It was a trap to like him, the guy with a new girl in his bed every night. 

“So? Where are we off to today?” you ask to no one in particular.

“Probably just back to the marshes, after that hurricane last night there is surely more fish ripe for the fishing,” John B replies as he drives off into the water. 

Softly, you nod, pulling a beer out of the same cooler that rocks against the boat’s floor. As soon as the top meets your lips, almost half of it’s contents disappeared within a few minutes. Maybe under the influence you could calm your nerves, finally enjoy yourself for the first time in weeks. 

As soon as your butt hits the seat beside Kie, a knowing eyebrow of hers raises up to meet her hairline. 

“Oh, god, Kie, not again,” you mumble quiet enough for only her to hear. 

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” she whisper yells. “There is obviously something between you two.”

You take another long sip from your beer bottle, trying to avoid looking straight but you do. His eyes meet yours, that classic grin returning at the sight of you. Instead of returning the smile, you quickly turn away, swallowing the bitter liquid down hard. 

“No, no it’s crazy,” you reply softly. 

Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall.

You both were walking on the beach where the water meets the sand. It had been a long night at a graveyard party. Watching JJ constantly flirt from girl to girl didn’t hurt any less then it did before. How you ended up walking down the beach, only the moon’s light cascading across your faces, you still didn’t know. 

“(Y/N), it’s a brilliant idea!” he exclaims as he chuckles. “We just need a fuck ton of weed and paper.” 

“And probably an ambulance from overdosing,” you giggle softly.

“No such thing,”

“You will be the first person to make it happen, JJ, I can see it now,” 

“I feel high all the time, (Y/N/N),"

Your heat flutters at his special nickname for you, forcing your gaze down at your feet to hide your warm blush against the cool light. 

“Well I can’t doubt that, now can I?” 

Both of you fall back into a fit of laughter. Before you know it, you’re in front of the small shack you call home. None of the lights were on since your family had already retired to bed. You stop by your door, gently twisting the doorknob to open the door. Once you look up however, you’re met with bright blue eyes and long blonde hair tickling the tip of your nose. 

If your heart could fly into space it would. You willed your feet to move backwards but they never did. Instead, you were frozen, looking into the eyes that brought you warmth, the hair your fingers had been tangled in many times. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N/N),” he whispers softly, kissing your forehead before disappearing down your street. 

You could deny it all you want, but deep down you knew. You had risen into love. 

And it goes back, as a matter of fact, to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life.

You couldn’t take it anymore, constantly watching him flirt with other girls, having to help them find their clothes strewn across the Chateau the next day. You just couldn’t take it. 

So, you withdrew. No longer were you on their boating trips. No longer did you show up to boneyard parties. Everyone would text you, wondering where you were. All of them get a response, except for him. 

It angered him. All of the Pogues tried to comfort him, saying that she must have texted them all on accident. But he saw right through it. You were ignoring him, and he didn’t know why. He has to know why. 

Without the other Pogues knowing, he snuck away and was on his way to your house when he passed the park you played at when you were kids. When he first fell in love with you. A bunch of boys had ganged up on you. Despite the beating he got, the boys left you alone from that day on. You took him home, cleaned up his wounds, both from the boys and his dad, and promised that you would be quiet as long as you two stayed friends. It had started back at the fundamental things.

JJ knocks lightly against your window, a frown forming when he notices that you aren’t drawing the blinds for him like you usually do. He knocks again, and again, until you open the blinds and lift the window out of pure annoyance. 

“What do you want, JJ?” you mumble under your breath.

“Why are you ignoring me?” 

“I’m not ignoring you! I just need to be alone,”

“Alone from me?” 

“Yes from you!” 

You look at him with tears falling down your face. The sight of it almost sends JJ into tears himself. 

“Fine, then, I’ll leave you too it,”

And with a harsh sigh, he jumped off your window and was gone. 

You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble. 

You had recently come back to the group, pretending like nothing was wrong. But JJ knew something was, however after that day in your room he refused to speak with you. Kie had talked with you many times, to just take the leap already and tell him. And you promised you would...

The moment you take a step, you do so on an act of faith because you don't really know that the floor's not going to give under your feet. 

You, Pope, and JJ had infiltrated the Midsummer Ball for the Kooks with ease, posing as waiters for all those who couldn’t see over their nose to get it themself. Your eyes couldn’t stay off of JJ the entire night. It became too overwhelming once JJ had returned from giving the note to Sarah. Without a second thought, you pull him close to you by the collars of his jacket, and you kiss him.

The moment you take a journey, what an act of faith. The moment that you enter into any kind of human undertaking in relationship, what an act of faith. See, you've given yourself up. But this is the most powerful thing that can be done: surrender. See. And love is an act of surrender to another person. Total abandonment. I give myself to you. Take me. Do anything you like with me.

Without a second in between, JJ kisses you back and his arms hold your frame against his tightly. Once both of you come up for air, uncontrollable smiles grace both of your faces. 

“JJ! (Y/N)! We gotta go!” Pope yells as the Pogues make their escape. 

JJ runs after them with his hand around yours while you follow. Both of you grin ear to ear as you run towards the van. Without a second thought, JJ lifts you up by your hips and gets you into the van, sliding in right beside you. Once he was in beside you, he lifts you onto his lap, kissing you once more as your hands frame his face, kissing him back urgently. 

“Fuckin’ finally!” Pope yells at you, causing both of you to break apart and glare at him.

“Just keep the PDA down why don’t ya?” Kie replies to Pope. 

In response, you two kiss once more, making sure to add a moan or two in there to make your point. 

Hey everybody! Uhhhhh (I seriously don't know what to write).

Anyways, here is a list of fandoms that I can write imagines/blurbs/headcannons for:

- MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

- OBX (Outer Banks)

- Stranger Things

- X - Men

- The Gifted

- One Chicago

I'll continue to add to this list as more pop in my head and I will add a master list as I write and you guys start requesting. Prompt list soon to follow!

I can't wait to write for you guys! Until next time...

Part 1 - The Deal

Masterlist

Summary: The Child wasn’t the first time Mando broke a contract to save someone. You were the first, presumed dead thanks to help after he was supposed to capture you. Now, you work under a false name with Mando to pay off your dues. However, as time drags on and he breaks another Guild contract, buried feelings between you two bubble to the surface. 

Warnings: Violence, sarcasm, some pretty spicy angst

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter alludes to different types of abuse. Viewer discretion is advised. 

Against the harsh winds of Hoth, your wisps of breath seemed like a whisper. Pulling your hood further over your head in attempt to block out the cold, you trudge on through the many feet of snow before you. On the run, a bandit, an escapee, a one way gate to a mighty sum. That’s all you were to anyone anymore. But who were you before that?

You were nothing.

During the Siege of Mandalore, you were separated from your parents, and quickly snatched away.

Dropped on the doorstep of a ring fighter, your life was nothing but pain and struggle. From the moment you could walk, you were trained with blasters, snipers, sabers, any weapon imaginable. You learned within days that losing was not an option. Not unless you wanted another slew of scars to appear upon your back. Not unless you wanted to be locked into the room with the opposing handler you had lost too. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You broke out from it all, trying to kill your handler in the process. Unfortunately, you had to choose between your freedom and killing the bastard that took it in the first place. For years, you kept bounty hunters off your trail, habiting the most desolate of planets. With each day passing by, the sum would get higher, the more hunters sniffing you out. 

That’s what lead you here, on the frozen, desolate rock known as Hoth. Bundled in Gherlian fur lined coat and pants, you found refuge in a small cave that blocked you from the bitter snap of the wind. Exhaling once more, you watched as the frozen air quickly disappear. Why couldn’t it take you with it? 

You pull out what’s left of your rations and water from your pouch in an effort to find your fire starter. Except it wasn’t there. 

“Haar’chak!” you exclaim in Mando’a, your mother tongue.

A subtle crunch in the snow reverberates into your ear, making you want to freeze. You resist the urge, to hesitate was weak. Instead, you feign innocence in trying to find the stolen starter. Really, you were slipping out your dull blade, ready for the attack. 

“I haven’t heard that language in a long time” a modulated voice says from behind you, holding a very warm blaster to your head. 

Without a stutter, you spin on your ankle and stand, smacking the blaster away. Still holding the blade, you press it right under the masked menaces helmet, where the only skin you could see that was exposed. His hand quickly grabs the dagger, twisting your wrist to turn you around.

But you were smarter. As he spins you, you send your ankle back, hitting him right where the sun don’t shine. A loud groan translates through the helmet with static, but he doesn’t back down. Wrapping his arm around your neck, he holds you close to his body, grabbing a knife of his own. 

“Give up,” his static filled voice says.

“Hmm, no,” you whisper despite the lack of air, sending your head into his face and escaping his grip. 

As he recollects himself, you kick the fallen blaster in front of yourself, bending down, seizing it, and aiming it directly for his helmet. But your steady hand becomes shaken as you get the full view of your attempted captor.

“You’re a Mandalorian,” you say.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” he spits, sarcasm laced in his tone.

Knowing that the helmet is made of Beskar, you drop the now useless blaster and sigh. 

“I thought a man of your honor would leave me alone,”

“I’m a part of the Guild. I don’t ask questions.” 

“Maybe you should,” you reply, an intense glare in his direction sent from your eyes. 

“Look, lady, I’m just here for the money. I don’t care about your life story,” the Mandalorian says as he pulls a pair of cuffs from his belt.

With a sigh, you hold your wrists out like reflex, ready to be trapped once again.

“How much do they want for me now?” you ask as he clasps the metal tightly around your wrists. 

“Why do you need to know?” 

“Don’t you think a girl wants to know her worth?”

“You’re mouthy,”

“You’re clueless,” 

The Mandalorian releases a harsh sigh before pushing you out from the crevice that had protected you both from Hoth’s winds. Within a matter of minutes, you were on the ship and being shoved towards the carbonite freezer. You remember the tool all too well, being familiar with it’s affects. Without any control, you feel the cold touch of fear trace the scars along your spine, making you shiver. The masked menace looks towards you in question. You keep your line of sight forward, swallowing the bile that had piled in your throat from nerves with force.

Unexpectedly, he turns you towards some spare seats and sits you down into one. He straps you in, avoiding eye contact through his visor at all costs. 

“While you’re taking me to that bastard,” you mumble. “do me a favor? Look up (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He still avoids eye contact, pulling a way and climbing up the ladder nearby to what you assumed was the cockpit. You feel the ship roar to life and all you can do is lean your head against the metal wall. It was going to be a short ride through hyperspace, so you let your eyes flutter close, gaining any sleep you could for the torture ahead. 

You’re awoken by the rustling of the Mandalorian grabbing weapons from a closet close to you. The ship’s loud thrusters had drawn quiet and the knawing pain at the pit of your gut told you to run. But you know you were stuck, captured, doomed.

The Mandalorian tugs you from the seat with a rough hand and shoves you out of the ship, stepping onto the planet’s surface you swore to never step on again. He directs you through the crowd of hunters and beggars alike, heading towards the building you knew was coming.

As you approached it, he raps on the door the secret code you had memorized from years ago. The door is opened within seconds and you both are ushered inside, uncontrollable tears filling your eyes as you stare down to hall to your owner.

“I told you...I own you, bitch,” his voice scratched, scarring your ears just like the real ones adorning your body. 

“Slanar at haran,” you whisper like poison dripping from your lips. 

‘Go to hell,’ the Mandalorian stationed by your side translated to himself.

“You’ll pay for that...” he seethes, a disgusting smile breaking the many wrinkles on his face. “Why don’t you show your Mandalorian friend a good time, as a bonus to your return home?” 

You want to vomit right there, a violent shiver over taking your body at the thought. But then the Mandalorian surprises you. 

“I don’t want your payment, Arro,” he says calmly, without a quiver in his voice. 

“Are you sure? She is quite talented, Mando,” Arro replies with the same disgusting smile. 

As Arro speaks, you feel Mando’s hand slip across to your hands bound behind you and unlock them. Adrenaline fills your veins in response. 

“I want her,” he replies coldly. 

The cool metal of a spare blaster embraces your hand. It makes it nearly impossible to suppress the grin bursting through onto your face, imagining Arro’s slumped body on his seedy throne. 

“Well you have her, Mando,” Arro replies, his grin becoming disgustingly excitable as he stands. 

“Not like that, demagolka,” he says, quickly aiming his blaster at him. 

‘Damn,’ you thought, following his lead and aiming your blaster. “he really just called him a real life monster.’ 

The soldiers surrounding you both quickly aimed their own blasters at you. With a small chuckle, you quickly turn in unison with the Mandalorian, taking out the soldiers with the ease of a trigger beneath your finger. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Arro trying to escape from your wrath against him. You quickly aim, but couldn’t find the motivation to pull the trigger while pointed at his head. No...that monster didn’t deserve something as sweet as death. Instead, you aimed lower, quickly shooting both of his knees out from under him. You swore you heard Mando whisper something, but all you could see was red. 

Walking over to the whimpering man, you kicked him in the ribs hard enough to hear some cracking beneath your force. Kneeling in front of his face, you turn your head and force him to look at you.

“Come for me...and my name will be engraved across your face,” you whisper menacingly. 

Standing back up, you kick him hard enough to send him into a state of unconsciousness. Turning back to the Mandalorian, you noticed he hadn’t moved one inch. 

“Vor entye,” you express your thanks, expecting him to leave after you admission.

“C’mon, we should get to the ship before more of his Imps come back,” 

Without another word, he walks out the door with you following close behind, a confused look scrunching up your face.

Once you returned, the Mandalorian wordlessly closed the doors to the ship behind you. He walks over to another hidden closet, tossing you a new blaster and a newly crafted blade.

“I could use a new partner,” he says without turning towards you.

“I’m gonna need a new name then, Mando,” you reply, looking at the blaster and tucking it into your worn holster.

“Dar’manda,” he states matter of factly, his visor finally pointed towards you. “But I’m still calling you (Y/N).” 

The name fit perfectly for you. In Mando’a it meant a state of not being a Mandalorian, not by choice or by being an outsider. Rather, it was to describe one who lost their heritage. 

“Yes, sir,” you say out of reflex, something deeply engrained into you thanks to Arro. 

“It’s just Mando.”

You simply nod, sheathing your new blade. Mando quickly makes his way over to the ladder braced against one of the walls. Before he fully climbs up, he turns back to you.

“You coming?”

With a soft smirk, you nod, following him into the cockpit. 

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