Part 1 - The Deal

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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If You Don’t I Will

Word count: 3.3k

JJ Maybank x Reader : showing jj subtle ways of how you care for him and John B is tired of him not seeing it

A/N: I wrote another JJ thing bc im a simp and I love him and this was also another idea thats been floating around. Fluff is you squint but you dont need to squint hard, next will def be angst bc I live for it Xx

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*not my gif full credit to owner*

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feels like we only go backwards (4)

gif credit: @anakin-skywalker

summary: Y/n grows distant after the kegger, leaving everyone in the midst of drama without even knowing it.

warnings: um none i can think of? let me know if there are though!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: as always let me know what you think and let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist! strikethrough means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

part one! part two! part three!

IGNORING THE CRAMPS HE WAS GETTING, Pope smashed his fingers against the Playstation controller. 

He looked at Y/n from the corner of his eye, taking in her slouched figure as her tongue began to peek out of the side of her mouth. He decided against giving her a push so he could win - he wasn’t even sure it would work. She might have been too focused. Pope quickly glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. He watched his health bar get lower but did nothing to fix it besides having an abundant amount of health kits in his pack. Y/n let out a victory shout after she shot the fatal blow that killed Pope’s character. 

“HA!” she gloated, “you ready to get your ass beat again, Heyward?” 

Pope shook his head, moving to plug the controller up so it could charge, 

“Nah, I have to meet the pogues soon,” 

Pope watched her face drop, her sad eyes glued to him as he walked around his room to gather his things. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” her dejected tone quickly changed to something much lighter, “have fun!” 

It alarmed Pope just how good she was at hiding her emotions. He sent her a look as he stopped packing, maneuvering so he was looking straight at her,

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? Everybody misses you, they ask about you all the time.” 

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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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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...

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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