#ahhhh in the second one hes sooooooo small

[they-hermes]

[tf hyperlink] guys what if you were a small kid and you had a giant truck as your best friend

[wild-karrde]

ALRIGHT LET'S GET INTO IT.

WOOOOOO the second-guessing. I knew it would come, but I didn't think she'd cool off enough to think it through so soon. It makes sense; Kazi's analytical to a fault, so of course she'd turn this over again and again and lose sleep.

As the hours extended and the light outside lightened from black to dark blue, she questioned some of her comments. They were attacks on Commander Wolffe’s character—attacks concerning traits of his she didn’t actually know. Traits she could only guess at. 

Because deep down, as much as Kazi is stubborn and bullish at times, she does have a good heart. She doesn't want to hurt people that don't deserve it. Even if they're the clone guy that's making getting under her skin an exact science.

AHHHH AND HE CLEANED THE KITCHEN. LOOOOOOL.

She had promised. She had fucking promised Neyti she would be there. And she had failed to keep that promise.  Commander Wolffe was right. He was fucking right. She was a shitty caretaker.  A failure. A disappointment. To her mother. To her sister. And now, to Neyti. 

Oh. Oh no.

Carinthia levelled a guarded look at Kazi. “It’s not too late for you to show up.”

Oh god dammit, I'm gonna come around to Carinthia, aren't I? DAMMIT. NOW SHE'S SOMEWHAT LIKEABLE???? Ok, ok FINE.

“Do you still want me here?” The question was quiet and full of hesitation and Kazi could only watch Neyti, silently hoping— A grin, small and toothless, but still a grin, crept across Neyti’s face. An eager nod dipped her chin. 

OF COURSE SHE DOES. Oh man, Kazi's lack of assuredness is just CRUSHING, but I love how hopeful she is, how much she wants to be there for Neyti, and how careful she is to not push her too far. (Please go cancel the adoption papers, girl. You're cut out for this even though you don't think sooooooo).

A look of wonder lit her face and she reached for the sleeve of Kazi’s shirt.  To an outsider, it was an insignificant gesture, but to Kazi, it meant everything. A gesture of connection. A gesture of trust. 

I love the entire museum trip so much. Neyti's wonder combined with how she uses the trip to ask questions about their home just is SO LOVELY and SWEET, and I adore how eager Kazi is to share that information with her, to ensure she knows about where she comes from. And I love her imparting the dragon stories. SO MUCH (and not just because DRAGONS). Also, I suddenly have hope as to how Neyti's going to get her dragon (if she does wind up getting one), but I AM HOLDING MY THEORY CLOSE FOR NOW.

AHHHH KAZI KNITS!! I do cross-stitch, but VERY MUCH FOR THE SAME REASON SHE DOES THE KNITTING. It's repetitive, it requires focus, but not a lot of brain power. AGAIN, I CONTINUE TO LOVE EVERY LITTLE TIDBIT YOU GIVE US ABOUT KAZI.

Oh heck yes, I was hoping when you wrote she was going to the garden that SOMEONE would come out and chat with her, and while I didn't expect Cody, I DO LOVE THIS VERY MUCH. I love how gentle and yet straightforward he is, because yes, Wolffe was wrong, but Kazi had plenty of low blows as well. And telling her about the chips? That's a big step, I have to imagine. I'm sure it's something the clones struggle with, admitting they were manipulated. Sure it absolves them of the act, but I know it will never take away the guilt of what happened. I also love how you wrote about the propaganda and how the information was disseminated at the end of the war. I always thinks takes on that are so interesting and different from fic to fic, but I love how you approached it here.

To not share the burden, to carry it all on his own, had to be draining and— “That must be lonely,” she said. Commander Cody studied her for a long moment. He breathed a tired chuckle. “Neither of you realize just how similar you are.”

LOSING MY MARBLES OVER THIS. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT COMES NEXT AHHHHHHH.

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VI

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.7K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

4 Helona

Restlessness haunted Kazi while she attempted to sleep. Like an itch unreachable, it evaded her attempts to relieve it.

The sheets were too hot. The pillow too flat. 

Sleep was ephemeral, present for a short time only for Kazi to awake minutes later, uncomfortable, weary, and emotionally drained.

Each argumentative point with Commander Wolffe replayed in her mind. 

By the time she slipped into bed she was certain of her arguments. Assured and justified in what she had said. 

Until the night wore on.

She analyzed each statement and accusation. Picked apart her words; discerned the truth in the commander’s. 

As the hours extended and the light outside lightened from black to dark blue, she questioned some of her comments. They were attacks on Commander Wolffe’s character—attacks concerning traits of his she didn’t actually know. Traits she could only guess at. 

The gray light of nautical twilight lightened her room. With its arrival came guilt. Kazi still felt justified on some points. Justification in the defense of her own character against his inaccurate accusations. 

But the guilt made itself known. Took root in her stomach and bled through the rest of her body until she felt tight and worn. Numb and ashamed.

Kazi found herself back downstairs, needing to clean in order to distract her mind. The mess from hours prior—broken glass and wine stains—demanded her attention.

Except the kitchen was clean.

The hardwood was dark brown sans bloodied wine and bare of glass shards. 

Kazi stared blankly at the clean floor, throat thick and lungs constricted. It was her mess, and she had left it, and someone else had cleaned it.

“Fuck,” she muttered. She shouldn’t have left it. It was her responsibility, and instead, she had forced it onto someone else. 

Squeezing the edge of the kitchen counter, Kazi closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe. 

She wasn’t supposed to be like this—uncomposed, quick to emotion, easily rattled. Years—she had spent years—training herself to not care for the opinions of others. To numb herself to her mother’s comments and accusations, to numb herself to the reproving looks of her instructors, to numb herself to the constant weight of disappointment. 

She was supposed to be in control of her emotions. She was supposed to be perfect. It was written in her DNA. She was to try and try until she was perfect in some capacity. Like a moth seeking solace in a flame, only to realize, belatedly, she was slowly killing herself.

The morning passed in a daze.

Kazi prepared Neyti breakfast and left it in stasis, returning to her room to avoid Commander Wolffe. Too nauseous to even care for food, she showered, readied herself for the day, and when the time came, met Neyti downstairs. Her hands were twitching as she reached the last step. Guardedly, she wrung them together. 

The kitchen held only two people: Daria and Neyti. The former wished Neyti a wonderful day at school while ignoring Kazi; the latter grabbed her packed lunch, hesitant eagerness in her gray eyes.

The drive to Hollow’s Schooling One was short and silent. Kazi reverted to analyzing her argument with her sister rather than the argument with Commander Wolffe, and so she missed the confusion and subsequent disappointment in Neyti’s face when she hoarsely told the girl to have a good day at school.

With a full day off from work, Kazi drove into Hollow’s Town, unwilling to spend her day at the house. The town was quiet in the morning. She lacked the energy to peruse the Marketplace’s stalls. 

A quick drive through dense jungle and she wound up at the abandoned warehouse. She leaned against the building, listening to the morning songs of birds, the low screeches of monkeys, the rustling leaves of the trees. 

At some point she would need to return to the house and face the consequences. Until then, she needed a moment to get out of her fucking head—

“What are you doing?”

The voice startled her so badly she flinched. Crimson curly hair glowed fiery red beneath the morning sun’s rays and she scowled at Carinthia.

“What are you doing here?” Kazi demanded.

Carinthia approached the warehouse’s door. “I have a meeting with Bash, and you’re not invited—”

Unease breathed down her spine and her heart dipped. Hastily, Kazi glanced at her chrono, begging she hadn’t missed—

It was the fourth of Helona. The day of Neyti’s field trip. 

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. Scrambling to her feet, she continued to stare at her chrono. “Fuck!”

Carinthia eyed her. “What?”

Ignoring the other woman, Kazi dropped her hand and stared blankly at the surrounding greenery. 

A numbing chill licked the back of her neck. It spread throughout her body. Drifted through her mind.

She had promised. She had fucking promised Neyti she would be there. And she had failed to keep that promise. 

Commander Wolffe was right. He was fucking right. She was a shitty caretaker. 

A failure.

A disappointment.

To her mother. To her sister. And now, to Neyti. 

“Kazi,” Carinthia snapped. “Did the magistrate discover you?”

Dazedly, Kazi shook her head. 

“Is the network in danger?” Carinthia patted her comm, her face expectant. “Did something happen—”

“Nothing happened to your fucking network.” At Carinthia’s offended expression, Kazi huffed a bitter laugh. “Just personal life, Carinthia. Nothing to concern you.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Heat from the golden sun glared through the canopied trees. Kazi shivered. 

Assessing her with a frankness that bordered criticism, Carinthia moved closer. “We’re relying on you to maintain secrecy. If you can’t do that—”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“We need you sound of mind—”

“I am sound of mind—”

“You’re having a breakdown in the middle of the jungle. That’s a far cry from sound of mind.” 

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does.” The blue of Carinthia’s eyes was harsh, colder than the glaciers icing Ceaia’s northern ocean. “The network must be protected. At all costs. Your personal issues are unimportant, and if they interfere with your work—”

“Fuck you,” Kazi snarled. “I haven’t allowed my personal issues to interfere with my work. And I won’t start now.”

Disbelief eased Carinthia’s suspicion and she released a long-suffering sigh. “What happened?”

Kazi rolled her eyes. “Don’t feign interest. It’s beneath you.”

“I’m not interested in your personal woes.” Carinthia picked at a fingernail. “But I am curious to know why you’re so emotional today. Who knew beneath that aloof mask there was a woman who actually felt?” 

Scoffing, Kazi made for her aircar, trying to ignore the cruel thoughts swarming her mind. They were ubiquitous, like flies attacking a carcass. Too many to contain. 

“I would never have expected you to run,” Carinthia crooned. 

Kazi faced the woman. Her smile was tight and cynical. 

“I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear?” She shrugged. “I’ve fucked up everything. With my sister. With Neyti. I promised to go on her field trip and I forgot. And now she’s there, alone, because I was so fucking self-absorbed that I forgot. I abandoned her after I promised to be there for her.”

The tightness in her throat constricted and she swallowed. The reality of the situation hit her and she forced herself to stare at the lustrous trees behind Carinthia, numbing herself to the shame carving her open. Ripping her apart until there was nothing left but ugly, unwanted bits.

“All I wanted as a kid was for my parents to show up.”

Nonplussed, Kazi frowned at Carinthia. 

“Every ballet recital, award ceremony, end-of-the-year celebration, it didn’t matter. I wanted to see them in the crowd.” A self-deprecating smile shadowed Carinthia’s face. “I never stopped hoping, even when they failed to show every single time.”

A tepid breeze danced along her skin and whispered through her hair.  

“It didn’t matter if they had to leave early or showed up late. I would forgive them, because all I wanted was to see them.” Carinthia gave a rueful laugh. “All I wanted was for them to show up. For them to prove that they cared.” 

An air of awkwardness settled between them, heightened by the sudden silence of the twisting branches and slithering vines cocooning them. Kazi had known Carinthia hailed from an affluent family, a family recognized among the Empire’s elites. And yet she had never considered Carinthia’s past. She had never considered the similarities between them. 

Carinthia levelled a guarded look at Kazi. “It’s not too late for you to show up.”

Finished with platitudes of empathy, Carinthia turned on her heel, keyed into the warehouse, and disappeared. 

Eluca’s Museum of Nature and Science completed construction within the last year. 

A symmetrical rectangle with a grand archway, the building was polished gray, the details engraved into the hardened stone considered an impressive feat. Pillared arches offered shaded walkways along the sides of the museum. Human-like statues represented Eluca’s archaic history. 

It was the museum’s entrance, though, that demanded the attention of passersby. 

A golden dome reflected the sun, a beacon similar to a lighthouse. White marble stairs led to an arched entrance that could easily fit thirty adults. Large wooden doors were open and as Kazi passed beneath the archway, she felt as inconsequential as an ant. 

From the research she conducted the night she first learned of the field trip, the grandness of the archway was supposed to make each visitor feel small. It served as a reminder that they were all mere specks in Eluca’s long history, and by extension, galactic history.

Discourse rattled some patrons who believed the message too nihilistic. Kazi liked the message for the same reason she loved to spend hours at sea: it was an escape from the worldly pressure of responsibility. 

At sea, far enough away she couldn’t see land, was the only time she ever experienced true peace. No longer was she defined by her flaws and lacking personality and familial expectations; no longer did she fear each decision she made. For the ocean didn’t care if she was imperfect. She was but a single sailor to the indomitable depths, like a single star lost to the sea of the galaxy. 

The reminder she was inconsequential eased some of her apprehension.

Inside the domed entrance hall—a hall filled with various school groups, locals, and galactic tourists—Kazi searched for Neyti’s moonless black hair. 

A few holoscreens showcased the museum’s exhibits. Groups of students clustered around the screens like grapes on a vine. So many of them were smallish and young, easily confused for Neyti’s class. 

Kazi pushed her way deeper into the crowds, standing on her tiptoes and scanning the area. 

A quick glance at her chrono claimed the class had probably started their tour. 

Biting the inside of her cheek, she spun in a slow circle and then paused. A familiar little girl, snugged in a pink dress with matching ribbons entwined in the braids Daria plaited that morning, sat on a bench. Neyti stared at her shoes, playing with the white frill hemming her dress while the other students in her class shared excited whispers. 

Hesitating, Kazi regarded Neyti. Would she even want her here? Kazi wouldn’t blame Neyti if she looked at her with betrayal and hurt and disparagement.  

Steeling her nerves, Kazi approached the bench and stopped, close enough her boots nearly touched Neyti’s clean white shoes. 

“Neyti,” Kazi said softly, tentatively.

Neyti jerked her head up. Emotions flickered across her face, shock to dismay to bemusement. Her mouth formed an open Oh and for a long moment she simply gawked. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” 

The apology was pathetic and Kazi grimaced. Ever since she was a youngling, she despised apologies. They were a gilded attempt to reconcile hurt and brokenness, and she was expected to accept it. Even if the perpetrator committed the same crime over and over. 

She didn’t want to force Neyti to accept her apology. 

A call from Teacher Jaci encouraged the students and their parents to gather and Neyti rose to her feet, her gaze darting from her classmates to Kazi. Uncertainty stilted the little girl’s movements.

“Do you still want me here?” The question was quiet and full of hesitation and Kazi could only watch Neyti, silently hoping—

A grin, small and toothless, but still a grin, crept across Neyti’s face. An eager nod dipped her chin. 

A tentative smile tugged on her mouth and Kazi nudged Neyti’s elbow with hers. “Ready?” 

Neyti nodded, more emphatic this time, and flattened her palms to her dress, smoothing the wrinkles. When she lifted her face, she regarded Kazi, waiting.

“You look wonderful.” Kazi smiled wider and she hesitated for only a second before touching the end of one of Neyti’s braids. “We’re matching.”

Blushing, Neyti pressed her cheek into her shoulder. 

The class moved from the entrance hall to the first room and Neyti peered at the closest exhibits. A look of wonder lit her face and she reached for the sleeve of Kazi’s shirt. 

To an outsider, it was an insignificant gesture, but to Kazi, it meant everything. A gesture of connection. A gesture of trust. 

She quietly exhaled her relief, and they continued onward.

The museum boasted an assortment of exhibits from the inhabitation of Eluca to the civil war. 

A history fanatic herself, Kazi took her time among the technologically-suave exhibits, brushing up on Eluca’s history and culture. Neyti didn’t seem to mind. The little girl stayed beside her, rarely wandering. And while the other younglings pressed their faces against exhibits or played games when they were bored, Neyti kept her attention on the tour guide. 

The founding of Eluca was Neyti’s favorite exhibit. 

Mirroring Eluca’s jungles from millions of years ago—bugs the size of grown adults crawled among thick tree trunks, and birds larger than aircars swooped from the ceiling—the students could walk among creatures of legend, listen to the recordings of animal roars, and even pet the scales and pelts of creatures long extinct. 

At one point, Neyti drifted from the group, attention ensnared by the skeletal replication of an extinct pinniped. Hung from the ceiling by cables thicker than Kazi’s thighs, the creature measured longer than 100 meters. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” A frown furrowed Neyti’s brow as she eyed the creature. Kazi leaned against the exhibit’s railing, intrigued by Neyti’s reaction. “You don’t like it?”

Neyti pointed from the creature to Kazi and then to a picture of a dried-up sea. A question wrinkled Neyti’s features. Kazi shook her head, not understanding. Neyti repeated the movement slower. 

Pinniped. Kazi. Picture of the sea. 

Kazi bit her lip, trying to follow Neyti’s line of thinking. The outlier was her—she didn’t understand her connection to the pinniped and the picture. 

Growing frustrated, Neyti tapped the sign of the ocean. Multiple times. And then she pointed from the creature to Kazi.

“Oh. You want to know if this creature lived on Ceaia.” Neyti clapped her hands, her toothless smile relieved. Observing the bone-white skeleton, Kazi continued. “Not that I know of. See how it has both flippers and a tail? That’s so it can swim and walk on land.”

Neyti traced a finger from the pinniped’s flippered fins to its tail.

“On Ceaia, oceanic creatures couldn’t walk on land.” A parent wandered closer and Kazi lowered her voice so they weren’t overheard. “They could only swim. And they were much larger.” 

Neyti’s mouth fell open and Kazi grinned. 

“Our oceans run much deeper than the dried-out seas here.” She tapped the graphic on the nearest holoscreen. “See how this ocean extends only nine kilometers at its deepest point? The average of Ceaian oceans is fourteen.” 

Neyti’s expression was blank, and Kazi grinned sheepishly. “Fourteen kilometers is really deep, and most of Ceaia’s oceans are unexplored because of that. There are creatures we know so little about because they hang out on the ocean floor and we can’t reach them because our technology isn’t advanced enough.”

The blue light of the exhibit’s replicated-dried seas flickered across Neyti’s face, lighting her amazement. Rather than studying the skeletal creature closer, as Kazi expected, Neyti stared at her with wide, expectant eyes. Kazi rubbed her arm awkwardly. She didn’t want to disappoint Neyti and she hastily searched her mind for a similar Ceaian-based fact.

“Did your mother ever tell you about the dragons?” Neyti shook her head and Kazi smiled, remembering the old stories her father used to tell her before bed. “Ceaia was first discovered by the dragons. They were larger than this creature”—she pointed to the extinct pinniped—“and they flew in the skies.” 

Neyti inhaled sharply.

“The dragons were friends with the humans,” Kazi said. “Once upon a time, millennia ago, the dragons used to bond with the humans. They were our guardians, and they protected us from our enemies. Nowadays, it’s custom for parents to gift their children a dragon. For protection and security.”

Former awe and curiosity darkened to somber reticence. Neyti looked away, her shoulders curving inwards. 

Bewildered by the abrupt change, Kazi lowered her face to Neyti’s, nudging her with her arm. “What’s going on?”

Neyti gulped and pointed at herself. Worry knitted her eyebrows together; unease lined her mouth.

“You don’t have a dragon,” Kazi surmised, mentally berating herself for not considering the possibility. A tiny nod confirmed her suspicion. “There’s nothing wrong with not having a dragon. A dragon memorabilia doesn’t make us who we are. It doesn’t make you any less Ceaian than me.”

For a long moment, Neyti considered her words, a hint of doubt narrowing her eyes. But she must have seen the solemn honesty in Kazi’s face because her hesitation dimmed, and, shyly, she leaned against Kazi’s side, waiting. 

“You want to know more?” Kazi said slowly. “About Ceaia?”

Another nod and Kazi quietly chuckled.                               

In hindsight, she should have known Neyti would be curious about Ceaia. History and culture fulfilled an individual’s desire to connect with their home and those similar. A desire to belong. 

Of course Neyti would crave this connection. She had lost her mother; she had lost her home. She had lost everything that signified security and comfort and love, and as time passed, she most likely started to forget certain memories. Memories of her mother’s face. Memories of her house. Even large-scale memories, like those of the ocean. 

Neyti didn’t have any holos of her mother, and Kazi had never known the woman. She didn’t even know the woman’s name. 

But she could at least provide some semblance of connection. Offer Neyti a piece of their people, their history, their culture. Exactly as her father had. 

Through stories.

“Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you,” Kazi promised. 

Neyti pressed her tiny palm to the holoscreen of the dried sea and closed her eyes. When she pulled away, cautious hope lingered on her face.  

Six years of finishing school failed to convince Kazi of her role as a dutiful wife. The blame rested with the self-reliant, driven personality she adopted from her time at sea. No matter how hard her instructors tried, their teachings never made a lasting impression.

Except for one thing. Knitting.

Fingers nimble from her years perfecting a multitude of sailing knots, Kazi took quickly to knitting. Her instructor, though exasperated by her overall lack of interest in basic etiquette, celebrated her skills. She informed her mother she wasn’t a “complete lost cause.”

Knitting allowed Kazi to sequester herself from pestering thoughts and concentrate on one thing: the project in her hands. She found solace in the repetitive movements. And she could relax knowing her time spent was productive. Clothing for the orphanage; blankets for the med center; oceanic-inspired dolls; reel covers, tackle pouches, and rod coziers for the sailors. Whatever she created served a purpose, and therefore, she wasn’t wasting time.

Unfortunately, this evening, knitting couldn’t distract her from her thoughts. 

The attempted sweater for Neyti—a potential gift idea—was too lumpy. It looked like a bloated pufferfish. Ugly and unwanted. 

Frustration at her three failed attempts encouraged her to set aside her needles and yarn. She hadn’t knitted in nearly a year and it was obvious she was out of practice, but she was still exasperated. Exasperated by her inability to knit something so simple. And her inability to distract herself. 

Which was why she found herself outside in Daria’s garden.

The garden was smallish and rectangular-shaped. Wooden beams supported the exterior and wired mesh protected the plants and herbs from unwanted attention. 

A few localized vegetables and fruit grew in clumps and bunches: a pickle of cucumbers, a bunch of winged beans, a vine of bitter melons, and a cluster of dark orange taro. 

Daria inherited their mother’s green thumb. She could save any dying plant and nurture it to thrive. Her garden, while impractical for food reliance outside the few vegetables and fruits, served its practicality in the form of herbs and spices. Herbs and spices used for medicinal purposes.

Technologically-advanced medicines were uncommon in Outlook Harbor. And too expensive for most people. Locals relied on apothecaries for treatment—respiratory infections, skin rashes, wet coughs. 

Even simple injuries were overseen by apothecary healers: broken fingers, sun burns, wrenched shoulders, hook piercings, rope burn. 

Like their mother, Daria was a connoisseur of potions, salves, oils, and tinctures. Experimentation to aid people with their illnesses and injuries was her passion. 

The irony of her interest in herbal medicine and the terminality of her disease wasn’t lost on Kazi.

From Daria’s love to garden and her skillset in herbal medicine, mother and daughter were similar, and Kazi had assumed it was one of the reasons Daria was their mother’s favorite. 

The blame for her and her mother’s broken relationship didn’t rest solely on her mother. Kazi wasn’t easy to love. And lack of similar beliefs and interests made it difficult to bond. 

Kazi had tried to enjoy gardening and medicine. However, the plants she attempted to cultivate never survived. 

A small part of her wondered if her mother called her unfeeling because of her inability to nurture something as simple as a plant. An even smaller, quieter part of her feared her mother was right. That she was incapable of companionship and love—

A calculated crunch of soil made her look up. 

Leaning against the peeling house, brows raised in intrigue, stood Commander Cody. 

A current of apprehension sparked inside of Kazi. Her heart sank and she dusted her hands on her thighs, eyeing the clone. He seemed at ease; his countenance lacked animosity.  

“May I join you?” 

Her immediate response was suspicion, but she ignored it.

“I’m not doing much.” Soil dirtied her knees and thighs and the scent of her sweat beneath the fiery hues of the evening sun was strong. She grimaced. “I’m only digging a few holes and testing the soil.”

The commander took her noncommittal response as an invitation and stepped through the wired gate to kneel beside her. She passed him a trowel and gestured to the pile of compost. “You can start filling the holes.”

Silence expanded between them, neither tense nor peaceful. Merely existing. 

Even though it was evening, the sun blistered the back of her neck and her long-sleeve clung to her sweaty skin. The humidity had worsened as the day progressed, and the quiet of the jungle confirmed most animals were napping, avoiding the uncomfortable climate. 

“Wolffe is protective.” 

Just his name made her spine stiffen and shoulders bunch together. Kazi gripped her trowel harder, warily assessing Commander Cody. He continued to work, gloveless hands patting the soil in a meticulous way that spoke to some experience.  

“He cares for the safety and wellbeing of his men,” the commander said. “Always has. When he thinks they’re in danger, he’ll do whatever is necessary to protect them.” 

Nearby, the vines of the trees rustled and the earthy scent of the jungle wafted through the air. 

“Wolffe’s unhesitating and ruthless, when necessary. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for the people he cares about.” Commander Cody’s voice was quiet, reflective. “His protectiveness can be overbearing. And his mistrust can be intense. It forces him to question everything and anyone.”

She winced. “You heard.”

“Wolffe had no right to question your credibility and skills.” The commander lifted his face. A serious look lined his features. “And he had no right to attack your homelife.”

Tension tightened the muscles of her arms and legs, and Kazi held still, waiting.

“But you were also wrong to accuse him of his service to the Empire.” The commander set aside his trowel and levelled a frown on her. “Wolffe didn’t have a choice when it came to serving the Empire. None of us did. We didn’t purposely betray our generals.”

The sudden conclusion of the galactic war had shocked neutral planets, like Ceaia and its neighboring systems. The genocide of the Jedi—the galaxy’s heroes—had rattled her people. No one knew why the clone troopers had turned on the Jedi. 

Far removed from the war, it took weeks for credible, reliable information to reach Ceaia. And when it did, the information was confusing and deemed untrustworthy. 

Government reports indicated the Jedi had threatened the democracy of the Republic. Had threatened to take over the Senate and enforce their own rule. Per Imperial reports, the clone troopers acted in the interest of democratic preservation and annihilated the Jedi.

Kazi, like most Ceaians, dismissed the information as propaganda and inaccurate reporting. 

“There was a chip implanted in us,” Commander Cody said quietly. “We didn’t know about them. And they were used to control us—made us kill the Jedi.”

It explained Commander Wolffe’s mistrust, and his vigilance against possible betrayal. 

“I didn’t know.” Her voice sounded weak to her ears.

“Not many clones know, and even fewer natborns do.” The commander’s gaze was empathetic. “I’m telling you this because Wolffe never will. He despises pity—”

“Understanding isn’t pity.”

“Try telling that to him.” Commander Cody huffed a rueful chuckle and then sobered. “Wolffe can be antagonistic, but he cares for his men. He wants to protect them. All of them. And the only way he knows how is by doing things himself.” 

Kazi fiddled with the end of a braid. “I understand that, but he was the one who asked me for help.”

Grimacing, the commander rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s something you’ll have to bring up with him.”

“And initiate another argument?” She snorted. “None of this would have happened if he hadn’t asked for my help.”

Commander Cody considered her. “I’m not here to judge you, but you’re just as mistrustful as Wolffe. You both have issues—” She frowned her offense and he threw her an apologetic wince. “You don’t trust clones. And he has issues with the rebel network. An argument was bound to happen.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust clones…” Kazi dropped her gaze to her hands. “It was clone soldiers who attacked my planet. They killed my coworkers. They hurt innocent people. I’m struggling to reconcile their actions with your own.”

“I know your people value promises”—the lowly determination in his voice forced her to meet his gaze—“so I’ll promise you this: we won’t endanger your family.” 

“I see Commander Wolffe isn’t the only paranoid one who did his research,” Kazi muttered.

“We’re soldiers. We like to be prepared. Some of us more than others.” The commander managed a faint smile and then sat back on his heels, his expression serious and hesitant. “Wolffe…carries full responsibility for everyone he cares about. He believes it’s his duty. And he refuses to share that responsibility with anyone. Including Fox and myself.”

She had seen it—the weight of Commander Wolffe’s responsibility—in the wearied lines of his face and the subtle exhaustion in his posture. The unhesitating commitment to strategizing rescue plans. The early mornings and late evenings. 

To not share the burden, to carry it all on his own, had to be draining and—

“That must be lonely,” she said.

Commander Cody studied her for a long moment. He breathed a tired chuckle. “Neither of you realize just how similar you are.”

A/N: Next chapter release – February 15th

Masterlist | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[fancymuffinparty]

Just Say You Feel the Way That I Feel...

Rating: T; for suggestive themes and eating cake wayyyyy too fast

Pairing: Mikasa Ackerman x Annie Leonhart, Mikannie

Summary:  For Day Three of Annie Week 2k19! (Modern AU) @annieweek

Prompt based on this post. 

Annie needs a fake-fiance to try wedding cake samples and Mikasa’s cute and not really doing anything sooooooo...

Word Count: 1769

A/N: My first tumblr-exclusive one-shot of 2019! :O Ahhhh! I guess this coulda worked for Day One Sweets, but it’s a modern AU too so we’ll go with that! :)

Quick shout-out to Mikannie discord peeps that I haven’t chatted with in forever but i love y’all and HERE’S THE FIC I MENTIONED MONTHS AGO!!! :’D oof

*Title inspired by this song I heard at a wedding and was like-

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“Be my fiancé,” Annie declares as she saunters into the room.

“Your… what?” Mikasa freezes, her coffee cup halfway to her lips.

“Only for like an hour tops,” Annie says. Her eyes are glued to her phone, focused on whatever email or text she’s answering.

“You know it’s me you’re talking to, right?” Mikasa queries, wondering which episode of the Twilight Zone this whole fiasco is supposed to be.

“Look, there’s this amazing baker that’s been written up in the Stohess Times,” Annie explains. “The reviews claim the cakes are out of this world. I guess he’s famous in his hometown or something. Thing is he only does wedding cakes… So we’re sampling them in like twenty minutes.”

Annie mumbles something to the effect of ‘Booked it!’ after shoving her phone in her pocket, then orders: “Get your coat. We gotta go now or we’ll be stuck in traffic.”

Mikasa can’t fathom a response to the blonde’s rambling, merely staring at her as if she’d missed some sort of punchline.

“You like cake, right?” Annie asks, her brows furrowed.

“Well yeah,” Mikasa replies, still unconvinced. “But why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re here and clearly you’re not doing anything,” Annie says, slipping on her jacket. “This was also the only appointment I could squeeze us in. They’re pretty booked.”

“Why don’t you just buy one?” Mikasa asks.

“Buy a wedding cake? For myself? What do I look like? A crazy person?” Annie scoffs, grabbing her car keys.

Mikasa doesn’t have the energy to put up any more resistance, though she desperately wants to point out that Annie’s practically a monster for sweets and therefore if the blonde were to buy an entire wedding cake for herself, she doubts anyone would be the least bit shocked.

Accepting the circumstances for what they are, Mikasa simply shrugs, grabs her coat, and follows Annie out the door. They’re about to hop inside her car when she suddenly remembers the next phase of her plan.

“Almost forgot,” Annie says, handing Mikasa a silver ring. “Might wanna slip this on.”

“Seriously? This might be too far- even for you,” Mikasa mutters, tentatively easing the ring on. After settling themselves in the car, however, she can’t help but admire the subtle gleam of it. “It’s almost an exact replica of yours,” she notes.

Annie nods, half-smiling. “It looks good on you, Ackerman.”

🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰

The trip is mostly silent. When her curiosity gets the best of her, Mikasa googles the famous baker they’re due to meet in but a few minutes. He’s a friendly-looking fellow named Nikolo from the Marley metropolis. The cakes are gorgeous and she admires the artistic quality to them. No wonder Annie had been so insistent.

Mikasa sighs and rests her head against the backrest of the passenger seat. She gets a bit carried away with her thoughts, allowing herself to imagine what it would be like if this was her reality. What if she and Annie were engaged? What if they really were going to pick out a wedding cake? What if the ring she’s wearing meant more than simply putting on a show? (For free food, of all things…)

But she quickly locks those thoughts back to the darkest corner of her mind where they belong and tries to focus on enjoying the day with her newly acquired fake fiancé.

“Okay, looks like we’re here. Let’s go, dear.” Annie’s out of the car before Mikasa can make an objection to the pet name.

They quickly walk into the bakery where they’re immediately engulfed in the sweet smell of sugar. Annie feels right at home.

“Hello! Welcome!” A tall, slim man greets the duo after they’ve entered the establishment. He introduces himself politely and shakes their hands, to which Annie offers the same in return.

“Wonderful to meet you, Nikolo,” the blonde says. “And thank you for fitting us in. We’re aware of how busy you are.” Without using so much as eye-contact as some sort of unspoken cue, she reaches for Mikasa’s hand, holding it ever-so gently and continues with, “This is my fiancé, Mikasa Ackerman. Soon to be Mrs. Leonhart.”

A blush flashes across Mikasa’s cheeks, enflaming the bridge of her nose. Yet somehow, she manages to keep up with the charade, inserting herself into the exchange.

“Thanks for having us,” she chimes in quickly. “My fiancé practically worships sweets and from what we’ve read online, you’re the go-to guy for wedding cakes.”

Nikolo accepts the compliment, albeit modestly. “I’m honored,” he says with a coy smile. “Now please. If you’ll just follow me…” He makes a civil gesture before leading them into a small room away from the show floor.

There’s a small table embellished with innumerable slices of cake, each looking like a uniquely hand-crafted work of fine art almost too pretty to eat.

Almost.

“So, there are many different styles as you can see,” Nikolo explains. “We have the chocolate delight, the raspberry white dream, the red velvet luxury, the lemon supreme, and of course, the classic buttercream vanilla. Please, feel free to taste and try them all, let me know what you think. I’ll leave you to it.” He quietly exits the room, closing the door behind them to offer his guests some privacy.

“…Wow,” Mikasa whispers in awe, still marveling at the decorative array of sweets.

“Still think my idea’s insane, Ackerman?” Annie quips.

“Most definitely,” Mikasa replies without missing a beat. “But this is going to be totally worth it.”

“Well come on then. We don’t have all day.” Annie hurries to the table and sits down, eyes locked on the slice of the white raspberry dream. Before Mikasa can even pull up a seat next to her, the blonde has already devoured half of the slice.

“Mikasa, you need to try this,” Annie manages in between chewing. She lets out a tiny moan, a sound that is practically sinful.

Mikasa rushes to sit down when she sees Annie shove another bite into her mouth.

“Hey now, slow it down there, Annie,” Mikasa warns, eyeing the blonde with a slightly judgmental look. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep up,” Annie sasses back, cake still stuffed in her mouth.

“As your fiancé, I demand you-” Mikasa is unable to finish as Annie quickly shoves a piece of cake into her mouth, using the extra fork on the table.

“Mmmmph!” Mikasa grumbles incoherently at first but as soon as the burst of heavenly flavors overwhelm her senses, she’s practically fallen in love.

“How was that, darlin’?” Annie asks. Taunts, really.

“You’re cruel,” Mikasa replies, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “I need more.”

“Mmmm, that’s what I thought,” Annie drawls. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Mikasa huffs and reaches for a different slice of cake. Appears to the be the Lemon Supreme. Her mouth is instantly watering.

“Or I can help myself to this gorgeous specimen,” she asserts.

Annie gobbles down the rest of her own slice, feigning indifference. “Suit yourself.”

She scoops up a hefty serving of the red velvet luxury cake and devours the morsel in predatory fashion. Mikasa finds the blonde’s feistiness rather amusing.

“You oughtta savor the taste, Annie,” she suggests, chewing her next bite slowly. “You’re eating way too fast.”

Annie waves her off, cheeks stuffed to the max. “Believe me, I am thoroughly enjoying this experience.”

Mikasa heaves a sigh and shrugs, stealing a small bite of the red velvet luxury.

Oh, yes, she thinks, cherishing every beautiful second of this passionate moment.

This one’s her favorite.

“You’re making that face,” Annie says abruptly, interrupting her thoughts. “You like that one?”

Mikasa quirks a brow. “What? What face?”

“The ‘Mikasa face of approval’,” Annie replies, smirking. “No need to get all self-conscious about it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Mikasa’s chewing picks up, as does the frantic beat of her heart.

Annie’s still admiring her fake fiancé’s bashful expression, until she notices the small crumbs and frosting smeared at the corner of her mouth.

“You got something on your…” Annie points the mess out, to which Mikasa merely tilts her head, questioning.

“I got cake on my face or what?” Mikasa asks, setting aside her fork.

Annie nods, a smug expression adorning her face. “Mmmhmmm.”

Mikasa looks away, slightly embarrassed. Before she can grab a napkin and wipe the crumbs and frosting off, Annie reaches for her face, hand caressing her cheek tenderly.

“Here, let me help,” she says softly. And she slowly leans in.

Mikasa stalls, the anticipation looming over her as Annie eases closer and closer. The blonde gently draws her tongue over the smeared frosting, then merges their mouths together in a sweet kiss; innocent yet so deliberate.

Annie pulls away, but only slightly. “I think I got it.”

Mikasa’s breathing is hitched. “Is a… second helping possible?”

“Oh?” Annie hums. “You mean the red velvet or… do you want me to kiss you again?”

Mikasa’s just about had it with Annie’s sass, so without warning she slips her arms around her waist and pulls the blonde in closer. Their lips meet again, this time in a deeper kiss.

She can still taste the lingering presence of red velvet with every curious graze of her tongue.

“Oh, my! I am so sorry to interrupt!” Nikolo stammers as he walks into the room, wondering if he should just tiptoe out and pretend he didn’t witness their passionate makeout session. “Ummm… Just wanted to see if you two were doing all right.”

From the looks of it, it seems to be going very well.

The two pull away from each other, like shy bashful lovers. “We’re doing fine. Thank you,” Annie replies, clearing her throat.

“Everything tastes wonderful,” Mikasa adds politely.

“Perfect! Well let me know if you need anything.” Nikolo forces a smile, preparing to scurry away in humiliation.

“Actually, can we order the red velvet luxury?” Annie requests. “She really likes this one.” She shoots Mikasa a wink before interlocking their hands together.

“Of course!” Nikolo replies. “I’ll be right back with the order forms.” He excuses himself with a bow and promptly leaves the lovebirds to their own devices.

“Really, Annie?” Mikasa chuckles. “You’re really going to buy the whole cake?”

Annie’s gaze lingers to their joined hands and matching rings. Her little scheme to get her crush to try free wedding cake samples has seemingly rewarded her with the best of both worlds.  

She keeps that to herself, of course.

“Why yes,” Annie replies warmly. “Only the best for my fiancé.”