#holonovel ( .｡.:*☆ Nightmares. )

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I Know.

A/N: Cursed with insomnia again. Here’s what I wrote last night.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN; reader has nightmares and nonspecific trauma) 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: angst; nightmares (not described); hurt comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the people who have the most complicated history with you are the ones who know you best. Set pre-Skako Minor.

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You awoke with a flinch. Your heart raced as you stared into the darkness, the pulse of it thundering in your ears. Your breath came fast and hard, and you forced yourself to slow down and breathe through your nose. Gradually, your body let go of the panic, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not when you knew what waited for you once you drifted into unconsciousness.

You sat up slowly, pausing to clear your head before you slipped out of the bunk. As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front of the Marauder, grabbing your datapad as you passed the data terminal. Judging by the snores, Wrecker and Tech were out cold, but you’d be willing to stake every last credit in your account that your pounding heart had awakened Hunter before you even opened your eyes. Still, he was silent as you moved stealthily to the cockpit.

It was strange to be back on the Marauder after all this time. Familiar, yet different. The squad welcomed you back with varying degrees of enthusiasm—or at least acceptance—but there was a distance between you that had never been there before. A sense of caution, of unspoken but deep vigilance, as though you all felt a compulsion to weigh your words before speaking. The easy laughter, the banter, the closeness and connection—it was though none of it had ever existed.

The faint glow of the instrument panel illuminated Crosshair’s lean form as he sat in the pilot’s chair, arms folded over his chest as his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up as you passed, but said nothing. Outside the viewport, it was far too dark to make out the landscape of the wilderness, but the stars above shone brilliantly through the unclouded atmosphere. You curled up in the copilot’s seat and wordlessly flicked on your datapad. 

You tried to read. The holonovel you opened seemed too daunting, so instead you scrolled through your usual collection of holonet sites for a long while, but your brain refused to process any of the text. Your eyes felt heavy and gritty, and the words seemed to blur together no matter how hard you squeezed your eyelids shut to try to clear your vision. Eventually, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

“You all right?” Crosshair’s voice was barely audible.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered without opening your eyes.

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

You both fell silent for a moment. The pilot’s seat creaked as he adjusted.

“Same nightmare after all this time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You opened your eyes and rotated your head toward him, only to find that he was already watching you, his dark, intense eyes unreadable in the dim light.

“You ever talk to anyone about it?” 

You shook your head. “Just you. The others—they don’t understand. They don’t know. The details.”

“They still care, though,” he said quietly.

“I know. I just…” You swallowed. “Can’t. I don’t want them to know.”

He didn’t reply, only watched you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to see how broken I am.”

The silence stretched out for a moment, before he replied very quietly. “I never saw you that way.”

Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred for an instant before the tear overflowed from the corner of your eye and slid down your temple. You could barely see a damned thing in the dark, but Crosshair saw you. He always had.

Slowly, he reached out and smoothed the tear off your skin, then he dropped his hand to your wrist and gently but insistently tugged on you until at last you complied with his unspoken request, crossing the short distance to the copilot’s chair and settling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and coaxed your head down to rest on his shoulder as you curled your legs up and around his body.

“I don’t want to fall back asleep,” you confessed, feeling slightly ashamed of your childish fear.

He stroked your hair. “Then… don’t sleep. Stay with me.”

You nuzzled softly against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. It had been such a long time, but you’d know it anywhere. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” he whispered.

The weight of lost time was heavy in the silence before you replied. “I thought you might prefer it if I left you alone.”

His jaw brushed against your forehead as he turned to look down at you. “I don’t mind having you here.”

The tension in your body gradually drained away as you relaxed against him, lapsing once more into silence. He rested his cheek against the top of your head as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes began to drift shut, your anxiety lulled away by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his pulse beneath your ear.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you whispered.

His only response was a quiet, brief hum at the back of his throat, but he pressed his lips against your hair. You raised your hand slowly and trailed your fingertips from the corner of his jaw, down the line of his neck, to the notch at the base of his throat, and when you reached his chest, you flattened your palm against him, directly over his heart. His hand closed gently around yours, holding it there, and you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “Holding you like this.”

“Me, too.”

You relaxed further against him, and he tightened his arms around you, holding you securely so you didn’t slip off his lap. When you spoke again, your voice was very soft.

“Cross?”

“Mhm?”

You hesitated a moment before you whispered, “Why did we end it?”

He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even change the pattern of his breath, but you could hear his heart speed up at your whispered question.

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

You took a few slow, shallow breaths. “Me either.”

His hand glided slowly up your shoulder until he reached the back of your neck, and he stroked his thumb along the shell of your ear.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head and brushed your lips against his neck in a caress so feather-light it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“The best,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, the sound plainly audible to your ears. The two of you sat unmoving for a long, long time, simply holding each other. He took a shaky breath.

“I—” his voice failed, and he fell silent again.

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “I know.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding the right words.”

The hand on the back of your neck slid up to hold your head, and he turned to gaze into your eyes, your faces so close together that you could feel his soft, warm breath on your skin.

“What can I say that would be enough?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady.

You rested your palm against his jaw, feeling the rough, familiar prickle of his facial hair. Your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, then over his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I already know.” You kissed him softly. “I’ll always know you.”

He pulled you closer, cradling your head in his hands as his lips brushed against yours. His familiar taste flooded your senses. The kiss was gentle and slow, his tongue just grazing between your lips before the two of you parted reluctantly. He rested his forehead against yours as he brought his hand around to caress your cheek. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment before you confessed, “I never stopped.”

The rise and fall of his chest paused for an instant, then resumed.

“Neither did I.”

---

Want more Bad Batch fics? I have two for Hunter: First Kiss ficlet (sfw) and "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day" (very spicy).

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

[mandos-mind-trick]

Carry Me Home

Summary: You live a quiet life, away from stress and danger. So of course Fate had to drop you right in the middle of an active battle to meet your soulmate.

Pairing: Commander Cody x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, no foreplay, Soulmate AU, brief violence and description of a battle, as usual reader has a bit of a backstory just so the story flows better.

A/N: This one I think is my least favorite so far. I've fought with it all week and just decided to go with it. I love Cody, but goddamn is he hard for me to write.

MASTERLIST

Getting dropped right in the middle of a battlefield was not how you planned to spend your weekend. 

You were sitting down to enjoy your favorite book when you had the sudden uncomfortable sensation of being pulled through a thin tube and instead of your comfortable chair, your butt hits dirt. 

It takes a second for you to fully comprehend what’s happening. Your apartment has disappeared, and instead you’re outside. It’s very loud where you are as the ringing in your ears begins to fade. Your vision aso clears, and you find yourself staring up at...a helmet? 

There’s a figure directly in front of you, just inches from your feet. He’s kneeling behind a rock, blaster in hand. He’s dressed in armor, armor that’s familiar to you. You’d seen it countless times in the news, and a few times on your own home planet. 

This is not good. 

It’s only a matter of seconds, but it feels like a lifetime that you stare at him in shock. You don’t have much time to think it over as he reaches for you, tugging you behind the rock far too easily. He covers your body with his just moments before an explosion rains debris right on you. 

“Stay down!” He orders, pressing a hand into the back of your head. 

You’re compacted into a rather uncomfortable crouched position, but you’re not about to move as he goes back to firing. Your hands cover your ears as explosions rain from both sides. Your heart is pounding, feeling like it might beat right out of your chest. You close your eyes, praying this is some cruel dream your brain has thought up. You’re panicking, but you have every right to. 

This is not what you had pictured when you had thought up your weekend plans. 

You’ve always preferred a quiet life. You weren’t adventurous or impulsive. If you were going to do something, lots of planning went into it first. You were perfectly happy spending your weekends relaxing at home with a holonovel or a film. 

Not in the middle of a major battle. 

How did you come to be here? 

Or better yet, why were you here? 

You’re stuck far too long in that position, tucked into a ball behind the rock as blaster and cannon fire flies over your head. You’re stressed beyond belief, adrenaline pumping through your body. Your home planet, Alderaan, was involved in the war heading the relief effort and taking in refugees. You had heard countless stories about what it was like, but none of them could compare to actually being in it. 

How the clones do this time and time again is beyond you. 

You’re shaking, joints protesting as you’re helped to your feet. The blaster fire has stopped, the world seeming far too quiet after that absolute nightmare. His grip around your arm is tight. He’s not holding you to keep you steady. 

He practically drags you through the battlefield, past dead and injured troopers. He doesn’t seem affected at all, your weak legs trying to keep pace with his determined stride. You try not to look, your stomach churning at the thought of all of those people dead, and for what? 

It doesn’t take you long to figure out where he’s leading you as you approach who you assume is the Jedi General in charge, judging by the look of him. 

“Who is this?” He asks as you come to stand in front of him. 

“Unsure, sir. She appeared in the middle of the battle.” The clone says. 

“Appeared?” He asks in disbelief. 

“Out of thin air.” The clone answers. “Right in front of me.” 

“Strange.” The Jedi mumbles, stroking his chin as he stares at you for a moment. He turns to another clone. “Escort her back to the ship. Keep her in a holding cell until we return.” 

The clone holding you releases your arm, the other taking his place. You’re led to a gunship, your eyes drifting back to where the first clone and the Jedi are standing for just a moment. 

“What are you thinking, sir?” Cody asks, looking at Obi-Wan. 

“I don’t think she’s dangerous. Nor is she a spy.” Obi-Wan answers. 

“Then why do you think she appeared here?” 

Obi-Wan smiles at Cody, a familiar glint in his eye. “The Force works in mysterious ways. Perhaps she was sent here to help.” 

***

You sit in the holding cell, fingers tapping on the table anxiously. You’re still shaking a bit from the adrenaline rush, your body very unused to such high levels of stress. You tried to avoid it for that very reason. The trooper that had brought you to the cruiser is standing in the corner behind you, watching you carefully. His unwavering stare is also making you nervous, even though you haven’t done anything wrong. 

You grab the cup that’s sitting on the table, taking a sip of the cool water. He had at least been decent enough to get you some water. You’re terribly thirsty after sitting in the middle of a battle for what was probably close to an hour. You’re also starting to get hungry, or perhaps that’s just the nerves twisting away in your stomach. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, not that having a window would have told you much. The eternal darkness of space wasn’t a good indicator of time. 

“Apologies for the wait,” The Jedi says. “There was still much to be done after the battle.” 

“No apologies necessary.” You say. “I would expect as such after a battle like that. Not that I’ve been in many battles.” 

“I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’ve already met Marshall Commander Cody.” He introduces them. 

You tell him your name as he takes the seat across from you. 

“Cody’s already told me his side of the story. I’m interested to hear yours.” 

So you tell him. “I had just gotten home from my job at an art museum on Alderaan, and I was getting ready to settle down and read some of the new holonovel I’d picked up when all of a sudden I felt like I was being pulled through a tube and then I’m sitting in the middle of a battlefield.” 

Master Kenobi stares at her for a few moments, stroking his beard. “That is very odd indeed. I do believe you. Though, unfortunately, with no way to verify your identity, we have to remain suspicious of you and your motivations.” 

You understand, you really do. No doubt Separatist spies constantly tried to infiltrate the Republic. You were very far from a spy, however there was no way to prove that. Unless...

“Senator Organa.” You blurt out before he can stand. “Senator Organa knows me. He and his wife often attend charity galas at the museum. He can vouch for my identity.” 

A small smile tugs at Master Kenobi’s lips. “Of course. I will get in contact with the Senator as soon as possible. Until then, I am afraid you will have to remain here.” 

You nod. “I understand.” 

He nods to the clone in the corner. “Nova will remain with you. If you need anything, he can get it for you.” 

***

Obi-Wan and Cody make their way up to the bridge, Cody replaying the conversation in his mind. It’s very odd, this situation. He’d never heard of anyone teleporting before, much less straight into the middle of a battle from halfway across the galaxy. 

“What do you think, sir?” Cody asks. “Do you believe her?” 

“I do.” Obi-Wan says. “I cannot sense any danger in her presence here, though we cannot be too certain.” 

“What do you think it means, her arrival? I’ve never heard of anything like this.” 

Obi-Wan smiles. “I believe congratulations are in order, Commander. I think you’ve just met your soulmate.” 

Cody stops walking, blinking in shock. His soulmate? She can’t really be...can she? He hadn’t put much thought into his soulmate, like most of his brothers. There were far bigger things to worry about, and considering they were forbidden from initiating their bonds, most of them tried to ignore the existence of soulmates. 

Of course, he knows most refuse to follow the rules regarding their soulmates. Many clones have met and keep contact with their mates. Many, not just clones, view the rule as being just another way to dehumanize them. 

So many don’t listen. 

Cody hadn’t put much thought into what he’d do. It’s easy to pretend you can follow the rules when you’re not facing it yourself. He figured he’d deal with it when the time came. He’d hoped perhaps that time wouldn’t come, or the war would be over before it came. He didn’t think it would happen right in the middle of a battle. 

He doesn’t think his General is wrong, either. 

He can feel it, the stirring in his chest that he’d overheard his brothers whispering about. The tugging, begging him to go back and just be in the presence of this mysterious teleporting girl once more. 

“Sorry, sir?” Cody asks, quickening his steps to catch up to the General once more. 

“It’s a rare soulmate link, though I’ve heard of it happening twice now since the start of the war. One soulmate teleporting to the other’s location.” 

Cody’s heart clenches in his chest. If the girl is telling the truth, if Senator Organa does verify her identity, then this must be the answer for her strange appearance. But why now? Why did she have to show up now? 

Why couldn’t fate have waited for the war to be over?

***

You look up as the energy shield of your cell drops. The time feels like it’s gone by faster this time, possibly because it hasn’t been as long. It’s impossible to tell, without knowing the time. 

Commander Cody enters your cell, his helmet tucked under his arm. He’s handsome, well, all the clones are handsome, you think. You take a better look at him now that you’re not so nervous. He wears his hair in regulation cut, and his face is clean shaven. He has a scar on the left side of his face, what looks like a crescent moon at his temple and a line trailing down his temple and across his cheekbone. You wonder how he got it, what had caused such a cruel looking injury. 

“The General spoke with Senator Organa. He verified your identity and backed up your story.” Cody says. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. You knew you had nothing to worry about, but yet you had still been nervous. What if they hadn’t been able to reach Senator Organa? What would have happened to her then? 

“If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you somewhere more comfortable.” 

You push yourself up from the table, your legs wobbling a bit. You feel unsteady from sitting for so long so soon after your extreme adrenaline rush. You grip onto the table, keeping yourself steady while your legs wake up. 

“Are you alright?” Commander Cody asks. 

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Just not used to teleporting, being on a battlefield mid battle, being interrogated, you know. Like everything that’s happened today.” 

A smile tugs at the side of Cody’s mouth. “I guess that would be rather jarring. Well, where you’re going there’s a real bed.” 

You nod. “Okay. I think I can manage to get there.” You let go of the table, forcing your legs to be steady. You turn to Nova, still dutifully standing in the corner. “Thank you for watching over me, Nova.” 

He shifts slightly, almost like he wasn’t expecting it. “Y-You’re welcome, ma’am.” 

You turn back to Cody, taking a couple test steps to make sure your legs will hold you. He’s got a smile on his face, a small one, but still a smile. You follow him from your cell, glad you’ll never have to see it again. You hadn’t been treated badly, but sitting at that table in the blank, windowless room for hours hadn’t exactly been the best experience of your life. 

“We’re heading to a GAR resupply station. There will be a ship there that will drop you off back on Alderaan.” Cody says as you walk beside him, his pace slower than you really need. 

“It will be nice to be back home again.” You say. “Not that you’ve been unwelcoming. It’s just...this life isn’t really for me. I prefer something slow and low-stress.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He says. “This life is easy for us because we were designed to handle constant, high levels of stress. It’s...not for everyone though.” 

“That’s for sure.” It falls silent for a few moments as you walk through the huge cruiser. “Did your Jedi General figure out why I teleported right to you?” You ask out of curiosity. You’d thought through every explanation you could think of and none of them made sense. 

“He had an idea why.” Cody says, clearing his throat. “It’s...it’s complicated.” 

“I mean, I did teleport halfway across the galaxy. If that has a simple answer, I’ll be floored.” 

Cody glances around, slowing his pace even more. He speaks quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear. “He thinks it may be our soulmate link.” 

Your steps slow to a stop, Cody pausing as well. You stare ahead of you in shock. You hadn’t thought of that possibility. You’d never heard of that being a link, but then again, you’d never looked much into soulmates. Like many, you simply knew you’d find them eventually. You had no distinguishing marks or any of the more common links that were obvious. You’d considered perhaps you didn’t have a soulmate at all, and though that thought made you a bit sad, you’d accepted it. If it was meant to happen, it would. 

And apparently, it had. 

“I...didn’t even know that was a possibility.” You say. 

“Neither did I.” Cody says. “Apparently this is the third time it’s happened since the war started.” 

“Well, that’s reassuring.” You say. “We’re not the only ones.” You stare at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Why do I feel like there’s more?” 

“Well, there is.” He says, and you begin walking once more. “Us clones, we’re not allowed to initiate our bonds. If we find our soulmate, we’re supposed to reject them like the Jedi.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders fall a bit. Of course it makes sense. They’re supposed to be loyal, unshakeable soldiers free of distractions. There’s nothing quite as distracting as a soulmate bond. 

You feel a bit disappointed. You’ve just found your soulmate and now he’s telling you he has to reject you. You know how painful it is, how debilitating it can be to go through it. Most don’t come out the other side the same. How can you when you’ve just lost half your soul? Half of your very being? 

“That’s...” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I-I understand...why...” 

A gloved hand touches your face, sliding along your skin. You look up, that hand cupping your chin. You look up into those dark eyes, getting lost in the deep brown of them. They’re so soft as they stare at you, wide with emotion. You’d read once that eyes are the window to the soul. You can tell a lot about someone by their eyes. 

“Luckily, most of us don’t agree with that rule.” He says quietly, like he’s afraid someone might walk by and hear. From what he’s saying, it could be dangerous if the wrong person walked by and heard. “It’s not fair to us or to our mates. Most of you have waited long enough.” 

“Too long.” You whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“I can’t promise a life, or a future. Any of us could die at any moment. But when the war ends, I will do everything I can to find you.” 

***

Your time with the 212th is short. You spend a suspicious amount of time with Cody. For being a Marshall Commander, he certainly has a lot of free time. You meet many, many clones, and do your best to memorize each and every one of their names. 

All too soon you’re landing at the GAR station, your time with them at its end. Cody escorts you off the cruiser, leading you through the bustling station to where the shuttle is waiting to take you back to Alderaan. 

“I hope the war doesn’t bring us to Alderaan.” Cody says. “As much as I’d like to see you again.” 

You smile. “I do hope to see you again soon, but preferably not on a battlefield again.”

Cody smiles down at you. “I’ll keep in contact as much as I can.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” You say, looking up at him. Oh how you want to kiss him, but you know you can’t. “You know where to find me.” 

Cody lets his fingers brush yours just for a moment. “I’ll never forget.” 

You look back as you board the shuttle, your chest already aching. The thought of being apart at all is nearly unbearable, and you can’t even say how long it will be until you see him again. 

If you see him again. 

No. You refuse to think that way. 

You will see him again. 

***

The war is over. 

It ended rather abruptly, and came with the restructuring of the Republic into the Galactic Empire. Nothing about it feels right to you, mostly because you haven’t heard from Cody since the war ended. 

He had sent you a quick message before he left on a mission, and then the war had ended. 

That had been a year ago. 

You haven’t heard from him since. 

You refuse to believe he’s dead. You would have known. Even without initiating your bond, you would have felt it. The pain of half of your soul fading away to nothing. The discomfort, the never-ceasing chill of half of you being gone. You haven’t felt that, which means Cody is alive somewhere. 

It’s been a long year. 

You’ve been going through the motions, checking every chance you can for a message, some sign from him, but you’ve heard nothing. It hurts, but you know he wouldn’t do that. Not without reason. You hope he’s safe, wherever he is. You hope he’s safe and healthy and whole. 

You don’t want to lose him. You barely know him, but the thought of losing him is driving you insane. Your thoughts have slowly been taken over by Cody. You know it’s the bond, the deep yearning to see him and be close to him again. You’re meant to be together, not a galaxy apart with no contact. 

You worry you may go insane if you have to keep on without him. 

Luckily for you, that doesn’t happen. 

It’s your day off and you had planned to spend it sitting on your couch relaxing. Your comm is sitting on the table, waiting for any sign from Cody that he’s alright. You’d give anything just to hear his voice again. You’d sell an organ to see him again. 

A knock on your door pulls you away from your thoughts. You’re not expecting anyone, but random visitors aren’t that unheard of. A neighbor or a coworker stopping by. You’re not really in the mood for company, but maybe that’s just what you need. 

Except you’re not expecting who’s behind the door. 

Your stomach twists painfully, your heart thudding in your chest. Your mouth drops open, the air in your lungs whooshing out in a gasp. 

He looks good. Or, at least, he looks uninjured. You know it’s him. Even without the scar, you would have known. He’s not in his armor, dressed down into civilian clothes instead. You want to yell at him, you want to slap him. How dare he leave you for a year without so much as a message. But as you look into his eyes, that idea melts from your mind. There’s dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired. His eyes are shining in the lights of your hallway and there’s a sadness to them, no, a guilty look to them. 

“Mesh’la.” He breathes, and you’re moving before you even realize it, practically throwing yourself into his arms. 

He wraps his arms around you tightly, almost painfully. You don’t care, relief flooding through you. All the horrible thoughts that had plagued you, all the anger and the fear and the anxiety melting away simply by being in his presence once more. 

He backs you into your apartment, the door sliding closed. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you, keeping you close to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He breathes, his breath fanning your ear. “I’m so kriffing sorry.” 

“Why?” You ask, your voice thick with tears. You’re not sure when they started, but they’re slowly soaking his shirt. “It’s been a year, Cody. A year since I’ve heard from you. The war ended and then...nothing.” 

“I know.” He pulls back slightly, looking down at your face. “I’ll tell you everything, just let me hold you for a moment.” 

And so you do. You stand there for the better part of an hour, just holding each other. Time and time again your hands run along his back, cheek pressing into his shoulder just to make sure he’s really here. 

Once you manage to separate yourselves, you move to the couch. He tells you everything, about the war ending, Order 66, the inhibitor chips, losing control of his mind, waking up after Kashyyk, the horrible things they’d been forced to do, deserting the Empire. He had wanted to contact you as soon as he left, but he knew it was too risky. He’d found Captain Rex who’d helped him, hiding him and once it was safe, getting him here to you. 

“Oh, Cody.” You say, tracing your fingers along his scar. It’s the first time you’ve touched him, really touched him. He’s so warm, the press of your skin against his sending little sparks through your body. “I’m so sorry.” You draw him in, his face pressing against your neck as you hold him. 

“Why did it have to happen this way?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“We can’t change the past.” You say, running your fingers through his short curls. “We can only keep moving forward from here.” 

He breaths a long sigh out, relaxing completely into you. He’s heavy, your body slowly falling back onto the couch. He follows, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. 

“I’m ready to live your boring life.” He murmurs. 

You can’t help but laugh at that. He had once remarked that your life was boring when you’d told him you intended to spend your time off at home reading. You knew he had meant it lightly, and he wasn’t wrong. Compared to his life at the time, yours was very boring. 

“Don’t let me go.” He says quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. 

A smile tugs at your lips as your back hits the cushions, Cody shifting slightly so he’s not crushing you under his weight. “You have a year to make up for, Cody. And I have some vacation time I’ve been meaning to use.” 

“Good.” He says, dragging his lips up your throat. “I don’t intend on letting you leave this couch for a while.” 

You pout a bit as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “The bed is more comfortable.” 

“We’ll get there eventually.” He murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. 

You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. The swirling chaos that had been driving you crazy for the last year is beginning to settle now that he’s here, in your arms, pressed against you. Most soulmates don’t last more than a few days once they meet. It’s been over a year since you met him and you hadn’t so much as touched him. 

“Cody,” You sigh against his lips, his body pressing closer to yours. You can feel him, hard against your thigh. “I need you.” 

“I’m right here.” He says, pulling away from your lips. He cups your face, calloused thumbs stroking your cheeks. 

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheeks. He really is real. He’s really right here. “You are.” 

He makes quick work of your clothes, dragging his fingers along your exposed skin. Every touch is like lightning, your body thrumming with energy. It reminds you of when you’d met, appearing on that battlefield, the adrenaline pumping through you. He had to have known, deep down. He’d saved your life without thought, keeping you safe until the battle was over. 

He’d saved you, stayed with you until he couldn’t. Now it’s your turn. 

Your fingers trail along his back, feeling every ridge of muscle, every raised scar. You want to kiss them all, but that’s for a later time. His teeth sink gently into the side of your breast, making you gasp. You’re already wet, probably leaving a wet spot on your couch. 

You’ll have it cleaned later. 

“Please, Cody.” You breathe, pressing your hips up against his. “It’s been too long.” 

“I know, mesh’la.” He says, kissing your sternum. “I’m so sorry.” 

You sink your fingers into his hair, drawing his lips to yours. “Don’t apologize with your words.” 

He smirks against your lips, shifting his hips slightly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

A shiver runs down your spine. You have the former Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic naked on your couch, and he had just called you ma’am. You feel a bit powerful, so unlike how you normally feel. 

You’ll have to explore that later. 

You slip a hand between your bodies, lining him up. He presses into you slowly, taking his time. The stretch burns, and you regret not prepping a little, but he’s slow, easing your tension with gentle kisses and the touch of his hands. 

He pauses once he’s seated inside you, giving you a moment. You’re overwhelmed with feeling, the bond between you two strengthening. You can practically feel the link, the cords tying you together multiplying and strengthening into something unbreakable. 

His lips press against yours, his hands taking yours, lacing your fingers together. You’re connected in every possible way. 

He begins to move, dragging his hips slowly against yours. You moan against his lips, squeezing his hands. He feels so good, you feel so good pressed up against him. It’s been a long year waiting for him, and this very moment has made up for most of it. 

You moan his name as he thrusts into you, fingers gripping his. He moans in your ear, whispering to you, speaking near nonsense as you lose yourselves in each other. 

You cum, clinging to him so tightly you’re worried you might bruise him. He offers no complaints, his body going lax over yours as he cums, emptying into you. You both stay there, uncaring of your sweaty skin or the fluids leaking between your legs. You’re both breathing heavily, holding onto each other like you might disappear if you let go. 

He goes to pull away after a few moments, but you wrap your arms around him tighter, keeping him still. 

“Stay?” You whisper, just needing to feel him. 

He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

(P.S. Don’t worry, they do eventually move from Alderaan to some small farming planet where they live happily ever after.) 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry

[vibrantbirdy]

Remembrances: A Cassian Andor and K-2SO Story

Title: Remembrances Fandom: Star Wars: Rogue One and Andor Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-Fi; Fluffy angst; Angsty fluff; Hurt/comfort; Friendship Characters: Cassian Andor and K-2SO Warnings: Mild canon-typical violence - memory of witnessing aftermath of an execution, described in abstract terms, not graphic; very slight spoilers for Andor, I guess? Word Count: c. 1.5 k Author's note: I have terrible writer's block at the moment with several of my longer WIPs, so I'm hoping a few oneshots like this one might get me back into the swing of things! My masterlist is here. Summary: Cassian has a nightmare and K-2SO tries to understand.

*********************************

Cassian is standing in the square at the end of Rix Road again. He is staring straight ahead at a clutch of occupying Clone Troopers, pioneers of a fledgling Empire.

He feels the ghost of cold metal in his hand, the phantom weight of a baton in the grip of his fist. He tastes in his mouth the ice of the frigid, Ferrix winter air. Rage, white-hot and new, melts it on his tongue.

In the corner of his eye there is something awful, something he can't quite bring himself to look at. A dark shape in his periphery swaying softly in the breeze as white flakes of falling snow settle over it with a perversely gentle indifference.

"Kassa," a voice, warm and soft whispers, cutting through the freezing wind that bites at his ears, "Cassian."

How desperately he wants to turn and run towards it...

He knows what he will see if he does, so instead he roots himself to the spot and forces himself to keep looking forwards, forwards, only forwards.

It is a losing battle. His eyes seem to be drawn inexorably towards that shrouded horror at the edges of his vision, and soon he is unable to resist the pull.

He looks. He always looks.

His father's feet aren't touching the ground.

Cassian wakes with a start. In that unnerving state between sleep and consciousness, and already unsettled from the nightmare - always the same one - he has the disconcerting feeling of being watched.

His eyes dart wildly around in the darkness, until they alight upon two bright pinpricks of light in the gloom. Hulking reprogrammed Imperial security droid, K-2SO, is looming over him, his white eyes glowing eerily in the blackness like a golem from a horror holonovel.

Upon the realisation that his observer is friend and not foe, Cassian lets out a low sleepy groan. He massages the back of his sore, stiff neck, the result of what he estimates can only have been a couple of hours of restless sleep on the ship's barely fit-for-purpose cot bed.

"K, what the hell are you doing?" he asks, his voice gruff with sleep as he tries to stifle the natural irritation that often accompanies an abrupt awakening, "Didn't we talk about personal space?"

"I noticed that you were... in distress," the droid answers falteringly, as if he can't quite compute the words necessary to assign the correct emotion to Cassian's demonstrably fitful slumber.

"It was just a bad dream, K," Cassian says as he swings his legs over the side of the cot so that he is facing the towering, black droid.

He stretches, then rests his elbows on his knees and yawns deeply as he absentmindedly runs his fingers through his sleep-tousled dark hair. Kriff, he was tired.

"Will you tell me about it?"

Cassian straightens suddenly, rather startled by the question. He looks up sharply and is surprised further still to see that K-2 is in the process of lowering his huge mechanical body to the durasteel floor where he sits, long, spindly legs outstretched, and staring up at Cassian expectantly as if he is an over-sized child waiting for a bedtime story.

There is a silence, filled only by the hum of the U-Wing's engines as the ship carries them at light speed, safely cradled in the hyper-lane, homewards to their destination of Yavin 4 and Rebel Alliance Headquarters.

"I ... don't want to talk about it, K," Cassian answers finally, truthfully.

"Well," K-2's tone is matter of fact and confident, "I heard that it is common in most human cultures for well-adjusted individuals to talk through their emotional turmoil with others."

"What, are you a protocol droid now?" Cassian grumbles irritably as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hands.

There is a mechanic whir as K-2 reels his head backwards as if in offence. His luminous, bulbous eyes flick down to the ground and then back up to Cassian who feels a sudden rush of guilt.

The reprogramming process has gifted K-2SO with several unique quirks including a seemingly boundless curiosity, a brazen sense of independent thought, and a wicked, sarcastic sense of humour.

On top of that, if there were any droid in the Galaxy deemed sentient enough to suffer from hurt feelings, it would be this one, and Cassian knows for a fact that K hates being compared to protocol droids.

"I'm sorry K, that was uncalled for."

K-2SO doesn't dream - not as far as Cassian is aware of - and so with his new programming rendering him more person-like than any machine the spy has ever known, Cassian can understand the droid's desire to know more about something so inherently human as a nightmare.

Cassian hesitates and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"It was about my father," he says, finally, "about the day he died."

The day he was murdered, he thinks, and he tries to push down the old, familiar fury that rises up and burns in his throat like lump of molten durasteel.

"Does it feel...real?" K-2 asks, and there is a note of caution in his tone that Cassian has never heard before.

The droid's wariness is not enough to protect Cassian from what the question requires him to consider. The pain, raw and visceral, which smouldering, always, at the very centre of his being ignites within him for the second time that night.

Cassian inhales the scent of newly cut pine which drifts across an icy breeze from hastily constructed gallows. He doesn't look. His feet are cold, despite being encased in an old pair of his father's winter boots which are several sizes too big for him. His own have holes in them. He won't look. The freezing air reaches down his throat and into his lungs, squeezing and constricting his chest until his breaths are jagged and painful.

He looks. Cassian always looks.

"Yes," he manages to reply, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Are all dreams memories?"

"No, not all of them."

Though mine seem to be, and only the very worst ones, Cassian thinks to himself.

"I see."

A moment passes where neither droid, nor man speak.

"K..." Cassian breaks the silence hesitantly, "Do you ever have flashes of memory when you are in standby? Or when you're powering down?"

"Are you asking me if I dream?" K-2 asks him incredulously.

"I suppose I am," Cassian admits, a sheepish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You know I don't," K scolds, as if Cassian is an idiot for asking such a thing, "Otherwise why would I bother asking you about it?"

Cassian lets out a small laugh at the droid's typically blunt reply, but as he imagines how it might feel to be truly free of the painful remembrances that his subconscious seems determined to make him endure over and over again, his smile fades and his expression turns sombre.

"Sometimes I think it would be better that way," he says bitterly.

K-2 enacts the slow and methodical movements needed to allow him to rise to his feet, until he is once again towering over the human being sitting before him on the edge of the bed.

To Cassian's surprise, the droid reaches down with one of his huge hands and places it on his shoulder. Touched by the gesture, the spy forces himself not to flinch at the freezing cold metal which raises goose bumps on his bare skin.

"I wouldn't be so certain of that," the K-2SO says sagely, and despite its modulated quality, the tone of his mechanical voice is unmistakably kind.

The two friends - for, Cassian suddenly realises, despite their obvious differences, that's what they truly are - look at each other for a moment before the man brings his own warm hand of flesh and bone and blood up to rest upon the droid's.

"I'll let you rest," K says, finally, withdrawing and straightening up to his full height, "You need to be functioning at optimal capacity for the debriefing tomorrow."

Cassian snorts. K often likes to drop in droll quips mocking the sterile language choices of other droids, almost as if to prove that he too finds their inability to understand the complexity of the human condition amusing, despite his own synthetic and mechanical nature.

As he lays himself back down upon the uncomfortable mattress and closes his eyes, Cassian listens to the familiar, slow rise and fall of K-2's long strides as the droid lumbers his retreat back to the U-wing's cockpit.

"Cassian."

"Hmm?"

The spy is sure he has already dozed off when K-2 suddenly speaks again. He rolls over to see the droid's huge form sentinel in the doorway, and he wonders how long the sentient machine has lingered there, watching him.

No, Cassian corrects himself, watching over him.

"I am sorry. About your father."

"Thanks, K."

With a nod, the droid disappears down the dark corridor. As he watches him go, Cassian, despite his initial reservations, feels oddly comforted by their strange conversation. He flops onto his back and awaits the oblivion of sleep.

When it comes, he dreams not of Ferrix, but of Kenari. Of tall, leafy trees, their canopies admitting fractals of sunlight which fall warm and bright across his face. He hears his sister giggle somewhere off in the distance, a melodic sound that fills his soul with unbridled joy. He laughs too, and his feet seem barely to touch the ground as he sets off, breathless and exhilarated, across the forest to find her.

[ltbroccoli]

@starraised ( continued )

“I had a nightmare about you”

“About me? What happened?”

There’s an uncomfortable churning in the Betazoid’s stomach, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t pin down WHERE the discomfort is coming from. It’s not about the fact this nightmare happened – they weren’t uncommon for Reg, and since she’s someone he sees frequently, it only made sense that she be a subject of a nightmare at some point. What made her uneasy was that this wasn’t her first patient who had said such a thing today – Reg was the FOURTH.

Something like this has to be MORE than a coincidence.

“Tell me as much as you remember.”

Reg is far too on edge to sit down for this, and instead paces around Deanna’s office, the way he often does, hands fidgeting restlessly at his sides. “You -- w-well, you were -- you were --” He winces in memory of it, finally managing, “You were h-hurt. You were very badly hurt. I’m not sure how, I didn’t see what happened, or I don’t... I don’t... remember...”

Giving it a moment longer to see if the answer returns to him, he relents and shakes his head. “I was -- I was trying to get you to, you were asking me for h-help, but every time I -- I d-didn’t get any closer, you were lying there just... crying. The whole time. I couldn’t get there. It... it was awful...”

With a small shudder, he finally sinks down on the couch, foot tapping anxiously against the carpet. “I kn-know it’s stupid. But it just -- I d-don’t know, it really rattled me.”

[jangofctts]

pls tell us all about your ocs im beGGIN

aHH ok a couple people asked so!!!!! also ive included some of my drawings!! (tIS BELOW THE CUT)

oK SO STARTING OFF WE HAVE commander blanche!

hE’s a bit Cold and Stern but he’s a softy!!! his squadron (sunburst squadron) is a nIGHTMARE to run. it’s like herding cats dhsksn. his eye and his hair are from like a genetic mutation and nO HE DIDNT DYE IT OK?? tbh i still need to flesh him out more but he just wants to bring all his men home safe, will throw himself into battle wiTHOUT hesitation and just rad guy dhdkdn

next we have sgt. blue!

he’s.,.,.sO Tired. boy’s been through it. the scar across his face is from jumping between his general and a dark side force user, HE HAS A HEART OF GOLD AND SOMETIMES DOESNT THINK THINGS THROUGH WHEN IT COMES TO DANGER BUT he baby. again i nEED TO FLESH HIM OUT MORE BUT DHSKSN

ok nEXT we have our lovely sharpshooter, sweets!

he’s Very Shy. he’s the youngest in the squadron but was bumped up into sunburst squadron bc of his skill. he doesn’t like talking much so he’ll pat your arm or grab his brother’s shoulders to get their attention. when he does speak, it’s very soft spoken and gentle. he got in trouble a lot when he was a cadet for trying to befriend the service droids or little animals he would find. if you mention something you like, like a certain type of flower or necklace, WHATEVER he does kinda have....sticky fingers...so he’ll just Snatch the thing you like unprompted and then later he’ll just shove it into your hands and walk away. 1000/10 deserves a kith

oKiE next we have kamikaze (kaze or kami for short) and jaws.

so kamikaze or kami OR kaze for short—he’s the pilot! earned is name for a reason bc this boy is fuckin WILD with piloting. he likes to brag that he’s the best pilot in the GAR which—idk you’re gonna have to judge that yourself. bc yeah he always makes it out alive whethet or not his ship is all but bLOWN UP but—he’s cocky and you might end up loosing your lunch since he tends to do a lot of barrel rolls or made up stunts. he’s a sweetheart tho, after you push aside the cocky and happy go lucky attitude. he’s super hyper most of the time so the squad likes to joke that he has designated nap time dhdjdbd

jaws!!! JAWS MY BOY—he got his name because one time he almost got eaten by a nexu the day after being promoted from cadet. he’s a Flirt, but gets awkward when you flirt with him back. he loVES holodramas or holonovels and therefore a hOpeLESS romantic rvdkdb unfortunately he some how believes that bad pick up lines work,?,,,?! he has some wild scars on his back and will have nO HESITATION to show you the nexu teeth marks. he has a tendancy to “adopt” little creatures or encourage sweets to steal one so That is an Issue

then fuse!

can you....guess..,.what he enjoye? if you guess setting shit on fire/blowing things up then yUh. the reason he has different colored tattoos is because he was originally from another squadron but was reminded too many times and he was sort of Forced out. FORTUNATELY the general transfered him in sunburst squadron and let’s him be the explosives guy. he’s also very hyper and gets ALONG GREAT with kamikaze—a little too well fhdkd the chaos bros for sure. he’s super rambunctious/loud, isnt shy to tell you what he thinks—even those in higher command. he gets in trouble for it but he has a heart of gold and means well!

and then the medic!! void

vOid is Tired....sO TIRED OF DEALING WITH fuse and kamikaze’s cOUNTLESS stupid injuries. he’s the Mom friend and will literally run and tackle you if you aren’t drinking water or taking the meds he’s perscibed. arguably the Smartest one in the bunch—at least with common sense fhdkdb he’s bffs with blue and theyre the Mean Girls of the squad, silently judging you always dhsksn. he definitely overworks himself a LOT just because he cant stand to be alone with his thoughts for long or else he starts to fixate on all the lives he couldnt save. he needs a pHat nap and a cup of caf sO PLEASE give him this, he also always has a massive headache due to the bafoonery he must deal with 25/8 dhsksn

ALSO HERES SOME REALLY ROUGH SKETCHES OF MY 90s plASTIC CUP BABIES RHDKDN

also bonus half sketch/comic of ahsoka that im too lazy to finish rhdkdn

[ironmandeficiency]

laying low

pairing: fennec shand / reader

word count: 3019

summary: she didn’t want you to retire because you were the only one she trusts to have her six. you retired because you couldn’t let yourself fail and get her killed.

a/n: i want her to step on me but also i wanna be the one (1) person the stoic badass is soft for. also i’m posting from mobile again so ✨hooray✨

warnings: angry fennec, parting on maybe-bad terms, canon typical violence, being kidnapped, toro calican himself is a warning (undid his death for the sake of plot)

“is this really what you want? to sit here and let yourself rot?” fennec was bitter. you hated seeing her like this and nearly every muscle in your body ached as she spoke. the two of you worked together like a finely-tuned machine and she clearly thought that you retiring was a waste of potential. but when you slipped up and nearly cost fennec her life, you refused to endanger her with your presence. she was far too valuable to you and you would do anything, even retire in this skughole, if it meant keeping her safe.

after a speeder crash you endured during a fight against stormtroopers, it severely impacted your ability to fight. fennec knew that you wouldn’t be the same, but that didn’t bother her. there were only one or two more bounties picked up afterwards because you realized you had become a liability. fennec was having to cover your ass more often than not and even though she insisted that it wasn’t a problem, you had to do something different.

picking up a little slack would be miniscule if you were with her but you didn’t see it like she did. you had been her longest companion and the only one that she’d ever let see her weak. life came with trauma, and with trauma came nightmares — she remembers the first one she had early into your partnership, the way you held her close and anchored her to reality. from then on it was decided: you were it for her. not that she’d ever tell you, but it was true nonetheless.

you sighed at her words; the very same thoughts went through your head at the beginning of this plan but it was the only viable option for you. “it’s all i have left. maybe i can find some peace before hunters come looking for me.” you pour two mugs of caf, setting one on the table in font of an empty chair as an invitation for her to sit. she doesn’t.

the anger in the air around her nearly chokes you with its intensity, rising in the air like heavy plumes of smoke from a raging fire. you’re unsure what you can say to tame the blaze, if you even can at all. normally you would know the exact words to say to bring her down when she’s this upset, but now you were the root of the problem and there was nothing short of foregoing retirement that would make her happy.

fennec continues talking about the brave fighter she fought alongside turning into someone she didn’t know, how you’re showing your belly to the world like the damn tooka sunbathing in the windowsill. the venom she’s spitting doesn’t bother you. she’s angry and hurt, probably feeling abandoned by you and your decision to stay and make a home.

“if you ever need somewhere to lay low, i’ll always welcome you. we’re partners fennec, whether fighting side by side or not.” you wanted to give her that much. even if she wasn’t ready now, you would always welcome her into your new home, into your arms the way you’ve yearned to for years.

nothing is said to acknowledge your words. you didn’t think she would say anything anyway but it hurts regardless, another reminder that she doesn’t like this the same way you don’t. all she does before leaving you is grabbing the mug from the table and pouring its contents down the drain, letting the mug clatter in the sink once it’s empty.

maybe one day she could see that you were doing this for her. maybe one day, probably long away from now, she would walk into these doors with the weight of the galaxy being dropped on your doorstep. with a soft smile and open arms you would greet her and show her what it was like to live the quiet life.

for now, you would just have to settle for the warm embrace of the memories you shared, hoping that more could be made in your new little hut.

it’s been close to six months since you retired. you hadn’t seen or heard fennec since she walked out of your front door wearing her signature scowl. it still stung, after all this time, that after everything she wouldn’t even comm. you’d tried that the first couple weeks after she left but there was never a reply, only a dwindling hope and the worry of not knowing if she was okay.

that was one of the biggest benefits of traveling with fennec; you would never have to worry where she was because she was always right beside you. there was never a nagging worry that ate at you, no nightmares allowed to linger since her touch would ward them away. life without her was a new normal

there would be days where you would see something and want to tell her about it, throwing her name over your shoulder only to remember that she was never there to hear what you had to say. the comms you sent grew further apart as time went on, eventually stopping altogether. she would never reply anyway, there was no reason to waste both your time and yours on something seemingly broken beyond repair.

she may not have been dead, but you still lost her.

several more weeks went by and you had grown accustomed to the solitude. sure you would socialize when going to the market for food and supplies, but it was never anything of substance, only mere pleasantries and remarks on the quality of the items you bought. somehow you were far more weary during retirement than you had been before it.

your mind would drift to her still, wondering whether she had found someone else to watch her back or if she was vagabonding all by her lonesome. how you yearned to see her again, hear her voice or feel her hands gently help you when you fall like you have lately. it’s like your body doesn’t see the reason to keep up. you exercise to the best of your ability and try to stay fit as possible, but you’re still losing your footing more and more often, even at home.

it comes to a head when you’re making breakfast. everything had been okay prior, but one little nudge of your bad leg against a table corner and you’re sprawling. laying on the floor covered in your breakfast, it takes you thirty minutes to muster the strength needed to stand on your own.

the next day, you get a cane. you loathe having to buy it at all, hearing her voice calling you old and jokingly asking where your grandchildren are. it’s either a cane or losing what little mobility you have left, so you go with the former. you despised the visible display of your weakness, grated on what pride you had left. if fennec could see you now, what would she say?

the man had beat his way into your home with every intention to rob you and take what little supplies you had. he had been traveling for days in the desert and was tired. but then he saw exactly whose house he was robbing and he had an even better idea: take you to what used to be jabba’s palace, now ruled by bib fortuna.

see, the paths you used to tread alongside fennec provided ample opportunities to make an enemy here and there. jabba was one of them simply because you refused to work for him, and with his death, you had a little bit of peace. fortuna never attempted to seek you out but anyone who knew of jabba’s grudge against you would be wise to the reward your capture would produce.

this young hotshot was foolhardy and far too cocksure compared to his abilities. if you were in the body you used to have, this buffoon (who made his name very known to you in some sort of dominance attempt?) would be dead thrice over. but time wasnt kind to you and you still have a near-lame leg, so at his mercy you were.

you just wished he would shut his damn mouth for longer than it took him to suck in another breath. he must not realize that silence is far louder than jabbering when it comes to someone holding your life in their hands. maker forbid you have peace in your final moments, apparently. figures.

jabba’s former palace was soon in your line of sight and if you weren’t positive that you were being led to your death, you’d have been grateful to be freed of the nuisance that was toro calican. all the assurance you could find as he hauled you out of his speeder was that his arrogance would soon get him killed if he continued the way he was going.

toro dragged you to the throne room with a hand roughly dripping your bicep, trying to hurry you along as if you still had two normally functioning legs. you knew he knew about your predicament, your lack of fully independent mobility a frequent topic of his. “ease up, wank stain! you know i have a lame leg!” his answer was an aggravated huff and his blaster pressed harder into your lower back.

the lower you descended, the deeper the dread sank into your gut. this was actually real, you were about to die. peace had been made long ago with the knowledge of someone possibly wanting to find you, but now that it was happening… completely different.

you wondered if fennec would ever find out about your death. or if she did find out, your brain would questioned if she would even care. of course she would, your heart consoled, think of how long you traveled together! the trust! the bond you two share transcends time!

but you cut your journeys with her short, there was no telling. there were so many things you wish you could have told her, not just about the feelings that only grew in their intensity during her absence from your side. you wanted to tell her about the stray tooka that you took in when you first settled down; she had a litter of kittens and one of them had a glare that rivaled your dear assassin’s. there was an action holonovel you read once that had you cackling, imagining your fennec cutting off all the frivolous villain monologues with a blaster to the face.

she was never told these things and now that you were becoming rancor chow, she’d never even know them. the idea of dying before telling fennec everything that you’ve been stewing over for so long, not telling her you loved her, fuck was it heartbreaking.

a mumbled curse fell from your lips when you felt saltwater make a descent down your cheeks. you didn’t want your harbinger to see you this weak, this vulnerable, but you had no choice in the matter. your hands are bound by a pair of shockingly sturdy binders and there was no way for you to wipe the tears away. all you could do was blink them away, then meet death with your chin up and your love in your heart.

“now what do we have here?” that was most certainly not the voice of bib fortuna. you opened your eyes to find a broad man clad in green beskar occupying the throne. your common sense identified him as boba fett, which you should have thought was impossible. then again, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to be as annoying as toro calican. it was a day of being proved wrong, it seemed.

anyone could see that toro wasn’t prepared to see someone that wasn’t bib on the throne. his eyes had grown to the size of the twin suns and even through your wet eyes, you could see his facial expression morph from his fake swagger to a dog of uncertainty. nevertheless, he persisted, throwing you down at the foot of the throne. “there’s a bounty on their head and i’ve come to collect the reward.”

boba fett, even through the beskar, doesn’t seem pleased. he doesn’t move his helmet’s line of sight from toro as he speaks, something you’re grateful for. “there’s been a, how do you say, recent transfer of power. and with that change came a new way of doing things, you understand.” he scoffed at the man, your proximity to the throne enlightening you to just how annoyed he was becoming in such a short period. it seemed that toro had that effect on everybody.

“how do i know this is actually someone with a price on their head? what evidence do you have that proves their identity?”

it was clear that your captor didn’t expect to have to prove a damned thing. what a fool, not even bothering to prepare for a single unexpected event. you were almost ashamed of having been overpowered by him at this point. “anyone who’s anyone knows, this is the former partner of the late fennec shand! i’m sure you heard abour her demise — that was me by the way — and now i’ve brought her partner to you, to be taken out of commission…”

all the hair on your body stood on end. fennec was dead? killed by the very man that brought you in? no, not your fennec. she wouldn’t be overpowered by this arrogant bastard in her sleep with a hand tied behind her back, there was no way. but boba said nothing to negate the rumors and that told you everything you need to know. “if you have even a morsel of mercy, by the stars make this quick. if she’s really gone, then i’ve kept her waiting for far too long.”

those were the first words you’ve spoken since toro bound you and dragged you like a ragdoll from your home. there was no reason to entertain the man, but there was the tiniest sliver of a chance that you could implore the mandalorian in front of you to end your life with the efficiency he was known for.

he asked the man his name and merely hummed in acknowledgment when it was boastfully given, like his name meant something to a battle hardened mandalorian such as boba fett.

if you had paid attention to boba’s demeanor since your arrival, you would have noticed that something in his air changed when toro spoke about being the one to kill fennec. some would have mistook it for disbelief but it was much more than that. boba knew that toro was indeed the man who shot fennec shand, but he was not the man who killed fennec shand because she simply wasn’t dead.

she was, in fact, just in the next room scavenging for another bottle of fluorescent blue spotchka when her curiosity was piqued by the conversation occurring in the throne room. at the way the voices seemed to be familiar, she abandoned the search and decided to see for herself what the commotion was.

what she found sent liquid fire through her veins. you, on your knees and head bowed just enough to show resignation and grief, binders shackling your arms and fennec knew that you wouldn’t be able to get up on your own because of it. toro calican, the man who nearly killed her all those sunsets ago in the middle of tusken territory standing above you with a wicked sneer on his lips. this would simply not do.

“word of advice, calican,” she made her presence known with her voice, walking around to boba’s right hand side and leaning a hip against the throne. “always make sure your kills are dead before you leave them. leaving them for dead? that’s how you make enemies.” her blaster was out of her holster and firing before toro could reply, and boba was impressed with the speed she fired with. he had a feeling that it had to do with the figure at the foot of his throne.

your eyes had to be deceiving you. there was no way, toro killed fennec… right? so how in the stars was she here now? the feeling of her hands on your cheeks, warm brown eyes giving you much needed comfort after what you’ve been through. you didn’t even register boba leaving his throne until he’s on the ground in front of you, unclasping your binders with the gentleness one would treat an injured animal. maybe that’s what you were to him, a pitiful tooka missing a leg that was dropped on his doorstep.

before you can venture deeper into this rabbit hole, your body is pulled off the questionable floor and into fennec’s embrace. the way she felt against you, the calluses of her hands as she held you, it was home. you didn’t know when the tears had come back but she was quick to wipe them away with the pads of her thumbs.

“seems you found trouble. what happened to laying low, huh?” her comment brought a ready chuckle from your throat and a small smile to her lips. sweet maker how you’ve missed that smile. “maybe you’ll be safer here, what do you think?”

any and all words elude you. nothing on this planet or any other in the galaxy could drag you away from her now, not when she’s as beautiful now as the day you met her, when she gives you the smile you knew was only saved for you. “i’m always safer with you, fennec.”

she hums, her lips pressing to your forehead to ground you both in the reality of being together again. “i’ll have to say the same about you, desert rose. nearly died only a week after i left your hut.”

“only a week? i thought you’d last longer than that.”

“it was because i didn’t have you. but we don’t have to worry about that anymore, do we?”

she was right, you wouldn’t have to worry about losing her for the rest of your life.

fennec shand taglist: @cryptidcody @sacred-things @clownocoruscant @steel-phoenix @aerolanya @felucians @bookbandobssessed @senator-nahberries @obirain @themarcusmoreno @jedi-mando @flightlessangelwings @whovianwar @hornystarwarsbisexual @kaermorons (i love this handle bye ohmygod)

[sharpnothashtag]

The Good Ship CrushWay, Chapter 29

Naomi is on a shuttle with Greskrendtregk.  She looks up at him nervously.  He smiles back warmly.

Naomi: Father, I don’t remember much of my experience as a Borg.  Why must I go to Mars and talk about it with your class? Greskrendtregk: (gently) Because, Naomi, you went through a very bad thing.  You need to talk about it, whether you realize it or not. Naomi: But I’m fine! Greskrendtregk: I know, and I’m glad you are.  This is just to ensure that you stay that way.  Plus, you’re also going to be learning about what some of the other Borg children went through.  These are people that would be coming to your camp--don’t you want to know how to help them, too? Naomi: I do, Father!  I do. Greskrendtregk: (grabs her hand, squeeze)  I know you do.  You are your mother’s daughter.  

In the class with DeAnna

DeAnna: In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, there was a television program, kind of like a non-interactive holonovel, called Sesame Street.  It was geared toward children, and a number of times, the muppets-- Naomi: Muppets? DeAnna: It’s a combination of a marionette and a puppet.  It’s hard to explain, but they looked like this: (shows this picture)

Naomi: Aww!  They look like fun characters.  DeAnna: (smiling warmly) Yes, they do.  As I was saying, these characters were often used to explain difficult things to children.  One that I think directly applies to our ideals (if not our initial subject matter) is their inclusion of a character in foster care.  Here’s a portion of the episode: (she shows this video)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF2w5qdn1-o

KJ is getting dressed.  She brushes her hair, and Bev hugs her from behind.

Bev: Hey.  Did you ever get back to sleep? KJ: Not really.  I was having nightmares. Bev: You could have woken me up--I would have held you. KJ: I know, but you needed the sleep.  I went and talked to DeAnna. Bev: ...you did? KJ: Yeah.  I asked if I could be a volunteer patient for the counselors she’s training. Bev: Are you sure you’re ready to talk about it? KJ: I have to.  Keeping it inside is more than I can take. Bev: (cupping KJ’s face in her hands) I will be here for you.  I will not move.  I will not leave.  I will never give up. KJ: (brushing Bev’s hair out of her face) I know.  (kiss) You need to head on down.  Seven will come up here to bring you down there.  Don’t test her on that one. Bev: Oh, I wouldn’t put that past her.  (pulling her close one more time)  Please, take care of yourself.  I love you. KJ: I love you.

KJ waits outside of the counseling classroom  DeAnna exits with a Klingon woman, Biquv.

DeAnna: I’m so glad to see you in a more hospitable hour, Kathryn. KJ: I cannot apologize enough for that, DeAnna. DeAnna: Nonsense.  I’m glad I could be there for you when you needed me.  Kathryn, this is Biquv.  Talking to both of you makes me think you two are a good match. KJ: It’s good to meet you, Biquv.  Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam. Biquv:  Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam.  Your Klingon is very impressive. KJ: Thank you! Biquv: Shall we go to an office? KJ: I think that’s a good idea.

Sitting down in an office, Biquv takes a cup of tea from the replicator.

Biquv: May I offer you some moHbogh? KJ: (making the grossed out face) No thank you. Biquv: (laughing) I’ve never met a human who likes it.  In fact, I’m sure sure I know a Klingon who actually likes it either.  It’s a tradition, though, to take it before trying to purge our feelings and all weakness. KJ: Yeah, purging basically anything is what it’s good for. Biquv: (smiling) What is it that you need help with, Kathryn? KJ: I lost my sister recently.  She...she killed herself. Biquv: Is this the Phoebe Janeway? KJ: Yes?  How did you know her? Biquv: Oh, I never met her.  I was familiar with her work, though.  My brother once commissioned her to sculpt a bust of Kahless.  She is--was extremely talented. KJ: Yes, she was. Biquv: Did you get the chance to tell her goodbye? KJ: Yes.  When she did finally drift off, she was peaceful. Biquv: How do you feel about her death? KJ: I feel like I’m not enough. (Biquv cocks her head) She threw herself off a bridge because she couldn’t deal with never seeing me again.  The doctors kept her alive in a terrible state until I came home so I could say goodbye.  She told me she gave up because the pain of losing me was too much.  Biquv...am I responsible for her death?  Because I kept my ship lost in the Delta Quadrant, the universe lost an amazing artist.  Would it have been better to stay at home? Biquv: What is the name of the race of beings you saved? KJ: The Ocampans. Biquv: And the Borg.  Her name is? KJ: Seven of Nine.   BIquv: No, the other one. KJ: Erin Hansen.  Seven’s mother. Biquv: It seems to me that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. KJ: But she was MY few.  Biquv: And you’re angry with her. KJ: She couldn’t wait for me make it home. Biquv: Voyager was declared lost--your whole crew was assumed to be dead.  She had no hope left, Kathryn. KJ: Why couldn’t she have fought a little longer?  I did.  I fought to get home to her...to mom.  To Mark.  She was so selfish to have done this. Biquv: I guarantee you she felt like a burden.  The most selfless thing she could have done in her mind was to take herself out of the equation. KJ: But without her, the equation doesn’t equate.  It doesn’t make sense.  It means nothing. Biquv: She couldn’t have known that.   KJ: I”m angry.  I am sad.  I’m confused.  I feel betrayed.  I feel abandoned.  I just feel so many things.  I feel like I need to purge them.  To feel them, one by one, and then let them go. Biquv: I might have something that can help with that. KJ: It’s not that tea, is it? Biquv: (chuckling in spite of herself)  No.  I’ve got something a bit...louder.  Do you have a picture of her? KJ: Yes, in my quarters. Biquv: Ok.  Go get it, and meet me back here at 20:15.  (KJ nods and exits)

Bev is in her quarters reading.  KJ walks in.  

Bev: Hi.  How’d your session go? KJ: It’s not over.  I’m supposed to bring a picture of Phoebe to my counselor in a few minutes. Bev: Who is your counselor? KJ: She’s a Klingon woman named Biquv. Bev: Do you like her? KJ: She has made some good points already.  I’m interested to see what she wants me to do with Phoebe’s picture. Bev: I am, too. KJ: What if she tells me to get rid of it? Bev: You don’t have to do that. KJ: But I need to have her help to move on. Bev: Yes, but you don’t have to throw away memories.  Her job is to help you cope with your memories, not rid you of them.  Do you want me to come with you tonight? KJ: Yes.  That would be really helpful. Bev: (takes her hand) Let’s go.

They go to meet Biquv.  Biquv takes them to an outdoor section of the station.

Biquv: In ancient Klingon tradition, when a warrior falls in battle, the nearest Klingon goes to this warrior, opens their eyes, and then screams to Sto-vo-kor to look out--a warrior is coming their way.  I know Phoebe was very special to you.  In ancient human traditions, there were people who decided to scream when they stopped understanding what was going on, or when they had a lot of emotions to deal with.  That’s what I want you to do. KJ: You want me to scream? Biquv: Scream for the loss of your sister.  Scream for your anger.  Scream for your confusion.  Scream for sadness.  Scream for your betrayal.  Scream for your abandonment.  Scream for the loss of one you love so much.

KJ walks to the center of the room.  She lays Phoebe’s photo on the ground.  She looks deep into her sister’s eyes.  She lifts her head, and screams.  The pain seems to ooze from her.  She continues bellowing without words.  She stops for a minute to take a breath.  Bev laces her fingers through KJ’s, and she begins to yell, too.  Biquv takes hold of KJ’s other hand, and the three women scream until they no longer can.  KJ collapses from exhaustion.  Biquv and Bev help carry her to the room, where she sleeps.  PJ appears in KJ’s dream again.

PJ: Katie, I know you love me.  I will always love you.  I’m not physically here anymore, no, but I will never leave you.  There is  nothing that could keep me away from my sister--not even death itself.   Now, let’s rest.  (She puts her arms around KJ and holds her as they rest.  PJ fades out, and in her place in the bed is Bev, holding KJ as Bev herself drifts off as well.)

[crqstalite]

pt. 1, crossfire (vector && rubiksi)

this one didn’t go as well as it should because originally i was going to write it as a 10k word chapter for all nine months, but i didn’t happen so i guess we’re gonna wait again for the writing fairy to whack me over the head again.

anyways psa i love mr bug man and you should too.

written: 9.20.19. word count: 2,419.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ character song: crossfire, stephen.

character file: khelan hyllus & vector hyllus.

-

1 month.

rubi-no, khelan now, isn't sure what to think anymore, as she stares out the window of her apartment. all she wants to do is lie down and cry, and she's not sure what's causing it anymore. after all these years, all her tears should be dried up now. they should be, but for some reason it seems like every day a new situation arises, and she isn't emotionally ready to deal with it. picking up the holophoto on her night stand, she tries not to cry as she analyzes the photo taken on their wedding day. the way she'd faked a smile in a white dress and vector in a diplomatic uniform until she could return to the phantom to be alone for a while with her emotions. it should've been a happy day.

but it wasn't. why couldn't she just be happy for once? and stop thinking about marring the skin beneath her sweater sleeves, about finally leaving this world for good? possibly it's because of the pale lines that still dot her wrists, and the fact that the ring on her finger feels heavy with pity everytime she slips it on.

"khelan?" a voice startles her from her thoughts as she places it back gently next to the chrono, where it always sits.

"yes, vector?" she asks, turning from the window as the joiner enters the bedroom. he's dressed down today, and he smells of sweets. the man had taken up baking since they'd moved in together, saying something about finally being able to please her properly with his cooking. it's delectable, as is to be expected. (he spent months learning from two-vee in secret before presenting her with an exquisite cake for her birthday. possibly the hive has been giving him recipes, and though she knows they can't read minds, he always seems to know what she has a taste for) "is there something wrong?"

"you didn't come to eat dinner." he responds, curiously cocking his head, as a child would. his dark hair plays peek-a-boo with his pupiless eyes, and she offers him a smile as he brushes it out of his vision, coming to stand next to her by the floor-length window, the cool sky reflecting onto his pale skin, "we were worried."

"i'm just fine, vector. do not worry yourself with the likes of me." she responds, inhaling his scent as he moves to put his arms around her. there's a significant between the joiner and prior agent, but she feels safe as she buries her head in his chest. safety isn't ever guranteed for her, and she's glad that she took the leap of faith to finally say yes to him. he was never persistent, he gave her the space she needed to recuperate from the life she'd once lived. he leans his head against the top of hers, and she closes her eyes to relax for just a moment. he smells of the rain, but also of the forest and a sharp smell of something spicy she just can not name. she wouldn't trade her husband for the world. "i will come to eat in a bit."

"if you are not hungry, we can put away the food for another time, ru..khelan." he corrects himself as she frowns, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. he's not used to her new alias either, and it's as if he can sense it bothers her. her aura must be out of whack again as a questioning look covers his features (she'd never understand how vector saw her, though he'd tried to explain it a few times with little success). "we are sorry if we've troubled you. which do you prefer?"

she considers for a moment before following him out of their bedroom. "i wish i did not have a name at times like these, vector. it makes everything so much more difficult. i don't even have my own identity that wasn't cultivated by intelligence."

he simply listens as she walks into the kitchen, pacing back and forth as the thoughts fly through her mind at breakneck speed. she's never been more grateful for him as she thinks to herself, and he simply continues to prepare dinner alongside her. it isn't until they've sat down across from each other that she responds to his question, "the ensign once told me on my official records, my name is ana'la. would you like to call me that, vector?"

"we would be happy to call you whatever you prefer, ana'la. names are not everything." he says, picking up his own cutlery as he tries to comfort her, "all that matters, is that we love each other."

she seems surprised for just a moment before looking down at her own plate with a certain satisfaction in her eyes. "thank you, vector."

"we are happy to be with you, ana'la." he responds, though instead of indirectly looking at her (as he typically does), he finds that her aura is rather odd. it's color remains the same, an indistinct grey tinged with red and pink, as it typically is when they spend time together, but something is making it white. he won't prod into how she's feeling at the moment, but he is curious. what has his wife feeling such a way?

-

month 3.

khelen didn't tend to ever eat much as it was, but this was getting a bit ridiculous, even for her. the odd way how she couldn't ever hold anything down, even her most favorite delicacies from vector. water was the only thing that would stay down, and she was beginning to have an aversion to even the most pleasant smells.

she was concerned she was going mad. maybe the workaholic lifestyle and done something unspeakable to her, and now she was feeling the after effects? she tried to keep a myriad of other other fragrances about the apartment to keep the feeling of retching out of her mind. it proved difficult, and she eventually threw quite a few away after realizing that vector's enhanced senses were most likely going absolutely bonkers with the strong smells. it seemed the smell of the constant kaasian rain was the only thing that would soothe her, and so that lead to the couple's apartment windows being open a portion of the time.

to say the least, it was still annoying to be so absolutely sick that she didn't want to continue getting out of bed half the time. she was considering holoing lokin at this point, and she rarely if ever contacted her old crew, vector excepted. kaliyo was somewhere in the underbellies of dromound kaas after she dropped out of contact, temple returned to serving the ascendancy and the empire, SCORPIO could be doing something highly illegal, and lokin was always going back and forth between morally questionable medical conferences. she always kept tabs on them, even if it didn't benefit her directly. she still cared about their well-being, even if they didn't.

but being bed-ridden didn't fancy her. at all. the nightmares plagued her, being controlled by watcher x again and again, by the sis. keeping busy, even working on the side for intelligence is what kept her mostly sane. her obvious health issues kept her out of the field for a long while, but once this spell passed, she'd try and begin working in diplomatic services with vector. maybe they wouldn't see each other as much anymore, but it was better than being home alone.

wrapped up in one of vector's jackets, she usually sleeps or reads until he returns home. her current holonovel was just wrapping up, so she'd have to go and buy another soon. with nothing better to do, she might as well train her mind in puzzles and literature while in this state. she'd been slacking lately, and there was no way intelligence would take her back without the required skills.

the door opens just as she's sitting up from her perch on the bed, brushing her hair back as she tries to keep her meager breakfast down. vector must've been back early today. padding out the bedroom, she finds him just taking off his overcoat and hanging it on one of the nobs near the door. she offers him a smile, and he returns it. "you're back early, vector. is something wrong?"

"there is nothing wrong, ana'la." he responds softly, a kiss pressed to her forehead as he puts down his bad. "we were let go early today. we wished to see you again, we were concerned you were ill."

"i'll be fine, vector." she responds, trying to choke back the bile building up in her throat again as she covers her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. "i've been sick before, and survived worse."

he doesn't respond, but frowns in disbelief. khelan would know this, after knowing him for so long. he often doesn't try to hide his facial features and the emotions tied to them, and she knows good and well he doesn't believe her. "i've been resting lately, if that makes you feel any better." she says, trying to comfort him. speaking isn't helping either, and the feverish feeling she gets before inevitably tossing her last meal is beginning to creep back into her system. "it's most likely just a harmless virus."

"your aura is...different." vector makes note, and she figures he isn't looking directly at her anymore. what does it typically look like? she'd never understood how her husband saw her through his lens, and she wondered if there was some sort of chart she could find somewhere on joiner's and their auras.

"i'm sure it is, doesn't sickness affect it as well?" khelan tilts her head just a bit, and brushes the hair out of her face as he seems to contemplate it, pacing into the kitchen. is he upset? sometimes he bakes when he's feeling upset (she wouldn't exactly complain, they were still very good, but it does concern her when he does). "vector, talk to me. is there something wrong?"

"your aura is, special. we are unsure of why." he says pointedly. "white represents that of purity, and childish natures. we don't believe you radiate much of either."

she decides not to comment here, as he most likely has more to say, "we don't wish to worry you or plant the seeds of doubt in your mind, ana'la."

"do you believe there is something wrong, vector? do you believe that's why i feel ill?" khelan still isn't catching onto what he's saying, or if he's trying to imply something to her. he continues to pace into the living room as she hurries to follow him before he pauses abruptly, "whatever it is, i'm sure we can face it together." she whispers, though she isn't sure this is that's the best answer. what if she's dying? what if her life is ending, and there's nothing they can do to stop it?

he seems unsure of himself before finally turning fully to her, "we've only seen this aura a few times in our life. but, we believe you are with child, ana'la."

something stops functioning properly as she tries to soak in what he's admitting to assuming. child? as in, she'd be a mother in a few, short months should she allow it to continue? how? and when? they had always been careful, and rarely if ever made love to each other as it was. how did this happen? why?

could she be a mother? a functional one at least? visions of the fire blare through her mind, as her adoptive father yanked her older brother away and her older sister tried to protect her the best she could from the dangerous situation. would her child end up in such a situation, khelan unable to protect them from something lethal?

"this is all speculation, ana'la." he breaks her train of thought to tilt her head upwards from where she'd been staring at her hands. "it could be nothing, for all we know. do not panic yourself over the unknown."

it would explain the sudden onset of these horrid symptoms for the last two moments. the vomiting, the unexplainable aversion to her favorite foods. she'd heard about it a few times around the agents she'd met that were now off the field and happy with children, but had never expected it would happen to her. she and vector had never spoken at length about it, ever. it was just a subject that never fascinated her to any end, and so it didn't matter.

or she could be dying. that's a possibility too. one she'd rather not think about at that moment, though it itches at the back of her mind. "possibly you're right, vector."

"do you believe so?" he asks, his face still contorted into that of concern and confusion. "we would believe you would be the first to deny such a thing."

"it makes sense, to say the least." she responds, wringing her hands out as the thunder crashes over her words and thoughts, "this may not be our most ideal situation."

"maybe not." he answers, still seeming uneasy. "at least your child will still grow up here instead of a battleground. they will have a loving mother, and pick up your own admirable traits." she turns an eyebrow up as he continues on, "intelligent, clever, compassionate. beautiful. we have high hopes for your child, ana'la."

"i...yes. thank you vector." he seems satisfied with her answer, and presses a kiss to her forehead to reassure her, her cheeks heated as he makes the observation. still after all these years, he's still able to stun her with his way with words.

she pauses to think for just a moment, before responding with what was on her mind while he spoke, "it seems you forget i've never been with another man though. this is your child, as much as they are mine."

he smiles for once in the entire encounter, and surprises her by picking up around the waist. she holds back a shriek as he smiles, as her own legs latch around his waist to keep from falling. "we do not believe you understand how happy that makes us, ana'la."

"i can make some guesses." she responds, managing a grin for her husband as he kisses her softly in the light of fading day outside.

[azems-familiar]

Hi, hope you don't mind more prompts: nr 2 "none of this is your fault". Thanks!

this got, long, so have 1645 of kinda angsty post Order 66 fun and reunions!

It’s been a little over a year since the day his life shattered.

Since the day the war ended, the day he thought, for just a moment, that maybe- Maybe there could be a future outside the endless fighting and the loss and the pain, that maybe he could take the chance he’d always held himself somewhat back from. Grievous was dead, Dooku dead, and the look on- on Cody’s face as he handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber back was something warm and fond and tender, and he’d thought-

Well. He supposes it doesn’t matter what he’d thought, anymore, now does it?

Life on Tatooine is quiet, a far cry from the peace of the Temple before the war, or the frenetic pace of the Clone War, dashing back and forth across the galaxy. Too quiet, sometimes; all he has for company are his ghosts, most days, or Owen and Beru, on the rare times they let him see Luke or he needs help with his vaporators. From Anakin to Qui-Gon, the memories are all there, taunting him every time he closes his eyes.

Train him.

I hate you!

There is still good left in him…

And of course, the worst one, in some ways: starting up the cliffside of the Pau City sinkhole, feeling a shout of warning in the Force, and then the cannons firing - feeling the way his men’s Force signatures suddenly warped, twisted into something unfamiliar and heavy and wrong, wrong, wrong, and then falling, and then-

In any case, he almost wishes for something to keep him occupied, to keep his mind off the still-aching emptiness of the Force and the way he still sometimes glances over his shoulder to say something to Anakin, or Cody - that’s the primary reason he’d started investigating Jabba’s movements and going after his supply shipments. Part of it, of course, had been he could never let himself sit idly by and let the slavery and the stealing and the corruption go on, but if he’s honest with himself - which he’s never been too good at, he supposes - he’d needed the distraction from everything and everyone he’d failed.

Ahsoka contacts him, occasionally - he knows she’s working with Bail to form a rebellion. She’s been trying to get him to join, but he can’t leave Luke alone. Besides, Ahsoka is a strong young woman; he has faith in her abilities.

The comms can be frustrating, though, especially on a day like today, when the endless sands and the burning suns seem to have sucked the life out of him - he doesn’t have the energy to argue with her again.

“Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says, when he answers the comm.

He sighs, rubs at his forehead. “Ahsoka, I’m not in the mood,” he says, before she can get anything else out.

“This isn’t about rebelling,” she says. “I’ve… found something of yours, I’m bringing it to Tatooine.”

He chuckles, though it feels not-quite-forced. “What, did you land on one of the multiple planets I left a cloak behind on? That’s hardly important enough to warrant the trip.”

“Something like that,” Ahsoka says, evasive.

He knows her well enough to know she’s hiding something; today, he’s too tired to probe. “Alright, then,” he says. “I’ll be here. Please don’t let the Empire know.”

“Trust me, Obi-Wan, I’m better than that,” she says.

He doesn’t tell her that’s what Anakin always said, right before getting them into some terrible mess. The wound is still too fresh, and in any case, she’d know that.

The comm cuts off and he sighs, rubs at his temples. What in the galaxy could she have found that’d warrant a visit all the way to this wretched hellhole?

If it really is one of his cloaks, he’ll-

Oh, what’s the point anymore?

He almost doesn’t bother to clean up the hut, although he manages to sweep out some of the sand (it’s impossible to keep it out, he’s tried everything) and organize the small stack of holonovels and the two precious holocrons he’d managed to save from the Archives. It helps keep him busy, anyway, and after a while he goes out to check on the vaporators, and he waits.

He’s been doing nothing but waiting, it seems like, these days.

Ahsoka’s ship lands on a dune nearby his hut, late evening, as the twin suns are slowly sinking into the western sky, turning everything blood red and warm gold and streaked with violet; Obi-Wan steps through his door and paces a couple meters from the hut, squints a bit against the setting suns.

There’s three figures walking towards him, silhouetted against the sky. Ahsoka is one of them, her montrals are distinctive, and he thinks the two others are clones - one’s likely Rex, the other another vod they must’ve gotten out. Good, that’s good, although it means he should’ve put more effort into seeming… normal.

As though there’s anything normal about this, a Jedi Master living in hiding on one of the least-liked planets in the galaxy, an absolute hive of scum and villainy, trying to evade his own men and his own padawan.

One of the two clone-figures freezes in place on top of the nearest dune, and Obi-Wan frowns, narrows his eyes, notes the other (who must be Rex - it’s not like Rex would be surprised by Obi-Wan’s appearance) taking the first clone’s arm. He watches them a moment, then shakes himself, turns back to Ahsoka, who’s nearly to him, crosses the last of the distance himself and sighs. “Ahsoka, what’s this about me losing something?”

Ahsoka just smiles (damn it, but he’s fairly certain she picked that trick up from him) and nods a bit back at the two figures making their slow way down the face of the dune, and in that moment, the light shifts and he’s finally able to make out their faces.

Thick dark hair, longer than he remembers, falling into amber eyes colored with apprehension and shame, a scar curling around his left eye.

Cody.

Obi-Wan doesn’t entirely realize he’s moving until he stops in front of his Commander, who hasn’t moved a muscle since their eyes met, is not-quite-shaking, the last golden-red rays of sunlight melting over his face and setting him ablaze. “Cody,” he says, soft, too soft, lifts one hand to ever-so-lightly skim across Cody’s scar.

“Sir-” Cody’s voice is strangled, and he tilts his head into Obi-Wan’s hand, seemingly unable to hold still. “Sir, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry,” and his voice cracks and shatters, tears welling up brightly-crystalline in his eyes.

“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, and pulls his Commander into a hug. Cody buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and Obi tilts his head so he can tuck his nose into Cody’s hair, letting out a breath it seems like he’s been holding since his world came crashing down. “None of this is your fault, my dear.”

Even when he feels Cody’s shoulders shake beneath his arms, it still takes Obi-Wan a moment to realize his Commander is crying.

He’s only ever seen Cody cry once.

(It’s a long, somber hyperspace trip back to Coruscant from the mess that was Umbara; Scratch and half his medical team are on board the Resolute, tending to saber wounds and exhausted troopers, leaving only a skeleton team in the medbay. At first, Obi-Wan thinks that’s where he’ll find Cody, checking in on their injured, but to his surprise the medbay is quiet, the lights dimmed to night-cycle brightness. Cody’s not in the barracks, either, which is where he should be, sleeping off their latest battle - nor is he in the mess, where they meet late at night when nightmares get to be too much and neither of them can stand to be alone with their thoughts.

He finds his Commander standing at one of the massive bay windows facing out into space, staring at the blue glow of hyperspace, casting his features in an otherworldly light. He’s whispering, under his breath, lips barely moving, and although he can’t hear the words Obi-Wan thinks he knows what’s being said.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc,” Obi-Wan says, soft, stepping up beside Cody’s shoulder. “Ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

Cody twitches slightly at the Mando’a, turns his head to look at Obi-Wan, and only then does Obi-Wan see the tears on his cheeks.

“Waxer,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody nods.

He tugs his Commander into his arms and lets Cody cry on his shoulder, and after a while shifts him so they’re sitting, back against the wall, the blue of hyperspace turning everything blue, like his lightsaber, like grief, like the paint on all those broken bodies. Eventually Cody’s tears peter off and his Commander dozes off, head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder; he sits in the silence and watches Cody breathe and tries not to feel helpless.)

“It’s going to be alright, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, pulling himself to the present with an effort, and kisses the top of Cody’s head. “I’ve got you.”

Obi-Wan tilts his head to one side, just a bit, and Rex catches his eye, hands quickly sketching out a message in the old GAR sign language: we’ll wait on the ship. He nods once in acknowledgement, tugs on Cody’s shoulder just a bit, says, quietly, “Why don’t we go inside? Rex and Ahsoka will join us in a bit.”

“Okay,” Cody says, raspy and hoarse, pulling back completely and shifting as though he intends to fall into parade rest.

That won’t do at all.

Obi-Wan tucks an arm around Cody’s shoulder, pulls his Commander against his side, and turns and starts for his hut. “Come on, cyar’ika,” he says, lightly, the endearment slipping out almost without his notice. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Cody nods, hesitantly slips his own arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, and Obi-Wan smiles and hopes that for once, he won’t have to let go.

[daxofalltrades]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE & DETAILED PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.

Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to answer some of the facts, add some other of your own. When you’re done, tag some other people to do the same.

NAME: Jadzia (Why didn’t she get a per-joining last name?) AGE: Over 300 (28) SPECIES: Trill. GENDER: Jadzia says to list it as “No, thank you.” ORIENTATION: If there’s a connection she just falls in love with people really INTERESTS: All the Science, Klingon Martial Arts, HoloNovels, anti-grav sailing, hiking, anything that gets the heart rate up.  PROFESSION: Chief Party Science Officer, Pilot   BODY TYPE:  Athletic  (fight her on it!) EYES: Blue HAIR: Brown SKIN: Spotted HEIGHT: 5′9

COMPANIONS: Kira (@ikiranerys ), Julian (@mydeardoctorbashir), Benjamin, Avyra ( @flightxless ) Natima (@natimalang ) Beverly ( @dancerdoc )  ANTAGONISTS:  Gul Dukat, Trill re-association rules, Quark’s lust. Spiders.    SMELLS: Lavender  FRUITS: Some fruit from Risa probably.  DRINKS: Raktajino  ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? Black Holes, Bloodwine, Warnog, Saurian Brandy. If you give it to her she’ll probably drink it. SMOKES? No DRUGS? Emergency meds for bug bites on away missions.   DRIVERS LICENSE? Jadzia is only a Level 3 Pilot BUT she should have updated her levels after being joined. Torias was a Flyboy with a far more advanced skills that she now has.    

RANDOM HEADCANON:  She’s the Crew Whisperer when it comes to nightmares. She’s taken care of several crew mates and friends who often get nightmares and night terrors. A lot of her closest friends have access to her quarters so she’s often met with someone new on her couch each morning. They say just being around Dax in her place at night helps them calm down enough to sleep.  She often cuddles her friends but only Kira gets to stay in her bed. She’s very protective of Major Kira and won’t tolerate any lover complaining about Kira being in bed with her. (Much like Meredith and Christina, Kira is her person.)

[pankracy]

why is that every time Harry scores or is about to score with a woman it’s either a nightmare, a trick, or just generally depicted as somehow suspicious with suspenseful music playing

and the show makes it a point how he always chooses unattainable women.

just... let him kiss Tom. I know it won’t happen, but it’s like both the narrative and Harry purposely set him(self) up to fail in that romance department. I hate what I’m about to write, ugh, but-- Harry and Tom should have their first kiss during Captain Proton holonovel when Harry plays a... sidekick in distress? is that what he’s doing? he gets kidnapped and tied up to be later rescued by Tom a lot is what I mean, and seems pretty cool with it apparently. I hate holodecks.

wait, isn’t the only time we see Harry in a successful long-term relationship with a woman he’s married to Tom’s daughter??? aaaaaa, I hate

And now that I think about it, whatever happened to his girlfriend back home? Did he get a message like Janeway that she moved on and I slept through it, or did the show decide not to bother with this issue at all??

HARRY’S ROMANCES ARE ALL SO WEIRD.

EDIT: this is a whole ass episode titled “disease” referring to Harry falling in love with an alien woman I’m so D:

[ezrisdax-archive]

A concept: Ezri/Leeta but for some reason they're on Voyager not DS9 (either AU or come up with a reason they'd have been on Voyager for the Maquis mission) and fall in love while both coming to terms with (presumably) never making it back home.

oh man there's an idea (would ezri be ezri dax or ezri tegan? I'm going with dax just cause)

they room together cause they weren’t supposed to be on voyager they were only along for that one mission cause Leeta could talk to Bajorans and Ezri could act as a mediator

Leeta gets along so well with Neelix and Kes and still sometimes acts as waitress still but everyone tells her she doesn’t need to do that so Leeta is having a bit of confusion of what she’s supposed to do and has lots of talks with Ezri about it 

Leeta eventually ends up becoming like the person to make up holodeck stories because all those years growing up as a servant and a dabo girl and dreaming of something more have helped her with a great imagination and so she programs holonovels and argues with the Doctor about them

Ezri meanwhile is the counselor on board and gets along well with Chakotay and Janeway and is still trying to find herself instead of being just being a Dax but it’s a little easier for her without the shadow of Jadzia being over her all the time and she and Harry also get along great because they’re young starfleet officers trying to find their place.

The two of them grow closer still, I mean they’re still the people that remember ds9 most and have inner jokes about it and miss it and consider it home so they’re really each others homes in the meanwhile

as that grows they’re relationship grows and one time Ezri goes to the holodeck to see what Leeta’s created and she can’t hep but be proud at how much Leeta made and they’re always gushing to other people about each other and B’Elanna rolls her eyes at them because they’re obvious and oblivious

constantly in danger and always seeking each other out and they eventually just sleep in the same bed cause it’s easier to help the nightmares they sometimes get and it’s just a comfort really they both say

at one point something almost goes wrong with symbiont because Ezri gets bitten by a bug and that could kill the symbiont and her and “I don’t care about that you’re my last link to ds9, I care about you!!”

the first time they kiss it’s really hesitant cause Ezri Dax is pretty sure she kissed different than Ezri Tegan did and Leeta doesn’t care at all, she’ll help Ezri find who she is no matter how long it takes and loves Ezri, all the symbiont past lives and all

they get married and Neelix is Leeta’s bridemaids/best man and Harry is Ezri’s and Leeta drags Seven to their wedding so she can witness one and Ezri gets embarrassed cause Emony and Jadzia are complimenting her on Leeta and their wedding is Bajoran done because Ezri’s had enough Trill ones for a few lifetimes

when they do get back to the Alpha Quadrant even though they weren’t prepared for it they agree to go into the future together, be that DS9 or elsewhere.

[agoodflyting]

Like I Do (Dark Kylux, 3k, T+)

For fifteen years, Ben Solo was kept as a bargaining chip and sex slave by the First Order. Rescue is only the beginning of recovery. Or, the AU I like to call ‘hurting Ben Solo for fun and profit’. In which Finn tries to gently undo the tangled clusterfuck Hux has made of Ben’s mind. Warning: Implied past rape/noncon, emotional and psychological abuse, Hux being an awful person, and Ben just generally not being okay.

Normally, Ben wakes when Hux does and rolls over into the still-warm space in the bed to doze for another few minutes, the top of his head peeking over their mounds of blankets, while Hux gets ready for his shift. It’s pleasant. He enjoys listening to the little noises of Hux moving around the room while he naps. The faint hiss of the sonic shower, the rustle of clothing, the soft clink of a spoon in Hux’s morning cup of tea. They’re comforting sounds. Safe sounds.

He’s safe when Hux is around.

Some mornings he’s pulled out of sleep earlier, by a pair of hands firm on his hips or tangling in his hair. Ben always goes easily, barely opening his eyes. He doesn’t mind being maneuvered, guided down the bed or rolled over onto his belly. He likes these mornings less than the others, but only a little. Hux is always sweet with him early in the morning, before he’s showered and combed his hair back. Sleepy and gentle, without the heavy lines of that coat over his shoulders.

On mornings where Hux doesn’t have to report for duty he can spend hours gently taking Ben apart with his fingers and his soft mouth, until Ben is a trembling, begging wreck.

It’s nice, so nice, to lie together afterwards with their legs tangled together and Hux’s fingers in Ben’s hair. There is a spot at the top of Ben’s spine, just where his hairline ends, that makes him melt into the blankets, boneless, when Hux scratches gentle circles there.

“Good boy. Who loves you?” Hux murmurs.

“Mm, you do,” Ben’s answer is automatic, his smile hidden against a pillow. “Love you too.”

If he could choose, Ben would live in that moment forever- warm and content and loved.

But he can’t. Nothing’s forever.

The room he’s in now gets cold early in the mornings. Not freezing cold, like a punishment, just chilly, like maybe the Resistance forgot to turn on the heat. Sometimes he wakes up shivering and tucks his icicle feet up under the blankets close to his body to warm them. Their room on the base was always nice and warm- heated by geothermal vents from deep underground. Hux was proud of the efficiency of the design. He always kept Ben comfortable.

Ben isn’t actually sure if it’s morning or not when it gets cold, but he assumes that’s right. It doesn’t really matter when he wakes up anymore, so he tries not to. Like maybe if he tries hard enough he can just stop living by sheer force of will.

He can’t- he knows he can’t- but he is stubborn, and tries anyway.

Ben sleeps until his head hurts and his limbs feel heavy and gross. Until sleep is as much a punishment he is inflicting on himself as it is a relief. Sleeps until he isn’t sure if it’s morning or night or even how many days he’s been a prisoner here.

The rattle and slide as the door sticks forces him to wake. He’s groggy, his mouth full of cotton. There’s no chrono in his cell, so there’s no telling what time it is when they come bother him. You’re probably not supposed to care what time it is, in the Republic.

“Hey Ben, are you awake?”

Ben groans at the traitor stormtrooper’s voice. Finn, a little voice in the back of his mind supplies, until he corrects it stubbornly, the traitor stormtrooper.

He hunches his shoulders under the thick blanket that’s pulled up to his ears. Rolling over to face the wall and pretending to be asleep will make the others leave Ben alone, but not him. The man who guards the door will mutter soft questions, and retreat when he gets no answers, leaving Ben’s meal on the nightstand. Even the woman he thinks is their doctor will give up when she cannot coax him to turn over or unbend his stubborn limbs enough to let her prod at him. But the traitor will sit there and chatter and chatter until Ben finally gives in and acknowledges him, just to shut him up.

“Hey Ben, how are you doing? I finally talked to Mien this morning, and she’s going to make some of that bocco and blue-milk cheese soup I told you about and send it down later. You gotta try it. I’ve never had anything so good in my life. Better than food synthesizers, any day. That stuff is so filling. One bowl and I thought I was going to have to lie down,” he babbles as Ben sits up and sullenly rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

It’s surprising the traitor isn’t getting fat, as much as he talks about food.

Ben wonders, with a jolt of worry, if they know that he hasn’t been eating everything they give him.

“Rey had three bowls and man, I still don’t know where she put it all. When you meet her you’ll see what I mean.”

Ben scowls. He does not want to meet the traitor’s friends. He’s said so.

“A couple of us are going to play something called tablepong in the cantina later. You’re welcome to come if you want,” he makes the offer quickly and continues before Ben can open his mouth to reject it. “Poe says it’s a lot of fun. Have you ever played before?”

Ben takes his time arranging his long limbs; sitting up, pulling his legs up and crossing them. He hates how much of himself sticks out. He also hates the way Finn is always asking him things. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone-

“No. I don’t- maybe…” he mutters. The word is familiar. He might have played with his dad when he was a kid. But that was a long time ago.  

“You should seriously come play. We need somebody tall. Rey’s never played before either and I feel like Poe is going to kick both of our butts.”

“I’ll think about it.” By which he means no, but it’s the only thing that’s going to get the traitor to stop talking about stupid puerile children’s games.

Every time the traitor visits, he reminds Ben that he’s free to leave the room whenever he wants. All Ben has to do is ask.

He never does. There’s nothing the Republic has that Ben wants- nothing. All he wants is to go home to Hux. Wanting anything else feels like a betrayal.

Even if he is sick of counting the bumps and rivets in the corrugated metal walls as he waits for sleep to claim him again.

Finn settles into his usual chair, the one he put back against the far wall on his first visit, which has remained there ever since because Ben doesn’t care enough to move it.

“Anyway, how are you doing?”

Ben has nightmares where Hux, sneering, calls him ‘republic filth’ and asks what made Ben think Hux would ever want him back after they’d had him. In the dreams he’s desperate, begging to come home. He always wakes up crying.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Breslin says you sleep a lot.”

Ben shrugs. It doesn’t occur to him to feel violated at being watched. He’s used to it. The Resistance will have to try harder than that to break him.

“Is that what you used to do before? In the Order, I mean- did you sleep when Hux wasn’t around, or- well obviously you slept, but y’know- what did you do all day?”

The traitor always stammers and stumbles over his words when he talks about Hux. Maybe he feels guilty for his betrayal. Hux was the head of the Stormtrooper program, after all. Does Finn think about how much it must have hurt him, to have one of his own run off and join the disgusting Resistance?

This is a particularly clumsy bit of interrogation- as if Ben’s going to just blurt out all the work he did for the Order- but he doesn’t want them to realize he’s hiding anything. He can play this game better than Finn can. Ben knows how to feign obedience better than anyone.

Not all of his masters were as nice as Hux.

“Read,” he shrugs again. It isn’t a lie. “I read a lot.”

He spares a mournful thought for all his holonovels, which must be so much space dust now if what Finn says about the base getting blown up is true. They were the closest things he had to possessions- Hux didn’t read them, nobody else got to touch them but Ben. Hux even called them his. Now be a good boy, clean yourself up and go read your books.

And he knows better than to get attached to things, but… he is going to miss his holonovels. None of his other masters- the ones he isn’t supposed to think about- had ever let him own anything.

When you belonged to someone else, you didn’t get to have things that belonged to you. “Yeah? That’s cool! I never got to read much before. You know, except for what they required. But I keep meaning to start now that I’ve got more time. What kind of books do you like?” Finn always looks at him, animated with interest, when he talks to him.

Ben’s shoulders creep up towards his ears under the attention. “Different things. I… some history, and some fiction. Um. I’ve read a lot about how things are built. Ships and things.”

His throat feels dry. This is the most he’s said to anyone the entire time he’s been here.

“Which ones are your favorite?”

“Why?” Ben’s eyes narrow. No one has ever asked him this before. Hux had always just picked the kinds of books that he liked because he knew Ben would like them too.

“Oh, well- you know, just to give me somewhere to start- I don’t know anybody else who’s read a lot of books. I think Poe just has, like, a lot of technical manuals and Rey doesn’t read much… which is fine, it’s good, but there’s just so much and I’d love some suggestions, you know?”

It sounds like a trick. It must be a trick, but Ben can’t see where the deception fits together. The traitor is an awful liar, and this doesn’t sound like one of his lies.

“I guess… I like the fiction. The ones that are just about people. Those… those are good.” He catches the neckline of his shirt in his mouth and bites at it. An anxious gesture. Hux hated it- tried to break Ben of it, but Hux isn’t here- This will turn out to be a trick, somehow, he knows it. All the Resistance does is lie. “About families. Or… there are some about love stories, but I don’t like those as much. Um. There’s a whole series about these brothers who were pilots back during the old Empire that’s good. I had- I’ve read a few of them.”

“Yeah? That pilot one sounds pretty neat, what’s it called?” He fishes around in a pocket of the tan jacket he always wears and pulls out a little data device.

“Um. Blood Debt, I think?”

If he cranes his neck, Ben is tall enough to see the screen of the device from his spot across the room. Finn taps a few letters into a search box and then scrolls through what comes up.

“I think this is it. ‘Blood Debt: Saga of the Empire’? There’s about ten of them?”

Ben shrugs again. Hux had only given him the first three. He said the rest weren’t any good.

“I’m gonna order them.” He taps the screen again. “If- wait, wait, hang on. Poe showed me how to use this thing but I already forgot. Hang on, hang on…. There’s a way to pay for it on here somewhere. Come on… Sorry, I’m so used to just going through the requisitions officer for everything, you know?” Ben glances away when he looks up, so as not to be caught watching.

Finn fills the silence in halting sentences while he frowns down at the little screen. “Don’t get me wrong though, I love it. It’s really, really cool getting your own credits and getting to pick whatever you want to buy with them. You probably know all about that because you grew up here, but for me it was… Alright! There we go!”

Ben jumps a little at the sudden exclamation.

“If I get you a datapad do you want to read them with me? It’d give us something to talk about besides-”

“No,” Ben answers quickly, before he can allow himself to be tempted. Something like fear is crystallizing in the pit of his stomach. A warning. It’s the fear of leaning over a ledge unknowingly and suddenly realizing how close he came to falling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-

Ben turns his back on Finn, rolling onto his side on the bed.

“Why not? Ben, come on, I know you’re bored in here-“

“I don’t want anything from you.” Ben knew where little favors lead. Sooner or later, the traitor would expect repayment for his kindness, in one form or another. Everyone did. He had been kind before, back on the base, when he- when he found Ben in Recreation.

But that didn’t mean anything.

When Ben was around twenty he’d belonged to an Admiral named Crassus. Crassus was the second or third, after Elba- Ben isn’t really sure anymore. Hux told him not to think about it, and usually Ben was only too happy to oblige. But Hux wasn’t here anymore.

Crassus wasn’t any better or worse than any of the other First Order officers who had owned him. Just another slightly doughy, older man in a uniform, who liked to make Ben squirm while he fucked him. Ben mainly remembers him because he had given Ben a security card so that he could go to the hydroponic garden or the gym to occupy himself when Crassus didn’t want him.

Ben had liked the garden. Liked all the flowers and plants and little trees growing side by side in neat rows of planters, warmed by artificial sunlight overhead. It had been so long since he’d seen anything green. He’d almost cried, the first time, burying his nose in the soft leaves of a little bush whose placard said it was from Endor. He could feel it sort of humming, distantly, though the Force, despite the dampening collar he had to wear. Like it was comforting him.

Ben spent his time in the garden whenever he was allowed.

The science officers who worked there were always kind to him. When they weren’t busy they told him about the different plants. Which ones cleaned the air, or provided medicine, or grew fruit for the senior officers on the ship to enjoy.

An assistant barely older than Ben was, with blonde hair and soft blue eyes, used to let him sneak bites of the fruit they grew there. He’d sit with Ben on his lunch breaks and talk to him- not about anything in particular, just chatting. He asked Ben about his home world. Told him about growing up in the First Order.

It felt normal, to have a friend. He’d missed feeling normal so much.

After Ben mentioned that he hated how dull and gray the room where he slept was, the other boy had given him a cutting of one of the flowering plants to keep in a little pot beside his bed. It was green with brilliant orange flowers. He’d stared at it every night until he fell asleep.

He first time the other boy kissed Ben, it had been… shocking. Then disappointing.

When he did more, Ben realized how stupid he’d been. The traitor is still talking somewhere, distantly. Ben closes his eyes and tunes him out. Instead he hears a clipped voice, made haughty by irritation. This is what you’re for, isn’t it? Don’t tell me I did all that for nothing-

Ben learned that lesson on his back, on the floor of a hydroponic garden he used to love.

They always expected something from him, eventually.