#star wars rogue one imagines

[sweetjedi]

'The stars in your eyes were all he needed.'

Darn. I wasn't ready for the amount of fluff here.

Marry Me

Not my gif

Based on Sentence Prompt: #1 - “Marry me.”

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Word Count: 1.7k

This takes place after Rogue One. Everybody Lives AU.

It was decidedly quiet, not that Bodhi minded. After having been nearly blown away by an Imperial Star Destroyer, quiet was exactly what he needed.

Keep reading

[dont-let-me-eat-pears]

the fact that out of all the ships in star wars, my two favorites are ones that never even got the chance to sail 🙃

[romantic-revolution-iv]

REBELCAPTAIN SMUT MONTH - WEEK ONE 🔥

Prompt: Stop working and Touch me already 💚

[indigo-casson]

something that i've been thinking about lately is the parallels between star wars: andor/rogue one and tamora pierce's trickster's queen duology. primarily because the star wars brainrot is real and the tamora pierce obsession is forever, but also because they are kind of both tonal and thematic departures from their main 'verses in some similar ways?

in both the star wars verse and the tortall verse, the majority of the media has focused on one individual (or a small group of individuals) who make a profound difference in the world. Whether that's alanna singlehandedly finding the dominion jewel/becoming king's champion/making way for female knights, or luke skywalker blowing up the death star, or daine and numair going to the divine realms during the immortals war, or anakin skywalker becoming a sith and dooming the republic, most of the original material has seen battle and political change as something that is affected by either an actual chosen one or simply a single very plucky and well-placed individual.

trickster's queen and andor, however, really look at rebellion as something that has to be done by a diverse group of flawed people who work together despite their differences. mon mothma knows that her role is raising money. ulasim, chenaol, and the other members of the raka conspiracy each take their individual roles in the rebellion, and recognize that even though they might not want to work with aly or the luarin nobility, they need their skills and influence to make it happen.

both stories also show rebellion as extremely costly and something that requires making tough calls. nobody has their hands clean by the end of a civil war. notably, trickster's queen explicitly narrowly avoids having the protagonists kill a group of 5 year olds. luthen is ready to kill cassian when he becomes a liability, and cassian does kill lots of people, including some allies whose only "crime" is being susceptible to giving up rebellion secrets.

in rogue one, we don't like davits draven because he orders jyn's father killed, and that just feels wrong. jyn is our heroine and it upsets her, so emotionally it's distressing. but of course, draven and cassian and jyn are all working towards the same goal. draven did what he had to--galen erso is a liability as long as he's alive. dove and sarai's little brother elsren has to die because he's a direct heir to the throne, ahead of his sisters. it doesn't matter that he's five and totally innocent. as long as he lives, a luarin has a greater claim to the throne than a raka, and as long as that's true, the rebellion can't succeed.

in the star wars original trilogy, people for sure die! i'm not trying to say that they don't, but it's definitely not something that's shown affecting our protagonists on a deep, emotional level. they're all side characters, or else they come back as force ghosts. the prequels are uh. fucking tragic, but at the end of it, almost all of our heroes make it out. even the casualties of the war are droids vs clones, which is to say, totally interchangeable cannon fodder on both sides!

the number of character deaths in the tortall 'verse is fewer, probably because it's primarily created for middle grades, but even when people do die, they're either demonstrably bad people or minor enough characters that the emotional resonance isn't the same.

by contrast, at the end of trickster's queen, almost the majority of the main conspirators die in battle, not to mention those who don't even make it to the final conflict. at the end of rogue one, all of our heroes are dead, and people aren't exactly making it out of andor s1 in good shape either. more than half of the aldhani team dies on that mission.

I could go on further, but I think my main takeaway is that once you've invested a lot of time and attention and fandom into a 'verse, you have a lot more leeway to tell different kinds of stories. tamora pierce could not have written trickster's choice until after the values and world of tortall were so clearly established, and if she had, it wouldn't have had the impact that it did. similarly, part of what makes rogue one/andor so striking is the fact that it is such a departure from the preexisting values and story format of star wars.

for every chosen one we see in media, there are hundreds of people working behind the scenes to make their big, death star destroying moment possible. the only way to improve society is through collective action, and part of that is that everyone's hands are going to get dirty. i think lots of people want to imagine that they could be like luke skywalker and swoop in 2 weeks before the battle of yavin and become a hero, but the fact of the matter is that that's not how the world works! war requires us to do things that would ordinarily go against our values, but in the context of a drawn out, bloody, thankless battle, maybe we decide the ends justify the means.

[eegnm]

Ok, so I've been minorly (majorly) obsessed with front toward enemy by @rifle-yes the partisan au of my dreams 😪

[the-hidden-empire]

Darth Vader with a force sensitive reader:

- Before you’re amalgamation, he thought of you as another weak force user.

- Vader thought you were an inquisitor originally.

- He was sent to duel you by palpatine.

- You held you’re own against him.

- He was impressed.

- Vader took you under his wing.

- He became you’re master.

- You despised him at first.

- In you’re opinion you didn’t need a master. You had learned everything you needed to know.

- Vader enjoyed being in command of you.

- In time you became fixed on each other.

- When everyone else fell back during battle, you stayed by his side.

- He quickly became protective of you.

- He lied to his master about you’re strengths.

- He wouldn’t allow you to be used as another weapon.

- He even went as far as hiding you’re force signature with his.

- You both learned to trust each other.

- It was only a matter of time before you learned the truth.

- You were to smart for you’re own good.

- Deep down, you both knew who he was under the mask.

- Anakin Skywalker, the legendary hero.

- He eventually brought you back to Coruscant, he needed to show you who he had been. And his part in order 66.

- You admired him even more, the complete opposite of how he thought you’d react.

- You saw past his mistakes.

- But you had a new determination to bring back that part of your lover.

- You were determined to break his shell.

- He continued to trained you, and expected only the best from you.

- He was hard on you during training sessions.

- Only because he needed you to survive.

- He wasn’t going to lose you.

- You both had become one with the force.

- You shared a bond with the Sith Lord, that no one else had. Not even his mentor.

- When away from each other, you could both still communicate through the force (Like Kylo and Rey).

- He foresaw a future with you that he would have never imagined.

- He would share those dreams of the two of you together.

- You would send back what you foresaw in the future, a matching image.

- You both had been shearing the same dreams.

- The force was bonding you to each others force signature.

- You stood by vaders side as his apprentice during his work, but behind closed doors, you were his equal.

[fandomnerd9602]

Jyn Erso x Male!Reader

Jyn: this is a rebellion right? I rebel

Andor: and who’s that?

Y/N: her partner. we’re rebels together

Andor: I don’t follow

Jyn: he does what do, just a little slower

Andor: what?

K-2SO: they’re a couple, you idiot!

Jyn hugs Y/N tight…

Y/N: and we’re a good team

K-2SO: if I could I would vomit right now

[underestimated-shadow]

"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy. And a cunning warrior... and he was a good friend."

Here's a little something I made to show my appreciation of the Star Wars franchise. This is also dedicated to a friend of mine who loves Star Wars just as much and whose birthday is, well, today! So cheers to you, mate, and have a wonderful birthday ❤️

I do not own any of the clips or music used in this video. All rights go to Lucasfilm and Imagine Dragons. (full video on my Youtube channel!)

🎉 May the 4th be with you all! 🎉

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.2 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 2,156 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence

This time, Cassian came back earlier than you’d asked. It was an unusually cold day on Ferrix, and your father was manning the front desk: another rare occurrence, given his poor health. He insisted that the diversion of work would do him good, take his mind off the pain. You had argued almost to the point of shouting over it the morning of, but eventually you’d given in. 

With him at the front, it left you free to work on the disappointingly short list of customers’ orders in the backroom. With so few projects coming through the door, you were counting on beating the turnaround times you’d quoted your customers in the hopes of earning a handsome tip. You felt the urgency so keenly that you didn’t bother looking up from the project in front of you - a secretary droid needing a replacement system access panel - when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of a rare and much needed customer. Your mind made idle note of the customer’s arrival, but then quickly returned to the point of your soldering gun as you carefully traced a line along the detached panel’s hinge. 

The sound of men’s raised voices interrupted your reverie. You flipped off the soldering gun and lifted your mask, ears sharpening in the direction of where your father had begun arguing with a familiar voice.

“Sir, I assure you, there’s no droidsmith here who’d be working on a project that requires this many credits!” 

Shit. 

You threw down the soldering gun and scampered towards the front room, eager to intercept Cassian before he had a chance to tell your father the extent of the repairs you’d agreed to do for him. Even though your project list was short at the moment, you knew your father would only see the danger in what you’d agreed to do for Cassian. Projects that are outside the scope of routine repairs should be directed to the droidsmiths at Preox-Morlana. You could all but hear his scolding now. And beyond a scolding, something about Cassian’s insistent manner, the dark shadows around his eyes, and the cataclysmic disaster his droid had suffered all suggested he was up to something. You weren’t sure what, but you had a pretty good idea it wasn’t strictly legal. The further you could keep your father from things like that, especially in the rapidly fading twilight of his life, the better.

You burst out of the backroom, wiping your oil-stained hands on a rag. Cassian was standing in front of the main desk across from your father, and you noticed the way his eyes danced over you as soon as you stepped into view. He looked considerably better rested than your last encounter, and a small knot of anxiety you hadn’t realized was there loosened an inch in your chest.

“Cassian!” Your greeting was far too warm and familiar given your two brief interactions with him, but you were scrambling to compose a convincing cover story to throw your dad off the scent as you went. You gave him a wide, beaming smile - the kind of smile you give to an old friend - and you bypassed the desk entirely to wrap your arms around him in a forceful hug. Cassian hesitated only momentarily before you felt his strong, lean arms snake around your back. 

“Follow my lead,” you whispered in his ear, quiet enough that your father couldn’t hear. He didn’t reply, but somehow you knew he’d heard you. 

“Y/n, you know this man?” your father asked, fixing you with a skeptical stare. 

“Of course I do, Papa,” you replied, releasing your grip on Cassian’s shoulders even though a small, perplexing part of you didn’t want to. “Cassian taught me everything I need to know about sabacc.” 

You saw your father’s nose wrinkle in distaste at the mention of your favorite card game. Ladies shouldn’t concern themselves with games and drinking, he loved to tell you, to which you reminded him that he’d met your own mother over a game of Denebian holo-chess. 

“I see.” He gave Cassian a deeply disapproving glare. In the half moment of quiet, your mind sprinted ahead, grasping for a believable story for the small chest brimming with gold credits on the desk in between Cassian and your father.

“I see you brought me my winnings.” You shot Cassian a sly smirk, reaching for the chest of credits. 

“Winnings?” Your father’s voice was turning skeptical, and you panicked internally. “You won all these? What kind of people are you playing with down there!?” For a half second, your mind felt frozen as you struggled to come up with another convincing lie. Your father’s skepticism was well-earned: only the nefarious types on Ferrix had access to so much currency. Part of you realized this should have crossed your mind before, given that this was only the first of a series of payments you were expecting to collect from Cassian. For reasons you couldn’t explain, however, you trusted him. 

Sensing your hesitation, Cassian stepped in seamlessly to deflect your father’s suspicion. 

“I’m a scrap pirate,” he replied, his face smoothing into a mask of contrition. “Not proud of it, but it keeps my family fed and clothed.” 

You let out a shaky exhale, waiting for your father to consider Cassian’s words. It was a good lie: the people who scuttled abandoned or damaged starships and turned in the valuable parts for payment to Preox-Morlana were simultaneously some of Ferrix’s wealthiest and least recognizable citizens, in large part because of how rarely they were on planet. 

Your father’s probing gaze flickered from Cassian to you and back. You tried to keep your face relaxed, knowing your father was usually keen on sniffing out your mistruths. After a few tense moments, he gruffly pushed the chest of credits towards you. 

“These belong to you, then. And next time, tell your betting buddies not to use the front door and pose as customers. Bring ‘em round the back. I don’t want to give the Pre-Mor garrison any reason to send our business elsewhere.” 

“Yes, Papa,” you nodded deferentially, relieved that he’d actually bought your lies. “But these are for the shop.” 

You pushed the chest of credits back towards him, turning to face Cassian before your father could argue. “Now that your debt’s paid off, how about we give you some more. Tonight, our usual place?” You raised your eyebrows meaningfully at Cassian. He nodded, picking up your lead easily. 

“I’ll see you then. The bar on Rix Road.” 

Cassian nodded respectfully at your father, who gave him a curt jerk of his chin in response. You were disappointed to watch Cassian’s frame retreat out of the shop and into the cold street outside without a backwards glance. 

“Why do you insist on going to the bar and playing that godawful game with men like that?” 

The note of regret in your father’s voice twisted a knife in your chest. You tried to play it off, shooting a playful grin in your father’s direction as you turned towards the backroom, eager to get away from his prying gaze.

“Oh Papa, Cassian isn’t all bad you know.” 

Your father grabbed your wrist before it slid off the counter. His grip was tight, as if he could press his worry beneath your skin. You fought to keep your composure, worried that the shame of lying to him and, in turn, receiving his criticism would show in your face. 

“Trust me, y/n,” he implored, his voice dropping low in earnestness. “I’ve known men like that my whole life. He’s got the look of trouble about him. Maybe not evil, but trouble can bite you just as deep.” 

He released your wrist just as a chill ran through your blood at his words. Your lips twitched before you plastered another false smile on your lips. 

“I’ll be careful Papa, I promise. I always am.” Another lie. 

He looked at you seriously for a moment before he broke eye contact. “I know, my girl. It’s not you I’m worried about being careful. It’s him.” 

You couldn’t think of a reply, so you simply let your father’s words hang like smoke in the air as you retreated to the backroom. You sat back down, trying to refocus on the soldering job you’d hoped to finish by the time the shop closed. Yet no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the nagging itch at the back of your mind that your father was right… 

* * * * * * * * *

You woke early the next day to your father’s coughing fit. Dawn was hardly breaking over the distant horizon, and the inside of the cluttered quarters you shared with your father above the shop were alive with the wretched sound of his chesty, wet coughs. You rose from your bed quickly, heating water for the Tarine tea that soothed his throat. It took almost an hour before you were able to get him back to sleep. You checked on the medical droid that saw to your father when you weren’t home, ensuring it was fully charged, and descended into the dark shop beneath. After unlocking the front door, turning on the shop lights and counting the credits in the register, you went to the backroom to inventory the list of repairs that needed your attention that day. 

“I waited half the night for you.” 

Cassian’s voice was quiet, but you startled violently nonetheless, knocking an entire crate full of fuel cells off the edge of the workbench. They clattered noisily to the floor. 

“Sithspit, Cassian, what are you playing at?”

He slithered off the bench where he was sitting lazily with his back braced against the wall, one knee bent up on the bench’s surface and an arm hanging lazily across his knee. 

“It’s rude to keep an old friend waiting,” he continued, bending down to pick up a few of the errant fuel cells that had scattered across the floor in his direction. You shot him a quizzical and unamused look, your sleep-groggy mind missing his meaning. 

He cocked an eyebrow at you in reply. “Yesterday? We made plans, remember? The bar on Rix Road.” 

The conversation you’d had - staged, more like - for your father’s benefit came back to you. 

“That was just a cover,” you replied smartly. “I didn’t think you’d actually be there.” 

“And why not?” Cassian pressed. Suddenly, you were aware of how close he’d gotten to you. Close enough that you could make out the smell of Antakarian fire whiskey on his breath. 

“You’re still drunk,” you commented dumbly. Cassian looked at you, his expression unreadable, before he nodded and took a step back. 

“I couldn’t go home,” he explained, fidgeting with the soldering gun you’d left on the workbench. “Maarva doesn’t like it when I drink.”

What he’d said yesterday came drifting back to you, something about keeping his family fed. You realized this Maarva was who he’d been referring to, and suddenly your mood turned sour. 

“Your wife?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from sounding bitter. 

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. “My mother,” he replied. His voice turned sad, although you couldn’t help but feel a small jolt of… something. A mix of hope, curiosity, and smug happiness. You didn’t like that you felt it, and you swatted it down like a pesty gnat. 

“So you came here instead.”

Pulled out of his reverie, Cassian shrugged apologetically. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. And besides, I thought I might take you up on that game of sabacc. If you really do play.” 

A twinkle of mischievousness danced in his eyes, and you smiled against yourself. You were glad the lights in the shop were dim, because you felt your cheeks flush. 

“I do play,” you replied, replacing the overturned crate of fuel cells. “But my father warned me to stay away from men like you.” 

You meant the statement playfully, but you could see something twist in Cassian’s face at your words. The glimmer died in his dark eyes, and his expression turned pensieve. He looked at you, holding your gaze for so long it almost felt invasive. 

“I was just teasing, Cassian,” you said softly after a few moments, unable to linger in the tension any longer. 

“No, you weren’t.” Cassian spoke confidently, and for half a second you wondered if he’d eavesdropped on the end of the conversation with your father yesterday. “And he’d be right. I’m not exactly the kind of friend people want to have.” 

Your brows knitted together in confusion at his statement, but he turned towards the backdoor before you had a chance to ask him anything. 

“I’ll be back in another month with the next installment,” he told you without looking back. “Thanks for fixing my droid, I appreciate it.” 

And once again, you found yourself watching as Cassian Andor walked out the door, leaving you behind.

*read chapter 3 here! If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know

[groundrunner100]

Star Wars x Enemy: Darth Vader Edition

Oh the misery!

Everybody wants to be my enemy!

Spare the sympathy!

Everybody wants to be

my enemy-y-y-y-y. Lookout for yourself!

My enemy-y-y-y-y.

Lookout for yourself!

But I’m ready.

-Imagine Dragons, Enemy (2021).

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

Saturday Seven 02

Here is the second one my friends!

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing : Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Request: No.I'm just thirsted

Summaries: A bit of sexy time in Cassian's U Wing.

Warning: Semi-smut. NC-17 and 18+

Rate: M

Words: 227

🌹Click to My AO3

            The heat in Cassian’s U Wing was quickly rising, higher and higher, as he kissed Y/N passionately. Thanks to his order, K2SO was told to go patrolling before they got to the town, tomorrow morning. Cassian was not expected that Y/N would want him in this moment. Right here. Right now.

            When their lips didn’t crash each other, they both panted and groaned, as they took off the clothes – layer by layer. But for Y/N, it was too slow and tormented. Like all of attire was too fit and too tight. Also, Cassian’s hands were clumsy more than ever. She blurted under the annoying and yearning tone.

“Kriff! Cass, quickly!”

He hissed, while he pulled her top undergarment off. Y/N was running out of patience. After peeling his under shirt, tossed it away, she rapidly snatched his belt out. And followed by tugging his and her trousers down.

Finally, Cassian’s hands were becoming skillful like usual. He grabbed her waist, pinned her body by his against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him. While he kissed her neck and pressing his shaft to her core.

“Satisfied, love?” His voice was husky and hoarse, filled with teased. It made her exclaiming and gasping in the high pitch.

Y/N grunted, circling her arms around his shoulder. She could still feel that he was smirking, before pushed himself forward. 

Thank you so much for reading ❤️️ As always, you can correct me. English is my second language 😅

[likeimsittinginanairportbar]

just watched dune for the first time, greig fraser the cinematography genius that you are

[armchairsoapbox]

I’ve been thinking about why I like Rogue One so much even though frankly Empire is supposed to be the GOAT. And I think it comes down to this —

Everyone dies.

Yes, there’s more to it.

Empire is about the heroes of the Rebellion. Leia is still a princess, Han is now a Rebel general, Luke is a literal space wizard and golden boy who spends part of his time training to better use his mystic powers from a hidden sensei. And even though Bad Things happen, it’s such a hopeful story! The Empire found them on Hoth but the ion cannon works and they can evacuate and escape. Han is tortured, but look, he’s literally put on ice instead of killed outright; we know there’ll be a rescue attempt. Luke loses his hand and deals with intense trauma, but look, he’s alive and recovering at the end of the movie on the medical ship. They lived, they’re hopeful, they’ll be back.

Rogue One is about the little people. You don’t know anything about them until the movie, and you’ll never hear anything about them after. They were mostly bit players in life to begin with. An imperial shuttle pilot? A Rebel operative, of the sort to get a “many Bothans died” acknowledgement from the main characters at best? One of the nameless scientists who worked on the Death Star? Who’s going to remember them? No one. They are very small and the Empire is very big, so big that striking back seems impossible, and they spend so much time running, and running is damn near hopeless because the Empire is everywhere, and when they fight back it’s to go on a desperate one-way mission that they barely dare to hope will work but what choice do they have left but that or lie down and die? They can’t run forever, and they’ve lost so much, and please, let it all have meant something

And then they do die, in small and desperate ways, each overrun, gunned down, not even allowed to surrender the way the Rebels on Endor initially were before the Ewoks showed up. There’s no escape for them. Andor and Erso don’t get to fly out on a shuttle the way Luke escaped from the second Death Star with Anakin’s body. In the face of the coming blast wave, they do the only thing they can do: they hug, desperately, clinging to whatever animal comfort they can still have despite the terror, and wait.

They lost everything. But they succeeded. Not even in something big like actually destroying the Death Star - no, that will take Luke, one of the Main Characters, to actually accomplish, and when he does he’ll become a hero even the Emperor will have heard of. These small people are not Luke, not Leia, not Han. Not even Chewie or Lando. Hell, they’re not even Porkins, because their story isn’t big enough to be told in the “actual” movies…

But Luke couldn’t have destroyed the Death Star without them.

No medals for Rogue One. No victory ceremonies. Only desperation, and grief, and loss, and love, and an anonymous grave in the vaporised ruins of Scarif Base. They were small and forgotten, background bit players in the Skywalker saga, literally just a footnote to A New Hope. But this was their story, the story of little people whose loss and pain and rage were no less meaningful than anything Luke and Leia and Han went through, and who had nothing left but each other — and barely that, too, at the end, when it came.

[the-marshals-wife]

Nothing Else Matters (Melshi x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Sometimes you go looking for a fic and realize you have to write it yourself. Now I'm on program with a majorly fluffy, unexpectedly spicy fic for this absolute darling. Here's looking at you, Melshi girlies (I know you exist). 🤍

Description: Ruescott Melshi x Fem!Reader | Warnings: Star Wars swears, crying, sensuality, and just a mess of kisses (this straight up has some making out, I'm not sorry) | Word count: 1, 504 | Gif credit: user tommymilller

Imagine being reunited with your beloved Melshi after thinking you would never be together again

Finding out your blaster was jammed while trying to shoot a mynock off of your power generator was not on your list of plans for the evening. Neither was having to go back inside and spending the last ten minutes trying to get it unjammed.

"Dank ferrik," you grunt, straining to free the frozen safety switch. Stooped over your makeshift cargo crate table, back sore, you reach for the oil can a second time. "Come on..."

You'd tried to console yourself with the fact that you could have discovered the problem while fending off something with more teeth, or something that could shoot back, but your cramping, sore fingers taxed your optimism greatly.

"Don't do this to me." You put another drop of oil around the pin, but your focus drifts to the initials carved into the grip. 'R.M.' Your vision blurs as you push the memories away. "I'm not losing you too."

Despite your exhaustive attempts, the greased switch will not budge. Temper flaring at last, you repeatedly bang it against the side of the crate, "I won't. kriffing. lose. you!"

This last stitch effort does the trick. You exhale as switch moves freely under your thumb. "Finally!"

Your celebration is cut short, however, as you hear an alert chime from the main room. Someone is at the front door.

"What now?" you groan, gripping your blaster and successfully switching the safety off.

Peering from the doorway into the next room, you recognize the sound of the lock releasing.

You duck back out of sight against the wall. Who was slicing in? What did they want? Why would anyone even take interest in your ramshackle dwelling, especially after dark? You'd settled on Ardennia to avoid this kind of attention. Every potential scenario from thieves to Imperials races through your mind, but there is no time to plan and no where to run. This alcove had just your cot, the crate, and no backdoor. All you could do was stand your ground, and pray to the maker that your blaster would not jam again.

The door opens, and swiftly closes again. You still your breathing and listen, but there's nothing to discern. Only the low buzz of the overhead lights and the constant, distant hum of the generator outside. You're about to reveal your presence when the next sound reaches you.

"Y/N?" a voice calls out. One you know as well as your own.

"It can't be..." you say.

Your pulse pounds in your ears you step into view. The figure in the parlor before you removes the hood of their cloak.

Your heart stands still.

"Melshi?"

"Hello, sweetheart," he smiles, misty-eyed, "I'm home."

A sob escapes from your lips. You cast your weapon away and run into his open arms.

"It's you," you weep, burying your face into his shoulder, "I can't believe it's you!"

"It's me," he affirms, rocking you and kissing the top of your head.

You hold onto him as tight as you can, afraid that if you let go, he would be gone, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Me too," he replies, the words catching in his throat.

At last you let go enough to gaze up into those familiar brown eyes, full of warmth and longing.

"You're more beautiful than in my dreams," he says, caressing your face, "They could never do you justice."

"Oh, my Melshi," you beam, tears rolling down your burning cheeks.

You throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a desperate kiss that he eagerly returns. Tender kisses become more fervent with each heartbeat. You sigh, remembering how much you missed the smell of him and the feeling of his stubble lightly scratching your skin.

The two of you reluctantly stop to breathe, pulling away mere inches.

"I missed you so much," he whispers, his nose grazing yours.

"I missed you. Every single second," you reply.

Your head was spinning not only from the previous moment, but also from the many unanswered questions you'd carried in your aching chest for countless months of surviving all alone.

"Are you alright?" you beg, holding his face in your trembling hands.

"I am now," he chuckled, leaning into your touch and kissing your palm.

You choke back a sob. "Where have you been? What did they do to you?"

His expression hardens, but he continues to rub gentle circles into your back as he speaks. "An Imperial prison on Narkina 5. It was more like a factory. They had us building machinery of some kind. Thousands of us, day and night. I would still be there now if we hadn't escaped."

Horror washes over you. "Escaped? You weren't released?"

"No, they were never going to release us. They gave us sentences to serve, but it was all a lie. They were going to keep us until we died. When someone serves all their days, The Empire just sends them off to another prison somewhere. We only found out by chance, and it all fell apart from there. We fought our way out, but I don't know how many of us made it offworld," he sighed, "We've always known The Empire was corrupt, but it's so much worse than we ever thought."

You stare up at him, panic seizing you, "What are we going to do? What if The Empire comes looking for you? Could they have tracked you here?"

"I was careful. Got my hands on a forged chain code through a friend. It should buy us some time," he assured, "Tonight, we're not going to worry about anything. It's just you and I. Nothing else matters."

"They're not taking you from me again, Ruescott Melshi," you state, anger strengthening your resolve, "I have nightmares almost every night. I see those troopers dragging you away that day. I hate them for making me wonder where they'd taken you or if you were even alive. I am never going through that again, and I am never letting you go."

"You'll never have to," he assures, leaning to rest his forehead upon yours, "I'm here."

You close your eyes, his calm presence comforting you as it always did.

Several moments pass like this before he breaks the silence, "Marry me, Y/N."

"Melshi," you begin, smiling despite yourself.

"I should have asked you before. I was a scared fool, but now I have a second chance, and I won't waste it this time," he confesses, taking your hands in his. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens to me or this blasted galaxy, I always will. Whatever fight comes our way, I want to face it with you."

You feel as if your heart will bust. Tears fall from your stinging eyes once more as he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"Will you have me?"

"Yes, I will," you grin, nodding, "I have been yours from the very start, and every day since. I love you so much."

He beams at your answer, proceeding to pick you up and twirl you in a circle. Your mutual laughter fills the modest room, and when your feet touch back down to the ground, your lips find his again. Muscle memory begins to kick in as you excitedly rediscover each other, both more confident than before. He rests his hand in the small of your back, pulling you close as you run your fingers through his hair. Your eyes flutter as he slowly trails kisses along your jaw to the side of your neck. His longer-than-normal stubble tickles your soft skin there, however, and you can't hold back a giggle.

Red creeps into his cheeks. "Guess I could use a shave," he chuckles.

"Maybe a little," you reply, scrunching your nose, "I actually think you could pull off a moustache."

"Oh, is that so?" he smirks.

"Yeah. Maybe just a little beard." you tease, giving his chin a peck, "I can get used to it."

"We'll have to see about that," he says, giving you a playful look.

"First things first. Let's get some more meat back on your bones," you say, squeezing his arm, "You have to be starving. I bet they fed you bantha fodder in that awful place."

"My love, you have no idea," he smiles through a sigh.

Taking his hand, you lead him over to the narrow kitchen area to sort through what provisions you had.

You were dizzy with joy. Only an hour ago, you were cursing your jammed blaster. Now the love of your life had returned to you, and you were daring to hope for your future. The force worked in such mysterious ways, and you were so grateful it had finally bestowed some favor upon you. Someday, The Empire would pay for its treachery and lies, and you hoped you'd both be there to see it. Until then, you were going to treasure every stolen moment of freedom in your second chance.

[thevalleyisjolly]

[Image description: A short comic of a training scene featuring Jyn, Melshi, Vel and Cinta. Jyn gestures at Melshi, who is standing calmly behind her, and says "Say I were fighting someone who outweighs me, like Sgt. Melshi." Jyn mimes hitting Melshi -who is still standing calmly with a small smile and the fourth-wall note "(knows what's coming"- and continues, "What I can do is use that against him...like so." Jyn punches Melshi hard, sending him flying into a wall. Jyn leaves with a quietly smug expression, smacking Melshi on the ass as he holds up a peace sign and looks unbothered.

Cinta and Vel watch the interaction with crossed arms and neutral expressions. As there is an off-screen *whack*, Cinta asks, "...what's happening?" and Vel responds, "Andor's Pathfinders got stuck with training duty while they're on medical leave." Suddenly there's a loud crash and both Cinta and Vel startle. Cinta turns to the crash with a focused expression and says, "You get Clem, I'll get the med kit," to which Vel responds "On it" as she turns to go.

In the last panel, Melshi faces the viewer, eyes half-lidded and gesturing with his hands, and says, "You can't let people get away with being mean, and if that means that you have to destroy their bodies until they're dead...then so be it." End ID]

Base-Training on Hoth with Sergeants Erso and Melshi, as observed by Base Medic Kaz and Major Sartha. (recorded approx. 2 ABY)

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Rex: I know you work with Cody sometimes, but who do you guys report to?

Hunter: Hmm... good question. Can't say I've got an answer.

My headcanons about the reporting:

Tech writes up a full mission report after every single mission the squad completes during the Clone Wars, even though the higher ups stopped asking the squad for detailed written debriefings almost two years ago, after their first few ops.

(Echo started helping to write up the reports when he first joined the squad, only to be absolutely flabbergasted and lowkey horrified that the generals/commanders never ask for the reports, they just want to know whether a mission CF99 was assigned to ended as a success or failure.)

The reason why no one ever asks for the reports is because, after Commander Cody first called in Clone Force 99 for a tricky operation involving rescuing a dozen key hostages from an overwhelming amount of Separatist forces, Obi Wan was the one who reviewed the exceptionally professional and detailed report describing the squad of 4 clones rescuing the hostages by rappelling smack dab into the middle of the enemy forces and wiping out two entire battalions of droids (including the tactical droids) within 30 seconds with a crazy plan involving one bomb (the bomb wasn't even used on the droids themselves, it was used as a distraction), a knife, a rifle, two small mirrors, the Star Wars equivalent of duct tape, and "CT-9903's impulsive nature."

"Cody, are you sure this mission report is... accurate?" Obi Wan asks in concern.

"Yes, General. Three of the hostages corroborated the story even before the report itself came in. And CT-9902 - the one they call Tech, who writes the reports - apparently records everything, too, so I can verify..."

"No need. I ask only because I thought orders were for this to be a stealth operation."

"Right, well, the sergeant said his squad decided the most effective way to fulfill the "stealth" stipulation would be to not leave any droids operational, so the Separatists will never know exactly what happened."

Thus Obi Wan, realizing the sheer madness that would likely ensue should Anakin ever get his hands on one of these full reports - Anakin doesn't need ANY more chaotic ideas or incentive to go rogue - decides to simply record the mission outcome as "all objectives successfully met." The other generals (and, by extension, their commanders) soon pick up on Obi Wan's strategy and adopt it themselves, though for slightly different reasons (because imagine reporting that a squad using a plan called "rockslide" succeeded where a company + Jedi could not).

And so whenever Clone Force 99 is given an assignment, they are only asked in the debriefing whether said mission has been a success or failure.

(And then Cody calls in the Bad Batch for a mission that ends up involving Anakin, and Obi Wan is just sigh "I suppose this was inevitable. Yes of course this mission ended with Trench's entire fleet blowing up. No, Anakin, I will NOT recommend that Clone Force 99 be assigned strictly to the 501st. We're trying to keep the galaxy intact.")