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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

May I request a Jyn and Cassian ficlet with the prompts 'princess carry' and 'pain'? *Grinning like a child asking Santa for a puppy for Christmas*

*grins back in evil author*

Pairing: Jyn Erso x Cassian Andor

Word Count: 2,525

Tags/Warnings: T rated (for too much angst for one precious boy. Kidding. It's for blood and angst)

Cassian had been working undercover missions for years now. He found them relatively easy-- slipping into another person’s skin, wearing their identity, acting like someone else. Some days, it was easier than being who he really was.

Things were different now, though. He’d usually been alone, before Jedha and the Death Star. Before he found his crew. Before Jyn.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at his companion. Jyn strolled at his side, occasionally moving away to examine a stall or two, and was dressed in simple but warm clothing. The two of them were masquerading as a couple shopping on Hays Minor as they made their way to where their contact was waiting. Although it wasn’t as if it was all part of the mission.

Cassian didn’t know for sure how Jyn felt about him. He knew they were close. He knew that he told her things that he was barely able to admit to himself, and that he was the only one she would ever break down in front of (with the possible exception of Chirrut. But everyone could be honest with Chirrut). But they’d never really talked about anything. Barely even done anything, other than one kiss a few months before. But it had been in the name of not blowing their cover, which barely counted.

The fact was, they were both so busy. Running, hiding, fighting the Empire, collecting intelligence against them-- all of it consumed their days. It was hard to find a restful moment, and those were usually spent on sleep.

Maybe we should talk, Cassian thought as Jyn paused at a stall, pretending to admire the wares. Eventually. If we ever get the time.

But now is definitely not the time. Pushing aside the thoughts, he moved to Jyn’s side and offered her his arm. “Ready for something warm to drink?” he asked.

Flashing a wide smile that Cassian knew was fake, Jyn looped her arm through his. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said.

They made their way down the street together. As soon as they were out of earshot of the stall, Cassian said in a low voice, “Fulcrum’s agent is just down that street. She should have the intel we’re looking for.”

Jyn nodded, her expression returning to its usual focus. “Let’s get this done. I really need some rest.”

“Didn’t sleep last night again?” Cassian asked, pausing by a stall of hand-woven textiles to let an Imperial patrol go by.

Picking up a scarf, Jyn pretended to admire it as she said, “As if you did.”

She had a point there.

“Nightmares?” Jyn guessed, and a small sigh escaped Cassian’s lips.

“Always. Scarif this time.”

“Mine were on Lah’mu.”

The planet she and her family had lived on for years, before Krennic had found them. Which meant it had been a bad one. Catching sight of a stall selling hot drinks, Cassian moved over to it and pulled out a few credits, handing them to the Nikto behind it. He received two disposable cups of some kind of caf in return, and presented one to Jyn. “Best cure for it I know,” he told her.

Jyn gave him a smile, one of her real ones that he saw so rarely-- and treasured when he did. “Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. Tucking her arm around his again, she asked, “Where to next?”

“This way,” Cassian told her, moving towards an alleyway. With any luck, it would come out just in front of their contact’s house.

And it did. They stepped out of the alley and into a neighborhood of shabby houses huddled next to each other like they, too, were trying to keep warm. At the third one in the row, a squad of stormtroopers were standing, the door had been knocked off of its hinges, and Cassian froze as he saw them dragging out a Twi’lek woman.

“Tell me that’s not our contact,” Jyn said, but her voice made it clear she knew what the truth was.

Four more stormtroopers came out of the house, each dragging a victim. The first was a Twi’lek man, who looked furious and scared like his wife. But the third was a little girl, and Cassian saw the female Twi’lek lurch towards her as she was shoved to the ground and a blaster was trained on her head. Oh, no.

That was all he had time to think before Jyn was pulling away from him, her cup of caf hitting the ground and splashing everywhere.

“Jyn, wait--” Cassian cut himself off with a low curse. Pulling his blaster with one hand, he pulled the emergency beacon out of his pocket with the other and thumbed it on. They were about to need all the help they could get.

Already several steps ahead of him, Jyn didn’t hesitate. Whipping out her blaster, she shot the two troopers holding the little girl. Thankfully, they were caught off guard, and didn’t expect her to shoot two more, both of the ones holding back the Twi’lek girl’s mother. And then they reacted, lifting their blasters and pointing at Jyn.But then Cassian was there, blaster rifle blazing as he took out four of the troopers, grabbed Jyn by the arm and tugged her out of harm’s way, behind one of the other houses. Pulling away from him, Jyn hissed, “We have to get them out of there.”

“I know. One thing at a time,” Cassian said, jerking back as a blaster bolt zipped past his face. “I called in back up--”

“We don’t have time to wait for them,” Jyn said.

“I figured you’d say that,” Cassian muttered. “Fine. I’ll cover you, you go for the girl. Ready?”

Jyn pulled out her baton, opening it with a flick of her wrist as she said, “Let’s go.”

Cassian moved out from behind the house in one smooth step, lifting his blaster and firing rapidly. In the same moment, Jyn dove out of cover and charged towards the Twi’lek girl. As she ran, Cassian heard a familiar humming-- the sound of their ship’s engine. Relief swept through him as the ship zipped into view and started to move downwards, the rear hatch opening. Two figures stood there-- one wearing blue and red robes and holding a lightbow, the other wearing red armor and holding a huge repeating blaster.

But even as they moved closer, one of the stormtroopers lifted their blaster, pointing it at the little girl. Before Cassian could move, he fired-- and a blur swept past Cassian, knocking the little girl out of the way.

For a moment, Cassian had no idea what had happened. All he could see was Jyn, standing over the little girl, a hand pressed against her abdomen, looking shocked. And then blood started seeping between her fingers, and Jyn crumpled to the ground next to the girl, and it hit him. She’d taken the shot meant for the Twi’lek girl. And then Cassian was running towards her, barely even noticing the blaster fire flying past him as Baze and Chirrut took out the troopers facing them.

He crashed to his knees next to Jyn, heart pounding. Please, no. Cassian found his hands were shaking as he wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her upright and into his arms.

Jyn’s torso was soaked in blood-- far too much blood. Her eyes were closed, and her face incredibly pale. “Come on,” Cassian muttered, yanking off his jacket and pressing it over the blaster wound. “Jyn, wake up. Wake up!”

To his relief, she stirred slightly. “Cassian?” she mumbled, and Cassian had never heard such a beautiful sound in his life.

“I’m here. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Cassian promised. “Hang on, Jyn.”

“The… the little girl.”

Looking up, Cassian saw Baze ushering the Twi’lek family onto the ship, with K2 and Chirrut watching his back. “She’s okay,” he promised. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? This is gonna hurt.”

Sliding one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her shoulders, Cassian lifted her up with a grunt. A small cry slipped from between Jyn’s lips, and her fingers knotted themselves in his shirt. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Cassian murmured, settling her against his chest so her head rested on his shoulder, trying to keep his voice steady. “Stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. Just a little longer.”

The only reply was a small moan as Cassian started towards the ship. Chirrut met him halfway, a frown knitting his forehead. “What happened to her?” he demanded.

“One of the troopers shot her in the gut,” Cassian said, and how his voice didn’t break he had no idea. “Tell Baze to get his medkit.”

“He’s already there,” Chirrut told him as they boarded. The hatch hissed shut behind them, and Cassian felt the ship taking off as Chirrut led him to one of the rooms in the back of the ship, where Baze was setting up his medical supplies.

“Put her down here,” he directed without looking up, his expression grim. “Chirrut, pass me the needle and thread. Andor, get out.”

Cassian looked up from settling Jyn on the bunk. “I can’t leave her--”

“Out. You’ll only be in the way.”

“She’ll be fine,” Chirrut promised as he propelled him out of the room. “Baze and I will take good care of her. Make sure our guests are alright.”

Before Cassian could protest, the door hissed shut behind him, leaving him standing in the hallway, blood covering his hands and the front of his shirt. Jyn’s blood.

Stumbling back, Cassian’s back slammed against the wall, and he sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands. All he could see, all he could think of, over and over again, was Jyn crumpling to the ground, her pale face and stillness as she lay there.

She could have died. She could have died right there, and Cassian wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it. Worse, she could have died before they’d talked, before he told her how he felt. It had always been true, but now it felt… real. Raw with the possibility.

My fault. I should have stopped the trooper, should have stopped Jyn, shouldn’t have taken this kriffing mission, shouldn’t have taken on a crew in the first place. Thoughts tumbled over themselves in his head, and Cassian took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. The smell of blood filled his nose, and he thought he might be sick.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Chirrut’s voice penetrated his haze. “Captain. She will be fine.”“How would you know?” Cassian knew he was being harsh, but the panic, the shame bubbling up inside him, was too much to handle.

“She did not die on Scarif. And you will not lose her now,” Chirrut told him with utter certainty. “The Force wills it so.”

“If I lose her--” Cassian choked on his own words, on the smell of blood filling his nose and mouth. “I can’t. I haven’t-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Sit up, and breathe, Captain,” Chirrut ordered him, his voice abnormally stern. Reluctantly, Cassian did so, facing the blind monk.

“It’s not your fault,” Chirrut said, and Cassian’s chest tightened. “It isn’t. She doesn’t need you to blame yourself. Focus on your mission. One thing at a time.”

Nodding, Cassian inhaled deeply. “Okay. I’m going to go talk to our contact. Let me know the minute anything happens, you got it?”

Chirrut nodded. “I will. Oh-- don’t forget to wash your face.”

Cassian lifted a hand to his face, realizing that he’d smeared the blood on his hands across his forehead and cheeks. “Right,” he muttered, heading for the refresher.

The next few hours seemed to drag by in a stilted blur. Cassian talked to their contact, collected the data Fulcrum needed, and started working on setting up a new place for the small family to stay. He fielded questions about Jyn, mostly by sending whoever was asking-- usually Bodhi or the Twi’lek family, who were incredibly grateful-- to Chirrut. Part of him couldn’t look at their contacts without remembering how still Jyn had been, the far too dark bloodstain on her coat.

He had no idea how he made it through that time. But finally, finally, when he was in the galley getting his fifth cup of caf that night, Chirrut reappeared. “She’s awake,” he told Cassian.

Dropping his mug, Cassian bolted out of the galley and towards the room where Jyn had been. As he arrived, the door hissed open, and Baze stepped out. Giving Cassian a nod, he said, “She’s doing fine. Just needs some rest, and according to Chirrut, some of that horrible tea.”

“Thank you,” Cassian said, not bothering to hide the desperate, grateful edge in his voice, and Baze nodded.

“Anything for her.”

Without another word, the older man headed towards the galley, and Cassian ducked into the room.

Jyn was propped up on about ten different pillows-- Cassian had no idea where they’d come from. Probably either Chirrut or Bodhi. She looked at him as he came in. “We got them out, right?” she asked.

For a minute, Cassian had no idea what she was talking about. He was so glad to see her alive and well and still breathing. There were so many things he hadn’t said that he should have, and he’d almost lost the chance. “What?”

“The family,” Jyn prompted him. “We got them out?”

“Oh-- yeah. They’re all safe,” Cassian said, moving to her side.

Exhaling in relief, Jyn said, “Good. I didn’t want to get shot for nothing.”

“Hey. Don’t joke about that,” Cassian told her. “I thought-- for a minute there--” he faltered, the memory flickering past his eyes again.

Jyn’s hand catching hold of his knocked him out of the memory, and he looked at her with surprise. “I’m safe,” she said. “You’re safe. We’re both okay.”

Nodding, Cassian said, “I know. Just… don’t do that to me again. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Jyn said, her gaze holding his for a long moment before she let out a cavernous yawn. “Baze gave me some kind of sedative, I think,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping.

“Then you’d better get some sleep,” Cassian told her, starting to move towards the door reluctantly. But Jyn tightened her grasp on his hand.

“Don’t leave?” she whispered, her voice suddenly surprisingly vulnerable. “I… I’m worried about the nightmares.”

There was a good chance part of her honesty was because of the sedatives in her system. But if he didn’t have to, there was no way Cassian would leave her side. “I’ll watch over you,” he promised, settling next to her bed. “You’ll be safe with me.”

A smile crossed Jyn’s face as her eyes drifted shut. “I know,” she murmured.

Cassian watched her for a moment, then on instinct, lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against the knuckles. She was home and safe. That was what mattered for now.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow was a different story entirely.

#jyn erso #cassian andor #rebelcaptain #rogue one #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #bodhi rook #k 2so #111 followers celebration #rogue one fan fic #posted on ao3 #it was dope. the end

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rinrinp42 · 3 years

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Come Find Me

For Day 2 of @jangobiweek, Time Travel.

42 BBY, Mandalor:

Obi-Wan concentrated on the pack Satine had given him to use. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he actually looked around. They may have only been in this building for a week, but already it was full of memories.

Memories he cherished deeply.

But Satine didn’t need him to protect her anymore, especially with Bo-Katan having rejoined her. Satine would be fine. Bo-Katan would balance out Satine’s lust for peace when it started to push into an uncompromising hatred of their cultural past. Satine didn’t want to lose any more of her family.

And… Jan. Jan would go back to wherever he had been before Satine and Obi-Wan had stumbled upon him. The other teen had been bewildered by they two fugitives but he had jumped in to help them.

Jan’s knowledge of Mandalorian history, the parts that weren’t as talked about when so much focus was on the battles and wars. That had been what has swayed Satine to being less extreme. And Obi-Wan had felt the Force shift. Something had changed with that, something was different. Though he couldn’t say what.

As to Obi-Wan, he was enamored with the tale of Dorjander and Varda. It was tragic, and he could see so many ways it could have been solved but…

But it fanned the flames of hope he kept inside. The idea that he could one day have a love for someone who would understand that being a Jedi was as much a part of him as his own blood.

The romantic idea of Jedi having families outside of the Temple was one that had faded over time, he knew. Too many wanted a choice between their own love and the Jedi Way.

But Dorjander and Varda had made it work when they were enemies.

Some part of him hoped…

Jan kept his distance though, something always held back.

So Obi-Wan would go back to the Jedi and yearn like the heroine’s in Galen’s holodramas. It was fine.

“Obi-Wan!”

He looked up and towards the door, bewildered by the frantic energy that Jan was putting out.

The dark-haired boy was clutching the door, a wild look in his eyes. His red beskar’gam gleamed and reflected the building around them. Satine had wanted both of them to look immaculate as she met with the Clans and Jan had indulged her with all the air of a sibling.

But… there was something off about it. Something Obi-Wan couldn’t put his finger on.

“Listen to me Obi-Wan,” Jan urged, stepping closer, “I need you to understand, I’ll find you, tion’suvarir?”

“Jan, wha-”

“Gar cuy ner haa’it, Obi’ika. I will find you.”

“Jan, I,” Obi-Wan couldn’t tell what the Force was doing, it was frantic and rushed and pulling but he couldn’t tell where it was pulling to, “Jan you know where I’ll be, you don’t need to find me.”

“It’ll be a while, but I have to let things play out until now,” Jan reached out but his hand hovered between them.

And suddenly Obi-Wan knew what was off.

He could see the hall, the room, everything, through Jan.

“Jan!” he yelped, hands now frantically reaching out, but unsure where to land or if they would just go through Jan.

Jan gave him a crooked grin.

“Ni cuy Jango Fett.”

And he faded away as Obi-Wan’s hands went to his arms.

31 BBY, Jedha:

Obi-Wan stood back as Anakin joined the Adepts. He wanted to make sure Anakin knew he had choices. Plus, it was good to distract the boy while Quinlan wove a web to get his mother free.

He felt more than saw someone step up next to him.

“You know, you are rather late,” he spoke, looking sideways to his companion.

“Trikayc,” Jango said, shrugging, “I had some things I had to deal with.”

Obi-Wan smiled before it faded.

“I looked you up you know. After.”

Jango tilted his head, buy’ce still in place.

“Ni ceta,” Obi-Wan told him, “it was my Grandmaster who led at Galidraan.”

“K’lamot di’dunyc.”

They were silent.

“You have a dangerous enemy ner kar’ta,” Jango said, “but, luckily he doesn’t know about my little time travel adventure. So, he isn’t expecting me to come to you.”

“And are you?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I would speak the Riduurok to you right now if you asked.”

Obi-Wan turned to Jango now, shocked.

“Jango…”

“I had to deal with how to reconcile everything I knew about you with how the Jetii on Galidraan acted, my grief, and what happened after. But I always was going to find you again Obi’ika. I told you before didn’t I, gar cuy ner haa’it.”

#My writing #jangobi week 2021 #jangobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #time travel #jango is from about 50 bby in the first part #and yes i'm fixing mandalor while i'm at it #satine would gladly step aside if jango showed up and was like 'i was jan'#or even if he didn't reveal that bit #pre may not end up a bad guy in this idk but he's not a focus so....#jangobiweek2021

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generallynerdy · 3 years

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One life, I thought—a thousand deaths (Jon Antilles & Fay)

Summary: On Queyta, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the only one to escape Durge and Ventress. One of the four legendary Masters, Jon Antilles, emerges from a lava stream despite knowing he’s going to die. He’s so sure of it that he crawls his way to Fay’s side, wanting to spend his last moments with the woman who he considers his Master. But she has other plans. Plans to make certain that Jon Antilles lives past today.

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, On-Screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, there’s both sorry, Self-Sacrifice, The Curse of Immortality, holy shit i made myself sad dude Word Count: 2,191

Prompt: Angstpril Day 2 - Sole Survivor

Author’s Note: listen I know nobody knows about these characters that are in literally one comic but I have FEELINGS about them okay?? Jon is meant to be a badass mysterious enigma but he screams sad boi and Fay is like...the greatest cryptid Jedi ever, I love her. So, of course, I decided to make them and Knol and Nico suffer. (Also I know Obi-Wan survived the mission but the Sole Survivor still applies because Jon is the sole survivor of the four legendary Masters, just in case that wasn’t clear.) I just finished this today, so the editing is minimal.

Read on AO3

Using the Force as a shield is, in theory, one of the easier skills a Jedi utilizes. That is assuming, of course, that the Jedi in question is in good health, a decent mental state, and isn’t under a severe amount of stress. If said Jedi is, say, three feet into a pool of lava, already bearing grievous injuries and the weight of the deaths of two close companions, and feeling the fading life of another, the simple task, understandably, becomes something of a problem.

Jon has finally managed to pull the Force around him like a blanket. It protects him from the bubbling lake around him now, but the first few seconds he couldn’t pull it off were torture.

As it turns out, lava burns. It burns like shame, like failure, like the nightmares Jon used to have about his Master abandoning him on a planet in Hutt space for getting just a little too mouthy. And it hurts nearly as much.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He makes a rule of not cursing, but right now feels like an appropriate time to break it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He claws at the charred remains of his robes. Contrary to popular belief, lava doesn’t melt initially, as Jon now knows. Instead of melting, he burst into flames for the few seconds it took to pull himself together, though they felt like an eternity. Red, throbbing burns litter his entire body, his hair singed but miraculously intact thanks to his hood, which is entirely ashes now. The pain consumes his thoughts, making his shielding start to flicker in and out.

And then, through the debilitating agony, a touch of something familiar.

Jon’s eyes fly open. “Fay,” he whispers.

Her light is dimmer than it should be, not flickering in and out mischievously like it usually does. But still, she makes an effort to reach out, to check on him. It sends a sob up his throat.

“Hold on, Fay, hold on.”

Clenching his fists, he opens himself up to the Force. His actions are ones of faith, not of desperation, and he lets it flow through him as he takes a deep breath. The idea of using one of his Master’s abilities would normally make him nauseous, but the disgust doesn’t even cross his mind this time as he prepares to teleport. He thinks of that open, flat space of rock that Obi-Wan and Fay ran to, their enemies close behind. Focusing fiercely on that distant image, he pulls on the Force and folds the two points—

Jon collapses on solid ground with a heaving gasp.

Every inch of his body protests the change, especially his knees, which burn when they make contact with the ground, but somehow he manages to ignore his own complaints.

Fay isn’t far, or she shouldn’t be, at least. The distance between them seems gaping when he tries to move.

Still, her light is fading fast. And he wants to be by her side.

So, Jon Antilles crawls on hands and knees, dragging his body across sharp stones and past bubbling streams of lava. He aches with each movement and cries out when it becomes too much, but he persists regardless. Something in him knows it may be the last thing he ever does.

Finally, he sees her.

She’s sprawled out, her chest hardly moving as her breathing becomes shallow. Her near-golden hair is filthy with ash and her eyes are dim. She’s hardly herself, Jon thinks, and feels his stomach sink.

Hundreds of years the great Master Fay has lived and breathed. Hundreds of years and he’s going to watch her die today.

“Jon,” she calls out weakly.

He pulls himself to her side, grabbing her hand with his own shaky ones. “I’m here, Master.”

They only met when he was a teenager, but he feels as if he’s known her all his life. They’ve travelled the Outer Rim together, following the Force, for decades now and he’s never regretted a second of it. In all but title, Fay is his Master. She was always better than Dark Woman, even when the bar was six feet under. The only record with both their names will be at the Temple, where the dead are listed, a handful of mission reports with other Jedi, and the stories the younglings share of the 4 legendary, nomadic Masters.

“Knol and Nico,” Fay breathes out, “they’re one with the Force.”

Jon grimaces. “Yes. And the Force is with us.”

She laughs, breathy and half-choked. It’s an old lesson, familiar and grounding. “And so too are they,” she adds.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?”

“Gone, with the cure.” She smiles just a little. “The Republic fights another day.”

Suddenly grim, he squeezes her hand. “But not us.”

A pause.

“But not us.”

The silence overwhelms them. The wind whistles in the distance, carrying with it nothing but smoke and ashes. Queyta isn’t the best place to die, Jon thinks absently. He would rather it have been someplace with flowers.

“I wish it could’ve been Jedha.”

He almost jumps at her voice, but her words jarr a surprised laugh from his sore lungs. “Jedha? I thought you hated cold planets.”

“Oh, yes, but not that one. Force, I should have taken you. The Force there is so...so strong, so pure, you can feel the kyber from the surface,” she explains, staring straight up at him. If anyone else were to gaze so intensely at his scars, he’d be uncomfortable, but she’s safe. She’s family. “And the Guardians of the Whills are so kind. I met a young one of theirs some decades ago. You two would’ve gotten along.”

Jon laughs a little. “You’re always looking to find me friends, Fay.”

Her smile turns sad and she lifts a hand to his face, letting it rest on his cheek. “You’re so young,” she whispers. “Too young to be so lonely, Jon.”

He shuts his eyes, lets himself be comforted by her touch. When he opens them again, she still has that gut-wrenching look on her face. He places his hand on top of hers, unsurprised at how cold they are despite the blistering heat.

“I’m not lonely,” he promises.

Jon doesn’t say that it’s because of her, Knol, and Nico, but Fay picks up the thought anyway. Her eyes fill with tears.

“I have watched so many I love die.” Fay’s voice wavers as she says it. He realises that it’s the first time he’s ever heard it do that. To be honest, he’d thought it was impossible. “Taken by age, by Darkness, by foolishness. Never have I met a soul as good as yours, Jon. And never a Jedi so worthy of love.”

“Fay…”

She shakes her head. “Your Master did not deserve you. The galaxy did not deserve you.”

Pulling her hand away from him, Jon squeezes it. “You did,” he says firmly, though his voice cracks.

“I hope so,” she admits with a rueful laugh. “I hope so.”

He smiles weakly. “I wish you’d found me first. But I thin-I think the Force knew when I needed you to save me. Because you did save me, Master. I could never thank you enough.”

She takes his word silently, holding his hand even tighter. “You never needed to.”

“Thank you,” he says now, even though it’s useless.

Fay’s grey eyes meet his pale ones and suddenly, she’s distressed. “You’re so young,” she repeats.

But Jon can see that she means something else this time.

“Not too young to do my duty.”

“Too young to die doing it.”

Jon thinks of Tan Yuster, one of four Padawans to die on Geonosis. The Jedi have experienced great loss these past months since the beginning of the war and so many so much younger than Jon have died in battle, the clones included. Of course, to Fay, they all may as well be children.

“I will go proudly into the Force,” he promises her. At your side.

Fay’s expression twists. “No.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think we have a say in it.”

“The Force let me live this long,” she says suddenly, as if it’s a realisation, “longer than I should have. Obi-Wan is gone, I’ve done what good I can, except...you’re here. Why are we here?”

“To say goodbye,” Jon offers.

She shakes her head, then tries to sit up, struggling until her would-be Padawan helps pull her up. “I’m done with goodbyes.”

“What are you—?”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his question. Fay presses their foreheads together and grabs his hands with a newfound energy that terrifies him. Chills go up his spine when her presence in the Force covers him like a blanket. Warmth climbs up his hands, then his arms, and with a glance down he finds that his skin is healing.

“Fay, no!” he cries, trying to shove her away.

She only tightens her grip. “Stay still, Jon.”

She sounds more like herself, certain and unwavering. Jon would be happy-crying if he weren’t horrified. He tries to drag himself out of her grip, but she’s impossibly strong. Her healing creeps up his entire body, soothing his burns, though scars remain behind.

“No, no, no—FAY! Fay, stop it!” His screams turn to sobs. “You’ll die, stop—!”

“I already am,” she says, just as certain in her abilities as her fate. “But you don’t have to.”

Trembling, his attempts are weaker now but still there. “Please, please,” he begs. “Not without you!”

Tears stream down her cheeks. She allows herself a moment of weakness; she opens her eyes and meets his tearful gaze, remembering the teenager she first met. He was so scared and so brave. And for a moment, she’d thought he must be a ghost. But no, he was just a boy. For the first time in a long time, she had let herself build a bridge between them, like Knol and Nico before him, even knowing she would have to watch him die one day.

Now, she thinks with fierce stubbornness, she won’t have to.

It feels like her life is leaving her for him, though she knows it’s just fading into the Force. It’s to it that she speaks, the cosmic energy she’s dedicated her long, long life to.

“If anyone is deserving of the time you’ve given me,” she gasps out, “it is Jon Antilles.”

She doesn’t see the horror in Jon’s face, but she can feel it in his quiet Force-presence, so subdued. He hides himself on purpose and it truly breaks her heart. His light is so strong. The galaxy is all the better for his existence.

“I don’t want this! Fay, I don’t—let me die, please—”

Fay only lifts her head and kisses his forehead, the sort of gentle gesture a mother might give her son. “One day,” she promises. It rings with truth, with the strength of the Force behind it. “But not today.”

Jon cries out and tries to rip himself away, but freezes when pure light washes over him. The warmth he’s always associated with Fay soaks into him, healing all his wounds in an instant and rejuvenating his fading energy. Stars burst before his eyes, like he’s seeing into the very universe beyond Queyta, beyond what he’s meant to see with his petty Human eyes. In another instant, it’s gone and Fay is slumping over.

She falls to the ground with a thump, a noise that jolts Jon back into focus.

“Master!” he sobs.

He pulls her up from the ground with the sickening realisation that she’s a complete deadweight. She’s limp in his arms, already paling. Desperate, Jon pushes her hair out of her face and finds...nothing. Her eyes are dull. With his fingers on her wrist, he can’t feel a pulse.

“Fay?”

The steady beat of her Force-presence is gone, a gaping hole in his universe. Their bond, one strong enough to resemble a training bond, is shattered, a physical pain that throbs in his skull.

Jon begins to hyperventilate, his sudden gasps for breath burning his now-perfect lungs.

“Come back,” he begs Fay’s corpse. “Fuck, please. Please, come back.”

He pulls her into his lap, clutching her robes like a child being left behind for the first time. It doesn’t hurt to move anymore and, thank the Force for it because his entire body shakes with the force of his cries.

Overwhelmed with grief he’s never experienced, Jon wails into Fay’s shoulder, rocking back and forth. The agonizing sound rings across the valley, a noise like torture.

It’s only now that he feels the frayed edges of his bonds with Knol and Nico.

He screams again, his vocal cords protesting it sharply.

The last time Jon was this alone, he was a child. And now, he’s right back where he was before he met his three closest companions. Except now, now, he knows what it means to love and to lose. It aches. It aches like nothing he’s ever felt.

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t—I need you. What do I do? What am I supposed to do?”

He never gets an answer.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

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letsmellowjello · 4 years

Text

The Notebook

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: just fluff and a tiny bit of language

Summary: Anakin doesn’t know that you draw him, but then he finds your notebook.

Notes: I absolutely hate how I wrote their little battle, it just seems so slow and not exciting. Just do me a favor and try and use your imagination a bit, okay? Just an fyi that nobody asked for, I honestly think I’m the funniest person ever and I think that the title that I chose is kinda funny (it really isn’t but still). Feedback is appreciated! The gif isn’t mine

Masterlist ~ Prompts/Requests

Some would call it stalkerish, others would call it infatuation, but you called it pure boredom and a good reference. Ever since you met Anakin Skywalker, you had been drawing him. Every spare moment was spent sketching away in your little notebook the lines of his face and the swoops of his hair. When you first started doing it you saw it as purely a way to kill time and hone your own art skills, but over time it became something of a habit and maybe, just maybe you were falling for him a little bit. Whenever you had a moment, you were always itching to take out your little notebook and pencil.

Of course Anakin never knew anything about it, you didn’t intend for him to. All he knew was that you liked to draw at times and that you had a notebook. You had to admit, it was a little creepy, but what else could you do when the pictures drew themselves? Anakin was absolutely gorgeous and a wonderful model even if he didn’t know it. You would never tell him any of these things, it would only boost his ego.

“That was absolutely horrible,” You groaned as you and Anakin left the Jedi Council Chamber. You had both just debriefed the council of what had happened during you mission which was a complete and utter mess to say the least. Nobody had died thank goodness, but so many things went wrong and it had just taken so much longer than necessary.

“I can second that,” Anakin agreed. “I have to go see Obi-Wan real quick, but do you want to go grab something to eat later?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the banquet hall. See you later.” You turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction of Anakin. You always loved your little post-mission dates. They weren’t actual dates of course, but it had become something of a ritual since you were padawans to go get something to eat and just talk and wind down after a mission.

You walked into the banquet hall and chose a seat next to one of the towering windows that overlooked the city of Coruscant. There were very few people in the hall as it was an odd time of the afternoon to be getting food, but you were both off for the rest of the day so you didn’t need to worry about missing a training session or meeting.

As you sat down you sighed tiredly, it felt like you hadn’t gotten the chance to relax in forever, which wasn’t too far from the truth. During the mission, the only time that you had been able to get any amount of relaxation or rest was in between jumps and even then there wasn’t nearly enough time to properly sleep or do a little sketching. All throughout the mission and the debriefing with the council, you had been itching to take out your notebook and start drawing. So now, when you were finally able to sit back, you took out your notebook and began to transfer your creativity to the old and crinkled paper.

As time went on, Anakin’s face began to appear soon followed by his hair, neck, shoulders, and body. You had a really good memory when it came to remembering what things or people looked like so you could draw them later. The boy in your drawing was in a powerful stance with his lightsaber raised above his head to protect against his opposition. It had been when you were on Jedha for just a little bit of reconnaissance. It was supposed to be really easy and just a quick in and out. But Anakin being Anakin and you being you, of course you had gotten into trouble and had drawn some unwanted attention which then caused you to be fending off blasters while trying to escape.

The pages of your notebook were filled with similar sketches; some of him smiling, being angry, sad, thoughtful, you had it all. Anakin was just a very expressive person which made for some very interesting drawings.

Your pencil scratched lightly at the paper to shade in the shadows of his face when you felt a presence approach from behind you.

“Boo!” Whoever it was put their hands on your shoulders to scare you. Even though you knew that someone was there, you still squeaked in surprise. You quickly closed your notebook and turned to see Anakin, but not before he got a glance at your drawing. “Hey, what were you drawing?”

“Anakin! Don’t scare me like that! How did things with Obi-Wan go?” You completely ignored his question and tried to distract him away from your notebook.

“Hey hey hey, don’t change the subject. What were you drawing? Can I see? You’re always doing stuff in that notebook and I never know what it is.” He reached for it but you pulled it away.

“No! It’s none of your business!” You protested, trying to keep it away from him.

“Let me see!” He leaned across the table and tried to pull your arm closer so he could grab the book but you resisted. It soon became an all out battle to try and get the notebook with Anakin basically on top of the table and you leaning very far back in your chair. The few people who were in the hall looked over at the two of you in disdain at the ruckus that you were making. He climbed over the table but you quickly got up and tried to hide the book in your robes but then he was there preventing you from doing such a thing. The two of you fought ruthlessly against each other to obtain the book until you managed to break free of his grip and dart away but he was quick to follow.

“Y/n get back here! I just want to see your drawing!” You were now jumping over tables and chairs to try and get away. Oh how Obi-Wan would not be pleased. The entire time he was on your heals but then he slowed and extended his arm using the Force to pull you back to him.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You protested as you tried to resist him, your feet slipping on the floor helplessly. Once he had pulled you to him, he wrapped his arms around you to try and stop you from struggling.

“Y/n just- argh stop moving! Just let me see!” Even though you were a powerful Jedi, his physical strength was too much. Realizing that there was nothing that you could do and that he would find out your secret sooner or later, you gave up and stopped squirming in his grasp. You let him take the book with a reluctant and frustrated huff.

“Anakin,” you said before he opened the book, “just know that it’s not as creepy as it looks. I promise, okay?”

“Um... okay?” He gave you a funny look and then directed his attention back to the notebook. He opened it up carefully and was absolutely dumbstruck at what he found. Almost all of the pages were filled with sketches of himself in all sorts of poses and expressions. Your face burned with embarrassment and all of the sudden the floor and your shuffling feet became the most interesting thing around. “Y/n... these are amazing...” he breathed.

You mumbled a “thank you” under your breath.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with every spare second?” He turned the notebook towards you. “You’ve been drawing me? You liiiiiiike meeee” his face scrunched up as he teased you.

“Oh shut up! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You like me! You like me! Why else would you only ever be drawing me then, huh?”

“Ugh fine! So what if I do? It’s just a couple of drawings! And besides, who would like a colossal ass such as yourself?”

“You would! Obviously.” He grinned at you as you turned away from him crossing your arms and huffed. “Oh come on y/n!” He took you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. “It’s not that big of a deal, and I don’t really blame you, I am quite amazing.” He wore a smug look on his face and subtly flexed his muscles. You rolled your eyes and began to move away but he pulled you right back, not letting go of your shoulders this time. You were now painfully aware of how close you were and the mere centimeters separating the two of you.

“I um, I have to-” You spluttered in any attempt to leave the situation. You didn’t want to meet his eyes because you knew that if you did you’d just fall for him even harder and this time you might not be able to control yourself.

“Y/n...” Anakin’s voice was soft now and had lost it’s smugness and pride. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be ashamed. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin up a little bit and you reluctantly met his gaze. What you saw in his face startled you. You didn’t see that arrogant and prideful boy you knew, there wasn’t even a hint of teasing humor or cockiness in his face. Instead there was something else. Understanding, maybe? Shyness? Care? Who was this boy and what did he do with Anakin?

“It’s not okay though, I’ve broken one of the most prominent rules of the Jedi Code! I’ve fallen for someone, and another Jedi at that!”

“That makes two of us.” His voice came out as almost a whisper. You barely heard it, but when you did it took you a moment to register the gravity of his statement.

“Wait wha-?” And then the centimeters between you disappeared and his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened by then you relaxed and fell into the kiss. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You had never experienced anything like it and weren’t sure you’d ever experience anything like it again. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and yours went to hold the back of his head, pulling him closer. But unfortunately, being human, you needed to breath. You separated reluctantly, but this time the space in between you buzzed with energy.

“So um...”

“Shhh no words. Just enjoy the moment.”

“But-” Anakin placed a finger on your lips to quiet you.

“Shhh...” You obliged and gently rested your forehead on his.

After a moment of comfortable silence, he broke the quiet. “Do you think anyone saw us? What do you think will happen if the Jedi Council finds out?”

“Oh fuck the Jedi Council, what are they going to do? Get rid of their two best and youngest Jedis?” Your own words surprised you. That position was usually reserved for Anakin.

“I’d like to do that again y/n.”

“Me too...” The space began to close again and your eyes fluttered shut until the door to the banquet hall opened. You and Anakin careened away from each other to the other sides of the room.

“Ok, please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Obi-Wan stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving but humorous look on his face.

“No nope, not at all Obi-Wan.” Anakin assured him and you nodded in agreement.

“Good, because you both know the repercussions that could follow. Anakin come with me, I need to have a little chat with my young padawan.”

“But I-” He protested.

“No buts! Let's go!” He took a fistful of Anakin’s robes and began dragging him out of the hall. On his way out Anakin gave you a helpless look that you could only laugh at.

Once they left you sank down into the nearest seat hugging the notebook to your chest, still riding out the high that you had gotten from the kiss. You felt like a lovesick little schoolgirl whose crush had just winked at her from across the playground. In all your years of life you never thought you would fall so fast and so hard for anyone, let alone Anakin Skywalker. Yet here you were. And as luck, or the Force, would have it, he felt the same about you. Obviously you couldn’t be together in the conventional way, but just knowing was enough for you.

You did not know what the future held, but what you did know was that Anakin was in it.

~~~

Taglist: @umpoedameron

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin-skywalker-imagines #mellow jello imagine #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 3 years

Text

Worth the Risk | Bodhi Rook x Reader (2/2)

Words: 1839

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this small continuation for [Run Away With Me]. I've been alternating between writing and drawing and I hope to one day tackle those big projects that I've been meaning to do for years. I like to think that my current skills won't do them justice, so I just have to keep on writing, keep on drawing, until I reach that level.

You couldn’t keep still as you neared the village where your parents had settled. They had set up a farm and built connections with their community. When you had asked for directions for their place, the people were hesitant in giving up such information until you told them who you were.

You regret not seeing them sooner. It had been years since you last saw them, but you always made sure that they were financially comfortable. Seeing them rush out of their home with gray streaks in their hair and the wrinkles on their face being more defined, you couldn’t help but cry into their shoulders as their bodies slammed into yours.

Your mother was making dinner with Desa’s help as you spoke to your father about your adventures and run-ins. Then it came to the part where not only were you smuggling goods, you were smuggling people. You didn’t know what to expect when telling them, but seeing the proud smile on your father’s face made you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, and guess who we ran into a few years back?” your mother said from the kitchen. “That sweet boy that you always used to hang out with back on Jedha. Bodhi. Nice boy, though… he did have an Imperial uniform on…”

“What did you expect? The Empire had taken over Jedha,” your father replied.

“Well,” you said, straightening up in your seat, “He defected. He’s with the Rebel Alliance now. In fact, he had helped destroy the Death Star.”

“Oh, really?” your mother said excitedly, looking over her shoulder at you.

You nodded. “I’ve worked on a mission with him and his crew before.”

“Look at our kid, all grown up and fighting tyranny!” Your father exclaimed. “So, did you get a rebel uniform or something?”

“No, I… I’m not officially part of the Rebellion, but they said I was welcomed to join.”

“Well, why not? This will be good for you. You’d be in good hands. No more doing dangerous dealings.”

“I just thought it’d put the both of you in danger,” you said, frowning. “All this time, ever since we left Jedha, you guys had to hide. If I’m part of the cause that fights against the Empire, I thought that they’d try to go after you two again.”

Your mother sighed, wiping her hands before slinging the hand towel over her shoulder. She leaned against the counter and gave you a smile. “Sweetie. We’re okay. This community was built by people who swore to protect and look after one another and they are certainly against the Empire. I know it doesn’t mean that we’re completely safe, but no one truly is until this whole war is over.”

You leaned back in your chair and absorbed your mother’s words. She was right, of course, and you trying to remain neutral had been proven futile the more you witnessed the aftermath of the Empire’s rotten touch. Being neutral in this war will do no good for anyone. You needed to take a stand and commit to it. But, there was one other thing that you never thought you were afraid of until you looked back on it.

“Mom, when dad would travel to dangerous places or work with dangerous people or cargo, did you ever… thought of the worst? Like, if something were to happen to him, were you scared? Did you ever consider… not dealing with all of that anymore?”

Your mother nodded, taking the seat next to your father. He reached over and tangled his calloused fingers with her worn out ones. “Of course I have. Many times. Even when you grew up and went with him. I thought… our child shouldn’t have to live this life. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to. But you two always came back. My two loves. Even before you were born, when your father’s business started honest, it was still risky. We didn’t have much to begin with and there were risks of thieves and pirates stealing his goods. I thought of ways where we didn’t have to hustle and bleed and sweat to get by, but our situation wouldn’t allow that. I figured as long as we were together, we can get through it no matter what.”

She offered you a reassuring smile, untangling her hand from your father who pouted. She rubbed a hand on his back and whispered something about his palm getting sweaty. You followed her to the kitchen where Desa was finishing up the soup.

“How do I know that I’m making the right decision?” you asked her, the image of you breaking through the clouds and preparing to land on the tarmac of the Rebel base made your heart race.

“Did you think you were making the right decision saving all of those families?”

You nodded. “Well, yes, but…-”

“I think,” she squeezed your shoulders and looked you directly in the eyes, “you already know.”

Desa had told you almost the exact same thing, but it felt different coming from your mother. Like she was telling you to let go of your fears and do what your heart is telling you, to do what’s right. It was like a heavy weight had lifted from your shoulders, the sudden light feathery feeling making you anxious and excited.

“Mom…”

“Go, honey! And make you come visit us when you can or at least contact us as much as possible.”

You hugged your parents farewell and looked around for Desa. You didn’t even notice when she had left the house. There was only one place she could have gone. Jogging back to the ship, you already saw Desa warming up the engines.

“My current information claims that the Rebellion resides on the same planet that we had arrived on before,” she said as you aboard the ship, not at all surprised that you were there. “But they will relocate soon.”

“We should head there as soon as possible, then.”

Bodhi slid out from under the U-Wing with a long winded sigh, tossing the rag aside, his eyes drifting up tohe clear night sky. It’s a nice night to fly out, but the Rebellion had been on alert for any remaining Imperial soldiers that could find them. He needed to be ready at all times. It wasn’t just casual flying that he was yearning for.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that his feelings towards you became more than friendly, but he did remember his heart aching when he ran to your house and found it gone. All that remained was furniture, everything else stripped bare of any personality, as if your family left in a rush. Not enough time to say goodbye, then, he had thought. Surely, you had your reasons.

There were many times where he imagined how your reunion would go. That he’d be at the markets in Jedha, buying a meal with the extra credits he won from Sabaac, when you’d appear within the crowd, pushing passed everyone to get to him. Or maybe on one of his runs for the Empire, you’d be one of the traders that had his order to pick up. He’d ask you to leave with him, and you’d take his hand and fly away from the Empire.

He never thought he’d be able to defect, to be fighting alongside the rebels that fought against the tyrannical Empire. He went on a completely separate path than where he imagined he’d go. Imagining that you’d change your mind, that you’d come back and stay for good seemed childish now. That jittery childish feeling that he thought he had set aside years ago when he realized that you weren’t going to come back to Jedha had returned when he saw you as the mercenary that would help him and his crew on their mission. It wasn’t as if you’d suddenly show up in front of him, hovering in the sky and readying to land…

The mechanic working on the ship next to him dropped her tools, letting it cling and clatter against the tarmac as she left her station towards the runway. The others seemed to follow suit, everyone dropping what they were doing to look up at the sky. Bodhi sat up slowly, looking around him before following their line of sight.

As soon as you were in range, you made contact with the Rebel communication tower and was fortunately allowed through. You knew that it was a little late in the night for any ship to be arriving, but you didn’t want to wait. Not anymore.

You landed at the nearest empty spot on the tarmac and powered the engines down. You were surprised to see so many people still awake, but you suppose that, from Desa’s reports, they had been restless for the past couple of weeks. Desa lowered the ramp and helped gather your things.

You stood at the top of the ramp, your back facing out, and exhaled slowly. Was Bodhi mad at you? What if he refused to see you because of your avoidant behavior? You wouldn’t blame him, but still.

“(Y/n),” Desa said softly. She laid a metal hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

There at the base of the ramp was Bodhi. Your Bodhi. You searched his face for any signs of anger or resentment or anything. His eyes were watery as he offered you a smile. He spread his arms wide and waited.

Your heart swelled as you took one step, two steps, three, until you were running down towards him into his open arms. He immediately embraced you, squeezing you tightly as if preventing you from slipping away from him again. You hugged him back, closing your eyes and soaking yourself in his presence.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi, I-” you whimpered.

“Sh, it’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing your back. It was only then you noticed that you were shaking, tears pouring out of your eyes before you could do anything about it.

“I was too scared and I… I just kept pushing you away because of it and-”

“You’re here now.”

“I’m never leaving your side again, I promise.”

“Well, good. I need my stargazing partner.”

This feeling in your chest, like a water dam threatening to burst, was something that you didn’t fully understand. It was the years of suppressing certain emotions, a defense mechanism to protect you from the dangers that the galaxy held. You knew that with each moment that you dropped your defenses, a crack forms on the emotional water dam. That visit to your parents’ farm made you realize that it was okay to just… let it fall and flow freely.

It was now you fully realized what Bodhi meant to you. He was an amalgamation of your lost childhood, a reminder of goodness remaining in this galaxy, a symbol of hope and wonder, and a love that was worth the risk of love itself, the good, the bad, and everything that it has to offer.

#bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook #rogue one #rogue one imagine #star wars imagine

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mosylufanfic · 5 years

Text

What’s Said Can’t Be Unsaid

Hello there, @captainandors, here is your May the 4th gift! You asked for “when the two characters who don’t realize they’re in love are in a fight and one of them shouts “BECAUSE IM IN LOVE WITH YOU” and they’re both like wait”

Also, I've never read Rebel Rising, so please excuse any differences between that and this.

I hope you like it!

What’s Said Can’t Be Unsaid

Jyn woke in darkness.

For a moment, she was eight years old again, crying and trembling in the dark, haunted by the hours-old visions of her mama falling and her papa taken away by the man in white . . .

No. No, that was years ago. It was far behind her. She had woken in the dark before. She was waiting for Saw to come back and retrieve her. It shouldn't be too much longer.

Although she'd been saying that to herself for the last several hours . . .

She put out a hand, patting around herself until her fingertips brushed the glass of her 'pad's screen. She pulled it toward herself and switched it on to check the time.

Eighteen hours, thirty-two minutes since Saw had left the message for her to wait here, in this hidey-hole.

The truth washed over her in a cold wave. He wasn't coming back.

He'd left her here, on Tamsye Prime, with a battered weapon and an elderly datapad and the clothes on her back, and he'd . . . he'd just left.

She was alone.

The datapad's screen went black again, and the dark closed in around her. "But," she said into it. "But I kept up.

Six Years Later

They staggered up the gangplank together, Cassian shouting out, "Bodhi, get us out of here!" He angled toward the bench and shifted so Jyn could sit down, not missing the way she winced as she settled into place.

He reached for the medkit in the locker above his head, and her face went from wincing to stony. "I've got it," she snapped at him, pulling the medkit out of his hands. "I'm fine." She turned away from him, tugging her shirt up and craning her neck to peer at her midsection.

Cassian gritted his teeth. She was always like this when she got hurt. Worse when he turned back for her or waited for her. It was massively frustrating, when all he wanted to do was make sure she was all right.

Which he would for any one of his team, of course he would.

It was just that it was . . . different with Jyn.

The U-wing lurched, and he sat down hard on the bench, grabbing the bar over his head so he wouldn't just fall into Jyn and hurt her more. He didn't know if that was possible, because he didn't know how badly she was hurt, because she wouldn't kriffing well tell him.

As their ride bumped and rattled its way out of atmo, he stared at the hunch of her shoulders and the set of her neck, trying to read in them the things he wanted to know.

She was a whole new language for him, with no translation bot.

With a jolt, they jumped to hyperspace, and he got up, making his way to the cockpit.

"What happened?" Bodhi asked him, hands busy over the control panels.

"She got hit," Cassian said. It played out in front of his eyes again, Jyn running alongside him, then her body jolting from the blaster bolt, collapsing, going down -

He'd been running so hard he was ten feet away before he could turn and go back for her.

"I could tell that much," Bodhi said. Cassian could tell he was trying to sound light and buoyant, but his voice was weighed down with unspoken worry. "How bad?"

"She won't let me look at it."

Bodhi peered over his shoulder. "I'm sure it's not that bad, if she wants to take care of it herself." A question trailed off the end of his sentence.

Cassian shook his head, trying to figure out a way to say That's not the point, without being an ass about it.

"We got everything?" he said instead.

"In and out.”

"Good." He turned and went back, plotting how to get Jyn to let him look at her injury.

Baze was kneeling down next to her, squinting at her side. "Bacta," he rumbled, and rooted around in the medkit on the floor next to him.

Cassian stood in the doorway, battling the stupidest feeling of hurt. She would let Baze look at it but not him?

It was fine, he told himself as she pulled her shirt down over the new bacta dressing. As long as someone looked at it, someone who wasn't her and wouldn't pretend it was less serious than it was. Baze was stoic but blunt. If he thought it only needed a bacta dressing, it was no more than a surface injury. No organs nicked or arteries cauterized.

Baze looked at Jyn narrowly. "Anything else?"

"No."

"You were limping," Cassian said.

She shot him a look. "I just bashed my knee when I went down."

"Which knee?" Baze asked.

"It's nothing."

"The right," Cassian said.

Baze tapped one large, square-tipped finger on her right knee, and she clamped her lips shut around a grunt that they all still heard.

"Doesn't sound like nothing," he said, and commenced prodding and poking.

He made her pull up her pants so he could see the knee. The skin was dark red, already deepening into what would surely be a lurid bruise, but still unbroken. He prodded some more, got her to extend her leg, walk a few steps.

"Ice," he said finally. "And compression." He wrapped her knee and handed her a cool pack.

Through all of it, Jyn steadfastly ignored Cassian's presence. But when Baze finally let her tug her pants down over the lump of the compression bandage, she finally looked up at him. "See? I'm fine."

"Good," he said.

"You didn't need to come back. I could have got up and made it back on my own."

He shrugged. "I did anyway."

"You didn't need to."

Exasperated, he turned around and strode into the galley where Chirrut was filling up the hot-water kettle for tea.

She came after him, limping a little. "You were almost safe. Why did you turn back?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"I told you, I could have managed!" She whipped around, wincing as she wobbled in place. "Baze, tell him, I would have been fine."

"No," Baze said. "I'm not getting in the middle of your squabble."

"Squabble," Jyn seethed.

Cassian snapped, "I didn't know that at the time."

She swiveled to glare at him again.

"For all I knew," he added, "you'd broken your knee and gotten shot in the spine."

"Then you should have left me."

"I'm not going to do that!"

"No, you never do, do you?"

He gritted his teeth. "Why is that a problem?"

"It's a problem because I don't need to you come back for me!"

Forget language. She was an entire new terrain, unmapped, with death traps lurking for the unwary. He kept his voice even. "All I'm doing is making sure the whole team gets back safe. Again, why is that a problem?"

"Because you're always looking after me," she shouted. "Not anyone else, just me!"

"That's not true."

"No? You don't think I've noticed that when we go out in the field, we're always partnered together so you can pick up my slack?"

"It's not about slack, it's - " He wanted to be with her. Somehow that didn't feel like the right thing to say. "We work well together. We make a good team." Yes, exactly. That was it. That was what he meant.

She snorted loudly. "And this way you can look after me."

Arrrrrrrrggghhhh.

She went on. "If you don't think I can keep up, than just tell me so."

"It's not that I don't think you can keep up - "

"Then why else would you be always swooping in to rescue me?"

Somehow it all came out of his mouth at once. "Because I'm in love you with, is why!"

She went white.

He suspected he did too, because he felt the sick feeling of utter disaster draining from his face all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

A very small voice murmured, "Oh, boy."

It wasn't Jyn's.

He felt his neck creak as he turned his head to see the entire rest of the team in the tiny galley. Chirrut, placidly drinking tea. Baze with his arms folded, leaning in the doorway. Bodhi looking from Cassian to Jyn and back again. Kay stationed next to the table.

Somehow, he hadn't even noticed the rest of them come in, which was unlike him. To say the least.

Kay said loudly into the silence, "As I understand these things, that is a common if illogical human impetus."

Uneven footsteps made him look back toward Jyn, just in time to see her limp out of the galley as fast as she could toward the berths along the back of the ship.

With a heartfelt groan, he turned on his heel, pushed past Baze, and strode in the other direction.

One door slammed. Then another.

Kay said, "That was unprecedented."

Chirrut held out his hand. Baze looked at it. "What?"

"Pay up," Chirrut said. "I won. The captain said it first."

Baze gave a small humph. "Didn't say it. Yelled it. And I don't think he meant to." He frowned even more than usual. "I don't think he even knew."

"Bodhi, will you tell my husband to stop weaseling out of his debts."

"I don't know," Bodhi said. "I'm with Baze. I don't think he knew he was going to say that. Doesn't it invalidate the bet?"

"The terms of the wager would seem to be predicated on their knowledge of their own feelings, and a reluctance to speak those feelings aloud to the other," Kay put in. "Although how you could feel something and not know you're feeling it - "

Chirrut waved a hand. "Whether he meant to or not, he did say it, and he said it first."

"Jyn didn't say it at all," Kay noted. "So it's inaccurate to say first."

"She didn't say it yet!" Chirrut said. "Anyway, now Baze owes me ten credits."

"Put it on my tab," Baze said, meandering toward the tea kettle.

Chirrut snorted. "Tab," he muttered, picking up his teacup. "Your tab would reach from here back to Jedha."

It was a long way back to base - fifty-two hours in hyperspace. Most of the way back, they avoided each other, with astonishing success considering the size of the U-wing.

Cassian spent the bulk of those hours mired in his own thoughts, hearing his own blurted confession over and and over again, seeing Jyn's frozen expression before she almost ran away from him.

Because I'm in love with you.

He didn't waste a lot of time trying to deny it to himself. While he didn't have much experience with love, he'd known the truth the moment he'd heard the words.

The real question was what he wanted to do about it.

Up until now, he had been satisfied with fleeting connections, brief and intense relationships in between missions, where both parties understood that it had a time limit and a low priority.

Being with Jyn would be intense. But it wouldn't be fleeting, or limited, or low priority. He should be worried about that, perhaps, but he wasn't.

Mostly, he worried about what Jyn might want to do.

Hopefully not leave the team.

The notion sent his stomach lurching with panic. She already thought he was - what? Coddling her?

As if he would ever dare.

He said, "Kay, will you tell me something?"

Kay, quietly charging a few feet away, turned his head. "I can tell you any number of things, Cassian. You will need to specify."

"About Jyn."

Kay paused. "I can tell you rather fewer things about Jyn Erso."

"Do I treat her as if I don't think she can keep up?"

"That is not a question about Jyn, that is a question about you."

He sighed. "Will you please answer it, anyway."

Kay's servos hummed softly, usually an indication that he was considering his answer carefully. A rare occurrence.

Finally, he said, "You are thorough and conscientious, regarding both the success of your missions and the safety of your team. You would not include anyone who you didn't think could keep up. Jyn has a number of skill sets and areas of knowledge that have been crucial to the success of all your missions since our team's recent expansion." He paused, and a peevish note entered his voice. "And she has many weapons, which she is most proficient at using."

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then why would she think that I don't trust in her abilities?"

"There is a 97.6% chance that Jyn has significant abandonment issues."

"What makes you say that?"

"The large number of files I have downloaded over the years regarding human psychology, with a particular focus on the experience of childhood trauma."

"No, I mean what made you say that right now?"

"The psychological research files tell me that humans can react to a deep and terrible fear by doing their utmost to make it come true." He sounded annoyed. "Organics are very puzzling."

So . . . Jyn feared being abandoned, left behind, and that was why she'd shouted at him that he should have done it?

Cassian rubbed his hand over his mouth and stared unseeingly at the surface of the table.

A few hours before they were due to exit hyperspace, he had retreated to the cockpit. Not retreated, he told himself. It sounded as if he was hiding. He was just .. . being discreet. Circumspect, possibly.

Anyway, it was a good place to write his mission report. Which had already been written, but could be gone over again, for the third or fourth time.

In regards to the whole issue of leaving her behind, he would speak to her on base. Part of the mission debrief. Making it clear that leaving her behind wasn't an option, no matter what happened. Stating unequivocally that she was useful and valued and necessary. That ought to take care of the matter.

In regards to . . . the other thing.

He'd decided to wait for her to broach the subject. He'd blurted it out, so the next move was properly hers. If she wanted to hear more about that, then she would come to him.

If she didn't . . .

Well, she didn't, that was all.

He sighed and scrolled through his report. Maybe he was hiding.

"Cassian," Bodhi said, and he jolted.

"Sorry, yes. What?"

For a moment, his friend could have been smiling, but then he said briskly, "I'm going to check something in the back. Will you be up here for awhile?"

Cassian waved his hand, turning back to his datapad and adding an unnecessary note. "Go on."

Bodhi nodded and climbed out of the seat. it was only after he was gone that it occurred to Cassian to wonder what he could possibly have to check in the back.

A few minutes later, footsteps alerted him to someone coming up into the cockpit, and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Bodhi returning. But it wasn't Bodhi.

Jyn gave him a little nod and settled into the pilot's seat.

He stared out at the mottled expanse of hyperspace. His neck felt hot and something buzzed in his ears. Say something, idiot. "How's your injury?"

"Fine," she said. "Still bandaged." She scratched her side. "It's at that itchy stage," she added.

"And your knee?" He sounded like he was checking off a list or something.

She flexed her leg. "Still stiff. But better." She propped her foot on the dash. "I'm supposed to keep it elevated," she added.

"Right," he said. "Yes."

They both stared at hyperspace for awhile.

He thought, I should probably talk to her now. It's as good a time as any. Words circled around his head, but for the first time in a long time, he couldn't pull them together into any kind of coherent statement.

She spoke first, her voice abrupt and a little too loud. "Chirrut talked to me."

He looked over at her. "Oh?"

"I mean, the way Chirrut talks."

"All nonsense until you realize he's just skewered you like a womp rat?"

"Mmmm." She rubbed her hands against her knees again. "Anyway, I - I don't really think you should leave me behind."

"Neither do I," he said, dry as dust.

Her mouth quirked for the briefest of moments, then she looked away again. "I, um," she said. "That bolt hit me, and I went down. I - " Her fingers worked on the material of her pants, crumpling them up, smoothing them. "I caught myself on my knee, so I was still sort of half-up, and I could see you. Ahead of me. I thought maybe you haven't seen."

"I did," he said.

"I know," she said. "You turned around and came back for me. It's just that moment, when all I could see was your back, running away from me."

"Did you think I was leaving you?"

"I - " She tapped her fingers on her good knee. "I had a bad moment. And even when you came back, it was still - " She pushed her fingers into her breastbone. "Just sort of sitting right here. I didn't know what to do with it, so I shouted at you and said stupid things. I'm sorry."

"And the - coddling?"

She shook her head, her mouth wry. "I know you're not. I know my value. I - " She huffed out a breath. "You are always looking after me, though. It feels like."

He shifted uneasily. "Do you - do you want to be paired with someone else on missions?"

"No," she said quickly. "You were right. We do work well together. And I - " She swallowed. "It's good you look out for me, actually. For all of us. Good for the team. I'm just not used to it. Not the way things always worked for me."

He studied her profile. "Did the Partisans leave people behind?"

A second passed.

She nodded.

Another second passed.

"We would help them get up, though, if they could get up," she said. "If they could keep up, even injured, then they kept up. If they couldn't, we left them, because they would slow all of us down and then we'd all get captured or killed. The cause was more important, we had to be efficient and ruthless and - " She looked at her fingers. "I didn't always, though."

She looked ashamed. Whether it was of going back for people, or not going back for people, he wasn't really sure.

"I've left people behind before," he said. "I had to."

"Yeah," she said. "I understand. Sometimes you have to."

He set the ‘pad aside and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I won't leave you behind," he said.

"If you ever have to - "

"I won't," he said again, firmly.

"Even if we'd both be killed?"

"No."

"Even if we'd both be captured?"

"No."

She stared at him a moment, some unfathomable emotion filling her eyes, before she looked away and started picking at her pants again. "I guess I knew that," she mumbled. "I just - don't always remember it."

The muffled confession made something strange happen in his chest. "I'll remind you sometimes," he said. "If you need me to."

She shrugged a little. "All right, yeah." She looked over at him with the smallest of smiles. He smiled tentatively back.

At least she hadn’t announced she was leaving.

Her gaze drifted past him, and her mouth tightened for a moment. She got up and went over to the door that separated the cockpit from the rest of the ship.

He thought she was about to walk away and thought, Let her go, don't push, when she smacked the button and the door swished closed.

From behind it came cries of indignation.

"Kriff off!" she yelled back.

"That is not possible, Jyn Erso," Kay said loudly.

She made a rude sound with her tongue and came back to plop herself in the pilot's chair, bracing her foot on the dash again. He was starting to think she just liked doing that.

"About the other thing you said,” she said, slouching into the back of the chair. “That you, um. That you're in love with me."

He cleared his throat. "Yes. That."

"Did you mean it?"

His stomach clenched with nerves, but he kept his voice level. "I don't say that kind of thing for no reason."

Her jaw worked briefly. "Is that why I'm here?"

"No," he said. "You're here because you belong here. With us. Your skills and your knowledge and your - " He smiled briefly. "Your weaponry. Rogue One needs that. The way that I - uh. That I feel about you is separate."

She took that in, her face unreadable. "What if I preferred never to talk about it again?”

He swallowed. "Then we wouldn't talk about it."

"Would I still belong here?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. It would hurt, to be this near her and not with her. But he had hurt before.

She took in a breath through her nose, then let it out. "Good," she said. "That's what I wanted to know."

He felt stiff and cold. Right. All right then. Now he knew. Now he could -

She got to her feet, reached out and pulled his chair around ninety degrees, and leaned over, bracing her hands on the armrests. He looked up into her eyes, and realized what she was doing a split second before her mouth covered his.

But he knew well how to adjust to split-second changes, and he tilted his chin up, kissing her back with elation bubbling under his skin. She leaned into him, her mouth moving on his, and he put his hands to her waist, trying not to put any pressure on the slight thickness of the bacta patch on her left side. That small encouragement was all she needed to twist her hips and slide into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around all the way around her, deepening the kiss, and she returned it, hands twisting in his shirt. She kissed as fiercely as she fought, storming his battlements, taking new territory with every movement of lips and hands.

He surrendered with barely a peep of resistance.

Some eons later, she lifted her head, her breath soft and fast against his lips. "That was good," she said.

It had been more than good, but he couldn't think of any other adjectives either. He traced the line of her spine and enjoyed the slight pleased squirm she gave. "Does this mean you love me, too?" he asked softly.

"I might," she said, sliding her fingers through the ends of his hair.

It made him smile. She might be a whole new language to him, but he was starting to learn the basic grammar. "Kiss me again and make sure," he suggested.

She did.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptainmay4 #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #captainandors #oh these two goobers #words are so HARD #star wars #crosspost

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sassysnowperson · 5 years

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Tagged by the wonderful @pidgeonkatie, many thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble!

Author Name:

SassySnowperson on Ao3! Consistency in branding :) Well, I do have the one fic that I published under the pseud of K-2SO, because the idea of actually having that for the author name of a wildlife documentary with the conceit of K-2SO narrating it made me really happy. It still makes me happy.

Fandoms You Write For:

I'd say like 95 percent of my stuff is Star Wars. Actually, you know what? Let's math this sucker.

I have 107 works, and nine of them are NOT tagged with some sort of Star Wars tag. So that's…

About 92 percent Star Wars. I was close! For those of you that are curious, the non-Star Wars properties I've written are: Sailor Moon, Good Omens, MCU, Marvel, Captain Marvel, Russian Doll, Mummy/Wonder Woman (one fic, a crossover), and Leverage.

Where You Post:

Ao3 forever and always, sometimes I do ficlets on tumblr.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

And my most popular chaptered story, with 245 kudos, is Stone and Sand - my Bodhi/Luke everyone lives!AU, where Bodhi takes Luke back to Jedha, and they build something there.

So, again, let's talk about popular. I went with kudos as the counter here, but this one may be more popular than my Captain Marvel fic in other ways - if I remember right, it's the first fic of mine that spawned fanart! I have SUCH good discussions in the comments! I picked up several readers who went back and read my other stuff!

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Oh man, this is HARD. I love them all for different reasons. But I think I'm going to go with Better. It's a fic that really took a serious look at mental health recovery, but also how funny and tenacious and engaging people with Bad Brains can be. It's about how to support a friend even if you're kinda terrible at it, and how to find joy in not being perfect, but being better.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

Oh, Better for sure. I was VERY stressed I'd get it "wrong". More recently, my Good Omens fic, Life's Little Pleasures, was a scary post for me, because I really wanted to write a fic centered around two different character's experiences of asexuality, but also bring home the point that some ace folks still really enjoy sex. With the amount of ace exclusionists in fandom spaces, and the fact that I was posting in a popular space, I sort of figured that I'd get some backlash.

Instead, I got so many REALLY lovely comments from sex-favorable ace folks that really felt seen, and from allo folks who felt it was true to the characters. The comments section on that fic is a joy to me, and I'm so grateful for everyone who reached out and told me that. :)

How Do You Pick Your Titles:

I'm...pretty finicky about titles.

Here's how my process goes:

Is there a standout line in the fic that can be turned into a title? ("Better" is a line pulled directly from the fic)

What are the major themes running through the fics, can I make a reference to one of those? ("Stone and Sand" picks up on the fact that I am writing about two desert boys, in a desert place)

If there are more than one theme, can I find a title that references both? ("Arrivals, Departures, Connections" both hits the theme of AIRLINE STUFF and the fact that the fic is all about the people who enter your life, those that leave it, and all the different ways we connect with each other)

Can I find a title in line with the "feeling" of the fic? ("The Glorious Ascension of Emperor Solo" hits you with the unexpected twist of Solo, and sets up the comedy of the fic)

And then if nothing obvious emerges after I look at those, I find my cheerleading buddy and ramble at their chat box until the fic title surfaces. Huge thanks to anyone who has ever patiently served that role.

Do You Outline:

At least in my head. If a story hits the point that I actually start WRITING it - I generally know the start, and most of the major beats I want to hit, and the end.

It's also what I do when I get stuck on a scene - outline it in more detail.

How Many of Your Stories are complete:

Posted stories, all but one! The one I'm currently posting, specifically. Now, COULD I write more stories? Yes, absolutely, but the bits posted are complete stories on their own.

I have a few more outlines and incomplete stories sitting on my drive. Whether or not I write those…? We will see.

In-Progress:

Arrivals, Departures, Connections, updating roughly weekly.

Coming Soon:

More ADC, but as far as new fic goes…

THE STAR WARS RARE PAIR EXCHANGE IS COMING SOON ( @swrarepairson tumblr). So last year I spent most of October and November in a writing fugue state, and produced like...eleven fics for the exchange? I'm expecting something similar this year - but we shall see!

Do You Accept Prompts:

Yes! But I'm very bad at filling all of them! So I've felt guilty about doing more prompt posts!

I'm thinking of declaring askbox amnesty, though, and reopening up some prompt-style activities. Time to let the guilt go, let new creativity sneak in.

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For:

I'm excited for the development of Arrivals, Departures, Connections - I've got like...at least 60k written, and only 11k posted. I've nervecited (that's when you're feeling both nervous, and excited) to see how people enjoy the plot development of this fic.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions:

@anamelesstraveler, @rain-sleet-snow, @cakesandfail, @brynnmclean, @bright-elen, I’d be delighted to know your answers to these, if you were so inclined as to do them.

#text #fic talk #long post #tag games #my fic

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dalekofchaos · 6 years

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Things I would’ve change about Rogue One and Solo

My other Star Wars changes

Prequel Trilogy

The Clone Wars and Rebels

Original Trilogy

Sequels

Rogue One

Jyn, Cassian and Bodhi lives. Okay a stretch. But there is a scene of Jyn and Cassian running on the beach with the physical plans in Jyn’s hands. So I would have Bodhi surviving and picking up Jyn and Cassian and escaping Scarif. The three would have time to grieve the loss of their friends but would move on to be able to deliver the plans So Rogue One would end with Jyn handing the plans to Leia.

Show Krennic being an effective villain. I find Krennic to be a good villain, but was not used enough. He was used as Tarkin and Vader’s whipping boy. So there was a deleted scene that shows after the success of firing the Death Star on Jedha, there was a stand-off between Krennic and Tarkin over who would get to run the Death Star, and it’s possible that this deleted scene may have featured Krennic pulling a blaster on Tarkin. It’s important to have scenes like this, showing Krennic is willing to kill his superiors to keep his place.

Keep in Saw Gerrera’s deleted scenes

Keep in Jyn’s character that was cut from the movie. Jyn’s character is kind of absent and it’s real shitty they cut out the “this is a rebellion isn’t it? I rebel” or literally everything they cut about Jyn

Solo

Han Solo picks his own name. Han is a rebel without a cause. He doesn’t care where he came from, so a random Imperial Officer should not be given Solo his last name. This is Han’s story, he should tell the officer that he’s Han Solo. Han not calling himself Solo was a really bad sign.

Make the movie about Han. It focused too much on other characters that don’t matter. Solo suffers from the fact that it really isn’t an origin movie about Han, but rather a movie about how he got his stuff. Which I think is in part because Lucasfilm planned to make Solo a trilogy till it completely and utterly failed at the box office and became the most financially disappointing Star Wars movie in all of the franchise’s history. It focused too much on Qi’Ra, Beckett and L3. The movie should have been about Han. from the streets, to Imperial and to Scoundrel. The movie should have been focused on Han and his relationships with Chewie and Lando. Showing Han leaving the Imperials for freeing Chewie and the two of them work together from that day. Putting a greater emphasis on Lando would have been a smart move since he’s returning in IX, and adding Jabba and Boba mention would have made sense since Lucasfilm had really wanted to do a Boba Fett movie and testing the wasters in Solo would had been better than adding that random cameo with Darth Maul, a character who literally couldn’t have anything less to do with Han or the OT. Why is Darth Maul in a movie about Han Solo? I really feel like they should not have brought Maul back in Solo. He had his return in The Clone Wars and he got his final death in Rebels. Bringing back Maul was dumb. The majority of casual audiences do not know Maul survived TPM, they just shoehorned Maul in for sequel bait and nostalgia. The problem is they focused on the future instead of focusing on their movie. When it comes to Solo, Maul shouldn’t even be there. Han does not believe in the force and believes a lightsaber is a ancient weapon from archaic times and all he needs is a good blaster. From Han himself “I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all powerful force controlling everything.” I really feel like no one on board understood Han Solo as a character and their inability to make a Han Solo movie about Han or any aspect of Han’s character is what ultimately failed the movie.

Give Han’s original Legends Backstory or something more similar. Gist is show Han’s Imperial superiors trying to execute Chewbacca and show Han saving Chewbacca, thus forging the life debt that day.

Take out that god-awful “I’m not saying that full name” line Cause Han calls him Chewie and not Chewbacca! Get it? It’s one syllable in the difference. Out of all the connections in the movie, that is the very worst.

Make it a mix between Ocean’s 11 and The Good The Bad And The Ugly. The original trilogy was influenced by Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai. Rogue One is a Dirty Dozen type war movie. Solo’s problem is it’s just a movie. An easy fix is to make it a heist film first and then make it a space western. Solo turned into a heist film about 45 minutes into the film. Until then you just had Ehrenreich bouncing around doing stuff. It wasn’t boring but we wasted so much time with him enlisting in the empire, joining Beckett’s gang, having Beckett’s gang die, owing Beckett a favour, meeting his long lost lover and then we finally have our plot. There’s definitely a better way to get the gang together than the convoluted way we got. 20 minutes in, we should know exactly what the stakes are for the rest of the movie.

More Lando. Basically focus more on Han and Lando's friendship and surprise everyone by basically pull a Jack Harkness and have Lando kiss Han and Qi'Ra simultaneously. Show us why Han and Lando have a strong friendship, show don't tell. Have Han and Lando being smugglers in arms. And finally Lando would not leave he would patch himself up and return to help Han against Qi'Ra and Sing

Beckett is killed instead of Val. Val was rather mistrustful and skeptical of Han, imagine if only Val, Han and Chewie made it out alive. Val would have no choice BUT to stick with Han and she would grow to trust him, Beckett was a boring character and we all saw his betrayal coming. You could’ve easily changed places with Beckett. But Val would not betray the gang. Val would’ve joined Enfys Nest, while Qi’Ra would’ve been the one to betray Han and co.

Make Han and Qi'Ra just platonic and childhood friends. I didn't like the romance and thought Han and Qi'Ra just worked as childhood friends. It really rubbed me the wrong way that Han's first instinct when seeing Qi'Ra again was wanting to make out with her...when Qi'Ra has been abused by Vos for years. It would be more tragic imo if being betrayed by Qi'Ra that she just wants to kill to the top and stay ahead of the food chain at the cost of old attachments, which this would help turn Han into the cold smuggler we know from ANH

Qi'Ra and Aurra Sing would be partners and lovers. One of the most deadly bounty hunters during the Clone Wars is fridged for Beckett’s reputation. She doesn’t even get a dignified death, not even on screen. Not even a duel. She is pushed to her death. So instead of that bullshit, Aurra would be Qi'Ra's right hand and lover and together they would kill Vos together.

L3-37 stays on the slave planet by choice. A minor one but after L3-37 liberates the droids, I think it’d work better if she stayed on the planet to live among her “people”. Her whole shtick was she didn’t like being a slave, there was no logical way she’d get back on the Falcon after freeing all the droid so they had to kill her off. A less cheap and more rewarding pay-off would be she tells Lando she’s staying. They hug, have a moment and she gets to finish her arc. Too many characters die in this film just so the plot can progress (Okay 3, but that’s 3 more than you have to kill). Sure this means you lose the connection in A New Hope where C3-PO mentions the Falcon’s odd dialect but I think we can manage without it. Also, now Han gets to do the Kessel run without any droid help. It shows he’s a great pilot and has what it takes. That’s kinda what we needed to see.

Make Dryden Vos more of a legit threatening villain. Paul Bettany used to play really fucking evil mob characters and that's what I was hoping Dryden was going to be playing, but he was barely there. Make him cruel, and a clear danger. Prior to the meeting, show him execute an underling for insubordination and have him say “sorry for the mess” imply his abusive relationship with Qi’Ra and show that Qi’Ra wants out, but not in the way Han might think. She wants to kill Vos and take power for herself! And make his death at the hands of Qi'Ra and Sing mean something

The climax would be Enfys vs Sing and Han's "shoot first" moment would be against Qi'Ra

Solo ends similar to how it ended with Han and Chewie flying off in the Falcon

Solo wasn’t really a bad movie, I think it is a fun movie with great potential. The problem is they focused more on the future and not in the now, a movie about Han Solo does not focus on Han Solo and it’s not necessary at all and the story is very forgettable, and it really is just a cash grab. There is nothing remarkable about the movie and the only two characters who stand out as 100% only enjoyable to me are Enfys Nest and Chewie. The rest of the characters just feel like unnecessary adds or barley passable imitations.

#Star Wars #My Changes #Star Wars Rogue One #Solo A Star Wars Story #Han Solo #Chewbacca #Lando Calrissian #L3 37 #Sana Starros #Boba Fett #Jabba The Hutt #Jyn Erso #Cassian Andor #Bodhi Rook #Director Orson Krennic #Saw Gerrera

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sarkastically · 6 years

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(More A Softer World prompt writing. This is messy and winds around a lot because it’s basically stream of consciousness. Not really any warnings needed except for my usual ones, which is Baze and self-doubt. Small hints of sexual situations. And fluffy angst. Also my current goal for myself is finishing things, which is why I’m unearthing a bunch of smaller, older things and completing them. Let’s ride this wave as long as it lasts.)

23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

There are innumerable paths to becoming a Guardian of the Whills. At least that is what the masters say. There are more ways to serve the Whills, to prove your worth than there are stars in the sky, than there are kyber crystals in the caverns under their feet. All is as the Force wills it, after all, so the ultimate test must come from the Force itself.

This is the kind of talk that confuses Baze, leaves him feeling at a loss for what to do next because he has always thrived on instruction, on the sure knowledge of having a set purpose, a plan. The idea that, ultimately, the end goal is somewhat up in the air, privy to his own interpretations, not laid out in perfect detail is disconcerting. It makes his stomach clench into tight knots and keeps him up long into the night, looking at the darkness spread across the ceiling thick as jam on bread trying to figure out what his next steps should be, what the Force is trying to tell him. As he has gotten older, the Force, which was once clear and easy to hear, has gotten hazier, further away, as though it is whispering, as though he has forgotten how to listen.

Again and again, his mind goes back to Chirrut. Again and again, his mind wanders off course, following the will of his heart instead of the will of the Force. Chirrut, after all, cannot be what the Force is trying to point him towards. That way is not quite blasphemy, not in the way that it is to the Jedi, but it is certainly not supposed to be his end task. The Force would not direct him to find his Guardian role in the heart of another. It goes against everything he knows about it. Everything he thinks he knows. The Force sometimes moves in mysterious ways, but this still feels like his own wants bleeding through more than anything else.

Somehow, though, they have gotten tangled up together, the Force and Chirrut, bound as if by silken ropes, by shards of kyber, they shimmer in the same way in his mind’s eyes, in his soul. It perplexes him and makes him doubt himself, doubts the path that he is on and whether he is worthy of it. There are other roads to walk in life, he knows, and perhaps he would be better at one of those. There are so many roads, but Baze has never considered any of them other than being a Guardian of the Whills.

No, this is not quite true. He has considered other things but only insofar as they would still benefit the Whills in other ways, in smaller ways perhaps but even small ways are important. A gardener, a baker, a sculptor, an archivist. All of these have flitted into and out of his mind before over the years because he loves them all. Being a Guardian did not mean that he could not be all of those things as well. Guardians serve in whatever way they can, he knows. But all of those roles, on their own, would mean not being a Guardian, which seems somehow lesser in his mind, even though he knows that it shouldn’t. The masters have always said that no one’s place in the Force is greater than anyone else’s, no matter what the Jedi say about prophecy.

“They need something to hold onto,” one of the masters told him when he was young and confused over the texts of their cousins. “They need to split things into pieces to understand it because at the heart of themselves they are conflicted. They have not yet come to see that everything is a whole. There is not light and darkness, separate and distinct, there is just the Force. Everywhere. Since they see it this way, they needed to contrive a story in which someone could bring it together. It’s a metaphor for their own disjointedness. They need someone to bring it together for them because they cannot just accept that it is. Like we know.”

And Baze, young and wide-eyed because how could the Jedi be wrong about something when they had lightsabers and powers and Force ability? How could it be that they were wrong? “Why can’t we just tell them, Master.”

“We have tried, Initiate Malbus, and they cannot hear us. They do not heed the Whills. It is their way. We are together in the Force, the way that we are together in the Force with all life, but we are still separate. Do you understand?” They had touched his hair, short cropped like all the younglings, and Baze had just stood there for a moment, thinking.

“Like the branches on a tree?” he asked. “Starting from the same place but not going to the same place?”

The fingers patted his cheek, and the master smiled. “Very much like a tree, young Baze. Think of the Force as a tree and everything in the universe part of that tree, branches and leaves and roots. Everything connected and of the same stuff but not always the same thing. For each leaf is different, isn’t it?”

Baze, who spent so much of his time in the gardens with the plants, in the trees, tending all the living things because he liked them, he liked to help, and he liked how quiet they were. They did not yell and scream into the Force the way that other beings did. No, the plants were quiet. They giggled and sang and whispered. Sometimes he couldn’t even hear them properly, they were just a quiet sound lapping against the edges of his mind, endlessly comforting. When the trees dropped their leaves, he had studied them, ran his fingers over the tracery of their veins, compared to his own where he could make out the rivers of his blood that traveled under his skin. All the veins were different even if the shape of the leaves were the same. Everything in the universe was special. Everything in the universe was sacred. “Yes, Master,” he said with a smile, thinking of the leaves and flower petals and everything unfolding around him.

“Good boy,” the master said, grinning, using another one of their many arms to settle a hand on his shoulder. “Baze, why are you here?”

“To be a Guardian. To serve the Whills. To serve the Force,” he answered, voice strong and clear and wholly innocent, repeating the same words that he had given the day he had knocked on the temple door, alone, sent by his family because there were simply too many mouths, and of all the children Baze was the one marked, Baze was the one who heard, who saw, who spoke of lights in the sky and voices in his mind, the one who would flicker out of existence when the calling was too much. They had told him he was special, but that had meant less to Baze than the fact that by going to the temple, he could help his family. Even if it meant he probably would not see them again.

They had told him that as well when they bundled him up in as many layers of his clothing as they could wind round him, tucking bits and pieces anywhere there was a chance, putting what little food they could into his pockets, kissing his face and his hair and his hands. There had been a lot of crying, and he could not recall their faces, but he did remember the warmth of their tears on his skin, bright like sunlight, but full of salt. He said he loved them. He asked them not to cry. They said they would not see him again. The sands were calling. Baze never found out what that meant. No one would tell him at the temple when he arrived. No one ever has, though Chirrut’s face changes in a way that scares him when he asks so he stopped ages ago, thinks instead of the sands of Jedha, of everything that is there, of the caves and the statues. Surely there are other cities. Surely there are other places to live. In one of those, his family exists, whole and happy and safe. So it is fine if he does not see them because he remembers the feel of lips on his palms, tears on his fingertips.

When the master smiled, it was sad, the sort of face they gave him from time to time, a sort of grown-up expression that Baze had not learned how to read yet but that was a bluish-gray in the Force glimmers that would dance through his head. “No, young one. Why are you in the archives instead of playing? Why are you reading during the free period? Would you not rather join your classmates?”

Baze had frowned, his face moving before he meant it to, but the master said nothing, just tilted their head slightly to the side, and waited. The other kids didn’t like him much, and Baze could not understand why, had never asked. They were not cruel, but they were separate. When he got near, they would part in waves around him, and none of them ever spoke to him first or sought him out. He never felt at peace with them. Plus they were loud. In every definition of the word he knew. The archives were better, the kitchens were better, the long spiraling hallways filled with ancient artwork, the corridors where he could wander and wander until he was lost and then follow his steps back to the initiate dorms were better, and the garden was best. Though the garden was currently full of the other children who did not get him, which was why he was there. “I like the archives.” It was not a lie; it was just not the entire truth. “It’s quiet here. I like the quiet.”

The master folded their many hands together and looked at him for a moment, so long that Baze grew uncomfortable and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited. “You don’t always have to listen so hard. I think it would be wise for you to remember that. However, if you like the archives, let me find a book for you.”

Instead of a book about the Whills or the Force or the history of Jedha, the master had located one full of poems and stories. Long, rambling things about trees and gods and children birthed from flowers and serpents who lived in the air. It had entranced Baze for hours, long past the point when he should have left the archives to attend his other classes, but the master must have covered for him because no one ever said anything to him, he never got in trouble for that long afternoon spent lying on his stomach reading as the words spun out like so many sparkling, glimmering roads, each one a truth in and of itself even when they did not coalesce. Baze took them all, tucked them into his head and his heart, never forgot them, would whisper them, delightedly, to Chirrut when he discovered that he was not afraid of him, did not scurry at the mere sight of him, was loud but in a different way, in a way that would soar through his body like a bird in flight instead of like the clamor of a bell in his brain.

He thinks about it, the ease of it, just being in the archives and reading the books there, letting the words take him away wherever they wanted to, as he stares at the ceiling, trying not to think about the paths and the roads to becoming a Guardian, the winding, circuitous routes of the Force. Sometimes trees grow wrong. Baze knows this because he has seen them, several in the temple garden. They grow right through something instead of around it, they fuse themselves with other saplings planted too close to them, forming a bond that can never be broken. Can be people be like trees in this? Can people also grow wrong?

Has he grown wrong? Is that why the voice of the Force, once so clear, has dulled. When it was once too loud such that he would get frightened and hide under the stairs even though it didn’t help, it didn’t help because the Force is everywhere and nowhere and inside everything, invisible but not so it didn’t matter where he went because there it would be, always, waiting. Only now he has to strain to hear it, thinks it pulls away from him, little by little, as though he has wronged it. Perhaps he has.

Baze does not quite love the Force like he used to, and he no longer fears it. But if he has grown wrong than how will he know that he is on the right path at all? If he has grown wrong, what if he ends up walking, alone, into the night, into the sands, into nothing, without a path, without a reason, never to come home?

And what is home? It is the Whills with its labyrinth corridors and crystal caverns and the endless amounts of knowledge? Or is it the bright unfurling in his chest when Chirrut’s fingers twine into his own? What if it is the latter and that means he has failed all the tests that the Force and the Whills have put before him?

In the dark, Baze covers his face with his hands as though he can stop his thoughts from meandering so far by physically holding them inside of his skull, and because there are tears on his face that he should wipe away even though the chances are slim that anyone will see. He is meant to be of sterner stuff, after all. He wants to be a Guardian, he wants to protect the temple and all the small, lovely things that are contained inside of it. The children and the flowers and the kyber and the lore. The bricks of the temple itself seem to be filled with more knowledge than he will ever be able to carry in his worried and ramshackle mind. He would die for it.

He would also die for Chirrut. He would do many more things for Chirrut. Baze cannot fathom anything he would not do for Chirrut, and that is another cold worry in the stack that he has been collecting, that gather on his chest like stones to sink him into chilling water, to steal his breath away.

“You carry indecision like a millstone round your neck,” one of the masters told him, once, when he was past childhood but not quite a man, his shoulders filling out, his height extending in leaps and bounds that left him clumsy, all his limbs betraying him. “You rely on others to choose for you, and that is a dangerous way to live, Initiate Malbus. You must be very careful who you rely on if you let someone else take your will.”

It’s not quite that, he thinks, even though he can scarcely put into words what it is instead. Perhaps it is simply that he does not trust himself. It is hard to see where he should be, where he should stand, who needs him. Baze always attempts to place himself where the need is greatest, where he can try and do the most good, but he gets confused, torn in many directions, like how his heart has wanted to be a baker, a painter, a gardener, a mender, a guardian. There are all these things that need doing, and he wants to do them all, stretch himself so wide that he can easily complete all of them, stretch so wide that he can cover the entire temple the way that the night sky covers the moon of Jedha when the sun goes away. Even though he knows this is not how it works, he can not stop thinking of night the way he saw it in that book from so long ago, a painting of a person in a black cloak studded with bright stars, arms spread wide to embrace the entire world. He likes that image. He would be that if he could.

Baze Malbus would be the night sky, dark and tranquil, swimming with stars, arms spread wide for the universe itself, holding everything because some things never get held at all and that is the biggest tragedy that he can imagine, even larger than this pressing weight of indecision on his chest.

By the time the door to his door opens, he has folded his hands on his chest again, but he is still crying, silently and sparsely, just rivulets of salt water down his cheek, which fingers almost as familiar as his own find and wipe away. “You’re so loud, I can hear you thinking in my room.” Chirrut’s voice is a not even a good facsimile of a whisper as though he has no concept of the fact that it is late and they are all supposed to be asleep, that night is for quiet and darkling thoughts that rustle in the corners like small creatures seeking sustenance.

Baze would die for him, and he wonders if he knows this fact even as Chirrut shoves at his arm until Baze has rolled onto his side, pressed his back against the wall in order to make enough room on the small bed for Chirrut to join him. Now the blackness that he stares into is located inside of Chirrut’s eyes, and it is so much more alive than anything else he has ever seen. “Did you come to quiet me?” He doesn’t realize how much it sounds like a leading question, a request for a kiss or more, until it is out of his mouth, and he can see the white of Chirrut’s smile gleaming in the black around them. The darkness is a reprieve because Chirrut will not be able to see the blush that rises on his face, trails down his neck, seems to fill him with a rushing warmth all the way to his toes, like sliding into the kyber pools.

“Not in. Not in that way,” Baze protests before Chirrut can say anything, and his voice stumbles out of him in fits and starts like he is wine drunk after a festival and struggling to rise.

“No?” Chirrut’s voice is part mocking and part disappointed and all distracting. If Baze did not love him so, it would be irritating and frustrating, but all it is now is as intoxicating as a warm palm pressed to the small of his back after a sparring match, a promise of further intimacy to follow. The hand that Chirrut places on his cheek to brush away the remaining tears is careful, cautious, comforting, and Baze leans into it as soundly as he would against a tree or a pillar, something solid that will not move under his weight, something he trusts.

“No,” Baze agrees, mollified, but suddenly not nearly as humiliated by the slip of the tongue because he wouldn’t mind it if things did go that way, would accept it willingly and completely. He just needed Chirrut to know that it wasn’t a come on, wasn’t some flirty, strange thing. Baze has never been good at those anyway. Charm is Chirrut’s hallmark, fashioned for him as surely as the starbird round his neck, the one that is always warmed from his skin when Baze presses his lips to it, to his chest, to every piece of flesh on him.

“Maybe later,” Chirrut’s voice never whispers as though he has never learned how to be quiet, but it softens to the point where it is like flower petals rubbed between fingers. “I came to find out what was wrong anyway. Not just kiss it better. Unless you want me to.”

The weight of all his worries remain like anchors tied to his feet. Baze is unsure whether he will ever be able to step out of them and walk freely, isn’t sure he would know what to do with himself if he ever managed it. He has braided his anxieties into his hair along with bits of lace and the locks Chirrut gave him when he chose to have his own head shorn. Baze’s family kept their secrets in their hair. He remembers this out of so little, and he has followed suit.

“Baze.” The word like a flower petal ready to tear if too much pressure is used.

Baze reaches out to touch him only to find that Chirrut catches his hand before it reaches him, presses kisses to each of his knuckles in turn and then his palm. Once, when they had first started dipping their toes into the water of their attraction to each other, Chirrut ran his lips and tongue across the line on Baze’s hand meant to represent life and then along the one supposed to be for love. He had nipped and sucked, Baze breathing heavily and aching and so enamored, wanting to do something but frozen, until Chirrut had looked up, eyelids heavy and guarded, lips full, and said, “Now I’m connected to both. Now I’m part of both. For you.” And Baze couldn’t make his tongue move to tell him that he didn’t think it worked that way, because he wanted it to be true, though he was able to make his tongue move enough to press it greedily into Chirrut’s mouth when they kissed.

“I will hear you,” Chirrut says, and his words are a winding path of their own. There are many paths in the Force, and most of them have been trodden by many feet in the past, generations of members of the Whills. Then there is Chirrut, blazing down his own path, making his own way.

And then there is Baze who does not know what to do and where to go and how best to serve. There is Baze who thinks of the future and only sees Guardian robes in a puddle at Chirrut’s feet, sees the light of kyber reflecting cool off his golden skin, sees his own hands splayed across that perfection, sees them hand in hand, sees one set of footsteps in the sand that he places his own feet into because he knows no other way than to follow where this man goes. If that is wrong, if that is him grown wrong, he is not sure he would want to be right.

Baze swallows. Baze speaks. “I do not know a path in the Force other than you.”

There is nothing sinister in Chirrut’s laugh, nothing ominous in his smile, which is the way it can look when facing an opponent. There is not even mirth but something much more pure, awestruck, nearly rapture. “I kissed myself there,” he says, still so soft, like sinking fingers into flour. “I kissed myself onto your lifeline. Now you cannot be rid of me.”

It is truth. This is truth. Maybe this is not how it works, but that does not mean it is not the truth even if it discomforts him somewhat. The truth and Baze are fast friends, he has always sought it like a plant following the course of the sun throughout the day. He has always embraced it and always will, especially when it is warm and solid and laughing against his skin.

Baze cannot be the night sky. He cannot spread his arms wide and embrace the whole of the universe. His arms will not spread wide enough to embrace even the whole of Jedha. But his arms are wide enough to fit Chirrut in the circle of them. They are strong enough to hold him even when he feigns attempts to break free that only roll them over until Chirrut is astride his lap and leaning down to pepper his face with kisses, hungry lips and tongue and heart. Chirrut has the hungriest heart that Baze has ever met, and he would be consumed entirely.

The night is dark, and the temple is quiet. There is no sound, no light. It is like hanging in the sky between the stars, but they are not alone when they are together. And Baze is fine having no path other than the one his tongue traces from the juncture of Chirrut’s hip further down.

#sara writes #spiritassassin #otp: i am one with the force #otp: i don't need luck #otp: i protected you #otp: if you were church i'd get on my knees #sara's drabbles

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vaingloriosa · 6 years

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Unsung Heroes

A Rogue One Reader Story | In collaboration with @can-t-figure-it-out

Words: 3,972

Summary: You are an inhabitant of the planet Jedha, who has lived the life of a thief. However, not by choice but rather for survival. Your means of living becomes harder when the Empire begins their unwanted occupation of a rather peaceful place of trade. Though you may think your life may be over, the Force has something else in mind.

Author’s note: Eek! It’s now here and I couldn’t be any prouder to deliver such a story. What an incredible experience to be collabing with Dori like, words cannot describe. Inspired by the song Infinite (Unsung Heroes) by Built by Titan feat. Joel Smallbone

Be sure to read the companion comic!

“Some planets are held together by power, some by blind faith. Faith does not care about the street children, nor does she feed them. So to save them, I became a thief.”

Jedha didn’t exactly scream “home” but that arid planet is all you have known. There had been times where you tried to fall asleep when you wonder about life outside the dusty planet. Traders would exchange stories about the various planets they went to, describing places you could only imagine in dreams. Running water, vast greenery farther than the eye could see, and planets that were so cold, some of your face would get covered by what the traders had described as “ice”. Some traders would even show your curious eyes holos taken from their travels. The blue shade didn’t do any of the extravagant stories justice but you held onto the images reflected on the holo like a string of hope.

Hope, you felt, that would never come but for the sake of the children (and yourself), you kept playing on that feeling.

Stealing was a strong word for what you did. You considered this to be survival, not only for you but for the others you had to take care of. You picked up your thievery skill many years ago once your parents said goodbye to you, explaining to you that they had to leave to fight “for the good of the galaxy”. Your parents had promised you that they would return back to Jedha once they knew the galaxy was safe for you. They knew leaving you was a difficult choice, given how young you were then, but they believed in you, knew that you could be resourceful and quick on your feet.

There was no bitterness towards your parents’ decision. Sure, it hurt like hell to see them leave, but you knew then that life isn’t alright. Their sacrifice was honorable, not cowardice. Everyday you look towards the sky and wonder when they will return but until then, you kept on surviving.

Day in and day out, you would go into the market to scope the place out. Many come out to display the fruits of their labor to any passing visitor or weary traveler that dared to land on Jedha. You kept the bag over your shoulder close to your thigh to avoid suspicion. You had learned a technique that you felt was nearly foolproof. As a customer walks up to the stall you’ve been eyeing, you wait until the customer and the seller begin to barter and that is when you make your move. You take a few fruits, stuff a food item that looks a lot like portion bread, and swipe a small toy for the youngest kid you had under your guidance. Before you leave, you look over your shoulder to make sure no one is following you and you disappear behind the shadows of empty corridors.

Through the twists and turns, you manage to find your way back home. You knock a secret rhythm and wait for someone to open the door. While you wait, you continue to check both ways before you enter.

“What did you manage to find?” the one who opens the door asks right as you enter.

“No ‘hello’? No, ‘how are you doing today’?” You dump the goods on the makeshift table towards the wall. Two other kids come flooding from the other room to rummage through your findings of the afternoon. Doja rolls her eyes, immediately grabbing a fruit before anyone could claim it. Luun, the youngest, pouts at her action, folding their arms and huffing their frustration. You shake your head, squatting down and presenting a tiny figurine you snagged earlier.

“Maybe this will cheer you up, bud?” You mess their dark hair a bit with your hand and smile as Luun yells on their way into the other room to play with their new toy. You take a seat next to Leo, the boy you consider to be the middle child of the bunch. You remove your dark jacket that had once belonged to your father and toss it carelessly aside next to you.

“They were here,” Doja says in a low voice, bowing her head to avoid eye contact. You straighten up a bit, knowing full well who “they” are.

The stormtroopers.

Ever since word got out about the temple full of kyber crystals, the Empire had to get their dirty hands on sacred belongings.Their ship casts a dark shadow over the town like a creature in the night, stalking its prey. There was no doubt that their presence has been intimidating to say the least. You knew the Guardians of the Whills were more than capable at handling the unwanted guests but you still feared for the worst. They have dedicated their lives into protecting the temple and its people yet they were incredibly outnumbered compared to the Empire. One man against ten stormtroopers? Perhaps the Force works in mysterious ways.

“We must put faith in the Forc-”

“If you say the ‘Force’ one more time, I swear I will slap you.” You can tell Doja is agitated by the breach of security by the stormtroopers. It is only natural for her to be acting the way she is.

“While we’re at it, guess we’ll blame the Maker for putting us in this predicament, hmm? Just four random orphans who managed to find each other. Maybe we’d be better off dead.”

“Where is this hostility coming from, Doja?” You stare at the young girl. She has both her fists on the table as if she is about to pick a fight. Without saying another word, Doja leaves the room in a quiet rage of her own. You turn to Leo who had witnessed the entire situation.

“Hey,” you grab the last fruit that was supposed to be reserved for you from the table and place it in his hand, “how about you go check up on the little one?”

Leo nods and clutches the fruit tightly. Another silent exit and you are alone with your thoughts.

They are all scared. Just imagining the sound of the stormtrooper armor clashing together as they march down the path sends a shiver down your spine. There isn’t much you can do to protect the children and yourself from the dreary future that looms ahead. The only thing for certain is that you must go back into the marketplace to bring home something for the evening before the market closes.

Because of the Imperial occupation, your thievery has gotten a lot trickier. Every time you went out there to do your “job”, you had to be extra cautious. Sometimes you had to come up with different disguises to fool some troopers away from your ways. You put your jacket on then grab a gray scarf from your satchel to put around your head. Before you open the door, you look over to the shared bedroom between the four of you. Doja lays still on the bed and stares off at the wall while Lunn and Leo play with what little toys they have in the corner.

With a sigh, you bite down on your lower lip and close the door behind you, making sure not to slam it. You pull the scarf over your mouth then continue on your journey to the trading market. As the liveliness of the market come closer within earshot, your ears perk up as you sense the sound of incoming stormtroopers. You back yourself up against a wall and hope that no one suspects you of wrongdoing. Once the white armor walks by without a bash of an eyelash, you continue on your mission.

Bread was an essential, maybe you can switch it up with getting some vegetables, and maybe even another fruit if your favorite vendor happened to be there. You conceal yourself through the mirage of passing bodies, floating like a Force ghost through one stall to another, almost as if the objects flew into your hand. You are good at this, you say to yourself. You walk further until you find the vendor you had in mind, Nameless. They spoke of ancient stories about the Jedi to anyone who would listen. Since their product was always good, people would have to reluctantly listen to what they have to say before paying up. You liked them for that because that made your job even easier. Before you can grab anything, you position yourself behind another wall around the corner of Nameless’ cart. Your eyes look both ways quickly then, at the right moment, you take one of the precious red fruits into your hand until you hear a frantic voice.

“You! Halt! Hands up where I can see them, thief!”

You’ve been caught.

The fruit drops from your trembling hands to the floor with a thud and you shake from fear. You close your eyes to accept your deadly fate. It was bound to happen one day and maybe this had been a sign that you cannot live forever. You remember the children you take care of, the last moments before you left. Doja, Leo and Lunn. Maybe it was better that you sacrifice your life before these scumbags could rip those children’s lives away from them. You let your body go loose as you prepare for the blaster blast.

But it never comes. One did, but it wasn’t meant for you.

Carefully, you open one of your eyes to see one man with a heavy blaster on him that you’ve never seen before. Another man appears behind him with a small smile on his face.

“I told you the Force will show me to them,” the man says in a soft voice, almost like he was trying to proof a point to his partner.

“Yeah, yeah, but remember who took that trooper down,” the other man with the longer hair tells him, adjusting the straps of the blaster. You continue to tremble as your mind tries to wrap around what just happened.

“W-w-who are you?” you manage to squeak out, slowly bringing your hands down to your sides.

“We are the Guardians of the Whills. I am Chirrut.”

The bearded man nods to you. “Baze.”

You nod at them and tell them your name.

“And the Force led us to you.” Chirrut approaches you carefully with Baze cautiously falling behind. You shake your head in disbelief.

“The Force? What do you mean?” You knew of the Force, how it surrounds every being on the galaxy. Only a few could truly be attune to it, but you never considered yourself Force sensitive.

“I sensed there would be danger around here. I was shown the way to you, my dear.” Chirrut looks up and smiles then plants his staff into the sand. Your eyes move between him then to the man next to him. Baze simply sighs and puts his weapon down to his side.

“He is no Jedi,” the bearded man states then huffs out what sounded like a laugh. Your breathing becomes less labored and dropping back to normal. You blink again at the two men standing before you.

“Thank you...for saving my life,” you manage to get out of your mouth. You are still shaken by the close encounter with death and would like to just get back to the children.

“Now if you will excuse me, I must go-”

The last word trails out of your breath as the noise of marching armor and firing blaster shots ring several feet down the corridor. Baze is the first to draw his weapon, sprinting down to check the situation out. Chirrut turns to you and places a hand on one of your shaking shoulders. You glance up and realize then that the man is blind.

“It is not safe to return where you wish to go, not yet. Stay close behind us until this is all over.” A whistle makes you two turn your heads towards the noise.

“I will not let anything happen to you.”

As the Force wields it, you manage to come out unscathed by the scuffle between the stormtroopers and what you assume are the good guys you’ve heard so much about. You hid behind a column that was still standing despite a pile of rubble laid before it. You took little sneak peeks of the events unfolding before you and felt as if none of this was real. The sound of your name draws you out of the emotional fog that had befallen on you. Gently, you watch where you step and come closer to the much larger group.

“A Jedi?” A man with a synthfur parka drops his blaster slowly when he recognizes the threat was over.

“There are no Jedi here,” Baze explains, turning over to Chirrut and tells the man that he only wishes he were. The scruffy man starts saying something about leaving Jedha to bring a man over to the Alliance to deliver much needed intel about the Empire. The man in question cowers a bit behind a woman with a gray scarf much like your own.

“And we must hurry before the Empire detonates their weapon on this planet in less than five minutes,” the woman speaks up, making your blood grow cold.

“Excuse me?” you muster out, feeling your heartbeat accelerate to an abnormal rate.

“Yes, Bodhi here still had his comm link and we all heard the announcement. It’s advisable you come with us.” The woman gestures to you, Chirrut, and Baze then turns towards the archway to guide you to the ship. You turn to shake your head at Baze and Chirrut.

“I can’t leave. I-I-I have to go back.” With the countdown clocking down, you take off running towards the place you call home. You hear the sound of your name again, echoing between your ears, but you don’t stop running. You had to reach the children. Even if you couldn’t make it to their ship, you would at least get to see them one last time before Jedha’s untimely demise.

You frantically knock on the door, hoping someone would open up in the next millisecond. When no one comes, you pound harder on the door and scream out.

“Doja! Leo! Lunn! Open up! We must go now!” you bark out your orders with tears of both frustration and fear forming at the corners of your eyes. Finally, the door flings open and Doja appears with stunned eyes.

“What? Why?” You move past her and straight into the bedroom where the brothers were quietly playing.

“I-I don’t have time to explain everything-”

“Are we in trouble? Is it the troopers?”

“No, no, not the troopers. Something bigger,” you calmly say as you scratch your head in a panic. What could you do? The thought of chasing after this ship with those people you barely met left your mind as soon as you ran here. The only viable solution was to hunker down with the children for one last time.

Until you heard panicked knocks on the door followed by your name.

“We must hurry! The ship has arrived!” You watch Baze’s head pop in quickly then out into the street. With wide eyes, you tell the children to follow you and to stay close behind you. Right as you exit the humble abode, your hair begins to blow in your face. Looking up, you find the giant U-shaped ship hovering over and trying to find a good place to land.

One by one, you each aboard the ship, taking Leo and Lunn then Doja first then finally you hopping on. The ground beneath you starts to shake and your curious self turns back to find the dark cloud of sand in the far distance. Adrenaline kicks in as you jump in then stumble on the ground, watching the door close quickly behind you. You prop yourself up and someone grabs your arm to support you. From your peripheral vision, you can tell it’s the man they call Bodhi that’s by your side. You can’t peel your eyes away from the viewport to witness the death of your home planet, the place you’ve known all your life gone in a mere minutes. Before you know it, you are jumping into hyperspace with a flash of blue and white passing into view.

“The Empire is heartless,” Doja speaks up to drown out the silence in the ship. She sits with Leo and Lunn on each side, both visibly trembling from the action that just happened.

“Who are you? Why did you save us from that destruction?” Your eyes glaze over the woman, Bodhi, then towards the cockpit where you spot a fairly large droid and his master.

“We are with the Rebel Alliance,” the man responds from his seat, punching on a few buttons before turning around to get up, “It’s what we do.”

You manage to get up with the gentle help of Bodhi. “I don’t know any better words other than ‘thank you’. Dramatic or not but I feel like I owe you a life debt.”

He waves his hand in front of him.

“No, what we did was nothing. It was the right thing to do. I’m Cassian.” Cassian points over to where the woman sits. “That’s Jyn and the man right next to you is Bodhi. K-2SO is my droid.”

“If you don’t mind me asking but what were you doing on Jedha?” You cross your arms across your chest and inch more towards the center of the small group. Cassian places his hands behind his back and stands a little straighter.

“Well, Bodhi had defected from the Empire in order to relay a message to Jyn from her father who happens to work for said Empire. As the Force has it, we found Bodhi just in time. What happens next is up to the council.” Cassian looked like he wanted to say more but was interrupted by the droid in the seat adjacent to his.

“We are here, Captain,” K-2SO announces to everyone. You walk over to the larger viewport to observe your new surroundings. The abundance of greenery is the first thing that piques your brain. Never have you thought you would see something so beautiful as this. For all your twenty plus years on an arid wasteland of a planet called Jedha, you never thought it be possible to experience anything else. Commotion happens all over you but you couldn’t care less what is going on. You feel the presence of the other children right next to you as you all marvel at such a sight. The droid remains silent as they try to land the ship in the right spot.

You are one of the last people to unload but you don’t mind. Your head is trying to wrap around what a massive temple the Rebel Alliance has as their headquarters. You watch several members walk, sprint, and interact with one another in the shared space. You become lost in your thoughts that you don’t feel the hand on your shoulder.

“Cassian says he has someone he wants you to talk to,” Doja tells you.

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything?” you try to explain any type of reasoning behind this. Doja simply shrugs at your questions since she knows as much as you do. You kneel to reach the height of Leo and Lunn.

“Hey, stay with her, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You flash a small smile at them to calm their nerves.

“That’s not a lot of things,” Leo giggles at his own little comeback and you can’t help but make your smile wider. Lunn wraps his tiny arms around your neck and you sink into his hug.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” you reassure everyone. When you leave, you spot Cassian but he is not alone. Rather, he’s accompanied by Chirrut with a tiny smile beaming on his lips. A curious pairing but you don’t question it. Your senses begin to heighten as you approach them; your boots appearing to bellow with every step that you take and your mouth feeling like coarse sand.

“Hi, you wanted to see me?” you ask, almost unsure what the reply might be. Cassian turns to Chirrut to help answer your query. Your eyebrow perks up at the anticipation.

Chirrut strikes his staff on the ground slightly to steady himself. “The Force has brought you here for a reason. Jedha was only temporary but now, you are home.”

You squint at his words for a second before he moves to the side to reveal the longing you have sought out for so long. Before you are your parents, the ones who left you to be the unsung heroes for the battle for good. Your eyes begin to well up with the tears of sheer happiness. You can’t seem to get the words out from your mouth but your parents bring you in tight for a group hug. Your hands wrap around their necks, a feeling you never thought you would feel again. They were real, all this is not a dream but your reality. A sweet reality.

Your mother pulls away first to touch your cheek with her thumb. “When we heard the mission report from Cassian about the survivors he had, when he stopped at your name, I just knew it was you, baby. It had to be you.”

Your father squeezes your shoulder firmly and pats it slightly. “By the Maker, you are back to us now. Safe, and out of harms way.”

You lick away at your chapped lips and try to compose yourself. You realize that Cassian and Chirrut had long gone to give you three privacy. Ten years is quite a long time to be away from your parents. Ten years worth of words, all seeming to leave your mind.

“You’re alive,” you manage to squeak out. Now even as an adult, you can’t help but become a small child around your parents. They nod as your mother pulls you in for another hug.

“Yes, yes we are. Alive and well. And I’m sorry, for leaving you on Jedha.” You can tell that your mother’s words tremble as she begins to apologize. You shake your head then take her hands into yours.

“Don’t apologize, not ever. What you did, you were doing the right thing for not only me, but for the entire galaxy. You,” you grab your father’s hand, “you were keeping me safe. Your sacrifice...I knew that took a lot out of you to make that decision. Now you’re heroes in the Rebel Alliance. Like, that’s cool as hell.”

You three laugh at your remark. You purse your lips together and glance between your parents.

“We aren’t the only heroes, you know,” your father adds, nodding over to something behind you. You peak over your shoulder to find the children with Baze as they talk among each other. You quietly smile at where your father is going with this.

“You protected them when society couldn’t. You provided for them, housed them, protected them. If anything, we are the ones we admire you the most.” You clutch on both of their hands and give it a small shake. You never once were complimented like this before.

“I did it because it was the right thing to do,” you tell them, feeling the tears rush back into your eyes all over again. You are pulled into another embrace by your parents and you allow yourself to sink in and allow your tears to flow freely. For this is Yavin 4, and your life has just begun.

They’re alive.

You’re alive.

Everyone's alive.

#angel writes #cassian andor x reader #chirrut imwe x reader #baze malbus x reader #cassian andor #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #rogue one #jyn erso #bodhi rook #star wars #rogue one imagine #star wars imagine #cassian #chirrut #baze #jyn #bodhi #unsung heroes

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notbecauseofvictories · 7 years

Note

Hey so for your prompt thing if you're still doing those have you any thoughts about what might of happened if Jyn had been found by those storm troopers and been captured with Galen?

The expression on Saw Gerrera’s face is hard to read.

It’s hard to read, and that, more than anything—more than his band of scruffy Partisans, bristling with weapons and grinning like mnira wolves—sets Jyn teeth on edge. She doesn’t like being stared at.

“Is there a dress code I should have been aware of?” she asks narrowing her eyes at Gerrera.

Jedha has turned her Imperial greys to a sunbleached, dusty ash, but it wasn’t as though she’d had time to pack. Papa had woken her in the middle of the night, she’d barely had time to shove on her boots before he was dragging her down the corridor to the docking bay. (It was the only time Bodhi had smiled, the entire nerve-wracking trip from Eadu to Jedha. Your shirt is inside out, he’d said with a tentative smile, and Jyn had laughed herself breathless for the sheer, pressure-relief of it.)

The silence stretches on too long. “Well?” Jyn demands. “At least you could tell me where you took my pilot—”

“You look so much like your mother,” Saw Gerrera says, and it lands like a concussive missile.

The silence after that is worse, somehow.

Jyn exhales. “Oh,” she finally says.

She folds her hands together behind her back to keep them from shaking, even though she knows it makes her look like a cadet at parade rest. Krennic told her that once—she’d dropped out of the training program entirely just to spite him for it. (He dragged her back a week later, after he found her holed up in the base’s dense labyrinth of undertunnels, but Jyn had won that round.)

Gerrera is still looking at her. “I—yes, I know,” she adds hurriedly. “My father’s said. I have her eyes.”

Gerrera has a clear crystal on a length of cord around his neck, and he’s turning it over and over in his hand now. There’s something oddly familiar about the gesture, though Jyn can’t quite place what.

“Lyra was a brave and devoted woman,” Gerrera says. “She served our cause loyally, even—before there was a cause. We were…she was my friend.”

“I have a transmission from my father,” Jyn blurts out, before she does something embarrassing like cry, or demand he turn over the strange crystal to her, or storm through the compound looking for Bodhi. Anything to distract her from the way fearsome Partisan leader Saw Gerrera said ‘friend’ like it carries terrabytes of encoded data.

“Your pilot mentioned that,” Saw says, and there’s a cruel amusement in his expression now. Terror and anger flood through her, and she lunges forward.

“If you’ve hurt him—”

“He’s well enough,” Saw says, warding her off with a hand. “Maybe a little spooked, but the boy’s got nerves like manka cat. I get the sense he’d startle at loud noises.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Jyn says fiercely, even if there’s more than a little guilty agreement curling in her gut. Galen helped Bodhi wean himself off the stimulants the Empire poured into TIE fighter pilots like water, but his hands will always shake, and even behind the console of a freighter he’s skittery, anxious.

But when Galen had asked him to defect, to take his only daughter to Jedha and meet with the dangerous Partisan insurgents, so that they could deliver a crushing blow to the Empire, Bodhi hadn’t hesitated. He’d reached for Jyn with his shaking hands, and clutched her forearm in a grip like durasteel.

I’ll take her, Bodhi had said, and Jyn had been sure of him as the stars over Eadu.

Something thoughtful has taken over Gerrera’s face. He’s watching her—or studying her, maybe. It’s like being put under a scope, only now Jyn feels shy, wrong-footed. She wonder if he’s seeing Lyra standing where she is now.

“Someone go bring Miss Erso’s pilot out,” Gerrera says, and one of the Partisans breaks away from the mob, disappearing into the depths of the complex. Jyn exhales.

“Now,” Gerrera says. “I think you ought to show me Galen’s message.”

Jyn pops the first few buttons on her uniform, and is a little annoyed when Saw doesn’t react, merely raises his eyebrows like Papa did, whenever she was being particularly obnoxious. She feels herself flush, and after she fishes the transmit-chip from its carefully-hidden pocket, thrusts it at him.

“There,” she says.

He takes it from her gingerly. The chip looks so small, impossibly fragile in his enormous hand. “Have you watched it?” Gerrera asks, and there is gentleness in his voice.

Jyn nods.

(Jyn, my Stardust, never doubt how much I have loved you, how sorry I am—)

Gerrera passes the chip to another of his Partisans, a xeno in heavy armor and striking purple eyes. Jyn tries not to stare, but she’s never seen so many xenos in her life. She has vague memories of her childhood on Coruscant, one of her little friends having a Twi’lek tutor, another claiming that his father traded with Toydarians, but it was all secondhand stories.

It’s different, standing in a crowd of species she could never hope to identify.

They pull out an older holo-imager, and the xeno Partisan slips the transmit chip into the drive. Jyn sucks in a sharp breath as her Papa’s image flickers into view, and she braces herself—

Jyn’s almost grateful when Bodhi is frogmarched into the cavern, the sight of him enough to distract her from the holo. The Partisan guard isn’t gentle, and Jyn darts forward to catch him before he falls to his knees. “Hey,” Bodhi mumbles against her shoulder. “Did we do good?”

Jyn holds onto him tighter, until she feels his hand come up and cradle her elbow. And they stay like that, the cavern silent as a tomb except for distant water and the voice of Galen Erso, saying, Saw, if you are watching this—

The Partisans set out bedrolls for them that night. Bodhi collapses into his with the gratefulness of the half-dead-on-his-feet; Jyn’s response is to scowl and pointedly drag her bedroll from the other side of the room to stretch out beside Bodhi’s. One of the Partisans looks like he’s about to object, but Jyn glares and he backs off.

“Your girlfriend is a territorial creature, pilot,” Saw Gerrera says, and Bodhi’s eyes go wide as he stammers protests. At the same time Jyn snaps, “I’m not.” She can feel her face burning.

Gerrera just chuckles to himself before moving away to speak to one of the Partisans.

“What do you think happens next?” Bodhi whispers. They’re both curled up on the bedrolls with their knees almost-touching, and when Bodhi reaches for her hand in the semi-dark, Jyn interlaces their fingers together. An anchor.

“We can never go back,” Bodhi murmurs. “We’re traitors to the Empire, we can never…”

Jyn swallows. “I know.”

It takes Bodhi a long while to go to sleep, and Jyn waits until his breathing has even out and his eyes are flickering behind his eyelids before she dares slip her hand from his. She’s stiff and cold from lying still, so standing is a trick—but eventually she chases away the pins and needles and manages to take a few stumbling steps.

Saw Gerrera is standing at the mouth of the cave, staring out across the desert to Jedha City. The holy city lit up like a cruel parody of the Coruscanti skyline, hard blue light and the whir of machines. Above the city crouches an enormous Destroyer, like a brooding bird.

“Mining equipment,” Gerrera says suddenly, and Jyn startles a little. But Gerrera is just smiling faintly “That’s the sound you’re hearing. Jedha is rich in kyber, the Empire wants it to make weapons. They recently expanded production to a full local cycle.”

Jyn sucks in a breath through her teeth. “But—Jedha has a thirty-two hour cycle!”

“Yes.”

“That’s inhumane.”

“That’s the Empire,” Gerrera says, and there’s a deep enduing well of bitterness in his voice. Jyn wonders how many times he’s had this conversation.

Jyn turns back to watch the city. She’s heard stories of Jedha—mostly secondhand, from troopers stationed there, or Papa’s stories of her mother, who stayed in the temple on Jedha for the last months of her pregnancy, as protection against miscarriage. Jyn only knows what the official records have told her, and even those read more like fairytales than historical accounts—the Guardians of the Whills, and Jedi, kyber crystals and the Living Force.

“My mother worshiped the Force, didn’t she?” Jyn asks suddenly, then feels herself go hot. That hadn’t been her question.

But Saw only chuckles.“Your mother….was almost a Jedi. So yes, she believed in the Force.” Saw reached into his breastplate and pulled out the clear crystal Jyn had seen him playing with before. “Do you remember this?”

Jyn is silent, but she can’t take her eyes from it. (Trust the Force—)

“Your mother gave it to you, as the Guardians of the Whills gave it to her. I found it…”

“My hiding spot,” Jyn breathed. She remembered: the troopers dragging her up, out of the dark, even as she kicked and screamed and clawed at the walls. The cord of the crystal had caught on something, a root or a rock, and then snapped. The crystal had fallen back into the darkness.

“I was supposed to find you there, keep you safe,” Saw says. His eyes are wet, Jyn can see the light of Jedha City reflected in them. “But you were gone.”

“I didn’t close the hatch properly. The troopers found me first.”

“Yes.”

They lapse into uneasy silence again. Jyn watches a bright belch of flame rise up over the city walls, and then subside. She wonders what in the nine hells they’re doing, what kind of mining equipment would create a explosions like that. Her training had been in comms; Papa always had to help her with her geo courses, and every time he’d sighed that this was Lyra’s area of expertise, he was just a lowly engineer—

Jyn shakes her head, trying to clear the stickiness of memories from it. Bodhi was right—Bodhi’s always right—they can’t go back. She’s not a comms officer any more, and she’ll likely never see her father again. That’s simply how it is.

“What are you planning to do next?” Jyn asks. “About the transmit, I mean.”

Saw seems to come, shuddering, back to himself. He looks blank for a moment, then nods. “Ah, yes. Though I hate to lose anything to Senator Mothma, I believe yours is a job for the Alliance. I and mine are needed here, for the time being.”

Jyn exhaled. “You’re sending it to the Alliance?”

“No,” Saw Gerrera says. “I am sending you and your pilot to the Alliance. With the chip.”

Jyn thinks of the journey from Eadu to Jedha, the tense silence between her and Bodhi, how carefully they’d avoided major hyperlanes, relying on short planet-hops and unconventional runs to stay off the Empire’s radar. “Is that safe?” she asks.

“Oh, child,” Saw Gerrera says, and there’s something about his tone that makes Jyn wonder what it would have been like, to be raised by him, and not her father. How different would she be, as a child of Partisans and rebel violence?

Saw is still gazing at her levelly. “Child,” he echoes, and somehow his voice is even softer. “I am sorry to say safety is not a luxury you can afford any longer.”

Jyn turns away, setting her jaw. “Fine. Then—fine.”

She can feel Saw considering her again, with that searching, thoughtful look. She’s tired, too tired to rankle, and so she lets him. The sound of mining is less a sound now, more a vibration she can feel up through her feet.

“Why are you doing this, Miss Erso? Do you long for the Republic and balance to the Force as your mother did? Or is it your father’s guilty conscience you’ve inherited?”

“My father asked me to.”

“Is that all? Sentients do not decide to turn their backs on the Empire because they are asked.”

Jyn looks away.

(When Jyn wakes up the next morning, there is a datapad beside her bedroll. She only has enough time to power it up and memorize the string of galactic coordinates that appear on the screen—then it flashes brightly, and the drive is wiped.

The kyber crystal is sitting beside it, a small shining thing in the dust of the cave. Jyn can’t tell if it’s an apology or a blessing, and there’s no one to ask—the Partisans and Saw Gerrera are gone.)

#freakinamask #asked and answered #the warry stars #star wars #rogue one spoilers #this is a thing I made

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rainbowstarbird · 7 years

Note

54 things you always meant to say... for baze and chirrut pls! ❤️

(OMG I’m so embarrassed, Tumblr hid this from me! It’s not cool to eat my asks, hellsite, especially when I’m so excited to get a prompt because I never get prompts! So anyway, after approximately a decade, here’s a little fic for you. Also, it’s on Ao3 here if you’d rather.)

“Chirrut? It’s me.”

When the comm alerted him of an incoming call, Chirrut knew it was him. There was no reason for it to be: He hadn’t heard from him in two years, since the day he left Jedha. He didn’t even know what side of the galaxy he was on. But he knew who was calling before the line crackled to life.

“Chirrut?”

Baze. His voice was rougher, strained and weary in a way it hadn’t been even after the fall of the Temple. But Chirrut heard him in it anyway. Chirrut knew no other sound so well, except maybe the song of the kyber.

“Chirrut, I … I miss you.”

It was barely a whisper, jagged as a ruined piece of debris. Not from embarrassment, but from pain. Shame. Fear.

“I —”

His thin voice finally collapsed, and if he wanted to say more, he got nothing out. The comm signal hummed softly.

Chirrut took a deep, steady breath. There was so much to say — so much he had always wanted to say that he had feared he’d never have the chance to.

He wanted to say, I miss you too.

Like a missing limb. Like a young man losing his sight, becoming a stranger in familiar halls. Like a faith, a family, a way of life scattered in the wake of an authoritarian machine.

Like a broken vow.

When Baze left Jedha, Chirrut could not know if they would ever meet again. He could trust in the plan of the Force, follow its guidance as he had always done. He could pray for the Force to guide Baze onto the right path, to soothe his snarling heart. But he had to learn to live each day with the absence of Baze always at his shoulder.

They were a binary star system, each a part of the other, holding each other steady by holding each other close. Chirrut remained whole in the Force, but he would never find balance without Baze.

He wanted to say, You’re beautiful.

Baze would never take the compliment. They were children when they first met, but the years passed quickly. Chirrut blossomed: His skinny body hardened to whipcord muscles, his sun-bright grins given easily. People were drawn to him, and he had no shame about enjoying it.

He flirted as easily as he breathed.

Baze grew too. He caught up to Chirrut’s height quickly and packed on his share of hard-earned muscles. But where Chirrut was the narrow, striking strength of the staff, Baze was the solid heavy thud of a fist.

He was just as fast, just as controlled, just as graceful as the best of them. But before long, he took up more space than he knew what to do with and intimidated just by looming.

Once, when they first grew old enough to examine their bodies through others’ eyes, Baze had described his looks as “plain.” Chirrut had disagreed, teasing him with compliments until he was red and stuttering, and then the two of them had laughed it off. Or at least, Chirrut had. He couldn’t know how deeply that belief had burrowed, how much it effected Baze, until years later when they finally got together.

Baze looked at Chirrut, touched him, like the Force itself shone in his features. But he would hear nothing about his own looks. He clammed up, pushed away, brushed off any explicit praise for his appearance. Chirrut found other ways to show him, and Baze came to trust that Chirrut found him beautiful, desired him, love him.

Still, the bruise ran deep. In the years of their separation, Chirrut found himself wishing he had dared to prod it more.

He wanted to say, Finally. What took you so long?

A jibe. A joke, to put them both at ease? But Baze Malbus had always needed comfort more than humor.

He wanted to say, You’re the reason I’m still here.

When he lost his sight, angry and scared and ready to give up, Baze sat with him for days, a silent comforting presence, even when Chirrut snapped and railed, spitting poison and wiping angrily at weeping eyes. Then, finally, when Chirrut’s anger had quieted to fathomless grief, he cupped his face and gently cleaned the last of the gummy residue from his cheeks. And Baze, who once had a panic attack when he had accidentally broken the Temple’s rule against taking scrolls from the archive, snuck Chirrut down to the quiet chill of the kyber pools to show him he hadn’t lost what truly matters.

Chirrut never told him how close he came to leaving the temple. Never told him that was the second time he convinced him to stay.

He was sure Baze didn’t remember the first time. They were both very young, and Baze himself had only been at the Temple for a year. Chirrut was on his second day in Jedha and already miserable.

He had been chosen from among the children in his remote village for his “great potential,” for his quick body and even quicker mind. The acolytes at the lesser temple had barely spent a week evaluating him before he was sent on to the main temple. All in all, it had been a whirlwind change to everything he had ever known.

Which may have been fine for an irrepressible and flexible child like him, but he had found little comfort so far in the towering walls of the Temple and the stern faces of the elders. The elder in charge of corralling the youngest students was unimpressed with his exuberant grins and loud laughter, and the other novitiates were too nervous to make good company. He was altogether unsure he was cut out for life as a monk, great potential or no.

So the afternoon of his second day in NiJedha, he slipped away from his lessons to watch a group of older students practicing for their sixth duan. Their movements were fluid, fast and backed with power. They seemed more like a force of nature, like the wind, than regular people not so much older than himself. He had watched in wide-eyed wonder until they finished, and then found a secluded corner of the yard to attempt to copy what he’d seen.

He had nowhere near their strength or control of the older students, but he found that with a little practice, he could push his body through some of the less complicated forms. Warming with excitement and confidence, he moved faster — too fast, it turns out. Trying to come out of a complicated kick, his limbs entangled and he tumbled sideways. Right into a larger boy who was passing by.

The boy just managed to keep them both upright, catching Chirrut against his broader chest with an ooph. When Chirrut had sorted his limbs and managed to stand back, stuck between offering a solemn apology and smoothing things over with his trademark grin, the other boy just chuckled.

“There’s a reason we have practice yards you know,” he said, not unkind. “But that was pretty impressive for a novitiate. What’s your name?”

“Chirrut,” he offered without hesitation, peering up into dark eyes. “And I think you might be the only one here to find me the least bit impressive.”

Baze smiled, and though his features originally seemed so intimidating, it lit up his face. “It can feel like that at the beginning. But I promise it gets better. There’s no place I’d rather be than here at the Temple.”

Chirrut was smiling, despite himself, his self-pitying mood already lifting. It hadn’t suited him anyway.

“Now I think you have a class to get back to,” the boy continued, mock stern, “or Elder Yasha will tan both our hides.”

Chirrut let the other boy shoo him back in the direction of his class, but stopped a few paces away to grin and call back, “What’s your name?”

He could have sworn the boy actually blushed. “You can call me Baze.”

Chirrut thought he could manage to be patient. Except when it came to befriending Baze.

So he stayed.

And then, when it came time, he could offer no comfort to Baze to convince him to stay.

He wanted to say, I forgive you for leaving. I forgave you before you ever left. But I missed you every day.

He wanted to say, I understand why you had to leave. How much pain you were in.

He wanted to say, It wasn’t weakness.

You were always the stronger of us, though you never believed it.

So many things to say, all clamoring together for release against the pressure of two years of silence. But when Chirrut opened his mouth, he knew exactly what he needed to say most.

“I have never stopped loving you,” he said simply, honestly, as easy as it had always been.

Then, over the quiet sob that broke over the static: “Come home.”

#spiritassassin #baze x chirrut #star wars #rogue one #chirrut #baze #prompt #ask #fic #rae writes #I got a prompt!#and then these space hubbies took over and had a lot to say #seaofolives

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incognitajones · 7 years

Text

I managed to delete the original ask somehow, but @englishable sent in a “trick or treat” request (which turned into a full-sized candy bar).

“And keep an eye on Ben!” Poe’s mom shouted after him as the two of them took off down the terrace, toward the stairs to the Mirror Garden.

Ben couldn’t laugh in public today, but he rolled his eyes at Poe, who smirked back.

They couldn’t run, either, so they kept to a fast-paced, bobbing lope as they weaved through the crowd of dispersing mourners. Until they got out of the main crush, it was like navigating through an asteroid belt: darting from side to side, buffeted by elbows, lekku, tentacles and other appendages. There weren’t many kids, and hardly any were younger than him. Every year, his mother sighed over the aging survivors of Alderaan.

Most years, people held their own private memorials, like his family did. But even then, as the last Princess of Alderaan, his mother had to be seen honouring the dead; she let the holonet drones record their annual ceremony for broadcast. She’d explained to Ben when he was little why that was necessary, and so he tried hard not to show how much he hated it.

Now he was eleven, which meant it was the sixteenth year since the destruction. And since eight was a Great Number, that meant instead of a small family ceremony there’d been a huge public commemoration with thousands of survivors and Senators and planetary envoys and a full-length, formal mourning service.

At least that part was over now. But as he and Poe passed the memorial stone the looming masked figures of the Silent Ones remained in a circle around it. They’d stand there without making a sound all day until they faded into the darkness of night. It creeped Ben out and he averted his eyes, even though he knew they were really just ordinary people on stilts hidden underneath the long midnight blue robes.

“Vader’s balls, these clothes are hot. I don't know how you stand it.” Poe pulled at the high collar of his tunic, stretching it out of shape. “You sounded good, though.”

“Shut up, I wasn't singing that loud. There’s no way you could hear me.” Ben could feel his ears firing up. He shook his head, trying to hide them under his hair, but the braids his mom had put in were too tight and nothing moved.

Ben had been roped into the children’s choir for the service, made up of survivors and descendants of survivors. He understood why he couldn’t be left out but he’d spent weeks sick to his stomach at the thought of being at the centre of attention onstage. In the end, it could have been worse. They’d stuck him in the front row, of course, but among a hundred other kids he hadn’t stood out too much.

Besides, concentrating ferociously on singing in tune and in time helped with the biggest challenge of the day: keeping all the feelings that pressed in on him out of his head.

“You know it was just because of mom,” he reminded Poe. “And because my voice hasn’t changed yet.”

“Honestly, that’s not so great.” Poe frowned. “It’s humiliating, the way I squeak every time I try to say something important. I sound like a droid half the time.”

“At least you’re growing.” Ben hadn't put on a centimetre since last Life Day. He was sick of looking up at everyone he knew. If he was taller, they’d have had to let him stand in the back row of the choir.

He led Poe under the archway into the Mirror Garden. It was quiet now; the tourists from earlier in the day were gone and all the mourners were headed in the opposite direction, toward the Senate chambers for a reception. Something Ben hated as much as his father did, because it meant hordes of people, trays of tiny delicacies he wasn’t allowed to take more than one of, and his mother talking to strangers for hours until her voice cracked, while her back stayed laser-straight but the corners of her eyes drew into the microscopic creases that meant she was exhausted.

Grownups rarely felt one clear thing. It was confusing and frustrating, the way they could be soaked in misery and still burning with rage; they loved his mother (our Princess) and hated her (why is she alive, and not my Jalna) at the same time. And he didn’t understand why she felt stabbing shame every time someone greeted her with the Alderaani phrase “Our sorrow is shared.”

So he was glad Poe was here, even if they weren’t really friends, because the other boy was an excuse to escape the overstuffed, ornate halls with voices and thoughts bouncing off the high ceilings until he could barely think. When Poe mentioned that he’d never seen the Mirror Garden, Ben had thrown his mother a pleading look, and she’d nodded and told them to go ahead even though his dad didn’t agree, judging from the scowl on his face. “It’s safe, Han,” he’d heard her hiss. “Security’s been ramped up all over the quarter. They’ll be fine.”

“Whoa.” Poe stopped short, staring.

Ben looked around. The Mirror Garden was one of Coruscant’s most famous sights; every tourist stall on the planet sold holos and threedee projections and enough flimsies of them to wallpaper Ben’s bedroom three layers thick.

He’d never understood why. The Garden wasn’t anything really interesting, like the ruins on Jedha, just a white stone plaza filled with reflective pools and fountains and waterfalls stretched and pulled into gravity-defying forms. Some were so perfectly still you’d swear they were real glass, until your hand felt the cool moisture. Some moved in ripples that turned the figures standing around them into wavering columns of colour and shadow.

Poe leaned closer to one vertical wall of water, peering at his reflection until his nose almost parted the smooth liquid surface. “How do they get it to do that?”

Ben shrugged. “It’s just grav manip fields. Don’t they have those on Yavin 4?”

“Yeah, no.” Poe snorted. “We’re a rural backwater. Some of the heavy farm equipment might have them, but basically, if it can’t grow turnips we don’t get it.” He lifted a hand, his fingertip a millimetre away from the shimmering plane. “Can I touch?”

“Sure, people do it all the time. It’s not like you can break them.”

Poe grinned and pushed his hand straight through the sheet of water. It flowed seamlessly around his wrist, making his arm look chopped short, like Uncle Luke’s when he took off his prosthetic.

The unending murmur of trickling, falling, running, dripping water surrounded them in a soothing rush of noise. Ben wandered over to his favourite, a rippling pillar of water locked in stasis one drop away from toppling over onto the white pavement. He liked the way his reflection looked in it. You couldn’t tell that blurry, indistinct face was Ben Organa-Solo; it could be any more-or-less humanoid youngling.

But he had a shadow that wouldn’t go away no matter how he moved, and it was in the wrong position for the direction of the light. It looked like a huge dark figure standing behind him. Had a Silent One left its place early and come into the Garden? Ben glanced at the entrance, but there was no-one else in the whole plaza but him and Poe.

Ben turned his back on the fountain, trying to ignore the unease leaking into his head. Why was he so scared? Was it his own feeling, or someone else’s?

He couldn’t stop looking back over his shoulder. Something shadowy and indistinct still hovered in the wavering column of water.

Don’t be such a baby. Think about what dad would say. It’s just a trick of the light on the water.

Ben shivered and closed his eyes. If he couldn’t see it, he could tell himself it wasn’t there. “Poe?” he called, ashamed of the quaver in his voice. “Let’s go back.”

He wanted to be with his mom, Uncle Luke, even his dad. Anyone he could convince himself was strong enough to protect him...

From what—his own head? He shivered again.

#prompt fill #trick or treat #young ben solo #young poe dameron #pre-canon #featuring completely made-up alderaani customs #and coruscant locations #englishable #my fic

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redrikki · 7 years

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Rebels Recap - Kindred & Crawler Commandeers

Kindred - The Empire sends a creepy-ass assassin after the Team to keep them from getting away with the flight data recorder, but they weren’t counting on magic Force wolves or Hera being just that awesome.

Crawler Commanders - The Team hijacks a ore crawler while Hera talks Rebel Command into okaying the mission to Lothal.

Hera & Kanan Sitting in a Tree

As Hera gets ready to deliver the data recorder to the Rebellion, Kanan tries to have a frank discussion about the future of their relationship after the war. Hera says she really hasn’t thought about it and it’s the most in-character thing she’s ever said.

Hera loves Kanan, there is no doubt of that. There is also no doubt they’ve been space!married for years. The issue is that Hera does not know how to function as a person without The Cause. She can imagine a galaxy without the Empire, but not her place in it.

Despite growing up in a militarized cult, Kanan is the half of the pair who knows how to be a person apart from a cause. He’s basically Hera’s manic pixie dream boy there to help her not be so uptight all the time.

THE KISS! Pretty sure she slipped him some tongue.

Please, Dave, don’t let that be a final kiss goodbye. We know that Scarif was the Rebellion’s first real victory. Does that mean the upcoming attack failed? We also know that the TIE Defenders never showed up in the OT. Does that mean it succeeded? It wasn’t their last kiss. It wasn’t.

It All Comes Back to Lothal

Kanan and Hera discuss how weird it is that they’ve been consistently drawn to Lothal, or, rather, KANAN has been consistently drawn to Lothal. To meet Ezra? To do something bigger?

Loth-wolves are Force sensitive teleporters. How awesome is that?

Hera escapes orbit by hyperspacing through a construction globe-thing just as the rest of the Team hyperspaces through Lothal holding on to a wolf’s tail.

So, according to the pictograms people have been traveling between the hemispheres via magic wolf caves for a while. Also, Jedi came from the sky and hung out with them at some point.

The Empire is basically strip-mining the planet using slave labor to build TIE Defenders using forced labor, yet Kanan suspects there’s something even more sinister going on. There are kyber crystals on Lothal. Is the sinister thing related to the Death Star?

Lothal and the Loth-wolves knows Kanan’s original name. Ezra’s reaction to that was surprisingly understated. Okay, you’ve lied to me about your name for years, but no problem. How do the wolves know about it?

Rebel Alliance Does Stuff For a Change

Hera delivers the flight data recorder and high command dithers because of course they do.

They have nothing that can go up against the TIE Defender. If the Empire had put all it’s money into that instead of repeatedly wasting it on giant flashy Death Stars, they probably would have still lost, but it would have taken a lot longer and involved a lot fewer space battles and a lot more Saw-style terrorism. I think folks like Mon and Bail probably would have given up.

Protocol 13 for the immediate evacuation of Imperial personnel from an occupied planet. Clearly created in preparation for the Death Star. They used it on Jedha, but not on Scarif. Presumably they did on Alderaan since Tarkin was clearly going to fire no matter what Leia said.

Hera sure knows how to give a rousing speech. Loved Chopper cussing out command.

The Rebel Alliance finally puts on it’s big kid pants and agrees to blow up the factory. It’s a solid plan, but the Empire can still build them elsewhere. The better plan would be to blow up the factory and find a way to discredit the program.

Random Stuff

“When it gets strange like this, it’s a good thing.” “How have you people stayed alive this long?”

Ezra’s voice acting is hilarious.

Visago thinking they were there to rescue him was precious. He looked so crushed when he realized they weren’t. Yet he never sold them out.

Yes, Ezra used to be the ventilation shaft guy back when he was short and skinny. He’s getting a little big for it now.

WTF was Ezra’s little Bond one liner after the captain fell into the furnace?

Zeb was in this. And he did stuff! Nice job stealing the transport and kicking the foreman’s ass.

#star wars #star wars: rebels #rebels recap #kindred #crawler commandeers

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softelesbian · 7 years

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Can’t stop thinking about you

(my very first bodhicassian fic ever, so i hope yall like it!)

Summary: After the events of Scarif, Cassian and Bodhi fall even more for the other, even though they think they’re not good enough for the other. Ensue endless pining by these two which drives everyone crazy as they beg for these two to share their feelings about the other so they can get together.

After the Scarif mission, there were many aspects that Cassian wanted to forget: lost lives, serious injuries, and lost limbs, to name a few. Sure, there were many missions that resulted in similar outcomes, but the Scarif mission had a much bigger impact on the Rebel Alliance, the losses and injuries seemed more impactful.

However, if there was one aspect that Cassian didn’t want to forget, it was the one person who,if it weren’t for him, Rogue One would not have made it. Bodhi Rook. He was responsible for saving Chirrut, Baze, Jyn, and himself and narrowly escaping Scarif before the planet was destroyed by the Empire. He was responsible for connecting the ship to the radio tower so Jyn could send the Death Star plans to the Alliance so they would have a chance of destroying that atrocious weapon before it fired at another innocent planet. Heck, he was even responsible for being able to enter Scarif so they could steal the plans in the first place!

After helping the rest of the crew escape, Bodhi spent a lot of time in recovery in the medical ward after losing massive amounts of blood and his right arm in a nearby explosion. But, Bodhi had made it and Cassian couldn’t have been more grateful. He made sure to spend whatever free time he had accompanying Bodhi as he healed, even if he was unconscious. He talked to him about how grateful he was and how brave he was, being able to save the others while he was severely injured and even sang to him!

Cassian realized that he had fallen for Bodhi while he waited for him to wake up. He looked so peaceful while he slept. His long, soft hair lay graciously on his side and his face was at peace and looked amazingly handsome. His biceps showed that he worked out, or probably carried a lot of weights in order for them to be very muscular and toned. Not only were his looks very attractive, but his story and personality made him even more handsome. Defecting from the Empire to help the Alliance steal the Death Star plans, even if it meant going into battle with his anxiety was truly an incredible deed.

Yes, Cassian had truly fallen for him. He began to blush like a lovestruck teenage boy simply thinking about Bodhi as he lay still in bed.

However, Cassian soon realized he probably couldn’t be with Bodhi. He had never been in a serious relationship due to dedicating his whole life to the Alliance, and even if he had, he didn’t know if Bodhi even liked him back. He tended to give off a serious, angry persona, which normally scared other people away. Given Bodhi’s nervousness and anxiety, he was probably terrified of Cassian and didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Cassian sighed sadly as he thought over how Bodhi could never love him, and left his room to go to the mess hall for dinner.

A week later, Bodhi had woken up and was slowly on the road to recovery. Cassian wanted to go over and talk to Bodhi, but everyday, his feelings for Bodhi grew stronger and he didn’t think he could even say hi to him without proclaiming his love for him. Cassian felt extremely shy and nervous even when he walked by the medical ward to glance at Bodhi from afar. Damn! How could love render him so hopelessly that he got butterflies in his stomach simply by thinking about Bodhi. He was a spy for crying out loud! He should be able to work around this humongous crush. In the end, he decided not to visit Bodhi for both of their well beings and distract himself with any job the Alliance needed help with. Hopefully then, his feelings would have calmed down enough so he could at least have a normal conversation with Bodhi.

One day, as Bodhi was doing arm exercises in physical therapy, he suddenly recalled a far but familiar voice echoing through his head. It sounded as if that voice was talking to him, but he didn’t know what the voice was telling him. Sometimes, it even sang to him! Whoever that voice belonged to, they had a beautiful singing voice, a bit rough and weathered, but soft and gentle at the same time. Eventually, curiosity got the best of Bodhi and he decided to ask the nurse about it.

“Oh, you must have been hearing Captain Andor’s voice! He came to visit you all the time while you were still unconscious and I heard him talk to you a lot and I think I even heard him sing to you one time!” the nurse exclaimed.

Of course! Bodhi knew that voice sounded familiar, but why would Cassian of all people come to visit him and sing to him? Surely he had other duties to attend to and he takes his work very seriously.

“Excuse me, but are you sure Cassian actually visited me? It could have been someone else that looked like him?” Bodhi questioned, even though he knew there was nobody else that even resembled what Cassian looked like.

“Oh I’m definitely sure it was him!” the nurse giggled. “Some people who go unconscious can hear a bit of what’s happening in their surroundings. It’s not common, but it does happen. Trust me, I monitored you all the time and I would watch Andor talk to you about his life in the Alliance or gush about how grateful he was towards you for helping the Alliance,” the nurse said.

After hearing about what Cassian did, Bodhi began to blush a furious shade of red that spread throughout his whole body. Bodhi had developed a small crush on the Rebel spy after he rescued him from Jedha, but he never really thought much about it until now. Cassian actually came to visit him while he was recovering? He felt so giddy inside that he was trembling with happiness.

However, his brain got to him as his anxiety started to swell. Why hadn’t Cassian come back to visit when he woke up? Did he not want to see him again? Why would he come to visit only when he wasn’t conscious? Bodhi took a deep breath to calm down his nerves. Cassian is probably away on a mission or busy working somewhere in the Rebel base, yeah, that’s probably it.

Bodhi was able to distract himself with that idea for a bit until his anxiety would swell again. When it did, he would stop whatever exercise he was doing and take deep breaths to calm himself down. Occasionally, he would daydream about how Cassian was loyal to the cause of the Alliance and about how it would feel to kiss him, if his facial hair would scratch or if it would be soft, and how it would feel to stroke his soft, short hair all over his fingers. Bodhi used this mechanism as a way to calm down so often, he would be red all over and smiling lovingly that his anxiety would disappear for a good while.

About a month later, Bodhi was able to leave the medical ward and resume working, now that he was used to his new arm. The first thing he wanted to do was make a couple of modifications to the imperial cargo ship they had stolen back on Eadu. Working on ships was Bodhi’s favorite pastime, he would dedicate hours to making sure the ship he was working on was in great shape and able to function well with whatever changes he made to them. He spent so many hours working that he would unzip his new rebel flight suit down to his waist while his white undershirt got covered in sweat and grease. This did not help settle down a certain spy’s feelings about him when he happened to pass by Bodhi working on a ship.

One day, as Cassian was walking down where the ships were kept, he happened to pass by Bodhi working on the imperial cargo ship. He quickly hid behind some crates containing engine supplies as he admiringly watched Bodhi work. He sighed lovingly as he noticed how beautiful Bodhi looked with just his stained undershirt on him and how his biceps moved when he had to lift tools towards the ship. Cassian was so lost in his own world, he didn’t realize someone coughing behind him. Cassian jumped back with a huge shock to see Jyn standing right next to him, a smug grin plastered on her face.

“Admiring the view Cass?” Jyn teased at him.

Cassian’s face burned a bright red until he straightened up his coat and put on his stern, serious face as he cleared his throat.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I was simply on my way to the mess hall to see if dinner was ready,” Cassian lied, even though he knew Jyn could see right through him.

Jyn snorted and rolled her eyes. Honestly, it was hard not to notice that Cassian was head over heels over Bodhi.

“Don’t lie to me Cassian, of all people, you know that doesn’t work on me,” Jyn said.

Jyn stopped her teasing as she saw Cassian’s face break with a nervous, scared look. She was one of the few people to see Cassian in a state like this so this must be more serious than it looked.

“Listen, why don’t you go and talk to Bodhi about how you’re feeling?” Jyn asked.

“I can’t!” Cassian fretted. “He doesn’t feel the same way about me. If I told him, he would probably hate me more than he already does and never speak to me again,” Cassian moped.

Jyn wanted to groan into empty space. Sometimes, Cassian could be so oblivious about some things; however, she knew she had to help him talk to Bodhi or this pining hell would last even longer.

“Come on Cass, you don’t know if he hates you or not. If you simply talk to him, it would make not only your life so much easier, but everyone else’s too,” Jyn said.

“Sorry, but I can’t,” Cassian replied sadly, “Sometimes, the risk simply isn’t worth it if you have a lot to lose.”

Cassian stood up and walked glumly towards the upper floor to go sulk in his room until dinner was ready. Jyn sighed in defeat as she saw Cassian walk off. Well, at least she could say that she tried.

Ever since being released from physical therapy, Bodhi had tried to talk to Cassian, but everytime he tried, he noticed Cassian briskly walking away or coming up with excuses that he was busy. Bodhi couldn’t understand it. Why was Cassian ignoring him? Did he do something wrong? Did he not like him anymore? As the days went by, Bodhi’s anxiety was becoming worse, so bad that some days, he had to stay in his room in order to try to calm himself down from all of the negative thoughts swirling around in his head. Sometimes, he went on walks around the base to distract his mind when his room felt too silent. One day he decided to walk around the base, only to bump into Baze and Chirrut, who were seated together drinking some hot tea. Chirrut immediately noticed Bodhi’s anxiety and tense mood due to the racing thoughts in his head.

“You seem to be very tense and nervous. Would you mind telling us what’s on your mind?” Chirrut asked.

Bodhi jumped in surprise but soon calmed down. Of course Chirrut would know that something was bothering him. Baze sighed calmly and looked up at Bodhi.

“You don’t have to tell us your thoughts if you don’t feel like telling us,” Baze said.

Bodhi sighed and decided to just tell them what’s on his mind. He knows Chirrut is very stubborn and he just might as well talk to them; after all, they both have been married for about 30 years, they must have some good love advice for him.

“It’s just… it’s Cassian. I may like him more than a friend and I may have liked him like that ever since Jedha… But he keeps on ignoring me and trying to stay away from me! And it doesn’t make sense, I mean, he came to visit me while I was unconscious and even sang to me! Basically, I am just so confused and scared that I might have done something wrong to upset him. You two are married, do you think you might know what all of this means?”

Chirrut and Baze turned towards the other and began to silently giggle until they were dying from laughter that tears rolled out of their eyes. Bodhi began to panic and became a bit angry.

“Why are you laughing at me? This isn’t very funny you guys! If all you are going to do is ridicule me, then I am leaving!”

“No no!” Chirrut said as he began to calm down. “We aren’t making fun of you, I promise! It’s just that, you remind me of when Baze and I were young and hopelessly in love with each other.”

“It’s true,” Baze said, “Chirrut acted the exact same way as Cassian. He ignored me and would distract himself by praying or engaging in spars with our other companions. I got so worried that I did something wrong and confronted him about it one day. Chirrut admitted that he simply did that because he was in love with me and was afraid of confessing his feelings because he thought I didn’t feel the same way about him. Simply, long story short, we confessed our feelings and became boyfriends for about 3 years until we married.”

Bodhi looked at them in awe as he began to think about what they said. It did sound exactly what Cassian was doing, but his anxiety made him doubt that for a second.

“Excuse me, but are you sure this is the same case with Cassian? I mean, for all we know, he may just be extremely busy or something?”

“Trust me, we are certain that is the case, we’ve been through this, we know how it feels like to crush on someone like that. I can sense through the Force your strong feelings for Cassian and likewise his feelings for you.”

“If he won’t confront to you about his feelings, you do it. After all, life is very short and you don’t know how long you will get to be with Cassian due to all of this war. Take the risk while you can, we know that you two have feelings for each other,” Baze said.

Bodhi sighed heavily as he considered their advice. It was true that due to the war, he didn’t know how long he could see or be with Cassian; however, he still wasn’t very sure if Cassian really liked him. Stupid anxiety! Bodhi pushed down all of his negative feelings as he responded to Chirrut and Baze.

“Alright, I understand. I’ll just… I will think about what you said and wait for the perfect time to tell Cassian how I feel.”

Baze and Chirrut smiled and both nodded in agreement as they took each others’ hand.

“That is perfectly fine, don’t wait too long though. You never know what could happen the next day,” Chirrut replied.

Bodhi bowed in thanks and waved them goodbye as he began to walk towards his room. Baze and Chirrut sighed and hoped Bodhi would act soon as his and Cassian’s pining was going on for too long now.

It has been three weeks since Jyn had caught Cassian admiring Bodhi from afar, and honestly, Cassian does not think he can take it any longer. He cannot stop thinking about Bodhi and he feels like he is going to burst anytime soon. Thanks to Jyn, word began to spread like the flu about Cassian’s feelings towards the pilot. Even K2 had found out and so many things could go wrong if K2 were to open his mouth to Bodhi. Eventually, Cassian decided that he simply couldn’t take it anymore. Life was short and he wanted to be with Bodhi so badly it hurt. He decided to simply go for it and hope for the best.

As he made his way towards the hangars where the ships were kept, he happened to run into Bodhi as he was heading back to his room to pick up a tool he had forgotten.

“Bodhi!” Cassian exclaimed, “I.. uh.. I need to talk to you, please.”

Bodhi felt his body tremble, but pushed down his anxious feelings and calmed himself down so he could answer Cassian.

“O-of course! Is here ok? Or do you want to talk somewhere else?”

“No no! Here is fine,” Cassian replied.

Cassian moved up a bit towards Bodhi as he began to slowly confess his feelings.

“I bet you have noticed that I have kind of been ignoring you?”

Bodhi nodded cautiously as he listened to Cassian.

“I.. uh.. just want you to know that it was not done out of spite or anger and I… just… uh…” He stumbled over the words, not sure what to say or how to go about this

Eventually, Cassian couldn’t take it anymore as he closed the space between him and Bodhi and kissed him.

Bodhi gaped in surprise as he took a second to register that Cassian was kissing him. Kissing him! Chirrut and Baze were right after all! Bodhi began to kiss back until relief and happiness took over his whole body. Soon, big tears began to roll down Bodhi’s face as he broke the kiss to wipe them off.

As soon as Bodhi started crying, Cassian began to panic as he felt a huge rush of fear sweep over him. Did he hurt Bodhi? Why was he crying? Did he not like him that way? Cassian cupped Bodhi’s cheek with one hand as he used his other hand to wipe the tears away.

“Bodhi?! What’s wrong? Oh my kriff! I am so sorry! Please, tell me what’s wrong,”

Bodhi shook his head and began to laugh as more tears came streaming down his half dried cheeks.

“I’m just… I just feel so relieved! I thought you were ignoring me because I did something to upset you and I was so scared that you hated me. But now I can see that you return the same feelings I have towards you and… oh Cassian! You wouldn’t believe just how scared I was!” Bodhi sobbed happily.

Cassian wiped away the remaining tears on Bodhi’s cheeks and hugged him so lovingly, he buried his head in the crook of his neck.

“I am so sorry Bodhi. I didn’t mean to scare you and I don’t hate you. I mean, how could I? You’re the bravest man I have ever met and you just make me so happy, I don’t know how I can live without you. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

Bodhi pretended to ponder over the question until he smiled up at Cassian, already knowing what he wanted.

“Could you kiss me again so sweetly just like you did a couple of minutes before?”

Cassian was taken aback by the response but smiled so widely and giggled at Bodhi’s adorableness.

“You are going to be the death of me Bodhi Rook, ” Cassian replied as he kissed him again.

Bodhi adjusted himself so that both were in a good position to kiss passionately and lovingly. He poured all of his emotions into that one kiss as Cassian did the same.

While they were kissing, several people who were nearby began to cheer and applaud at the new couple. Jyn hollered and clapped very loudly while K2 nodded in approval.

“Fucking finally!” Jyn exclaimed.

K2 nodded in agreement while Baze and Chirrut held hands and nodded as well.

As Cassian and Bodhi finished kissing, they layed their foreheads against the other and smiled so much their mouths began to hurt.

With new possibilities out there, Cassian and Bodhi couldn’t wait to start living as an overly-loving romantic couple.

Notes: omg this was pretty hard to write but I think I like it so that’s good! I was inspired by this lovely artwork for the scene where Bodhi cries and asks Cassian to kiss him as an apology. Also, this was the song I imagined Cassian singing to Bodhi. I hope you liked it and please reblog it if you enjoyed the story!

#my posts #my fics #star wars #bodhicassian #ficlet

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