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softlymellow · 1 month ago

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The Order Forgot Me First - Chapter 11

☆⁠ PAIRING : Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☆⁠ word count: 3.6k

☆⁠ story themes: lovers to enemies to eventually lovers

☆⁠ warnings: spoilers to swtcw, angstttt and a bit of fluff !!!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

"He finally understood just how badly he had lost you."

Your helmet hung loosely under your arm, your boots scraping against the cruiser's floor, fidgeting. Clones began to move around you in practised order as their voices blended in with the hum of the engine.

You tried to shake off what Anakin had done to you. But you couldn’t ignore the pang in your heart.

As you waited for the LAAT gunship to depart, you couldn’t miss the way you saw Rex shifting closer to you, inch by inch.

Until he cleared his throat.

“You holding up okay, General?” he asked cautiously.

You blinked and offered him a tight smile. “I’m not a general,” you softly said, adjusting your gloves.

Rex rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “You could’ve fooled me.” He said, in an attempt to make you feel better.

You offered a humorless laugh. “I’m just here to help.”

“And you’re doing more than that,” Rex said gratefully.

Across the deck, Anakin shifted.

There was a subtle roll of his shoulders, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he was pretending to study the map and not eavesdrop onto your conversation. You caught it without meaning to.

And just as fast as you noticed, you dropped your gaze. Focus on the mission. That’s all you had right now.

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Eventually, the gunship roared as it broke the dry clouds of Saleucami, red dirt and dust flying as you descended.

You stood in the troop bay, your blaster slung across your chest and your palms sweaty. It would be a lie to admit that you’re not nervous. You had fought in battles worse than this but not without your lightsaber. It wasn’t even clipped to your belt right now.

You were a soldier now. Just like the clones. No Jedi robes, no cloak. INstead, you had armour padded fabric and tactical plates. As soon as the ship touched down, you moved.

Cody’s voice cracked through the comms.

“Rex, sweep through the pass. L/n, take the ridge and get eyes on the southern basin. There could be droids underground.”

“Copy that,” you muttered.

Once the hatch opened, the hot air hit you like a furnace. It hadn’t since you and Dev were there. Still the same dry clay pit.

Anakin wasn’t paired with you, of course he wasn’t. He hadn’t looked at you once. He with some of his own troops from the 501st, and you with some of his.

Dogma and Kix were by your back, “Keep low,” you whispered. “There might be thermal signatures by the rocks. Last time I was here, there were big cave pockets that tunnel out.”

Kix gave a low whistle, “guess you’ve been here more than us.”

You shrugged, crouching near some scorched stones and you raised your macrobinoculars. There was movement, subtly but there was movement.

“Something’s moving,” you said, marking it. “West quadrant. Might be droids.” You pulled out your rifle.

And then a separatist droid stumbled into view, sparking, dragging one leg.

You shot it clean through the processor.

And then more.

And more.

The first shots rang out faster than expected.

“L/n, cut off the canyon mouth!” Cody barked through the comms.

“Already on it,” You said with clenched teeth.

Blaster bolts sliced through the air around you. Droids were swarming.

Dogma rolled beside you, “Ridge is clear!”

You turned sharply to look and then a B2 battle droid breached through the rocks and opened fire.

Immediately, you and Dogma turned to duck under a stone, blaster bolts leaving marks on said rock.

You waited a couple seconds for the droid to automatically reload its bullets. As soon as you had the chance, you peered over and fired once –twice– at the centre of the droid. It collapsed onto the ground, dust flying as he fell.

Dogma turned to you, “I-thanks, Commander.” You nodded at him.

And then there was a flash of blue that tore through the smoke beside you.

Anakin.

It was hard to miss him, his saber blazing and his own armour now dusted red. His broad shoulders flexed with every movement. He effortlessly and confidently cut down droids in brutal strokes.

He moved by instinct. Memory. Muscle. He deflected bullets like they were nothing and his saber kept swinging and spinning its own rhythmic dance.

You couldn’t help but pause to watch. You hadn’t seen him fight like this since before Dev. And even then, you were beside him, not watching from the sidelines.

He had a careless kind of confident look on his face. His presence burned and it was impossible to not feel it.

A stray bullet flew past your head, your ears rang as you duck. It immediately broke you out of your trance, and without thinking, you covered his flank.

You continued this until the last droids began to fall. The tunnel network began to collapse itself under repeated pressure. You had watched both Anakin and Obi-wan sweep through the perimeter.

Everything was quiet now. Rex moved past you, his shoulders brushing yours slightly. “Good work, Commander.” He said casually, trying to keep it normal.

You shot him a small smile and a nod, “thanks.”

Cody knelt beside one of the wounded and talked quietly with him.

You swung your blaster across your back. You still felt exposed. Your belt felt empty. Weightless.

Cody then came up to you, his eyes measured but respectful. “I heard that the supply unit will move through this pass tomorrow now.” He nodded to you. “This mission’s a success.”

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes tiredly. “Good job, guys.” Your boots sunk in the hot Saleucami sand, leaving footprints behind.

And then a crackle came in through the comms.

“Everyone regroup at Point Bravo. Perimeter clear.” Anakin’s voice came out.

Rex and the rest of the clones marched towards the rally point. Everyone’s tired. The hot air only makes it worse. Your feet dragged behind you and every minute that passed you would try to stifle a yawn.

You could not wait to get out of this dreadful planet and scrub yourself clean.

Obi-wan and Anakin were ahead now, chatting with Cody and Rex about the mission. You followed maybe ten paces behind them. Close enough that you could hear their boots shovelling against the ground but far enough that you would be forgotten.

“I assume we will have the brief the Senate after this,” Obi-wan said, trying to lighten the weight, his hand running through his hair.

Anakin nodded, “Padme was already pressing for details on the blockade before we left Coruscant.”

You felt yourself stiffen at the mention of Padme.

And then you felt something so small. Something nudging your sides. Something pulling you back. You stopped walking and your boot dragged along the sand.

Something was here. Something was wrong.

Biting your lip, you looked back at the craters formed during the battle. And then you turned your head towards the group that are now increasingly further away from you.

“I’m gonna quickly check something out,” you called out to Rex steadily, who now turned to look at you.

The squad slowed down and Obi-wan’s head lifted to look at you warily. Anakin straightened himself too, his hand instinctively brushed against his lightsaber, his eyebrows furrowed.

He didn’t say anything and lips tightened. His body shifted and his boots ever so slightly moved —as if he wanted to go after you.

Without a second thought, you turned your back on them and headed back to the ruins. Towards the force disturbance.

Your blaster was raised and ready for anything that came. Your eyes squinted as you moved towards the left, behind some of the destruction, out of sight from the rest.

You moved some more, allowing the Force to guide you. Further.

It was like walking through a storm where you couldn’t see, you could just feel. Feel that something was wrong.

Your heart was pounding against your chest and then—

Whrrrrrp

A hum of a lightsaber sliced out from the ruins and aimed for your head. You barely ducked as the crimson blade slashed the air where you had just been.

“Arrgh!” You hit the ground hard on instinct, rolling through dust and dirt.

And immediately you began to fire your blaster aimlessly, hoping that while you fell you landed a shot. The shots were deflected with little to no effort as the saber spinned through the smoke.

The attacker stepped into view, their body cloaked, but their face…

Master Sora Bulq.

Like he was twisted by the darkside.

Sora’s blade readied to hit you but you fired again.

One shot.

Two shots.

Three shots.

Four shots.

And without fail, each shot was deflected with casual precision. Without warning, he struck down onto you. You dove sideways, your shoulder slamming into a rock and you shrieked in pain.

You twisted, wanting to kick out his lightsaber from his hands without getting your arms impaled but he was faster, meaner. The hilt of his lightsaber slammed in your ribs sending you sprawling out on the floor, knocking the breath out of you.

You rolled and your blaster fell out of your hands, your hands scrambling through the dirt.

Pain flared sharply underneath your armour as you tried to get away from the crimson of the lightsaber.

Without a second thought, Master Bulq reached out with his hands and pushed you. The force flinging your body towards a boulder. Your head slammed against the rough surface.

Thud

You couldn’t scream in pain. Your voice hoarse and all air escaping from your lungs.

Your ears began to ring and the desert began to tilt. Light burst as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. You slumped. Gasping. The taste of blood in your mouth. And then something wet dripping down your forehead.

Your fingers scraped uselessly at the ground, wanting to push but you couldn’t. They had barely moved.

Your vision blurred and the force kept screaming at you. Your eyes fluttered, trying to keep them open.

Then there was a violent shift in the force. A snap. A fit of rage.

Without warning, two figures emerged from the dust with beams of light swinging with them. Anakin dove in, throwing his saber down with full force.

You couldn’t move and your ribs screamed in pain. Your mouth agape as you try to take in small breaths, your head lulling to the side.

Hits and more hits.

You couldn’t make out anything anymore.

Their figures were blurry and you couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your skull. You tried your hardest to stay awake, your body falling in and out of consciousness in lapse.

There were clashes and screams of laser on laser. Obi-wan threw his own arm up, pulling Bulq to the floor. His lightsaber fell from his hands and his body slumped. Anakin surged through, his saber raised to finish it.

Something muffled. Like they were talking. Or screaming. You couldn’t hear anymore but Anakin was pulled back by Obi-wan.

You couldn’t feel your shoulders or your arms. It was all numb. You fell out of consciousness. And then fell in. And out. And in.

A figure rushed to your side, the weight of their feet made a crunchy sound on the ground.

“Hey — hey.” Their voice, closer than expected. Rougher.

He tried to lift you up without hurting you any further but you fell limp and tired. Your body fell forward and collapsed immediately onto his chest.

Anakin’s.

His strong arms immediately wrapped around you before you fell past him. You tried to speak but your mouth fell open. The goddamn ringing wouldn’t go away and everything felt tipsy and blurry.

“Got you,” he muttered, so soft that it could have just said it to reassure himself.

You let him carry you, lifting your body effortlessly and so tightly that he was scared you would slip past his hands. That you would leave him.

Anakin’s breaths came fast.

His eyes darted across your bruised lips and the trickle of blood that fell down your forehead. His gloved hands cradled the back of your head. Your skin was burning and your armour was streaked with dirt and ash.

“Y/n,” He said louder now, watching the way your eyes were looking at him but not seeing him. “Stay with me.” His throat was closing up and he could feel his eyes beginning to sting.

“Anakin!” Obi-wan called out. “We need to move her to the med-bay now-”

“She’s not breathing right.” Anakin’s voice shook.. His own chest heaving and stray strands of hair fell onto his face.

“She–she…her head…and..her ribs,” Anakin struggled to find the right words.

“We will lose her if we don’t move now.”

He couldn’t lose you. Not like he lost his mother. You were right here in his arms and he wouldn’t let you go away.

Anakin moved fast, faster than he had ever did before.

The hum of the ship faded into static. You weren’t sure what had happened. When the medics had begun to work on you, the cold bacta gel against your ribs. Or when Anakin had finally let go.

If he did at all.

The world blurred. And you found yourself being pulled in. Pulled into a flicker.

A moment straight from the force.

--- --- --- --- --- ---

You were seventeen again.

Right before the war had begun and you were just two padawans

Smiling into your pillow late at night. The temple humming with cool ambience.

Anakin had snuck into your quarters, again. You felt his hands combing through your hair, so gently. Sometimes he would braid little pieces, and they would fall out during missions.

You moved until your forehead pressed against his collarbone, your lips ghosting just above his skin.

“I wish we could be together. For real.” Your voice came out, barely a whisper.

“We are for real,” he murmured, fingers still threading through your locks.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, planting a kiss on his neck. Anakin felt a smile growing on his face, his fingers now moved to tuck the hair behind your ear. He then leaned forward, and kissed your temple once.

You didn’t say anything, pulling back enough just to see his eyes. His amber eyes that scanned your face in love, taking in every feature of yours, his fingers caressing the parts he just gazed at.

You missed this. Missed him.

Your body twitched.

And then your monitor spiked.

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Eyes fluttering open against the blinding medbay lights, you groaned quietly. You felt your scalp tingling and your sore limbs on the bed.

There were bandages wrapped around your torso and some on your head. Your armour was gone and you were in a medical robe. It was hard to ignore just how useless you felt.

Your first mission back and you were already injured on the bed. You couldn’t blame yourself, really. You had a blaster and he had a lightsaber.

Beside you, on the chair, was Anakin. His chair was far too close than you liked. You were less than an arm's reach away from him. His clenched hands were wrapped around his body, his eyes closed with a tired but hard expression on his face.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should call out to him or ignore him.

But the force had other plans. It shifted the air in the room, causing Anakin to cautiously open his eyes, his gaze meeting yours.

Anakin’s mouth fell slightly agape, surprised that you had woken up. He cleared his throat, wanting to find the right words to say.

“I…” His voice came out low.

“How are you feeling?” He came up with.

You didn’t know what to say. There was a right between you and Anakin. Ever since the meeting, it had only gotten worse and the last person you wanted to wake up to was him.

“Fine.” You hoarsely said. Your voice clearly hasn’t been used for however long it was you were in here.

Anakin nodded, inhaling deeply to calm him down.

“You had a pretty bad concussion.” He revealed, “If he had pushed you any harder…you might not have made it.”

You stayed silent, letting the words settle in the room. Your hands absently minded rubbed the bandages, feeling the fabric in between your fingers.

“You were out for a day...Mast-” He cut himself off. “-Sora has already been handled by the council.”

You still said nothing. You didn’t want Anakin to be one to explain these things to you. You wanted Obi-wan maybe, or no one. Just not Anakin.

Anakin felt the tension in the room and gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing.

And then finally, like he was debating against it, he spoke up again.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

The words hung in the air, his voice rough and apologetic. Seeing you on the floor, your body exhausted and on the brink of death. Seeing someone's lightsaber aimed at you to kill you. It changed something inside of him. He wouldn't lose you like his mother. As he waited in the medbay for you to wake, he swore he wouldn't let himself get angry again at you. He swore he would apologise and try to fix your relationship with him.

He shifted awkwardly, his boots scuffing against the tiles.

“Back at the briefing,” his voice lowered. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I was hurt. I was angry and I didn’t mean to-”

“Angry about what?” You scoffed, a look of disbelief on your face. “You were the one who came arguing with me at the temple.”

Anakin was taken back by the sharpness in your voice.

“Dev told me.” His eyebrows furrowed.

You shook your head confused. “Told you what?”

“He told me that you listened to my messages.” Anakin said. “For the entire year.”

You flinched.

“And you didn’t respond.” Anakin’s voice grew louder but he tried to maintain his composure.

You laughed in disbelief, tears began to prick your eyes. He had no idea. He really had no faith in you that he believed you would not answer him. That you didn’t care.

“You really think I didn’t try?” Your voice broke, water began to visibly well up in your eyes that Anakin felt his stomach twist in guilt.

“I was trying, Anakin. The stupid device broke and I couldn’t relay any messages back.” Your voice cracked.

“Y/n…”

Your chest was screaming in protest under the bandages as you felt your back straighten, but you ignored it.

“You keep doing this, Anakin!” You said, your voice rising. “Over and over!” Tears began to stream down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t take it anymore. Even after all the shit you have been through, he had no faith. Even while you were in the med bay bed, there was no comfort. Nothing.

Anakin felt your words hit him harder than any wound he had taken in battle. He watched your body tremble under pure exhaustion and betrayal.

“Y/n, please.” Anakin extended his hand, trying to reach out to you but you jerked back like his touch was fire. And that broke something inside of him. He had hurt you to the point where you wouldn’t even let him touch you.

“And Padme?”

“Padme?” Anakin furrowed his eyebrows.

“You think it doesn’t hurt me when I see you close to her?” Your voice broke. “I used to come to you when we were together,” You pointed a finger at him. “I told you I was scared. I told you she liked you!”

Anakin’s mouth parted, stunned. “There’s nothing going on between me and Padme.” His voice was fast, not defensive but scared. Like he needed to say it before you could turn away.

You blinked. You didn’t trust him like you used to.

“You think I would’ve came running to you the second you fell?” Anakin’s throat began to close up. “I would have left your side as soon as I knew you were safe in the medbay. I would have left for the mission briefing like I was supposed to.”

He swallowed.

“It was always you.”

And then quieter.

“It’s still you.”

You weren’t crying about your injuries or the battle. You were crying because of him. Because of what he had done to you. And he hated watching you unfold like this in front of him.

Tears began to sting his own eyes —fast and hot.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t know you tried—”

“I did everything I could,” you sobbed. “I was so alone, Anakin.” Your voice cracked.

“And all i wanted —all i wanted— was for you to believe in me when I came back.” You choked out, the palm of your hands aggressively trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He looked down in guilt, his hair falling above his eyes, hiding them.

“I know I went too far! It’s just that–” his hands clenched, “-just something inside me — snapped.”

You shook your head, slow and exhausted. “Sometimes I don’t know who’s in there.”

“But Y/n—”

“I-I just…can’t do this anymore, Anakin.” You couldn’t stop crying now, your hands trembling.

Anakin pressed both his hands to his face and dragged them down. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. His mistakes crushing him from the inside.

“I’ll fix this,” he said. “I swear to the Force, I’ll fix it.”

“I don’t want you to fix this,” You gasped in another sob. “I just wanted you there.” You wanted him to help you, support you and comfort you all those times the Council spoke to you like you were nothing.

You didn’t want him to ignore you and in anger and rage.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For all of it.”

Anakin didn’t speak again. He didn’t have anything else to say. He stood up to leave, his hands shaking and his heartbroken.

He finally understood just how badly he had lost you.

A/n: SRRY IT WAS A LITTLE LATE ive just been stuck with Uni labs all week </3 ALSOOO I REACHED 2K FOLLOWERS thxs so much yall im loving this little community on here genuinely i get so happy reading all ur asks and comments.

Taglist: @endairachristensen26 @hayden-christensen-verse @ducks118 @seventeen-x @movingalongthekiwi @ssnapsaurus @caramelfondu @dayrin085 @devilslittlehelper @f1wh0recom @green-lxght @bettysgardenswift @heyitsbeeeb @user-3113s-blog @fandomhoe101 @veronaspencil @zudooms @hiphopdancer101universe @starfire21 @devotedlypaleluminary @miksxz @lacherrysouldy @lotushzl @biddycums @wandasblacknails @moonixlity @icanmeltanigloo @isntthatsweetiguessso

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ecrivainsolitaire · 1 year ago

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Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡ��ɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

#Dr. T'Chem's Office #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #open art guild

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saphronethaleph · 21 hours ago

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Life Support Issues

“All right, so… where do you have the plans?” the Rebel technician asked. “An R2 unit like this could have a hundred hiding places.”

R2 beeped and whistled.

“Ah, I see,” Threepio said. “Yes, Artoo has reminded me that in fact the plans are not only in a data card, but also redundantly stored inside his own system – that’s how he was able to access the systems so readily. He will be able to transfer them quite readily through a standard data access port.”

“We can get that set up, sure,” the tech agreed, gesturing, and his assistant brought over a cable.

As he did, though, Threepio looked with interest at his old friend and counterpart.

“Were you supposed to do that?” he asked.

R2 beeped again.

“Yes, I suppose it is a good thing that you did, but I’m asking if you were supposed to,” Threepio replied. “Don’t try and play semantics with me, Artoo.”

R2 provided a long string of bleeps and whistles, and C-3PO stepped back.

“You did?” he asked. “Oh my… well, I suppose I did ask you to do that first one.”

“Do what?” the tech asked, halfway through plugging in the cable.

“Well, we were on the Death Star,” C-3PO replied. “And while rescuing Princess Leia, Master Luke and their friends, I had Artoo shut down all the garbage compactors on the Death Star, and then open the door to the one that they were in. Artoo has informed he that, in fact, he opened all the entrances shortly before we left.”

He made a displeased noise. “In addition, he flushed all the drinkable water into the black water systems, raised the temperature in the food storage areas to two hundred and fourteen degrees centigrade, and sealed the doors to every lavatory on the ship. I am also reliably informed that the artificial gravity generators have been independently set to what he calls ‘shuffle’ and that the plumbing system on the Death Star is comprehensive enough to permit him to transport fluids randomly around the entire plumbing system through a series of several thousand distributed commands which trigger on and off at random, at times ranging from five minutes to three days.”

A pause.

“Also, that reversing the gravity in the shuttle and vehicle maintenance bays produced a quite satisfying crunching sound of valuable equipment breaking. Artoo, did you really have to do all of that?”

R2 whistled, helpfully.

“Yes, I suppose they did blow up Alderaan,” Threepio admitted. “I’m just worried that at this point we might be committing war crimes ourselves.”

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Tarkin said, as blaster fire crackled up and down the corridor. “Half the ship is fighting itself and the other half is trying desperately to find a fresher.”

The firing intensified outside, then Darth Vader loomed imperiously out of the door and the various factions went from exchanging fire to fleeing.

“Have you found anything about what happened?” the Sith Lord asked, returning his attention to Tarkin. “I could believe one of these failures was accidental, but this is clearly deliberate.”

“It has been a little hard to gather information,” the Grand Moff replied, testily. “Since my analyst team is having to defend their access to a shuttle bay which might have an intact shuttle and the last Star Destroyer to try and render assistance was destroyed by two thousand turbolaser batteries all firing on it at once on automatic. But clearly there has been some sort of unauthorized access.”

“The plans,” Darth Vader said, firmly. “The Princess clearly passed them off to someone. The same group as her rescuers… Kenobi’s team. Kenobi is dead, but the smuggler ship must have had a strike team…”

He trailed off.

“But this is the work of an expert slicer,” he resumed. “A normal commando team couldn’t have done this much damage this quickly.”

“There is a report that one of my analysts found,” Tarkin said. “That a golden protocol droid and a blue-white astromech droid were acting suspiciously near Docking Bay 327.”

“Ah,” Darth Vader said, his tone somewhat different. “That explains everything. In fact, I am suspicious that there must be something we have missed.”

“Vader?” Tarkin asked.

“R2 has left us something else,” Vader answered. “I can feel it.”

Tarkin started giggling.

“...ah,” Vader declared. “There it is.”

“Nitrous oxide?” C-3PO asked. “Really?”

R2 whistled.

“I don’t care if you had to improvise and that it’s easily produced from available life support gases,” C-3PO replied, shaking his head. “Really, R2.”

#star wars #darth vader #r2d2 and c3po #r2d2 #c3po

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netflixbingger · 1 month ago

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Beneath Rebel Skies - Chapter 2

Characters: Cassian x Reader Summary: You and Cassian Andor were childhood friends on Ferrix—until your parents suddenly tore you away without warning. Years later, you reunite during a mission for the Rebellion. Old memories clash with new tension as you’re forced to work together, navigating the lines between friendship, loyalty, and something more. Word Count: 1673 words Warnings: Violence, Loss, Mild Language, Mentions of sex Previous Chapter

Things were… weird. To say the least.

It had been five weeks since you reunited with Cassian, and since then the two of you had exchanged maybe a dozen words. A polite nod in the hallway. A casual “Hey” before a briefing. Small talk about the rain on Yavin IV, as if that was all you had ever meant to each other.

And maybe now, it was.

The strange thing was, you still felt like you’d known him your entire life. But somehow he felt like a stranger. You didn’t know what to say anymore—and yet, you wanted to say everything. You wanted to sit him down and spill the missing years between you two like they never happened. Like you could rewind.

But Cassian never gave you the chance. He didn’t try. He never sought you out. Never looked you in the eye. And when you caught him staring, he always looked away like it burned.

You were coming down from a mission—tired, sore, and coated in the smell of sweat and smoke. Kiira and Cade were talking loudly beside you as you stepped off the ramp of the shuttle. You trailed behind, half-listening to their banter as your eyes landed on the familiar shape of Cassian in the corner, crouched next to K-2SO as he cleaned a blaster. He looked up as you stepped onto the tarmac. Briefly. Then went back to work like you weren’t even there.

You didn’t realize Kiira had already wandered off until Cade’s voice pulled you back.

“Hey—did you hear me?” he asked, nudging you slightly as his hand brushed your lower back.

You blinked. “Sorry, what?”

He smiled. “I asked if you wanted to come back to my place. Shower. Relax a bit.”

You gave a tired laugh. “Maker, yeah. I smell like a Bantha’s backside.”

Cade chuckled and motioned for you to follow, leading the way toward the dorms like it wasn’t the first time you’d ended up in his bed. You didn’t look back, even though you felt the glare of someone watching.

Later that night, wrapped in someone else’s sheets, the air thick with sweat and exhaustion, you stared at the ceiling.

Cade was already asleep beside you, snoring softly. You listened to it with detached familiarity. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Cade—he was easy, fun, comfortable. But your mind kept slipping somewhere else.

Cassian.

You didn’t understand what it was—this pull towards him. This ache in your chest every time you caught a glimpse of him in the hangar, or heard his voice in passing. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A longing for simpler days, back when you were kids running through the alleys of Ferrix. Back when things didn’t hurt like this.

You closed your eyes and made yourself a promise: tomorrow morning, you were done with the distance. You were going to talk to him. For real, this time. You were going to be friends again.

You slammed your tray of food down with more force than intended.

A few heads turned at the sudden noise, but you only had eyes for Cassian. He glanced up, startled, then immediately dropped his gaze back to his plate like it personally offended him.

“Good morning, Captain Andor,” you chirped, voice sickly sweet.

He blinked and replied automatically, “Good morning, Lieutenant L/N.”

You sat down across from him, chin propped on one hand as you stared. He shifted uncomfortably, stabbing half-heartedly at the pale yellow eggs on his tray. You exhaled loudly—enough to make a point.

He finally looked up, brows drawn. “You have something to say?”

“Were you always an ass,” you asked pleasantly, “or did I block that part out?”

His expression darkened. “What are you talking about?”

“You,” you said, gesturing between you. “This. Us. Whatever this silent, painful tension is. I’ve had enough, Cass. We were friends once. Childhood friends. You remember that? Because I do. And I’m sick of pretending we’re strangers.”

He didn’t answer.

“I don’t want to fight,” you added, more quietly now. “I just want to talk.”

His voice was cautious. “Talk about what?”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of how much you wanted to say. It felt like there was too much to pick from—like if you opened that door, you wouldn’t be able to close it again.

You could ask about Ferrix. Or why you never wrote. You could tell him how it felt to see his face again after so long—like time had slammed into you all at once and left you gasping. You could tell him about the years that broke you open and stitched you back together. About the parts of you that still felt like a scared girl running through the streets of home.

But instead, you said the simplest thing you could.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Everything. Anything.” Then you added, more gently, “How’s Bix? When’s the last time you saw her?”

He let out a slow breath, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “She’s… okay. She made it off Ferrix. Barely. She’s safe now. Last I heard, she was laying low with a few others, somewhere far from all this.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Good.”

It was good. But it still made your throat tighten. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d needed to hear it.

You watched him for a long second, unsure what to do next. The last time the two of you really talked, you were kids. Reckless, loud, always trying to one-up each other. But this was different. He was different. And so were you.

“I tried not to think about Ferrix after I left,” you said, your voice lower now. “Tried to block it all out. You, Bix, everything.”

Cassian nodded slightly, but didn’t speak. The silence between you didn’t feel cold this time—just weighted. Like grief left hanging in the air, not quite ready to settle.

“I used to wonder if it was my fault,” he said quietly after a beat. “If I’d done something to make you leave.”

Your breath caught a little. “What? Why would you think that?” You shook your head. “It was my parents. It was never about you.”

“I know that. Now.” His gaze dropped. “But back then, I didn’t know where else to put my anger.”

There was nothing to say to that.

You looked at him, really looked, and the words slipped out before you could decide whether they were a mistake.

“I missed you.”

Cassian stared down at his tray, expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Same.”

Another pause stretched between you. Quieter this time. Sadder, maybe. But no less warm.

Then, like a switch flipping, he lifted his head with a crooked smirk. “So…” he said, voice lighter now, trying to shake off the weight, “are you gonna ask him out?”

You blinked. “What?”

He nodded toward the other end of the mess hall. “The guy. Cade, right? The one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“I have eyes,” he said casually. “And ears.”

You tilted your head. “Why would I ask him out?”

Cassian leaned back, arms crossing over his chest in that infuriatingly smug way. “Let’s see… what was it you said to me, once? Something like—‘because you’re doing it’? Sound familiar?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re seriously bringing that up?”

“It was memorable,” he said, lips twitching. “And, let’s be honest, your delivery was impeccable.”

You shook your head, unable to fight the laugh that bubbled out. “We were kids.”

Cassian shrugged. “Still. You said it with conviction.”

You leaned back slightly, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, well. Fifteen-year-old me was a little too confident for her own good.”

He smiled too, the tension in his features easing into something quieter. “She was a pain in the ass.”

“She learned from the best.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a second, it felt easy—like the years in between hadn’t hardened everything. But then the quiet crept in again.

You dropped your gaze to your tray, pushing a limp slice of toast around with your fork. “Cade isn’t serious,” you said quietly, not sure why you were offering that piece of information. “It’s just… simple. Easy to be around him.”

You didn’t look up to see his reaction.

But you felt the pause that followed. Not tense, exactly—just uncertain. Like the two of you were walking a tight tope... both waiting to see who’d say too much first.

You swallowed. Maybe it was stupid to say anything at all. Maybe you should’ve let the teasing be enough. Stayed on the surface, where it was safer.

But when you finally glanced up, he was already watching you.

His expression was unreadable, but it made your chest ache anyway.

“What?” you asked, more defensive than you meant to be.

He shook his head slowly, just once. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just… weird. Talking to you again”

You nodded, the words sitting heavy in your chest. “Yeah,” you murmured.

He looked down at your tray—your mostly untouched breakfast—and asked, almost as an afterthought, “You gonna eat that?”

You gave a tired laugh, nudging the plate toward him. “Help yourself.”

Cassian picked up your cold toast and bit into it, then immediately winced like he’d been personally offended. “Food sucks.”

That pulled another laugh from you.

Then someone, Melshi you think, called his name from across the mess.

He stood slowly, brushing the crumbs from his hand, and set the food down with a sigh.

“I should go,” he said.

You nodded, even though you didn’t want him to. Even though you weren’t ready to let this go yet. “See you around?”

His eyes met yours—steady, unreadable, but something in them lingered.

“Yeah,” he said. Voice low. Like he meant it.

And then he turned and walked away.

NEXT CHAPTER

#andor #cassian andor #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor x reader #cassian x reader #star wars

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dindjarindiaries · 5 months ago

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Crosshair making the shot to free Omega was more than just a heroic moment of redemption. It was a display of trust that, more than anyone else, Crosshair absolutely needed to finally make peace with himself.

This analysis is somewhat piggybacking off of this one about The Return, in which I discuss Hunter's true motivations during that episode and how earning trust and loyalty back from Hunter is one of Crosshair's greatest desires, especially as a younger sibling. While he may have started to earn it back then, this scene is the full culmination of it, and it's the moment when Crosshair can finally let go of the past and just be himself with his family again.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this moment in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

This analysis hinges heavily upon this line/moment, which indicate two major things for Crosshair: trust from both Omega and Hunter in taking the shot, the latter of whom knows he's down his shooting hand.

It starts, of course, after Hunter's killed CX-2 and he's preparing to go after Hemlock and Omega. Being the protective eldest brother/sergeant he is, he tries to convince Crosshair to stay behind, but Crosshair refuses and insists on helping. It doesn't take much at all to convince Hunter, and in probably one of my favorite underrated moments, he immediately picks up a second blaster for Crosshair - something that alone is a massive sign of trust in his brother and his abilities, even if they're both barely functioning.

Because, again, Hunter knows that Crosshair is down his shooting hand, but he doesn't doubt that his brother will still be able to use the weapon. And it's not just that.

Hunter knows that his brother can still shoot better than him. Not just because Hunter and his senses are no doubt absolutely overloaded right now, but because he has true faith in his brother and his sharpshooting abilities.

(Also... bonus points for this shot of them supporting one another. I hate what led to this, but I live for them literally leaning on each other again after everything they've been through.)

So then, we get this. The position they automatically assume, with Crosshair's blaster positioned on top of Hunter's shoulder. This is already establishing Crosshair as the primary sharpshooter here. Even before Hunter says a word, he's showing Crosshair how much he trusts him to make the shot when the time comes.

After this, we get out first hint of Omega displaying strong trust in both of them.

(She, of course, doesn't know yet about Crosshair's missing hand, but that wouldn't have matter anyway. We all know she still would've displayed the same amount of trust in him that Hunter does here.)

It doesn't matter what Hemlock put them through. It didn't matter to her when he first caught her trying to free them. She has complete, utter faith in her brothers to protect her. As someone who's so big on loyalty and has been trying to earn that full loyalty and trust back from his family, can you imagine how this made Crosshair feel already? Seeing her so confident in their ability to save her, even when she has a blaster pointed at her head?

Hemlock moves himself and Omega closer. This is when one of my favorite subtle moments happens: Hunter literally looks over at Crosshair, as if he already knows exactly what's about to happen.

Again, he already knows that Crosshair's going to take that shot and that he's going to make it. Hunter wouldn't risk Omega. Ever. If he had anything other than full confidence in Crosshair making the shot, then he wouldn't have allowed it.

But Hunter isn't just looking at Crosshair for that reason alone. He can also recognize that Crosshair is unsure, and scared. Hunter might even feel that way, too, but he's ever the eldest brother and sergeant, so he makes it his duty to make a plan and to give Crosshair the reassurance to do what Hunter knows he can do. What he trusts Crosshair to do.

Not only is Hunter telling Crosshair here that he trusts him, but also that Omega trusts him. In fact, he's insisting that she trusts him enough that she already knows exactly what to do to give him the perfect opportunity to take the shot.

Hunter also doesn't frame this as a choice. He tells Crosshair what to do, proving to him just how much confidence he has in Crosshair's ability to pull it off. Instead of a "Come on, you can do it!" it's literally a "You will do this."

And again, it's not like Crosshair missing wouldn't be a big deal. If Crosshair misses here, like he points out, it could risk Omega in several ways, either her being hurt by a stray shot or Hemlock getting the upper hand and killing both of them. But Hunter, protective Hunter, tells Crosshair that it has to be him. That it will be him.

Then, of course, Crosshair takes the shot - and makes it.

(And now, a moment of appreciation for the swiss cheesing...)

(I just noticed Hunter's knife is gone? Give it back??? What's he gonna do without his emotional support knife???????)

Now, the moment when Omega is finally about to reunite with them... but she notices Crosshair's missing hand. She realizes that, even without his shooting hand, the one he's been struggling with ever since their first imprisonment on Tantiss, Crosshair still made the shot. He's still worthy of that trust. And Omega and Hunter have known it, but Crosshair hasn't.

This is when we get another one of my favorite subtle moments (if you've been following me here, you'll know I've talked about this one before). Hunter's gaze guides Omega over to Crosshair and his missing hand, though I think it's a lot more than pointing that out. To me, it's Hunter saying "It was him. It was all him."

And that's when Omega runs forward and gives Crosshair the hug he really, really deserves.

This look in Crosshair's eyes... is everything.

That's the look of a man who's, of course, in utter shock, but it also dawning upon a massive realization. He's really, truly, cared for. And not even just that, but he's trusted, with their lives. You can't tell me that Crosshair didn't know at this point that Hunter's life was tied up with Omega's, too. If Omega had been lost, Hunter would have lost himself, too. By entrusting Crosshair with that shot, Hunter was essentially putting his own fate into Crosshair's hand, too.

And they both trusted him enough to do it. Finally, finally, he had their trust back. This embrace is proof and celebration of that, just as it's also proof of their loyalty to him.

(Hunter having a hand on both their backs I'm gonna be sick! I love them all so much!)

Remember, just a few hours before this, Crosshair was volunteering to Plan 99 because he felt as if he truly deserved that fate. He had clearly forgiven everyone except himself as far as their pasts went.

But here, Hunter and Omega - the two people whose approval Crosshair seeks out the most - both proved that they trust him with their lives. Even when he's far from being at his strongest.

All Crosshair ever wanted from his family was to have their trust and their loyalty again, and this moment is when he finally saw that he had it, and it's what allowed him to finally, at long last, make peace with himself again.

#i have a lot of really big feelings about this family okay? okay.#also wet hair hunter distracted me so many times while making this #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #the bad batch #the bad batch meta #star wars #star wars meta

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jinx-xxed · 10 months ago

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Mission Gone Wrong

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Coming back to retry this one after I abandoned the idea months ago :’) got some random motivation!! Also gonna preface this by saying I did in fact make up the first planet <3

Art credit to @/KasiopeaArt

Summary; Your mission for the resistance goes south, so you and Ben have to find a way to escape the First Order.

Content; Jedi/resistance AU, Ben Solo never turned AU, Jedi reader, Jedi Ben, running from the space cops, you get injured, Ben patches you up, saving two kids, Ben has the Solo Sass™️, piloting the Falcon :), Jedi rules be damned I’m gonna make them kiss, Ben’s family dynamic, Ben’s a mama’s boy, his parents love you, fun shenanigans, fluff

Wc; 7k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Stop! In the name of the First Order!”

The sun blazes above you, the sky a perfect blue with no clouds in sight—a contrast to the chaos happening below. The pound of your boots against cobblestone and the rapid beating of your heart fills your ears. Your breath comes in short, quick pants, your lungs burning as you try to suck in air while you run. The crowded streets of the Sandura trader outpost don’t make it easy. You dodge and weave between civilians, shouting excuse me’s and sorry’s every other second; you know that more than a few of them cuss you out in native tongues you don’t quite understand.

You spare a glance to your right, making sure that Ben is still keeping up. You’ve always been faster than him, more agile and lithe, so you have to be mindful that you don’t leave him behind. But you have no reason to worry because he’s right there with you, running just as quick from your pursuers. You can hear the heavy, plastic clanks of the Stormtrooper armor that slows them down as they chase after you. They’re too close for it to be comfortable but luckily the streets have too many civilians packed in them that they aren’t stupid enough to open fire.

Or so you’d think. With all of the commotion, people naturally move out of the way. They tuck into corners, squeeze under shop awnings, innocently clearing the path so they don’t get trampled. In doing so, they make you an easy target. You yelp as the first blaster shot is fired, wizzing right past your head and finding purchase in the corner of a building you run past.

“This is not how this was supposed to go!” Ben shouts, sweat trailing down the side of his face. His Jedi robes flutter behind him with his movements, both of your cloaks that were meant to conceal you long lost and forgotten.

“You think?!” You yell back, teeth gritting together from your annoyance. This mission was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy. You were just going to set up a fuel trade with one of the bosses stationed in the outpost, pick up some extra ship parts on the way since stocks are running low. You have those at least, they slam into your side with every step you take as the bag you carry jostles about. The fuel tanks on the other hand…

The boss you had been meeting with, Kaijat, turned out to be a slimy two-facer who sold you out to the ones who offered him more credits. That naturally happened to be the First Order, their desire to eradicate the Jedi and the Resistance knowing no bounds. You and Ben had barely escaped from Kaijat’s facility before Stormtroopers circled the whole place, trying to trap you inside and imprison you. Your lightsabers had come in handy. You cursed yourself over and over for not being able to tell Kaijat’s true intentions, for not being able to see how he was going to betray you. You’d made deals with him before, you thought it would be fine. You should’ve known better—nobody can be trusted for very long anymore, if at all.

You’re ripped from your thoughts by searing pain in your left arm, a choked and startled yell coming from your throat as your running falters. A blaster shot went clean through, cutting about an inch into your shoulder. The outer layers are automatically cauterized but the deeper layers begin to bleed generously, crimson running down your skin and staining the whites of your robes. There’s a feeling of worry that blossoms at the forefront of your mind, and you know that it’s Ben with the way he shouts your name. Your bond connects you in a way that allows you to feel what the other feels, see what the other sees. You reassure him through that bond that you’re fine. You’ve had worse.

You channel your pain to your fingertips, calling the Force to you as you abruptly stop and turn. You use the Force like a second set of hands, digging its fingers into the cobblestone and cement below you, ripping it up and curving it into a sort of wall to create an obstacle that’ll buy you more time. You’ve always been more attuned to the physical aspects of the Force, using the objects and earth around you to your advantage. Ben is much better with the psychological aspects, easily being able to see into the thoughts and feelings of anyone he desires. That’s why you make such a great pair.

You both keep running, not wasting a second of the time that distraction has given you. Though you don’t look back, you know the Stormtroopers are already squeezing around the wall you made. You can tell by the way their blasters keep firing.

“This way!” You say, grabbing Ben and making a sharp left. You skid against the ground from your speed, accidentally banging your injured shoulder into the wall and leaving a smear of blood. You try to ignore the wave of nausea.

The new path seems promising, perhaps even having a way out of the outpost. Until you see the wall ahead begin to close in and you curse more than a few times. “No, no, no! Shit!” You snap. You and Ben slow your pace, coming upon a dead end. A death sentence. You beat a fist against the brick like that’ll do anything while Ben runs his hands along it like there’s a secret button you’re missing that’ll magically open it up. There’s nobody else around, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. You look up, trying to calculate how difficult it’d be to just scale the damn thing. There’s barely any footholds so you’d most likely just slip and bust your ass. Your hand begins to reach towards your lightsaber as the sounds of the Stormtroopers get nearer.

“Hey! Jedi! Over here!” A voice whisper shouts to you. You whirl around, searching for it. Ben does the same. “Look down!”

You do what it says and see a manhole cover lifted up by tiny hands, an equally tiny face poking out from between the gap. It’s a child, a young girl. “Follow me! They won’t find you down here!” She urges. The shouts and footsteps are getting closer. “Come on!”

You don’t give yourself a second to hesitate, forcing Ben along with you. You’re already in deep shit, you don’t think this’ll make it any worse. You both jump down into the manhole, the kid then dragging the cover back to its original resting spot so that anyone above ground is none the wiser. Just in time too, because you hear the Stormtroopers just above you, entering into that alley you were trapped in seconds before.

Looking around, you’re surprised by what you see. Somebody’s made a comfy living space of underground tunnels, outfitted with mismatching furniture like couches and chairs and tables, scraps of rugs and carpet covering the stone floors, pieces of drapes and paper clippings glued to the walls. There’s cozy lights strung along the seams of the curved ceiling, bathing the tunnels in a warm glow.

“What is this?” Ben mutters, eyes going every which way just like yours.

“Welcome to the tunnels of Sandura! Or home, as we like to call it.” The little girl from before is in front of you now, a big smile on her face. She looks to be eight. Her brown hair is messy and sticks up in all different directions, her face has smears of soot on it that hides her freckles, and her abnormally green eyes shimmer with childlike mischief. Her clothes are torn at their edges, like they’ve been worn generously or found in a trash heap.

You lift a brow. “We?”

The girl turns to shout down the tunnels. “Shamar!” There’s a pause and then the sound of little footsteps before a boy appears, looking to be only a year or two younger than the girl. You can see in their faces how they’re related, same round cheeks and pointed ears and sloped eyes. Their differences lie in the boy’s black hair, though it’s just as messy as his sister’s, and in his blue eyes.

“This is Shamar, my younger brother. I’m Almae. We’ve been living in these tunnels for years.” She says it proudly. You can tell the boy is the more nervous one of the pair as he looks you and Ben over with scrutiny. He hangs farther back, letting his sister lead the charge.

“Where’s your parents?” You can’t help but ask. You don’t sense any other life forms within the tunnels save for some rats maybe, but no people.

“They’ve been gone for a while. It’s just us now.” Shamar says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Ben’s eyes narrow. He’s always so skeptical, you can feel his suspicion through your bond like it’s your own. “Why’d you save us?”

“We don’t like the First Order none, either. We know you Jedi folk, you go around the galaxy helping people and such.” Almae says, nodding to herself. “So we wanted to ask you to help us. We’ll take you through the tunnels and get you out of the city as long as you promise to take us back with ya.”

You’ll admit that’s not exactly what you expected. What you did expect was for them to ask for credits or ship parts they could resell, it’s what everybody’s after these days. That’s why you don’t like going on missions very much, you have a bad habit of coming back with empty pockets. At least when Ben joins you, he keeps that from happening.

“How do we know you’re not going to sell us out?” Ben demands, immediately going on the defensive from already being double-crossed once today.

You tug on his sleeve, pulling him to the side. “Ben, relax. They’re children.” You whisper.

“Children can still be convinced with the right amount of credits.” He retorts. “I’m trying to not get us captured.”

You roll your eyes. “I appreciate it, but read the two of them. Do they seem malicious to you?”

He hesitates, looking back at the siblings. You feel how his Force reaches out, roaming over their minds in a way that’ll leave them none the wiser. Through your bond, you’re able to get what he’s sensing. There’s no secret motive, no evil desire. It’s just hope, anticipation, and a desire for freedom, for something more than this. They just want out, they want to get away from the back-breaking jobs they had to take to scrape by, from the adults who yell at them for doing something wrong. They want to get away from always having to steal their next meal and living in the dark of the tunnels where they can’t see the sky. You feel a strong pang of sympathy in your chest, and you know Ben experiences the same.

You turn towards the kids, you crouch down to their level. Shamar shies away behind his sister, still eyeing you suspiciously. Good instincts on him. You hold out your pinky. “You pinky promise you’ll get us out of here?”

Almae grins, interlocking her little pinky with yours. “Pinky promise!”

“Alright,” you smile, “lead the way.”

Almae squeals. “Shamar! Go get your bag!” She tells her brother, shoving him towards one of the offshoot tunnels. Their bedroom, if you had to guess.

“I hope we don’t regret this.” Ben mutters once they’re gone, arms crossed over his chest.

“C’mon, they’re so cute.” You tease, nudging him. “How could we say no?” There’s a quirk of a smile from him and you know you’ve won. You always do.

Shamar and Almae come hurrying back a minute later, each with a heavy satchel slung over their shoulders. They’re full of any belongings they feel they can’t leave behind, like mementos from their parents, books, little trinkets and toys, and a few pairs of clothes. Everything else will stay behind in the tunnels, waiting for the next person to discover.

“Let’s go!” Almae says excitedly. You give her a nod, telling her to go ahead. She grabs her brothers hand and begins to walk, you and Ben following dutifully behind.

The further you get from the main living space, the darker it becomes. There’s the occasional overhead light or cracks in the foundation above luckily making your path more visible. The kids seem to know exactly where they’re going, probably traveling these tunnels hundreds of times over and using them to escape from the authorities trying to capture them for stealing. You admire their resourcefulness, even though kids shouldn’t have to live this way.

“How’s your arm?” Ben mutters to you after a while of walking in silence.

The pain had dulled, instead becoming a constant throbbing you could ignore. You’d basically forgotten about it. “I’m fine. I’ll patch it up when we get back to the Falcon.”

“Are you sure?” He presses. “I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

You groan. “That was only one time!” You laugh at the memory, even though it definitely wasn’t funny for Ben. You can tell by the way he scowls. It’d been an exploratory mission, scoping out a new planet and seeing what the resistance could make of it. You’d gotten yourself injured by one of the creatures inhabiting it and you’d brushed off your wounds until you’d passed out from blood loss. Ben had nearly had a heart attack, then having to drag your body over rough terrain and back to the ship. You’d done his chores back at Luke’s academy for a month to apologize. Besides that, he’s always been so concerned about you, acting like a mother hen with the way he frets. You certainly don’t do him any favors by constantly diving headfirst into danger. “I’m fine, I promise. You’ll be the first to know if I start feeling lightheaded.”

The siblings take a final left before Almae is shouting back at you because you’d fallen a bit behind. “We’re here! Come on, slow pokes!”

You hurry along, coming to a ladder that leads all the way up to another manhole cover. Almae climbs first with Ben right behind in case there’s danger above ground. Shamar follows, and you bring up the rear. The cover is shoved aside by Almae, the thing screeching in protest, and you have to squint your eyes as unfiltered sunlight pours in to the dark tunnels. The others climb out and you don’t hear any shouts of Stormtroopers or blasters going off so you assume it’s safe. Ben gives you a hand to help you and you gladly take it to relieve your bad arm of the strain.

Coming out of the tunnels, you immediately look around to get your bearings. It seems the path you followed brought you right to the outer border of the outpost, the wall of it standing tall directly behind you. In front of you stretches the lush jungle forest that makes Sandura what it is. The trees stretch to the skies, covered in moss and lichen, animals of all kinds roaming freely amongst the leaves above and underbrush below. Within that forest is where the Millennium Falcon waits for you, and that’s where you now head.

You and Ben take the lead this time, keeping the two kids between you to both protect them and keep an eye on them. You follow the invisible string of the Force that connects you to the Falcon, helping you find it within the massive jungle. You’d parked the ship far, far from the outpost, away from any sensors or prying eyes. It was common practice for people like you, to trek practically halfway across a planet because you couldn’t risk your ship being spotted. Especially something like Han Solo’s Falcon, just about everyone in the galaxy knew about that thing. The only reason Ben’s father had allowed you to use it today was the premise of getting in and out fast, something his ship was an expert in. Ben had sat through a multitude of rules and threats from Han, something that happened any time he was allowed to use his father’s ship. Ben swore up and down that Han loved the Falcon more than him, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think he’s right.

Honestly, you can’t blame Han either as you come upon the ship tucked into the forest. It really is a gorgeous piece of work; it looks at home between the vibrant greens of the bushes and trees. It’s huge, and the dappled sunlight reflects beautifully off its shiny silver exterior. Han takes such good care of it nowadays, showing it more attention as both of them have climbed in age. There’s not a scratch or dent on it, not a wire or panel out of place. You can’t recall how many conversations you’ve had with Han about the Millennium Falcon, how many hours you’ve spent talking and talking about all the intricacies of the ship—even when Ben would beg you to stop so he wouldn’t have to listen to his father drone on anymore. You’ve loved flight crafts ever since you were a child, there’s always something new to learn and they feel so powerful under your hands. You take to tinkering with your X-wing whenever you have free time, seeing what you can possibly improve and fix. You and Ben are some of the best pilots to come out of the Jedi academy, even rivaling Poe who’s more than happy to challenge either of you.

It seems Almae and Shamar share in your awe of the Falcon, both of their heads tilting all the way back to try and take in the whole thing. It’s impossible, you know that because you did the same when you were a kid seeing it for the first time. Even now in your late twenties, you’re still finding out new things about the ship.

“I didn’t know they were this big!” Almae exclaims, immediately running beneath the kickstands holding up the ship, twisting her body every which way in an attempt to look at it all with wide eyes.

“You’ll see much bigger ones when we get back to base.” Ben tells them, hitting the button to lower to ramp. “Come on.”

The siblings don’t hesitate to rush past him into the ship and you laugh as pure fear crosses over his face. “Don’t touch anything!” He shouts after them, hurrying the rest of the way inside. You follow behind, doing him a favor and shutting the ramp since he’s busy corralling two kids as they try to run this way and that. More laughter bubbles out of you and tears prick your eyes while you watch him, your poor, dear Ben so frazzled by a pair of children.

He finally gets them to sit down on the main couch that’s curved against the wall, then tightly securing the seatbelts over them so they can’t escape. Almae and Shamar pout. “That’s not going to work on me.” Ben tells them sternly. “I’m not risking my dad tearing me a new one because you two want to go exploring. Now just sit there and… I don’t know, play dejarik or something.” He clicks on the table in front of the couch, the holographic board game coming to life.

“You think they’ll know anything about that game? I can’t even understand it.” You mutter to him as you head towards the cockpit. The kids seem fascinated enough by the moving creatures at least.

“I know, it makes it very easy for me to beat you.” He says with a knowing smirk. You punch his shoulder.

There’s a familiar beeping and the sound of rolling metal as your droid, BB-3, comes from around the corner. You had left him behind in the ship both to avoid obvious suspicion and so that he could keep a robotic eye on it. “Hey buddy, you miss me?” You say affectionately, crouching down to run a hand along the top of his head. You love your droid, he’s been with you for years after you’d found him stuck in a garbage chute on some nowhere planet where he was going to be scrapped for parts. You cleaned him up and he’s never left your side since.

He notices the injury on your arm, one of his compartments opening to reveal the spare medical supplies you keep inside him in case of an emergency. You smile. “Aw, thanks bud but I’ll patch myself up in a bit. We need to get out of here first.” He beeps at you, rolling back and forth once.

He follows you to the cockpit where Ben’s already waiting, flipping switches and pressing buttons that have the Falcon roaring to life. You hear the kids shouts of excitement as everything powers on. “They’re fun.” You say with a laugh as you sink into the copilot’s chair.

“Uh huh.” Ben mutters. He grips the controls in his big hands, steadying the ship as it lifts off the ground. He keeps it low until you’re even farther from the outpost, not wanting to risk anything after you’d already been chased by Stormtroopers. They’ll be looking for you, for the Falcon. Once he thinks it’s safe, he brings the ship up, up, up into the atmosphere while you prepare the hyperdrive without him even having to ask. You’ve flown together enough times to know the sequence. You’ll jump to hyperspace in order to get away from Sandura, and then travel normally the rest of the way back to D’Qar in order to not blow all the fuel reserves.

You grip the chair under you as space around the viewport begins to blur, turning different shades of blue and white. You both get pushed back into your seats when the ship successfully makes the jump, speeding across the galaxy.

“What’s all that?”

You and Ben startle at the sound of the voice, turning to see Shamar peering at the control panel from between your chairs. “How did you- where’s your sister?” Ben demands, struggling to look at the kid and also keep his focus on controlling the Falcon.

Shamar shrugs. “I dunno, looking at some turret type thing.”

You and Ben both look at each other with wide, fearful eyes. The laser cannons. You’re out of your seat immediately, running across the ship and into the sectioned off compartment that houses the guns. Almae is indeed in there, about to touch the controls before you lift her by the armpits and yank her out of the chair. She yells in protest, thrashing her arms about. She manages to wheel back a fist that smacks your open wound, making you hiss and nearly drop her from the wave of nausea and pain you get. You set her roughly on the ground, your free hand coming up to clasp your injury as you wince. You feel fresh blood on your palm.

Almae instantly stops, body language changing as guilt sweeps over her. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You- you just startled me is all. I just wanted to look around.” Her eyes are so big, so scared. “Please don’t take us back! I didn’t mean to hit ya, I swear!”

You can practically taste her fear on your tongue from how much it swells, how obvious it is across the Force. She truly thinks you’d take her and her brother back to Sandura and turn them in, leave them to sit in a jail all over again. You sigh, using your breathing to get past the pain. You guide her back to the main room where Sharma is waiting, sitting her down on the couch. She’s crying, small body shuttering as she sniffles.

“Hey, hey, listen to me.” You say softly, trying to get that strong girl you saw before to come back. She seems to calm a bit when she realizes you’re not angry, finally meeting your gaze. “It’s okay. But we told you not to move from these seats, that was for your own safety and ours. If you messed with something you shouldn’t have, it could’ve gotten us detected by the First Order or messed with the ship. We brought you both here to help you so we expect you to respect us and follow the rules we give you, alright?” You’re honest with her, but not cruel. You know that’s what children need to be able to understand, and Almae seems to get it. She nods, wiping stubbornly at her tears with a fist.

“M’sorry.” She mumbles. “I really didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Almae. You’re not in trouble. We’re not going to take you back.” You say, putting a comforting hand on her head. Besides, doing that would only get your own selves arrested. “You’ll get a tour of the Falcon sometime later, I promise.” She perks up at the sound of that, nodding. You buckle her and her brother in a second time and they seem like they won’t be making any moves to escape again.

BB-3 beeps at you when you turn around, concerned by the new blood on your arm. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You mutter, going to plop yourself onto one of the bunks built into the wall, a heavy sigh leaving you. It’s time to finally patch yourself up, you suppose. The Falcon shudders as it comes out of hyperspace and you feel some tension release from your muscles. You’re grateful nothing decided to chase after you from Sandura.

You take one of the med kits and settle it next to you, popping it open and grabbing what you’ll need. Wipes, anti-bacterial, gauze. From BB-3 you take your small canister of bacta, something you keep hidden because of how precious it is. You begin to try and clean yourself of your blood, finding it a little difficult because of the angle. You run through more than a few wipes, leaving them stained red and scattered around you.

You’re about to try and apply the anti-bacterial before a large, warm hand encompasses yours. You look up to see Ben leaning over you, your eyes meeting. “Let me do it.” He says softly. Your faces are so close you can’t help but reach forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, making him smile. You always love his smile, the way his dimples show.

“I can handle it, Ben.” You say with a good-natured huff. “Don’t you have to go pilot?”

“It’s on auto. You’ve always sucked at bandaging injuries, just let me.” He insists. You roll your eyes, slapping the anti-bacterial into his waiting, open palm. Amusement twinkles in his eyes because he knows you always end up giving in. It’s true, you do suck at bandaging injuries because your hands aren’t careful enough for it, nor are you meticulous enough. You only are when it comes to a ship, something you can’t kill. Ben has always been more of the medic between the two of you—he has to be with the way you are—always taking such care when it comes to you.

He sits next to you on the bunk, making you scoot over to accommodate his huge frame. When cleaning your wound, he becomes so concentrated, his brows furrowing in the way you like with a slight crease to the side of his mouth. You wince as the anti-bacterial stings and he mutters out an apology, too focused for anything else. You know he’ll give you plenty of kisses for it later though, he always does. Ben coats the strips of gauze in bacta and then wraps them around your arm, not too tight and not too loose. Perfect, just like his dressings always are.

As you suspected, he takes you into his arms and kisses you plenty once he’s done. Your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He’s generous in his attention and love, the happy and gentle emotions filtering through your bond to match. It has you smiling like an idiot. When he’s satisfied, he lays back in the bunk, sitting against the wall with you between his legs. That’s when it hits you both, how tired you are. All the fighting and running, all the stress and anger, and now bringing along two kids. You look over and find the siblings asleep in their seats, heads lolling to the side. You want to follow them, want to just fall asleep in Ben’s lap. He’s so warm, and his robes are so comfortable. Easy to wrap yourself in and ignore the outside world.

But you know you can’t, you have to stay alert in case something happens, and Ben will have to get back to piloting soon. So you settle for sitting there and enjoying the way he holds you, because that’s always been more than enough.

» ☆ «

You must’ve dozed off despite your efforts because when your eyes are opening again, Ben is gone and you can feel that the Falcon is being lowered to the ground with the way it shakes and the sounds of it powering down. You sit up with a small grumble, wiping sleep from your eyes. Your legs ache in protest when you stand, exhaustion still weighing heavy on your body.

Almae and Shamar are up now too, shaking in their seats from excitement. Ben appears from the cockpit, having successfully parked and turned off the ship. He comes over to you, brushing some of your tussled hair from your forehead. “Did you sleep well?” He teases. You have half the mind to punch him again.

You settle for sticking your tongue out instead, then brushing past him to release the kids. You unbuckle their seatbelts and they immediately jump off the couch, clutching their bags against themselves. “I want you two to stick close to me, okay? There’s going to be a lot of new people and things to see. I don’t want you to get lost.” You say, holding your hands out so the kids take them. You’re glad when they oblige you, their tiny hands fitting snugly into yours.

Ben leads the way, once again pressing that button to release the ramp hatch. As it lowers, bright sunlight filters in and the fresh, damp air of D’Qar fills your nostrils.

There’s a crowd of people waiting when you exit the ship—resistance pilots welcoming you back, engineers already inspecting for repairs, captains and generals waiting for reports. It’s nothing unusual, it’s something that happens just about every time you two make a return. The rebellion hold the Jedi in such high regard that they always have to get some sort of glimpse of you, to see what you’ve been able to accomplish. You were right in taking Almae and Shamar’s hands because you can feel the way they startle and tense, too many sights and sounds coming at them. They shy away from the crowd, instead trying to hide behind you and BB-3 where it’s safe.

People begin to disperse within the minute, most having seen what they needed to see—that the two Jedi made it back alive. The rest of them part when the general comes through, her familiar gold-plated companion right behind her. Ben’s attention immediately shifts, and you smile knowingly.

“Welcome home, son.” Leia says fondly, having to reach up to cup Ben’s cheek in a weathered hand even after he tries to lean down for her. She tucks a strand of his black hair behind his big ears out of habit, even though he hates it. He’s always been self conscious about his ears despite how much you love them.

He huffs. “Thanks, mom.”

She chuckles, looking around him to greet you as well. You dip your head towards her with respect. “So, how did things go?” She asks.

You wince. “Well…”

“Kaijat betrayed us. He sold us out to the First Order, we almost got captured.” Ben’s words are blunt, his expression stony. He always gets that way when giving a mission report; he learned from his mother.

Leia curses under her breath. She seems troubled for only a moment before it disappears, a sigh leaving her. She’s always so put together, something you’ve admired about her ever since you were a kid. “There goes that, then. Did you manage to get anything? Were either of you hurt? Were you followed?”

“I got some of the ship repair parts you were wanting.” You say, motioning to the satchel you have slung over your shoulder. “I got shot in the arm, but it’s nothing too bad. Ben patched me up, of course.” Leia nods along with that, a twinkle in her eye, knowing exactly how her son takes care of you.

“And no, we weren’t followed. It’s all thanks to these two that we were able to escape.” You pull the siblings out from behind you, then holding them against you so they don’t scamper off. “It’s okay, guys. This is Leia, Ben’s mom and the leader of the resistance. She’s a powerful lady.”

Leia smiles, immediately softening. “And who are you?” She asks, trying to meet their eye level as best she can.

The kids are clearly too stunned to speak, making you laugh. It’s a big difference from how they were when you first met them. “C’mon, it’s alright. Introduce yourselves.” You whisper.

“I- I’m Almae and… and this is Shamar, my little brother.” Almae says, swallowing down her fear.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Almae.” Leia says, holding out a hand for her to shake. Almae hesitates for just a second before breaking into a smile and taking the hand. Leia does the same for her brother. “And Shamar. Now tell me, how’d you save these two delinquents of mine?” Ben rolls his eyes.

“We lived in the tunnels at Sandura, ya see, and the First Order had been there for a while. We don’t like them none, they’re all hoity toity and mean. They almost got us a few times when we were trying to get food.” Almae says, more than happy to launch into a story. She becomes much more open and expressive as she talks. “So we hear all this commotion above us one mornin’, all this shoutin’ and stompin’. I go to try and see what it is and it’s a pair of Jedi! They were running from the Order so I figured I’d help ‘em escape when they got stuck. We went through the tunnels and those stupid Troopers had no idea. Then the nice lady let us on the big ship. The big guy was kinda mean though.”

Ben glowers. “Why you-“

You smack a hand against his chest and he grumbles, crossing his arms. Leia laughs. “Well, aren’t you two brave? I have to thank you for saving the both of them. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to them.” She says earnestly. There’s a warm feeling that builds in your chest from her words, and you know Ben experiences the same. “I think you’ll fit right in here.”

“Really? We get to stay?” Sharma says, big eyes hopeful.

“Of course you do. We have a place for children just like you where it’s safe. C-3PO, give them a little tour of the place, will you? I’ll come find you in a bit.” Leia says, turning to the droid who’d been happily engaging in some type of conversation with BB-3.

“Oh, certainly general.” He teeters forward on his stiff legs, waving his arms at the kids. Almae looks overjoyed. You can already tell she has the heart of a mechanic in her, just like you. “Pleasure to meet you, I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. Please, follow me this way.”

The kids seem hesitant, instinctively looking back at you. You smile. “Go on. It’s safe here, everyone’s a friend. Just make sure to stay with the droid so you don’t get lost, okay?” You lean in to whisper, “and ask him stupid questions. He loves those.” The siblings grin impishly at you.

“You’ll come visit us, won’t you?” Shamar asks, tugging on the hem of your robes.

“Yeah, of course we will. Once you get all settled.” You promise, patting him on the back. You watch as they hurry to catch up to C-3PO; it wasn’t too hard, he doesn’t move all that fast.

“They’ll have to be transferred to one of our more remote civilization bases. This one is too dangerous and open to have children on it.” Leia says once they’re gone, both hands resting on her cane.

You sigh. “I figured. I just didn’t have the heart to tell them.” Ben’s hand finds yours, a small comfort.

“There you are!”

All three of you jolt at the sound of Han’s voice as he comes up to you with long strides, Chewie right behind him. “I was wondering when you’d come back with her.” He says to Ben, meaning the Millennium Falcon. “No issues with her, right?”

Ben sighs, automatically knowing what his father would say to him. “No, dad. Nothing happened to your precious ship.”

Han nods. “Good. Chewie and I are gonna head out for a bit. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Sure you will.” Leia mutters.

Han is about to walk up the ramp past you when he stops. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Han.”

“How ya been?”

You shrug. “I’ve been alright. Doing the usual.”

He nods again. “Good to hear. I’ll see ya later.” He points at Ben. “Keep that boy out of trouble.”

You can’t help the small smile on your face. Ben’s parents accepted the fact that you two were inseparable a long time ago, and they know you don’t really go anywhere without the other. Not if you can help it, at least. “I will, Han.”

When Chewie walks by, he ruffles both you and Ben’s hair with a big, furry paw—his own way of saying hello. You laugh while Ben groans, immediately trying to fix the mess. Then Chewie and Han are gone, disappearing into the Falcon and getting it powered up. That’s typically how your interactions with Ben’s father and his companion go, always short and sweet because Han is always on his way to do something, to go annoy someone in some part of the galaxy.

Leia just shakes her head. When she moves past you, she puts a gentle hand against your bandaged wound. “I want you to go see the medic when you can, dear.”

“I will, Mrs. Organa, don’t worry.” You reassure her. “Ben won’t leave me alone until I do.” She seems satisfied with that.

“Oh, and Luke wants you two to contact him within the next few days. He may ask for your return to Ossus. I believe he has some things to discuss, but it didn’t seem like there was a big rush.” She says. You and Ben share a look, wondering what your Master would have to say. You’re both too exhausted to care about it right now though. “I’ll leave you both to it. But do stop by tomorrow morning to give a full report, hm?”

“Sure, mom. We’ll see you then.” Ben says, generously leaning down again so Leia could give him a little peck on the cheek and hold him close.

She takes a few extra seconds than necessary, Ben beginning to squirm in her grasp. She sighs after finally letting him go. “I’m glad you both made it back safely. I didn’t realize how dangerous things have become. We may have to rethink how we go about negotiations so this doesn’t happen again.”

“We’ll figure it out, we always do.” You try to reassure her, even though you’re feeling doubtful yourself. The First Order is expanding, taking more planets, spreading their control.

Leia hums in agreement, trying to keep up some semblance of optimism. “I’ll have to speak to Luke, he needs to make his move. That means you both will need to be on alert.” She says, tone heavy. She waves a hand suddenly, shaking her head. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow, you two don’t need to listen to me trying to figure out a war right now. Go rest up. I need to make sure C-3PO and those kids didn’t get into any trouble.”

“Good idea.” Ben mutters, knowing those kids are probably trying to get into all kinds of mischief.

With a final goodbye, you two and Leia are going your separate ways. You stretch your arms above your head, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin. “Now let’s go get something to eat, please, my stomach is digesting itself. I hope they still have some of those sandwiches I like.” You say, practically drooling at the thought of those tasty sandwiches they serve in the cafeteria.

Ben scoffs. “This late in the afternoon? You’re dreaming.”

“Don’t ruin it for me.” You groan.

Even without the sandwiches, as long as you get some type of decent food, you’ll be okay. As long as Ben is with you, you’ll be okay. You know that you’ll both grab a meal together, you’ll sit side by side, never seperated. You know that when you’re done, you’ll both find somewhere quiet, preferably bathed in sunlight, you’ll curl up together looking like two puzzle pieces, and you’ll sleep for as long as you want. Because it’s what you always do, and because you earned it.

#I’m sorry there’s too many planets I’ll just make up one respectfully #idk how this ended up being so long lmao???#ben solo come back to me!!!!!#ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo fanfic #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo ren #kylo fanfic #kylo x you #kylo

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fridaysmind · 3 months ago

Text

Yandere!Starscream x Autobot!Reader

Chapter 4

(Chapter 3 is here)

GN!Reader; Obsession; A departure from the canon; English not my native!! TW! Kidnapping. Trauma. Betrayal (?)

Finally a battle, just like old times. With a pinch of irritation, Soundwave watched the crack of the Autobot's blow spread across the visor, but straightened his shoulders and focused on his opponent again, but bot, in turn, abruptly stopped paying attention to the Decepticon and, with a vague emotion on his faceplate, took a cautious step back. The blue mech turned his frame just a few inches before a blow to his back knocked him onto his breastplates. Someone from above presses the mech into the ground, the helmet barely lifting and Soundwave sees a swarm of aggressive insecticons in a sky almost blackened by the number of these individuals. One of the dots above him approaches, landing near the sound of transformation, and the mech recognizes the former air commander. Starscream.

Decepticon tries to get up, throw the carcass off and tell the seeker what he thinks about him in the only language Starscream understands: the language of pain, but the silver figure raises a resonant blaster and with one gesture forces the beast off the communications officer's back. The latter rises as quickly as possible and silently but aggressively snatches the artifact from the seeker's hands, aiming the weapon at the silver faceplate. But Starscream only smiled.

Soundwave restrains the body twitching with discomfort, the mech trying to find something on the surface of the seeker's mind, but inside the processor it's as if it's utter chaos. Or rather, more than usual. The seeker looks so unnatural that the flat servo lowers the blaster itself.

“You give him my regards, I am, after all, absent for so long not entirely of my own free will. But I promise to come back to y'all with some presents."

Come back? The communicator's helmet tilts to the side. This has to be a bad joke. The shattered dark screen lights up as a wave of color shows the audio tracks playing:

“Why should we_waiting_you?” but the seeker, ignoring the question, jumps in place, transforms, and soars into the air. The pair of remaining insects, with the disabled Wildjack in their clutches, obediently follow him like moths attracted to light. Soundwave would have been able to follow and he's about to, but a request for help from Laserbeak arrives.

Without a doubt, the mech prioritizes his priorities and, after a few more glances at the distant dots in the sky, transforms and rushes to his friend.

***

“...But I promise to return to y'all with gifts." the recording of Starscream's confident voice echoed off the dark purple walls of Nemesis.

Megatron crunched his sharp dentoplates, standing with his back to his communicator and looking at the clouds floating by.

“Interesting..." the massive figure turns around, the Lord's scarlet optics sliding over the grim mask with a squint. “And what is his plan? Did you catch something on the surface of his mind?”

“Only one thing:” Cybertronian symbols lined up in a sentence, ”total chaos. Presumption: Starscream has gone insane.”

***

If it weren't for the emptiness in your abdominal plates, you would have thrown up. At least somewhere the endless Autobot hunger has played in your favor.

Your vision slowly recovers and your mechanisms kick in, but your processor is flooded with multiple damage notifications. A wheeze leaves the vocalizer, and you turn your helmet to face the sight of one of those insects that attacked you. Combat protocols activate and your torso tenses, preparing to fight, but the endoskeleton crunches painfully and you lay back down on the metal floor with a groan. The beast, in turn, bounces anxiously and rushes out through the automatically opening doors.

As the pain speeds up your ventilation, the audio sensors pick up voices from outside.

“...And a little damaged-”

“What?!” even behind the closed doors the scream seemed too loud, it was scary to imagine how deafening it was to whoever was standing next to them. It was hard not to recognize Starscream's aggressive tone. Slag. How the hell did you get yourself into this?

“Idiots! I issued a clear order to be careful!” the last word sounded like deadly poison and and then there was a bang. It seemed that the seeker had received a beating for his glossa.

But there was no shriek, no falling or begging, quite the contrary, quick steps were heard in your direction, the doors slid apart and the body of the mech gleamed in the cold light of lamps, completely unharmed. Come on, there's no way it was him that hit the insecticon. After all, why would they suddenly follow his orders?

Maybe the fall damaged your processor after all, because you its seems like Starscream anxiously approaches you and examines you with something akin to concern in his optics. He's serious, muttering something unintelligible about what kind of idiots he has to work with, and you stare warily, silently watching his every move.

Seeker slid his claws under your much smaller figure and lifted you gently, deftly dragging you onto a high raised metal bed. The frame doesn't even respond with pain, so carefully you've been moved.

“What's even going on?” you can't get up if you want to, you have to hold steady and calm with real fear in the spark before the seeker. You've never felt in such danger before and there was literally no one around to come to your aid. There's no connection, the frame hurts and you can't get up, what a curse...

“There's nothing to explain, it's fine. I'm not going to do anything to you, I'm just going to fix what those imbeciles did.”

He's going to medicate you? A Decepticon? Exactly Starscream, of all the mechs orbiting planet Earth? Your helmet must have taken more damage than you thought, the processor's never experienced such lags before.

“Are you kidding me? Why would you suddenly show such mercy?”

“Why did you decide to heal me that day?” his servos move with the old scanner as he ignores your question and asks his own.

“What was I supposed to do?” you don't think about the answer for a second. “You needed help, I provided it. The code of honor requires it.” a smile stretched across Starscream's faceplate as you answered him confidently. What exactly was wrong with him?

“This is it. That's why it worked, that's why I changed direction. That's why I genuinely liked you.” I guess if you weren't defenseless, alone in an unknown room with a Decepticon behaving in an unaccustomed manner, you would have found those words quite endearing, even embarrassing. Seeker continued:

“You're acting really different from the others. Just seeing a mech in trouble, just helping, just letting go, you know?”

No, you don't quite get it and you start arguing.

“Any of my teammates would have done the same thing, that's obvious.” and you mean it. Yes, perhaps he would have been taken to the base for interrogation and information, Starscream isn't just some Decepticon after all. You don't speak those thoughts aloud, though.

“Oh, also naive, how sweet. Do you really believe any of your friends would selflessly lend a servo of help to someone who isn't their own, or at least just useful?” the words are spoken by him with such bitter certainty that you don't find anything to answer. Wouldn't they? You want to continue this conversation, but the door slides open again, and you struggle to turn toward the new guest.

You can barely contain yourself from cheering. Wheeljack! Alive, almost unharmed, but clearly exhausted, he enters with something clenched in his fist, Starscream turns around, and you freeze, waiting for a fight.

Which doesn't come.

The Seeker picks up some object and the mechs exchange handshakes.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #tfp #transformers starscream #starscream x reader #starscream tfp #tfp starscream #yandere x reader #yandere starscream #yandere transformers #fridays mind fic

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tinfoil-jones · 3 months ago

Text

Gravity Falls: What Did You Do? Ch. 3

Summary: "Sixer... what did you do?"

“Nine Lives Lee”, a rare Stanley Pines who ended up on the other side of the portal instead of his brother, literally falls into “The Better World”, the dimension that many versions of Stanford Pines tend to be jealous of and hold over Lee’s head as ‘proof’ that everyone would have been better off if he’d just done what his brother asked him.

The Ford of this dimension, however, isn’t quite what he seems. And neither is his version of Stanley.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Language, violence, medical related gore, and mentions of graphic violence. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Disclaimer: Reverse Portal Stan "Nine Lives Lee" is owned by @urdadsceilingfan

This version of the Better World AU is owned by @mother-ofthe-universe

First - Previous - Next

Ch.3

The Stanley of Dimension-GB1100, designation supposedly Stan-GB1100.

This kid was him? The Stanley Pines of this dimension?

The same Stanley who, by all reports, took Ford-GB1100’s journal away… Thirty years ago? And, assuming this Ford is mid-50s just like Lee, he should have been in his mid-to-late twenties in the early 80s?

Meanwhile, this kid didn’t look old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes… or lie about his age to buy a pack of cigarettes, like Lee did when he was a teenager (and never succeeded because of the baby face he sported until he was twenty).

But Ford said this was his brother, that he’d been frozen since childhood, and as ridiculous that explanation was for several reasons, he said it with his whole chest. With conviction. And what Lee knew about the Fordverse was that they break their convictions as often as they let go of grudges.

Which is never.

He could call bull right now but…

The kid sure seemed to buy that malarkey. And Lee didn’t need to freak out some kid by shaking the foundations of what he ‘knew’.

“So this is another you, Sixer? How come you don’t look that cool?” Stan said to Ford, clearly just teasing him. Although Ford did not look amused, he kept glancing between Lee and Stan, still keeping himself in front of his brother as though he was a protective barrier between them.

Lee can play along for now.

“Actually,” Lee said to the teen with a small, albeit wolfish smile “I’m you. Guess I’m one of the lucky ones who didn’t get put on ice.”

“What? No way!” Stan gasped in response, making his crutches click against the ground as he slapped his own hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “So I become a cyborg in the future?”

“Of course not!” Ford immediately chided before Lee could respond “This is an alternate version of you, he isn’t from the future. And,” he glared at Lee, who was immediately reminded of an angry, wet cat “he should be in the holding area.”

Lee crossed his arms, his prosthetic clinked slightly against his gold chain and Space President's Key hanging over his chest, but his shirt dampened any sound “Ya mean your interrogation room? Course I left; ya didn’t even give me a phone call, or a lawyer.”

“You weren’t arrested, Lee, you were being quarantined. Speaking of which, you can either return willingly, or I can call security.”

‘Bold words for someone in blaster range’ Lee automatically thought, but chose to keep to himself. He gave up to security willingly before, being too curious for his own good when this Ford started behaving strangely after their brief tussle in the basement. Lee could’ve fought them off, easily, but something about the general state of this Ford compelled him to do what he usually doesn’t do, and comply.

A weakness the Fordverse has observed and used against Lee before, knowing he’ll usually hesitate to hurt any of them… Only for them to learn a bit too late, that hesitation does not equal refusal or inability.

“Go back to your room, Stanley, matters like this aren’t safe for you.” Ford told his charge, who looked at him like a kicked puppy. “Besides, we’ve already told you what happens when you make contact with an alternate self.”

But Lee knew this boy wasn’t an alternate self. There was one way to prove it, but it was risky.

‘99% of gamblers give up before they make it big.’ Lee thought, as he silently walked over, Ford was too distracted by his ‘brother’ to notice.

“I think he’ll be just fine.” Lee said, making Ford almost jump at how close he suddenly was. Before he could get a response, Lee reached over to ruffle the kids hair with his left hand, the organic one.

Looks like Lee was in that 1% of gamblers, just as he predicted, because his hand twined right into the kid's hair and against his scalp, but the dimension did not start collapsing into static. This kid was someone else, all right.

If he wasn’t Stanley Pines, twin brother of Stanford Pines, who was he really?

“What do you think you’re doing?!”Ford sputtered in horror and shoved Lee away as hard as he could - Lee could have stayed in place if he wanted, but he let Ford take this one. Lee raised both hands innocently in front of himself as Stan blinked at him in confusion, before looking at Ford without saying anything, but the question was clear on his face.

“Don’t worry, Ford” Lee gruffed, a small smirk that didn't reach his eyes presented itself “I can make contact with my alts. The portal fluid I use distorts my dimensional freq.” It was a lie, a blatant lie that he stole from Rick Sanchez and all of his variants. But he got through half of his life by lying, and the other half through stealing, so he said it with the same casual confidence of giving a standard greeting.

Ford didn’t seem taken aback - of course he wouldn’t, because he must have known that physical contact between Lee and Stan wouldn’t cause a crash-out. However, he was definitely still angry, forcefully shoving his index finger against Lee’s chest.

“Stanley is immunocompromised, who knows what type of pathogens you could pass onto him!” Ford practically spat, but the worry was more evident than his rage, at least at this moment.

Shit, really?

“My bad, I didn’t know.” Lee quickly said - he could clearly see that the kid was sickly but he didn’t realize he was part of a vulnerable population. He took a step back from the man, who thankfully withdrew his hand back to his cane.

“Oh c’mon Ford…” Stan said, his voice seeming small. Smaller than Lee would have spoken at that age; he’d always been loud and brash, always unabashedly taking up space and establishing himself. Not that different to how he was in the present day, really, having a palpable presence with his rakish demeanor and larger than life behaviour. It was necessary, he had to always seem sure of himself, even when he wasn’t, because if he wasn’t, his enemies both criminal and legit wouldn’t miss the opportunity to pounce. “Can’t we talk at least a little bit? I haven’t met another me yet! Other you’s show up all the time.”

“Absolutely not.” Ford said, quite firm.

Lee and Stan looked at each other. And maybe this kid wasn’t him, but with one glance they had a nonverbal agreement instantly.

---

“-and I told him, ‘Hey buddy, can’t you see I’m already un-armed!’”

Stan snorted a laugh at Lee’s story, while Ford said nothing but his mouth did at least twitch, so Lee would count that as a win on his end. McGucket, as he was setting out plates for everyone, simply rolled his eyes. Sane versions of the man tended to be dry and sarcastic, so that wasn’t a surprise.

“Charming.” McGucket said, taking a seat besides Stan. “But Lee, you really should remove your coat and headwear at the dinner table.” He ignored the pointed look Ford gave him, instead closing his eyes and pressing his hands together in front of himself, doing a quick, silent prayer to himself.

Southern table manners, of course.

“I didn’t see a coat rack on the way here.” Lee said once Fiddleford was done and picked up his silverware, but didn’t wait for a response. He did, at least, take his coat off and drape it over the back of the dining room chair he was sitting on.

“The beanie cap.” Fiddleford reminded Lee, who shrugged.

“Stays on.” Lee ‘finished’ for him, stubbornly. When Fiddleford narrowed his eyes but ultimately backed off to continue eating, he added “Tell ya what, I won’t put my elbows on the table.” At that, he did hear something that sounded like a chortle from Ford; when Lee looked over the counterpart of his brother, he did seem a bit embarrassed at first to have been caught, but he regained composure quickly.

“I never thought I’d see- well, you comply with proper decorum at the dinner table.” Ford said, taking a sip from a glass of water. His much younger brother snapped his head over to look at him with a pouty glare.

“Oh come on Sixer! I’m not that bad.”

“Then stop talking with food in your mouth, Stanley.” Ford countered back, and Stan had the decency to at least look sheepish when he snapped his mouth closed and grabbed a nearby napkin to clean his own face. The boy’s elbow crutches were leaned on the table right next to him. It was strange to sit and eat dinner with - a version of - his brother, after almost forty since he last did so with his actual twin. But the kid had practically begged Ford to let Lee stay for dinner.

It was endearing (Lee would never call it cute), that Stan was so excited to meet Lee, an alternate of Stanley Pines; what he believed to be an older version of himself. And it was too early for Stan to realize what a skeezeball Lee was. Too early for all of them, really.

He looked down at what was being served; meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. Lee wasn’t sure if it was Fiddleford who made the dinner or if they had dedicated staff for that, but he was guessing the latter. He was just glad it wasn’t another shitty MRE or rations pack. There were certain dimensional travelers out there who survived solely off of nutrition pills and lean, but it couldn’t be him.

“So how’d ya lose your arm?”

“Stanley!” Ford immediately reprimanded once Stan said it, whipping his head over with a stern look “That is a rude thing to ask an amputee, or anyone.”

Seeing Stan start to crumple into himself, Lee interjected “No, no; it’s fine Ford. The kid’s just curious.” He said, then looked to the teen in question “The real stories I’d say- TV-MA rated? So let’s keep things simple and say I crossed some people who got back at me eventually.”

“And they chopped your arm off?”

“They were after more than just the arm, but that’s what popped off in the end-”

“Can we please not talk about this while we are eating?” Fiddleford deadpanned, lowing his current forkful of food, clearly not pleased or particularly voracious at the mental image of a man’s arm being cut off.

“How come ya don’t cover it up like your other arm? Is it to look cool?” Stan continued, to the chagrin of his brother. He was referring of course to how Lee’s overcoat had it’s sleeve rolled up on his prosthetic arm, while his other, natural arm had the sleeves fully rolled down and his hand was gloved.

“I was wearing the same jacket when my arm was lobbed off, took the sleeve and glove with it.” Lee chuckled, “Seemed like a waste to throw it away when just the sleeve was missing.” Also he’d been too lazy to find a new jacket, but they didn’t need to know that part. Looking cool, at least in the teens eyes, was just an added bonus. At his explanation, Ford’s expression changed to something Lee had difficulty reading.

“That was certainly… resourceful of you, Lee.” Ford said, and his tone was much easier to discern than his face; he spoke in a way that suggested that he was exasperated, and perturbed, but… almost fond, in a way. The corner of Lee’s mouth twitched up, genuinely, but he stopped it before it could start.

---

Two weeks.

It would take two weeks for Ford and Fiddleford to collect the materials needed to synthesize Lee’s portal fluid.

That was the problem with parallel Earths, they were usually primitive in terms of technology compared to the technology that Lee had seen and used in the multiverse. He may have been an old ass man with a nostalgic preference for analogue, but dammit was concentrated dark matter really too much to ask for outside of the Nightmare Realm?

Why did things like ‘authorization’, ‘certifications’, ‘legality’, and ‘planetary safety concerns’ need to get in the way? Those two nerds were way too squeamish at the idea of bribing, robbing, or blackmailing the government.

Gave Lee time to figure out what the deal with Ford and this kid version of ‘him’ was, at least.

Said kid was over the moon about it, and Lee wasn’t surprised at that; he would have been the same at that age, although not for the same reasons. Because while Lee during his teen years had his twin, his then-girlfriend Carla, a part time gig, and his car to work on…

Stan was, putting it nicely; a lonely, sheltered, and fragile shut-in.

His loneliness was a result of not only being the only child in the house and the premises, but he was also home schooled; because of his fragility and compromised immune system Ford did not want him attending regular school. Outside of his Roblox and Minecraft servers, it looked like Stan didn’t have any friends.

Although, admittedly, his builds on Minecraft were impressive. Lee would know, considering the three months he was stuck in the Mining and Crafting Dimension.

He was sheltered by Ford; Stan trailed after Ford constantly, a far cry from the side-by-side Lee had with his own twin when he was young. It was as if the boy didn’t live in Stanford’s shadow… He was his shadow; he moved as silently as one, after all. Something that was still confusing to Lee, not just because of his crutches, but because that was a skill he didn’t possess until a few years after he’d been kicked to the curb and onto the streets. It wasn’t a trait he inherently had. At least… Lee didn’t think he inherently had it. There weren’t a lot of other Stanley Pines variants exiled out of their dimension like him and most versions of Ford, so he didn’t have a lot of examples he could compare to. Maybe Lee was the odd one out in the stealth department?

Stan’s fragility was both obvious, but contradictory. He had all of the energy Lee remembered having at that age - and could use now dammit he’s needed a nap since the 90s - but Stan was hindered by his very real physical limitations. Crutches aside, he had a weak constitution overall, getting both sick and injured easily. Judging by how much he’d already talked Lee’s ears off about art projects he was currently working on (he seemed to be going through a watercolour kick at the moment), he channeled that energy into pursuits that were less physically taxing.

Those were a few things Lee had picked up on his younger ‘counterpart’ so far - he could only get so close to him with Ford being a helicopter parent-like, oppressive presence in Stan’s life. Not that Lee could blame him, even if he was an alternative version of his twin brother, he was still a space hobo he just met just this morning. Trust was something earned, and most Ford’s had a very ‘trust no one’ mind set that Lee’d seen over and over and over again in the multiverse.

But, Lee had at least two weeks to work with. Maybe that’d be enough times to get past these defenses of his, and maybe figure out who Stan was and where he really came from.

Lee just needed to play his cards right. Gambling man he was, even if his hand wasn’t good at the moment, he always had a few more cards up his sleeve.

To be continued…

---

In the U.S, back in 2010 it was still legal for people to buy cigarettes at the age of eighteen instead of twenty one. The age was raised in 2019. But Lee is lowballing Stanley’s age even further because back in the 1980s when he was still in his own dimension, the federal smoking age was sixteen and wasn’t changed to eighteen until 1994. Yes, Lee has been to a lot of parallel Earths at this point, but why would he bother to learn the laws if they didn’t apply to him and he would have ignored them anyways?

“Say it with your chest” = saying something with confidence and conviction, like you believe what you are saying.

Anytime the word ‘Fordverse’ is used it's just a shorthand term for “The collective of Stanford Pines versions across the multiverse”. It’s basically referencing Fords as though they are a community.

“he got through half of his life by lying, and the other half through stealing” is a line from Lavernius Tucker from Red vs Blue. Specifically, “Half of the stuff I have in life I got through lying. And the other half by stealing, which is basically just lying about which stuff is yours.” - Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wall, Episode 3

Ford’s resolve was weak in the face of Stan and Lee asking him for the same thing. He folded like a lawn chair to their requests.

You can tell Lee is Stanford's twin, because he's willing to risk an entire dimension just to prove a point.

“Vulnerable population” refers to people who for some reason or another relies on herd immunity to protect them from viruses and other diseases.

Urdadscielingfan once said that Lee’s beanie is an emotional support item, hence why he refused to take it off at the table.

MRE = Meals Ready to Eat. Prepackaged shelf stable meals in a bag often used by the military.

“Lean” is also called purple drank, is a recreational drug beverage that commonly contains codeine cough syrup. Lee is mostly joking but he’s insinuating that the Fordverse does questionable drugs.

TV-MA: Mature audience only, and may be unsuitable for children under 17

Lee having an easier time understanding someone through their tone rather than their facial expression is another nod to Lee’s echoic / auditory based memory.

Lee’s story about not covering his arm comes from this ask.

Concentrated dark matter is a reference from Rick and Morty, specifically the episode M. Night Shaym-Aliens! Apparently Rick uses it as a special fuel to travel through space “faster than anybody else.”

You can’t prove that there isn’t a Mining and Crafting Dimension. And yes, it is basically minecraft.

#what did you do?#nine lives lee #reverse portal au #the better world #better world au #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #old man mcgucket #gravity falls au #gravity falls #fanfic #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3

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