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mostthingskenobi · 9 months

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CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 6: The Detritus

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Tarkin pushes Cassian too far…and all the rebel can do is think about Jyn.

Here's a nice long chapter for you. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

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CHAPTER 6: THE DETRITUS

Cassian was freezing, his teeth audibly chattering in his head.

Why is it so damn cold in here? he thought, his brain feeling slow and frozen like the rest of his body. Aren’t they cold too? he wondered of his captors. Tarkin paced back and forth, seemingly impervious to the iciness. The death troopers shifted their weight. He could hear their gear creaking.

The temperature had dropped so low that blood was beginning to freeze in Cassian’s hair and along the edge of his right eye. His skin was burned under the electrobinders. His lungs ached. He could barely see. Whatever the IT-O droid injected had practically blinded him, retracting his vision until he could only make out blurry images directly in front.

But the pain.

The pain was beyond anything he could have imagined.

And it was constant, a never-ending barrage that flooded every nerve, every cogent thought. He lost consciousness several times, but the droid instantly revived him, showing no mercy. At first, he had been cataloguing each scratch, trying to rationalize his way through the agony. It’s only a chemical reaction. They hadn’t needed severe tactics; the injections multiplied the smallest cut into fire that bloomed across his nervous system. He tried to reason away the pain, trick his brain into believing it was an illusion.

But that didn’t work.

Eventually he had vomited on one of the death troopers. Cassian wanted to laugh every time he remembered it. The trooper had practically yelped before punching him; it was a small price to pay for something so deeply satisfying. Cassian allowed himself to laugh out loud when Tarkin ordered the soldier from the room. “Sorry to spoil everyone’s fun,” he snorted.

The Grand Moff hadn’t found the incident nearly as amusing as Cassian. His response was to increase the interrogation’s intensity. The droid used a razor-thin blade to pepper the rebel’s body with small half-inch cuts. Nothing significant in an of themselves, but together, and combined with the droid’s relentless injections, they became excruciating. His neck, his chest, his face, his hands, his fingers, his feet; there was nowhere to retreat from the pain.

Tarkin kept asking him to identify everyone who had been with him on Scarif, showing him one hologram after another. When Jyn’s face appeared, Cassian had made a strange sound, somewhere between a gasp and a croak, that he managed to cover up with a coughing fit. Jyn’s smokey eyes, her mocking smirk, almost undid him right then and there. He knew he should stuff that part of himself somewhere deep and dark, cover her up and convince himself that she was nothing.

If he didn’t, he would break.

If he broke and gave the Empire what they wanted, Jyn would be next on Tarkin’s list.

The thought of her enduring the Grand Moff’s sadistic interrogation techniques made him sick to his stomach. He would endure this pain so she and the other members of Rogue One wouldn’t have to.

By now, Cassian was in a stupor. His head fell back as he struggled for air. Every breath burned.

For the first time, the IT-O droid spoke. “A suspension of interrogation is recommended.” Its voice was monotone and deep.

“Whatever for?” Tarkin replied, annoyed.

“Subject’s core temperature is dangerously low and continued hyperventilation of cold, dry air has put the prisoner at risk. If we carry on, his lungs will fill with blood and he will be useless to you.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Allow the room’s temperature to rise above freezing.”

The Grand Moff did not hide his irritation. “Do it,” he said, moving toward the door. “We can’t have him dying on us. We have far too much to discuss.”

——————–

He didn’t know how long they left him alone. He could feel warm air blowing into the room and he forced himself to focus on how it felt against his skin. Eventually, he stopped shaking as his blood and lungs returned to normal temperatures.

He wanted to sleep or cry. He wasn’t sure which urge was stronger. But he was afraid to do either.

For now, he focused on tangibles. He knew the warmth wouldn’t last, so he drowned himself in it, letting it permeate every sense.

It reminded him of something.

A warm breeze on a curved shoreline.

And orangish-pink sky.

Sand under his knees.

Scarif.

That hellish mission haunted him like no other.

All of this, everything Tarkin was doing to him now, was because of Scarif. Cassian’s heart tightened in his chest. He hoped the sacrifice was worth it. He hoped the Death Star plans were with the right people, people who were smart enough and brave enough to blow these imperial bastards to hell. He had already lost so much; anyone he ever cared about had disappeared like smoke.

Except Jyn.

The thought hovered in his mind, frozen on the threshold as he tried to decide whether to welcome or banish it.

Cassian clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly.

He let her in.

He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care if it made him defenseless. He needed her strength.

So, he permitted himself to think about her.

She was unexpected. Wary, damaged, and bitter when they first met.

Just like him.

But, over time, as they proceeded through Operation Fracture’s labyrinthine twists, something came alive in her, something truthful, vulnerable, and determined. As Cassian watched her transform, something inside him began to change as well. She turned the mirror back on him, forced him to see how far afield he’d strayed. He had become so committed to the Rebellion that he’d forgotten how to listen to his conscience. He believed in the greater good, the cause as they called it, but he had allowed the ends to justify the means for too long. Jyn had not so gently nudged him back on course.

And he had begun to love her for that.

He hated that word.

Love painted a target, put everyone involved in jeopardy.

Plus, how could he love someone he hardly knew?

But ever since they met, Jyn was right alongside him, matching him step for step. Or perhaps he was trying to keep pace with her. He liked that about their friendship. She blazed her own trails; she didn’t need him, but she wanted him, sought his camaraderie, his advice, his laughter, and he did the same with her.

He couldn’t put a finger on how it happened. All he knew was that they trusted each other, had complete faith in each other, and treated each other with equal respect. He knew he could put his life in her hands and vice versa. Is that love? He wondered if there was a better word to describe his feelings for Jyn.

When had the shift from strangers to companions first started?

Perhaps on Jedha. He could have left her to die in Saw Gerrera’s hideout; he found Bodhi, who could have brought him to Galen Erso, negating the need for Jyn. But Cassian couldn’t leave her behind. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her the entire time he was trapped in that small, dark cell. After seeing Bodhi’s condition, Cassian worried Jyn might suffer a similar fate at Saw’s unpredictable hands.

Why had he cared?

Just days prior to meeting her he had shot his own contact in the back on the Ring of Kafrene. Why did he suddenly want to protect a resource with which he had no established history?

Cassian finally admitted it wasn’t all that sudden. He’d had his doubts about his own morality for a long time. The Rebellion had made a habit of asking him to kill, like it was an automatic given despite the toll it took on Cassian’s soul. The more lives he took, the more he thought of Clem and Maarva. Not that they would have opposed his joining the Rebellion; they both suffered cruelly at the Empire’s hand. But Cassian found himself thinking about what he wished life had been; something quiet and safe where Maarva and Clem laughed and were happy and grew old together. And every time he pulled the trigger on his blaster or sniper riffle, that dream slipped a little further away. By the time he’d met Jyn, he no longer had the refuge of daydreams. All he had was a waking nightmare that he desperately wanted to escape.

In Jedha’s holy quarter he watched a broken, angry young woman put her life at risk for a child she didn’t know. She took out an entire squad of stormtroopers with nothing but a truncheon—Cassian smiled at the memory. She fought desperately to save her father on Eadu. Then she faced death on Scarif, willing to give her life for something bigger than herself.

If that wasn’t worth loving, he finally decided, he didn’t know what was.

After Eadu. That’s where it changed.

They had been standing in the stolen ship as K-2 and Bodhi navigated them to safety. Jyn was frozen with shock, her clothes dripping with the acrid Eadu rain, staring at him from across the compartment. Cassian could feel her eyes on him even though his back was to her. Jyn’s rage was palpable; he understood it, but he was dealing with his own demons. She lit into him right there in front of the others, called him a murderer and a stormtrooper. He flared with anger, almost shouting in her face. They both had their righteous fury, their personal pain, their justifications. Even though he had been livid, he respected Jyn for giving him hell, and, more so, for not backing down when he gave it right back to her.

After that argument, he didn’t think she would ever forgive him, especially since his mission had been to kill her father. But somehow, she’d seen past her grief and judged him by his actions rather than his orders. Now that he knew her better, it didn’t surprise him that she’d forgiven him. Jyn was raised in battle and had an uncanny ability to sift through emotional detritus and get to the root of things. Ultimately, it made them closer, gave them an instant loyalty that could only be made through scorched egos.

When they arrived back on Yavin 4 Jyn still despised him. But when he’d backed her plan for Scarif and recruited a team of thirty soldiers willing to die by her side for the greater good, the anger fell away allowing them to finally understand each other. Up to that point Jyn and Cassian had been surviving their lives, moving from one moment to the next, never really landing anywhere stable. When Cassian leaned in and whispered, “Welcome home,” he wasn’t welcoming her to the Alliance, he was telling her that he was sticking with her all the way to the end. Jyn’s gentle smile proved she understood.

They set off for Scarif, ready to die together. The entire ordeal had been like a horrible dream, bluffing their way into the citadel tower, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast until they crossed a point of no return. When K-2SO died, Cassian knew their fate had been sealed. His droid, his friend, was the latest in a long line of losses. It was the catalyst that forced him to let go of any hope for survival and allowed him to fully commit to their mission, no longer worrying about protecting himself. He would protect Jyn for as long as he could, giving her a running head start to transmit the plans.

Then he fell.

Hard.

Well, first Krennic shot him and then he fell, hitting two durasteel beams before smashing into a grated platform. He broke four ribs and fractured parts of his hip and left leg. He lay inside the databank for what felt like ages; the pain was delayed but when it came it overwhelmed him. As he fought to breathe, he was startled by a banging sound and realized her could hear Jyn climbing the tower. He also knew Krennic wouldn’t give up until he killed her. So, Cassian forced himself to move, dragged himself off the metal grate and into an access vault where he found the lift to the spire’s top. Adrenaline dulled his physical suffering just enough for him to reach the data dish platform in time to see Krennic, his blaster fixed on Jyn, standing between her and the transmitter. Cassian didn’t hesitate; he shot the bastard that had ruined his friend’s family, who had taken her childhood, her safety, her parents. He wasn’t about to give Krennic the chance to take Jyn too.

Cassian would never forget the look on Jyn’s face after she initiated the transmission, sending the Death Star plans into the chaotic battle above before stepping to his side and grasping his arm, relieved that he was still alive.

He remembered the anger that entered her eyes and roughly pulling her away as she lunged for Krennic, their foreheads touching as he said, “Leave it. Let’s go.” She had leaned into Cassian and allowed him to guide her away.

They got into the lift and headed down to the beach. The long ride was a momentary respite, an unexpected quiet fraught with emotion as Jyn and Cassian held on to each other. She had looked up at him with large, open eyes, an expression on her face he had never seen, as though no one had ever come back for her, as though she didn’t know what it was like to matter to another person. He tightened his grip as Jyn held him up; in that moment, nothing existed but her. All the pieces of his life fell into place; every heartbreak, every mistake, every victory culminated here in Jyn Erso’s arms. The understanding gave him calm. He wanted her to know that she mattered, that he cared, that he was with her.

When they made it to the beach, they saw the radioactive plume rising out of the ocean, recognizing the work of a planet killer. Their steps slowed as realization set in. Poetic, he had thought, to be killed by the very weapon we’re trying to destroy. They fell to their knees on the shoreline, watching certain death rushing head on. As Jyn had said, their chances were spent. They were both afraid. What would this death feel like? Would they even feel it at all? They wrapped their bodies around each other, together all the way to the end. Jyn tried not to sob. Cassian shook with fear, whispering, “I’ve got you,” in her ear over and over. Then, out of nowhere a ship dropped in over the water, the side hatch open with Baze and Chirrut visible inside. Jyn hauled Cassian up and they sprinted, dumping into the shuttle before the hatch slammed shut. The sudden relief made Jyn burst into tears while Cassian’s wounds finally got the better of him. The last thing he remembered was Jyn cupping his face in her hands, begging him to stay with her. He woke a week later in a hospital cot, in a long room lined up and down with injured men and women. Jyn was there, right by his side. And she stayed every day until he was able to walk again.

After Scarif’s intensity, Jyn and Cassian were closer than ever. But they had not yet been able to cross the barrier where that closeness dissolved a life’s-worth of fear.

As Cassian sat now, covered in his own blood in an imperial cell, he wondered, if he had the chance to do it all again, would he tell her? Would he have the courage to tell Jyn that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, that he was hers, if she wanted him, all the way to the end?

He looked down at himself, wrists raw from pulling at his binds, skin burned by shock cuffs, blood running down and dripping from his fingertips onto the floor. His reality, as Tarkin put it, was setting in. This cell and pain and blood was all he would know until he took his last breath. Jyn was out of reach forever. He had to accept that. Cassian closed his eyes against the tears that rose to the surface, forbidding them from spilling over and running down his face.

He knew what he should do, but after Jedha and Eadu and Scarif, Cassian Andor could never let go of Jyn Erso.

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END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE SALT" - Jyn is ready to launch her rescue mission but all she can do is think about Cassian. Tarkin has no more mercy for Cassian and uses a brutal tactic for personal gratification.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

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READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 "The Detritus"

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

READ CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 "The Reprieve"

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

#cassian #cassian andor #andor #jyn #jyn erso #jyn and cassian #cassian and jyn #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfiction #rogue one #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one a star wars story #star wars whump #cassian whump #whump

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anxiouspineapple99 · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday

Guys I am so stoked for this WIP Wednesday because I’m working past that writers block finally!

From my Fives x f!reader x Echo one shot:

Echo’s eyes never left his datapad when he acknowledged you, “I can see you, cyar’ika. Your stealth needs some work.” Your only answer was a devious giggle. Once you were close enough, you dashed toward his bunk. You leapt at him with a shrill kerradak-like screech and landed behind him.You managed to clasp your right hand over his eyes as you crossed your left across his chest before he could grab you. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath while you pressed yourself against his back. Echo tried to suppress the gasp that left his lips before he laughed. You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. Your warm breath tickled him as you whispered the oh so familiar line, “Hey. It’s me. Don’t be scared.” A dark laugh rumbled in Echo’s chest, “Oh is it? How can I be sure of that? I need some proof that it’s really you, princess.” Just as you’d done with Fives in the ‘fresher you slid yourself slowly over his shoulder, your chest pressed against his temple as you moved.

This is from the one shot I am working on about Avery, my Jedi OC

A fresh faced young padawan, only 20 years of age when the war began; one year in and she felt older than Master Yoda some days. Her ruminations were interrupted by the beeping of a lifesigns alert. Her heart lurched. A survivor. I have to get to him. She ran, her GAR standard issue medic bag swaying, the weight of it threatening to steal her balance in every hurried step. She ignored the gut wrenching splash of the bloody water being kicked up her legs and the sound of Krell’s voice demanding she come back. Then the screaming began. He was scared, in pain, alone, and screaming for his brothers. She slid to a stop and fell to her knees next to the clone, “Trooper! Trooper I’m here!” She gently removed his helmet. Her heart broke at the terror in his eyes. “It hurts! It hurts! Please help me! Help me! Oh by the Force it kriffing hurts!” He was just a shiny. She shushed him with the gentleness of a mother he never had, “Eyes on me, eyes on me. I’m here now.” She touched him with the Force and wanted to throw up. He wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t save him.

NPT: @deejadabbles @wings-and-beskar @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @littlemissmanga @letsquestjess @isthereanechoinhere96 @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @fives-girlfriend @wreckers-wife @blueink-bluesoul @the-bad-batch-baroness @commander-sunshine

#wip wednesday #wip update #wip fanfiction #writing wip #star wars #the bad batch #jedi oc #arc echo #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #star wars whump #anxiouspineapple99 writes

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spacemagicandlaserswords · 11 months

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Clone Whump Fic Recs

I have a migraine. It's a bad one. One of those ones that lasts for days and comes and goes in intensity from "I am actively being stabbed repeatedly" to "oh god I'm actually dying". It feels like there's an ice pick being driven through my skull while it's also simultaneously splitting apart. The medicine has done nothing. And so I must suffer.

If anyone has any good clone whump fic recs, I could really use them right now. Bonus points if the clone is comforting and caring for the reader. Extra bonus points if it's injury or pain related, rather than sick fic.

I'm already familiar with, and have read, the amazing work of @staycalmandhugaclone but if anyone has any other clone whump fic recs, I would really appreciate it.

Sorry if this is a tad inarticulate. My capacity to string words together right not is not exactly optimal I just typed optional instead of optimal dear god

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wild-lavender-rose · 2 years

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Call Me Hux

Pairing: Hux x reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: You are Hux’s personal assistant. When you collapse one day from exhaustion, you expect to be put to death immediately. However, you are surprised to find that is Hux himself who takes care of you, revealing that his feelings towards you are not as cold as you once believed.

Warning: Description of severe exhaustion

You startled as the black office doors swished open and Hux stormed inside. “Where is that report I asked for, he’ll be here any moment.”

“On your desk sir.” You ran a hand through your hair, panicking when you realized that you hadn’t pulled it back into the regulatory style when you last got dressed. When was that exactly? Yesterday? The day before? It was all a blur.

Kylo had asked for a report that Hux had neglected to put together. He had pounced on you, demanding that you assist him. Not that you would have done anything else. You had been assigned to Hux as his personal assistant. Being pounced on, yelled at and threatened was part of the job.

For three straight days you had sat at your desk, combing through files, arranging the information, wording it to sound as if Hux had written it. You had drank little and eaten less, focused on meeting his deadline. An ache had settled in your muscles and your eyes constantly burned, but you had to keep working.

Hux crossed to his desk and began tapping the tablet that contained the report in question, the one you had finished just a few moments before his entrance. “Good, good.” He muttered, so soft you almost didn’t hear. “Very good.”

Your heart thrummed in your chest at the praise, followed soon after by a mental kick. He was referring to the contents of the report. He would never praise you. You were no better than a trooper to him, a programmed slave that obeyed his every command.

Your aching fingers carded through your hair as you fumbled to tie it into a succinct knot. “Shall I leave the room for your meeting, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” Hux made a motion as if to shoo you away. “And bring me a coffee when you return, I’ve been up all night worrying about this.”

“Yes sir.” You pushed your chair back and stood, only to grab the desk with a soft gasp.

Hux looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You lied, setting your jaw as you forced your cramped, trembling legs to hold your weight. It hurt terribly. When was the last time you had stood up?

You didn’t look at Hux as you slowly walked out of the office, cringing at the sense of his dark blue eyes stabbing through you from behind. If Hux were to see the effects his commands had on you he would order you killed on the spot. You were certain of it. He had done terrible things to past assistants. You were just one in a long line. You had to keep going, even though your stomach churned at the thought. Keep going or die on the spot.

# # # # #

Every step was painful. Your head pounded with an ache that was only growing worse. Your eyes watered from the white hot burning sensation you couldn’t get rid of, no matter how many times you rubbed them. Your muscles hurt and your stomach was a wreck. You stood by Hux’s desk, tablet in hand, fingers dancing across the screen as he rattled off tasks for the rest of the day. When was your shift going to end? You had lost track of time, of thought, of anything. It was taking all your strength just to keep your eyes open.

“And I want to confirm with the helmsman that we will be inputting the necessary course adjustments to avoid the Garnok system, as well as maintaining our ETA to the station. Also you need to draft a letter of recommendation for the head of weapons, he did quite well during our disagreement with-.”

The tablet slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor. Hux stopped. You jerked and stumbled backwards. “Sorry sir, excuse me,” You got to your knees to retrieve the tablet.

“Clumsy fool.” Hux growled. “You’ve been dropping things all morning.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t,” You got to your feet quickly and regretted it. The movement caused your vision to swim and your head to pound. You took another step back and bumped into your desk, breathing faster as you fought for control. The tablet fell once more.

“I didn’t, sir it’s just, I’m fine,” you tried your best to nod. “I’m fine.”

With a final desperate surge of energy you pushed off the desk and stood up. Only to collapse to the floor and have all your thoughts go black.

# # # # #

The first sound you heard was water trickling next to you. Your body felt heavy, and the ache in your head and burn in your eyes hadn’t gone away. Your fingers curled around soft silk sheets, a stark difference to the rough, starched regulation sheets you were used to. You were definitely not in your own quarters, nor where you in the infirmary. You shifted your head and winced, groaning at the pain.

“Keep your eyes closed.” The voice was familiar, however you had never heard it sound so gentle. “The medication should take affect soon, but your eyes will still be weak.”

“Wha-…What?” You opened your eyes despite his warnings and cringed, the low light of the foreign quarters you were in enough to cause intense pain.

The trickling water stopped. “Close your eyes.” A hand pressed over your eyes to close them.

Your heart stuttered as the warmth of his hand soothed the raging ache. “General,” you wanted so desperately to resist, to fight. But the effects of your exhaustion had reduced you down to a helpless mess, allowing the warmth of a hand that would most certainly kill you lull your pain.

“Easy, easy now. Rest.” Hux increased the pressure against your eyes, the warmth and enforced darkness enough to send you right back into the blank darkness of sleep.

# # # # #

You woke to a hand slipping under your aching neck and angling your head up. “Wake up. Wake up, you need to drink.”

You gave a soft moan. “No,” your brow furrowed, keeping your eyes closed. “Just a dream.”

Hux’s voice had a touch of indignation. “This is not a dream.” He shifted your head up further. “Here, drink.”

The cool rim of a glass pressed against your lips. You opened your mouth and drank eagerly, whimpering when Hux responded by pulling back. “Slowly, darling.” He whispered. “Slowly.”

This was most certainly a dream. Never had you been called darling, or anything other than your name for that matter. Hux would never call you darling, it was just a dream.

You finished drinking and Hux lowered your head back to the pillow. “It’s…I must be dying.” You murmured, throat growing hot and tight at the thought. “The general would never…Hates me cause I can’t…can’t do anything right.” A tear slipped down your cheek. “Gonna kill me.”

“Hush,” Hux brushed his fingers through your hair and wiped away your tear. “There is no need to fear...Perhaps the general is hard on you…because he does not wish for the others to know that he cares for you.”

The concept washed over you, strange and new. “He…He can’t. I’m no one.”

“You’re everything.” He whispered. “I…I shouldn’t have ordered you to put that report together alone. I apologize.”

“The report!” You opened your eyes and tried to sit up. “Gotta, gotta get that report done, he’ll be in trouble if I don’t, I can’t let him get in trouble,”

“Easy, easy. The report is finished, lie still,” Hux’s hands were on you, easing you back onto the bed and holding you there as you squirmed. “It’s finished, darling, now you must rest. Please.”

“But I can’t lose him.” Another tear ran down your cheek. “Please, I can’t lose Hux. Don’t know…don’t know who I’d go to next. What if they’re worse? What if they…they,”

“No one else is going to have you, I promise. You’re mine and mine alone.” Hux’s breath fanned over your face as your eyes closed and his grip relaxed. “I should have…perhaps if I had been kinder,”

You whimpered and reached up, gripping his uniform sleeve. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never. I will never leave you.” His hand found yours, fingers interlocking. “I promise.”

# # # # #

You woke feeling more clear headed than you had felt since before the report. Your vision was normal and your head had nothing more than a dull ache. You blinked a couple times and looked around, gaze falling on a sight that made your heart stutter.

Hux was asleep in the chair by the bed, red hair ruffled and falling in his eyes, his hand still holding yours. You thought it had all been a dream, a hallucination. But it was real.

You squeezed his hand gently, uncertainly. Hux stirred, blue eyes blinking sleepily before meeting your gaze.

“Good morning,” he whispered, releasing your hand so that he could straighten and stretch his arms over his head. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s...It’s real.”

“Yes,” a faint smile crossed his pale face. “Very real.”

“You care for me?”

“With every part of my being.” Hux reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your eyes. “I should never have treated you the way I did, I’m so sorry darling,”

“I can’t...I can’t believe.” You sat up in bed. “Can I...can I touch you?”

Hux’s eyes sparkled in a way you had never seen before but made your heart give an unexpected flutter. “Yes.” He breathed.

You reached out slowly, carding your fingers through his hair. Hux closed his eyes and tilted back into your hand, sighing as if he had been holding his breath for hours. You repeated the motion, marveling at the way his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “I...I’ve never cared for someone before.”

“Neither have I.” Hux’s eyes opened, reaching up to pull your hand away and press kisses along your knuckles. “Will you...Would you like to learn how together?”

You nodded with a slow smile. “Yes sir, I think I would.”

“Call me Hux, darling.”

“Yes I would...Hux.”

Fanfic Masterlist

#Hux #star wars hux #hux x reader #hux x you #general hux x reader #hux x y/n #star wars general hux #general hux #general hux x y/n #general hux x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars hurt comfort #star wars whump #star wars fandom

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whumpofalltime · 9 months

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What stands out as the Whump Of All Time? Only you can decide!

While you're welcome to vote for your favorite, your mutual's favorite, or on vibes alone, we encourage you to check out the propaganda and links below the cut - it's a great way to discover new content.

Our inbox is open for propaganda until the poll closes!

ESB:

(attack video, rescue)

"Luke gets attacked by a yeti-like creature, strung up by his boots, is barely conscious when rescued, and in one of the grossest but most inspired wilderness medical choices ever caught on film, poor Han Solo puts him inside of a recently-expired tauntaun to keep him warm."

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc"

#I seeded these it's pure coincidence that these two ended up against each other #star wars #star wars whump #return of the king #frodo #lord of the rings #luke skywalker

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madpencil · 1 year

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Febuwhump 2023

Day 1: Touchstarved

Title: If I Lay Here (Will You Come Get Me?)

Word count: 680

Characters: Crosshair, other match members mentioned. (The Bad Batch)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The alarm went off as it always did, unceasingly and without a care as to how Crosshair slept the night before. He groaned and flipped over to meet the alarm. He slammed his hand down onto the off button so the yelling would cease. The room was still dark. At this point, there wouldn't have been any light outside anyways, but he wouldn't know if there was due to the lack of windows.

The soldier removed his hand from the clock and instinctively looked at it. 05:00 as always. He pulled himself up and sat on the bed. Mornings were usually bland as he repeated the same steps he made everyday. He woke up, dressed himself, and started his day. Today was supposed to be of no exception to his routine. However, he found himself sitting on his bed far longer than normal. It was one if those tough mornings and memories of his batch had started to creep their way in again. He found himself without the will to make them go away.

It was tough mornings like this where he stayed in bed until Wrecker latched onto him, lifting the smaller one straight out of his bunk into the air. He swung him: sometimes gently and most of the time wildly while laughing and giggling at him to wake up. It worked, because Crosshair would yell at him immediately to put him on the ground or back in his bed. The second option very rarely was obeyed, but after a moment he was reacquainted with the floor. For the most part the process dragged away any lingering negative emotions or drowsiness that was left.

Cross lay back down subconsciously and considered time. How long had it been since Weecker had yanked him out of bed? In fact, how long had it been since he had been involved in anything similar at all? . The man thought harder then he would've liked too about it. It's not like he liked physical touch he thought. It's not like he missed it, did he?

What what there to miss about the companionship of traitors? He didn't know. Maybe it was the way his newest batchmate elbowed him in the side quickly as a way of non-verbally telling him to shut up. Or was it Tech's never ending pokes that annoyed his brother whenever he wanted to ramble. It couldn't be the compassionate way Omega seemed to grasp him whenever she attempted to console him. She hadn't even been with Crosshair long enough for that. Could it be Hunter's shoulder pats that conveyed such affection he couldn't really comprehend it? Or maybe Wrecker, always jabbing Lula into Crosshair whenever he started to be grouchy.

Could it be the somehow gentle hugs the sniper received when Wrecker knew it wasn't the time for his large, silly acts of affection? The way he knew without words when Crosshair had had enough and it was time to quiet down had silently worried and confused him. Tech had always placed his hand on his brother's knee when he knew he needed comfort or reassurance. Tech wasn't one for touch either, so it worked for them both. Hunter would wrap one arm around Cross and squeeze the others shoulder as he half rubbed either his back or the same arm. They all had known what to do when cracks started to take form on the armor he kept around his heart.

Why couldn't they be there now? He wondered, still laying on the metal bed of his room. Why couldn't they come for a moment to touch his knee or wrap him into their warm embrace? He had uncovered a deep longing for someone; anyone to show him just a little affection so he didn't feel so cold. He shuddered and flipped back towards the wall as the first drops of tears began to sting his eyes. He didn't care to look at the time. Maybe, just maybe if he lay there long enough, Wrecker would come jolt him out of bed and he would be home.

#febuwhump #febuwhump day 1 #febuwhump day one: touchstarved #febuwhump 2023 #star wars x febuwhump #star wars crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair #crosshair whump #star wars: the bad batch #the bad batch whump #the bad batch fanfiction #fanfic #the bad batch angst #febuwhump day 1 2023 #fanfiction #star wars whump

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whump-is-love-whump-is-life · 5 months

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i was actually going for specific (whoops) but general is good too :)

Ahhh I wondered!

Honestly I don’t read or write much comfort (my current fic welllll— let’s just say the closest thing to comfort was a quick death)

But this fic is SO GOOD

Fandom is Star Wars Rebels and it is the second of a series (Mirrorverse) so it would be good to read the first part first but it is genuinely some of the most well written whump/whump aftermath I’ve ever read!

Mind the tags as there could be something triggering but I will always recommend this fic/series

#the author is on here too #tarisilmarwen I believe #asks #thanks for the ask!!#whump #whump recs #fanfiction recs #fic recs #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels #star wars whump #my posts

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jedi-lothwolf · 1 month

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Whump: The Musical Day 8: Hades Town (Deals)

Fandom: The bad Batch

Summary: When Hemlock shows his face while the batch are on a mission for Rex, Hunter and Crosshair have to deal with him. However, when he catches them, he offers a deal to Crosshair. One that will change the brothers relationship for their whole lives.

It wasn't like Crosshair wanted to hurt Hunter.

The two weren't sure how they ended up together. What they were sure of was if they wanted to survive, they had to get into the city. When the mission they had begrudgingly taken for Rex began, Crosshair was supposed to go off on his own. However the sniper had a different plan.

So maybe Crosshair did know how they ended up like this. His brother however, had no clue why Crosshair had been so insistent so when he almost shot him for appearing next to him, the first thing that came to mind was to curse him out. However, he didn't.

"Fine" he had said, "you can stay."

Crosshair didn't say a word. Instead, he just started walking.

Slowly they settled into each other's company. They talked a little bit about what had happened between them and worked though smaller problems that still lingered between them. Then, they made small talk about the past, sharing memories that stayed between the batch and the forest.

Almost forgetting the last years, they laughed as they recalled the time that they hid plastic ducks around General Kenobi's Venator and how every time they saw him, he always had one to hand back to them.

As they snickered, soldiers started to creep up on them. "Hold on" Hunter said, reaching a hand out to stop Crosshair. "Feel them?"

Grabbing his rifle, Crosshair nodded his head. They needed to get out of there before it came down to violence. Quietly, the two men started to move forward.

The two drew their weapons as soon as the first shot missed them. They returned fire and quickly realized that they needed to lose the soldiers before they caught up with them. It wouldn't end well if they didn't. Running, they tried to stay close to each other, knowing it would be easy to get lost in the forest. Blue and purple trees blended in with the dark skies. The dark blue bark didn't help.

The woods were thick but the city was thicker. The brothers never were fans of the cities. Crosshair would rather be in the mountains where he could get the best vantage point and Hunter would prefer to be in the forest. It was a less overwhelming environment.

As they approached the city, both men felt themselves become more nervous then before. It was the smell that hit Hunter first. Alcohol and sewage had a disturbing smell to them. While alcohol wasn't common, sewage sure was.

The bright lights threw off both Hunter and Crosshair. Still, they ran forward. "This way" Hunter told Crosshair, waving for him to follow his. They ran into an alley and then they ran up a fire escape.

After a while of running, they finally came down from the rooftops. Helping Crosshair down, Hunter took his hand and steadied him. They walked, cautiously through the neon streets. That's why everything smells like alcohol, body odor, and cheap perfume.

Before Hunter could say a word, he was pulled into a back alley. At first, he thought it was some random bar goer or a trafficker, but when he realized it was a clone, he felt his heart drop. Crosshair came into the alley, gun pulled and ready to shoot.

"I wouldn't." A familiar voice ran in Crosshair's ears. Hemlock. "Lower your weapon." Hunter kept fighting against the clone commando that held him in place.

Nervously, Crosshair lowered his weapon. Then Hemlock walked over to the man. The older of the brothers panicked as the scientist advanced towards his younger brother. "Don't touch him!" He yelled.

The imperial looked deep in thought for just a moment. Then he spoke, "Ct-9904, I have a, proposition."

Hunter looked personally offended by the use of Crosshair's CT number. Had it been any other case, he would have said something.

Fear sank into the experiments skin, then to through his muscles and bones. It spread until it was in his heart. "Let him go" he scowled.

"I will not be releasing him, however-" When Hemlock said however, Hunter started to feel the already existing lump in his chest grow. Something bad was about to happen, and he got the feeling it would only be to him. Hunter was okay with that.

"I have a proposition, so please, listen." Crosshair, without realizing it, started to pull his rifle closer to himself for comfort. It had been a few months since the two had seen each other. The time that had gone by, should have been a lifetime.

Now Hemlock stood only a maybe four feet in front of Crosshair. "I will let you leave, however, you can not fight for him. If you sacrifice your brother, you can leave."

"What?"

"I'm giving you a chance to leave" Hemlock closed the gap between Crosshair and him, standing maybe a foot away from him. Pushing his to his knees, the scientist grabbed his face. "you don't want to go back, do you Crosshair?"

The sniper thought he might cry. There was no way he would survive Tantiss. But could he really not fight for Hunter? The weight of the fear Crosshair carried, started to multiply. As soon as Hemlock had touched him, he had frozen. The fear made it hard to realize that commandos had grabbed him and that Hunter was screaming at them to release him.

Hunter wanted to murder Hemlock. He needed to get Crosshair away from the commandos and away from the man who had hurt him. The man tried everything. No amount of kicking, struggling, or even trying to bite the commando who held him so tightly, mattered.

"All you have to do, is leave. Stay quiet about all of this, and you'll never return to my facility. Unless" Hemlock smoothed his thumb over Crosshair's face. "You feel you should return."

That's when Hunter lost it. "Get the fuck away from him!" Failing to protect Crosshair, his youngest brother, was not an option.

The clone hated actually thinking about his opinions. After a moment, he knew he had his answers. Crosshair couldn't go back. With tears in his eyes, he looked Hemlock in the eyes for a moment before looking away. Shaking, he said "okay."

The words ran through Hunter's head. 'Okay.' He was going through with the deal. Hunter was defenseless. Hemlock removed his hand for Crosshair's face and nodded. Watching, Hunter felt betrayed. While he understood, it hurt more than he expected it to.

As soon as Crosshair was allowed to stand, he did. Hunter saw him trying to fight the fear. Still, he was hurt. The betrayal dug deep into his heart. But, he couldn't blame him.

Not being able to tell the rest, Crosshair was already trying to figure out how he was going to explain to the batch that they couldn't find him. As Hunter continued to fight, the commandos started to drag him away from the ally.

Crosshair and Hunter made eye contact. The betrayal and hurt in Hunter's eyes met with the pain and fear in Crosshair's. He looked sorry.

When Hunter was out of sight, Crosshair started to question his decision. But for now he needed to get back to the Marauder.

Part two:

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obiwanscommunicator · 2 years

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Oooooo the implications that people can have vivid dreams/flashbacks in bacta tanks

Whumpers are gonna love this

#obi wan spoilers #obi wan kenobi spoilers #spoilers #kenobi spoilers #obi wan kenobi show #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #star wars angst #star wars whump #kenobi series #kenobi 2022 #kenobi #obi wan kenobi series

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tantive404 · 1 year

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In the Hands of the Enemy: Tarkin/Leia darkfic

CW: noncon elements; creepy, obsessive Tarkin

Summary: At last, Tarkin has Princess Leia right where he wants her...

Caught and imprisoned in the Death Star, it seems the proud rebel is his at last, to tease and to torture...

But Vader finds himself disagreeing with the Governor's methods. Why does the young Organa seem so familiar? And why is he suddenly so protective of this... traitor?

Relying only on her wits and strength, Leia is unsure what to make of the ordeal, but she knows one thing...

For a rebel spy to have drawn the pointed attentions of two of the Empire's most powerful men, it can never mean anything good. ✨ ✨ ✨

" She glared at him– her gaze ice cold– refusing to be intimidated.

'Tyranny,' Tarkin repeated, softly touching the Princess’s cheek, 'what a charming little epitaph… But tell me, my dear— what is it that you would prefer? How are the masses to be kept in line, without the firm hand of a so-called tyrant?'

Oh, how she seethed– how she must burn – to see her foolish ideals called into question. (And when they at last crumbled, he would rebuild her in the image he saw fit.)

'Fear,' she declared, 'will never deter those who are fighting to stop you, Governor. We are not animals who can simply be beaten into submission.'

Tarkin merely smiled at her– a chilling gesture. How he longed to touch and tease the young, foolish girl– the way her cheeks flushed with passion and rage–

A stray lock of dark, brunette hair fell loose from those neatly coiled braids. Tarkin reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

(The urge to tug, to pull, on those long, thick tresses suddenly appeared in the Governor’s mind. Such a forbidden fruit. A warm little body, pressed so tightly to his…

Alone. In his offices. He could have her right now, if he so wished.

Hmm. Perhaps… )

'You are terribly naive, Your Highness,' Tarkin remarked. 'Consider– throughout the galaxy; through all forms of life. Who are the ones that hold the power? The prey, or the predators?' "

#tarkin x leia #villain x heroine #fanfic #wilhuff tarkin #leia organa #darth vader #willeia #leia and vader #star wars whump #star wars fanfiction #self promotion #cw noncon #darkfic #rarepair #problematic ships

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mostthingskenobi · 6 months

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CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 12: The Ghosts

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rogue One may have rescued Cassian but he's not out of the woods.

The piece of art above is a preview. I commissioned 5 illustrations for this fic from @amikoroyaiart and you can see the first 3 on my Patreon.

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 12: THE GHOSTS

As the Lambda shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, Rogue One was greeted by a familiar ship floating in a vast nothingness. Their rendezvous with the Ghost took place in a remote part of the cosmos near neither planet nor space station. They transferred to the starship through an umbilical, leaving the imperial vessel—along with its tracking beacon—powered down and floating aimlessly.

Jyn and Melshi struggled to support Cassian as they entered the Ghost’s cargo bay. Hera greeted them, taking in Andor’s dire state. She retracted the umbilical and shouted into her commlink, “Chop, get us out of here.” She pointed at Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi. “You three head up to our crew quarters. You can grab blankets and water for Cassian.” She turned to Jyn next. “I would offer to put him in one of our bunks but I don’t think he can make it up the ladder.”

Erso nodded her agreement.

“I need to speak with you,” Hera said, lowering her voice.

Jyn and Melshi eased Cassian to the ship’s deck before she stepped to the corner with the general. “We can’t go back to Yavin,” Hera began.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I just got word from base of an immanent threat. The Death Star has arrived in orbit over the moon. Our fighters will be engaging shortly, but even if they succeed in defeating the weapon, the base location has been compromised.”

“What about Cassian?” Jyn fought to tamp down the panic rising in her throat. “You can see he clearly needs help now.”

“They’re scrambling the fleet. I’ve secured us a rendezvous with the Nebulon-B frigate Redemption. We have to hurry because they’ll only wait for a short window of time. The fleet is going to have to constantly keep moving until we find a new base location.” Hera looked over her shoulder at Cassian who sat slumped against Melshi. “He looks bad.”

“They were ruthless,” Jyn replied grimly.

Hera placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. The Redemption has a full medical set up. They’ll be able to help him.”

“If he survives the flight back.”

“We have to keep hope.”

Rebellions are built on hope. It felt like years since Cassian first said that to her. She’d almost scoffed in his face at the time. But now, it was the mantra that kept her going.

“I’ll be in the cockpit,” Hera said. “If you need anything, there’s a comm on the wall or you can just come up.”

“Thank you. For everything. None of this could have happened without you.”

Hera couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m sure you still would have found a way.” She turned and climbed up the ladder out of the cargo bay.

Jyn went and knelt next to Melshi.

“I don’t feel so good,” Cassian murmured.

“We’ll be home soon.” Jyn could have sworn his bruises looked darker. “They’ll get you fixed up. You can have a nice, long rest. You’ll be safe there.”

Cassian nodded weakly, his chest lifting heavily as he tried to stay lucid.

“Do you want to lay down?”

“Maybe.”

“You need to try to stay awake, though,” Melshi cautioned.

Cassian’s head fell back against the bulkhead, no longer able to hold it up. “I’m awake.” His body visibly shuddered as he struggled for another rasping breath. “It’s so cold in here.”

Jyn and Melshi shared a concerned look. “I’ll go find a med kit,” the sergeant said, pushing up and hurrying out of the cargo bay.

Cassian’s teeth began to chatter. “I’m freezing.”

Fear gripped Jyn; she’d seen enough men die to know this was the beginning of the end. “Cassian,” she said firmly. Her tone startled him and his eyes slowly pulled open. “Don’t let go,” she commanded.

His gaze became dull and he began to slide down the wall. She caught him by the shoulder and eased him to the floor before ripping off her vest and stuffing it under his head. “Help is coming.” She tried to stay calm but all of this was too familiar. They’d been here once before, Cassian dying on a ship’s floor while Jyn frantically tried to save him. “We’re not doing this again.” Her voice broke. She cradled his face in her hands and leaned over him. “Cassian!” He was declining quickly, his breath weak and his eyes rolling, but he reached up and took hold of her wrist. She put her cheek against his. “Stay with me,” she whispered as tears stung her eyes and slipped from her lashes onto his skin.

His other hand weakly grasped the back of her shirt at the base of her neck as he nuzzled against her. “I’m with you, Jyn,” he breathed before going completely limp.

——————–

The phantom trail of Jyn’s tears still tickled across his cheek; the feeling of her fingers against his skin was still alive; but he found himself alone. Cassian opened his eyes and once again saw swaying, beautiful, verdant branches of an ancient, silent forest. Slowly, he sat up, still stiff from Tarkin’s abuse. He noticed his hands were cut and bleeding, his wrists raw, but the pain was gone.

Carefully, he got to his feet and looked around, taking in every detail. He could tell the tree line ended somewhere far off in the distance, and beyond lingered a tease of sunlight and warmth. Where he stood, the grass was lush and the tree canopy high, vaulting like a natural temple. The breeze gently tousled the hair around his eyes and smelled of something green and fresh.

“I was worried you’d be back.”

Cassian spun around, and what he saw cause his breath to hitch. His mother and father stood between two arched trees, their expressions more relaxed and gentler than he’d ever seen. His mouth fell open, unable to find words to express his heartache and joy as he stared dumbly at the two people he grieved most.

“You’ve had a hard time of it,” Maarva finally spoke, gesturing at his still bleeding face. “Harder than I think we’ll ever fully know.”

“Perhaps that’s why he’s here,” Clem said, leading Maarva forward a few steps.

Cassian wanted to go to them, to hug them, but he was afraid any movement could break the spell. He stood frozen in place as emotions pushed to the surface. “Dad?”

“My boy.” Clem’s voice was soft and kind, fully aware that he and his son last looked on each other during a moment so horrific neither dared speak of it.

Tears slipped down Cassian’s face. His gaze shifted to his mother. “Are you both safe here?”

She looked pained by her son’s worry. “There’s nothing to harm any of us.”

“But you can’t stay,” Clem said very gently.

Cassian knew in his heart it was the truth but he didn’t want to accept it; he could sense that he didn’t belong in this place—a feeling he lived with for as long as he could remember. “I want to stay with you.”

Maarva’s chest heaved as though she were holding back a sob. “You’ve been through a lot of strife but you have a good heart, Cass. We want to let you rest, but this isn’t your time.”

“And,” Clem said with a loving smile, “unless I’m mistaken, you still have some unfinished business.”

Cassian thought of almond-shaped eyes and dirty combat boots and a woman with so much fire in her heart she could burn everyone around her.

“Look at him!” Maarva startled Cassian from his reverie. “He’s healing!”

He looked down and saw his fingers were no longer crooked and bruised. He touched his face and realized the cuts had turned into thin scars.

“Not long now,” Clem nodded.

Cassian stared at his parents, trying to imprint their faces on his memory. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said, tears still burning his eyes. “I miss you. I think about you all the time.”

They came as close as they could without touching. “You’re a good boy,” Maarva said, fighting her emotions.

“He’s a good man now, love,” Clem teased his wife. Cassian had forgotten how comforting his father was, how his eyes twinkled and his smile calmed those around him. “We’re not going anywhere, Cass.”

Clem wrapped an arm around Maarva, who gave one stiff nod before saying, “We’ll be here when the time is right. Do your best.”

“Remember,” his father said, “eyes open. Possibilities everywhere.”

His heart ached but Cassian smiled. Losing his parents was a pain he could not put down. Though Clem and Maarva were not his biological family, they had loved him as no one else in the galaxy had loved him. And he loved them, loved their quirks, their flaws, their passions. He knew he hadn’t always been a good son, but they loved him anyway; they loved him because, unlike so many of his other relationships, his connection with his mother and father was unconditional. He never doubted them.

“I love you.”

“I know, my boy,” Maarva finally smiled.

Clem gave him one final nod then said, “It’s time to wake up.”

——————–

Jyn had watched as tears slowly formed on Cassian’s eyelashes and slipped down his temples while he slept. She chewed her lip with anxiety, unable to help him while he silently suffered.

Hours passed before his eyes unexpectedly opened; she moved to his side, taking his hand in hers.

“Where am I?” he asked, his vision unfocused and disoriented, not seeing her or the room beyond.

“You’re on the Redemption. It’s an Alliance frigate.”

He blinked hard, unable to see past his tears, so Jyn gently wiped his lashes with her thumbs. Cassian finally looked at her. “Jyn,” he breathed with relief.

She sat next to him on the bed and placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm him. “Everything’s OK. You’re safe. You’re healing.”

He was shuddering with emotion as he closed his eyes against more tears.

“What is it, Cassian?” Jyn’s voice betrayed her worry. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the doctor?”

He reached up and set his hand over hers in the middle of his chest and just breathed for a long time.

“I saw my parents,” he finally said.

Worry flashed through Jyn. Many rotations ago, Cassian and she had once spent a long night drinking strong still alcohol, telling each other about their parents, eventually both crying so hard they ended up laughing—a testament to grief’s strangeness. She knew losing his mother and father had caused a deep fracture in Cassian’s heart.

“That’s good,” she said, gently squeezing his shoulder with her other hand, concealing her fear. “That’s really good.”

He stared blankly at the ceiling as more tears welled in his eyes. “They’re together now.”

Jyn swallowed her own emotions, biting down hard on her lip. She wasn’t sure what any of this meant; part of it scared her; the surgeons had said Cassian was not yet out of the woods. She feared a visitation from deceased parents did not bode well for her friend, but she dared not voice her concern. Instead, she asked, “What did they tell you?”

His eyes began to roll back in his head as his eyelids drooped. He was desperately exhausted and still heavily drugged. “They said,” he mumbled, “that I have unfinished business.” He barely got the last word out before he lost consciousness again.

Jyn looked down at him, taking in every detail; his beard was growing back, his arched brow was now split by a gash, his sharp cheekbone was marred by a dark bruise. She thought he was beautiful, and all she wanted was the chance to make him laugh again, to see him smile at her from across the room, to talk late into the night about everything and nothing.

She slid back to her chair and pulled her knees up to her chin, suddenly overwhelmed with the turmoil she’d been fighting since Cassian first disappeared. Jyn clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her sorrow while tears poured down her own cheeks. She took out the kyber crystal that hung around her neck and squeezed it. If the Force would give her this one little thing, if it would save Cassian, Jyn Erso promised the mystical power that she would truly believe in hope.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE REDEMPTION" - Tarkin may be gone but he still has a hold on Cassian.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 "The Ghosts"

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

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anxiouspineapple99 · 11 months

Text

Jango’s Sons

Summary: This is what I think of when I hear the song ‘I See Fire’ and I decided to write about it.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 875

Warnings: angst, whump, death, war, alcohol use

Song: I See Fire - Ed Sheeran

A/N: Kind of hurt my own feelings with this one. I apologize. Kind of. Once again not proofread. And yes I am still procrastinating on my other works. My creativity has ADHD too, apparently. Reblogs are super appreciated!

—————

Oh, misty eye of the mountain below; Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls

And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke; Keep watching over Durin's [Jango’s]sons

The night before deployment the barracks are buzzing with activity. Shinies group together jittery with anticipation, nerves, some even excitement. The seasoned vets are more stoic. They’re thoughtful, remembering the brothers that didn’t get to come home last time. Hoping more make it back this time. The officers are running diagnostics, completing inspections, revisiting and revising battle plans. It isn’t long before the legions, battalions, squads, and regiments have grouped together and rank, experience, and title don’t matter. Tonight, they are only brothers, Jango’s sons.

And if we should die tonight; Then we should all die together

Raise a glass of wine for the last time

Someone always sneaks in a few bottles of alcohol. It’s part of the unspoken tradition in which brothers of all ranks commune together before forging forth into battle. Sometimes it’s a few shinies who sneak in some cheap hooch, sometimes the vets, and sometimes the officers supply the nicer booze. Some Jedi Generals participate as well. Plo Koon never partakes but always provides. He meditates with the Wolf Pack as his men bond over Corellian wine or Port in the Storm. He makes sure his boys have the best because he loves them each as sons and has immense respect for their pre-battle traditions. Anakin joins the 501st every time. He brings a bottle of the finest liquor Padme has on hand. The 501st is always raucous filled with playful banter, teasing, and pranks. When Aayala Secura brings the libations, it’s always Bly’s favorite. And Bly always brings Aayala’s favorite when it’s his turn. No one complains though. They understand. Master Yoda and Master Windu send bottles to the barracks, but do not leave their personal quarters. There is always an encouraging or uplifting sentiment for their men written on some flimsi attached to the gift. Obi-Wan and Cody share a brandy toast while the 212th play a few rounds of sabbac.

Oh, should my people fall; Then surely I'll do the same

Confined in mountain halls; We got too close to the flame

Eventually the levity dies down. Captains, commanders, vets, and even generals address their men. They acknowledge the danger they are walking into. They remind them that they are brothers always. Remember and honor those who fall. Save those you can. Cover each other’s backs. Generals promise to protect as best they can, commanders and captains promise to lead with integrity. Vets give reassurance to shinies. They raise a final glass to their brothers past, their brothers present, and to the Republic of the future. Live to fight another day, boys.

And if the night is burning I will cover my eyes For if the dark returns

Then my brothers will die

The transport ships approach and the men are silent. Resolute jaws clenched, remembering the night before. Follow orders. Orders keep you alive. Making a silent pledge to have their brothers’ backs. To cover each other no matter what. They stand together or they fall together. That is clone brotherhood. The same hearts, the same blood.

And as the sky is falling down; It crashed into this lonely town

Boots hit the ground and they’re already engulfed in the cacophonous roar of blaster fire, the clanking of droids marching, the grinding of the joints of the AT-RT, the rotary cannons, rocket launchers, and orders being yelled by generals and commanders. Comm chatter drifts among helmets. HUD sensors alert in a frenzy. Destruction is everywhere already.

And with that shadow upon the ground I hear my people screaming out

One by one, shiny, vet, captains, commanders, they see their brothers falling around them. They hear the screams of the injured. Push forward. Cover your brothers’ backs. They’ll cover yours. Come back for the injured when you can.

Now I see fire Inside the mountains; I see fire Burning the trees

They close in on the those karkin clankers. Fire. Explosions. It would be deafening if their helmets couldn’t be soundproofed. Push on. Cover your brothers, they’ll cover you. Follow orders, stay alive.

I see fire Hollowing souls; I see fire— Blood in the breeze

It’s still now. The Seps pushed out. Another victory, another tally for the armor. Survivors now must collect themselves. Collect their brothers. Shinies, no longer shiny, stare vacantly as brothers offer a comforting hand on the shoulder or back. Medics search for survivors by the lifesigns transmissions coming from their brothers’ armor. Many are found and are placed on gurneys. Some lifesign transmissions stop short of being found, sometimes mere meters away from their rescuers. The dead are quietly mourned by brothers left standing. No one wins in war, least of all clones. Clankers may not be able to think or improvise, but they also don’t bleed.

Oh you know I saw a city burning out (fire)

And I see fire

Feel the heat upon my skin, yeah (fire)

And I see fire (fire)

Transports bring the survivors back to the attack cruisers awaiting in the planet’s orbit. Live to fight another day, that’s what they keep saying. But tonight, Jango’s sons see fire in their dreams.

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