Heya! I'm Not Sure If Your Requests Are Closed, And By No Means Do I Hope To Overwhelm You Further With

heya! I'm not sure if your requests are closed, and by no means do I hope to overwhelm you further with more requests :'D feel free to ignore this especially bc it's more of a negative request aaa

so as context: sometimes I zone out and due to my childhood I will flinch if I see a movement coming at me which at the time I thought was understandable/normal but my bf has already expressed his disappointment every time I flinched or denied physical affection and left me being the one who apologizes for a reflex and I was wondering how the batch (platonically) would react to the reader (preferably female) telling them that story if the reader was the batch's bffs or smth? :'D (plus Cody if that's okay!) I'd be curious to know if they would just try to calm me down or if they would try to encourage me to get that specific thing fixed maybe?

argh I'm so sorry for the long ass text cRIES

again no pressure whatsoever with this waaah

Aloha! 😊

Interesting question. Personally, I think personal space should always be respected, no matter how close we are with someone. In a relationship, most people tend to loving physical contact in many different forms, and I see how this reaction can be surprising or off-putting for some. But with a little empathy and patience, that really shouldn't be a problem for a partner to get used to and accept. If my partner is jumpy with such reflex reactions, I should be able to adjust. There is a reason for this reaction and I think you shouldn't be, or feel pressured to apologize for it. All in all, communication (and an understanding, open mind) is key, as it almost always is. Then there is also the option to try and get that out of your system, so to speak. Therapy might help, it's worth a try or two. After all, it would possibly make things easier for you as well, giving you more comfort in everyday life. Easier said than done, I know. But that's just my two cents. Either way, I'm wishing you all the best 😊 Let's see...

The Bad Batch/Cody x Reader HCs - The Flinch

Warnings: Implied Trauma / Traumatic Reflex Reaction

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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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>Masterlist<

Hunter

It can happen casually, maybe he doesn't really think about it, just wants your attention for a moment, but you are busy, and your mind is elsewhere. A brief touch on the shoulder, innocent, gentle, without ulterior motives. Still, you flinch and turn around so quickly, startled, that he flinches briefly himself.

Hunter in no way intended to scare you or offend you, he would never do that consciously. Of course, he apologizes, you are close friends, he knows your past that you confided in him.

"I should have known better, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He is patient, gentle and forgiving. Hunter tries his best to be sensitive to you and respect your boundaries. He is careful in his interactions with you, considerate.

Echo

The first time it happens, he is so startled by your reaction that he backs away and looks at his hand as if he expects to see it red-hot, or spiked. He blinks a few times, then says, "Sorry, did I scare you?"

Whether you confide in him or not, Echo will never hold it against you. He can understand that your reaction has a background, and he can respect that you don't want to share it with him. This does not change the fact that he will take it into consideration.

He sometimes seems strict and so serious, but he has an antenna for the sensitivities of others. It is in his nature to be considerate.

Wrecker

He is a bit impetuous and very affectionate. Scaring you or triggering a reaction is never his intention, but it can still happen quite a few times. You can speak openly with Wrecker, he is happy to listen to you, he is understanding even if you don't tell him everything.

He will always apologize if it still happens accidentally, and he will never blame you for these reactions. He will rather make sure that others around you respect your personal space as well.

Tech

He is not a particularly physical guy. On the contrary, Tech values his personal space and usually respects that of others around him. In combat, this may not be possible at times, but in general everyday life, Tech tends to keep a polite distance.

If he does trigger that automatic flight or defensive reaction, he apologizes immediately, and you can assume it won't happen again. He himself is not a fan of surprising touches, which is why he doesn't like Wreckers' little nudges at all and usually lets them pass with rolling eyes or critically furrowed brows.

Crosshair

As almost always, his first reaction is a bit grumpy. He doesn't immediately understand what's going on, but he's a good observer and a bright guy. Of course, he notices that you have these reactions more often, even with other people.

Crosshair reads your body language and realizes that this is a learned, habitual reflex reaction. He understands that there is a real, possibly deep-seated reason behind it. Of course, he adapts, even if he doesn't like to admit it, he can be considerate and very understanding.

So you don't have to worry about him. He certainly doesn't respect or appreciate you less than before because of that. In fact, it awakens a certain protective instinct in him.

Cody

At first, he is surprised, but he is neither offended nor annoyed. But he is attentive. As a soldier, he's learned to read body language, to interpret reactions, and even though you might not say anything about it, Cody understands pretty quickly what makes you tick.

You can count on him to pay attention to that in the future. You don't have to apologize to him, you can just be yourself and relax. Cody is always a safe haven.

He also won't let other people maybe cause you problems because of it. Anyone who teases you about it or makes fun of you should be prepared to get in trouble.

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 1

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 2 here!

Your sister has always had immaculate taste. From her gorgeous flat in a Coruscant high-rise, to the handsome trooper currently staring down at her with adoration in his soft brown eyes as she wraps her arm around his waist, to the selection of high-quality brews in the conservator which you are currently raiding, she has curated a beautiful life for herself. She’s been your best friend since the day she was born, and you couldn’t be happier for her. You didn’t have an easy childhood, and seeing your little sister settled and thriving is everything you had hoped for her during those difficult days. 

Her boyfriend—no, make that fiancé—practically worships her. As you watch them through the sliding glass door, you realize you’ve never seen her look as content as she does in that moment, smiling softly up at Hexx. Unbeknownst to you, an identical smile plays on your own lips as you close the conservator door. Just as you do, a latecomer enters the kitchen, and you turn automatically to greet him, your eyes widening as you take him in. 

He’s a clone, but damn, what a clone. He looks older than Hexx and most of his brothers, though that might be due to his beard and longer hair. He’s tall and solidly built, and even in civilian clothing, he looks imposing. His long sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, with a hint of tattoo ink peeking from the edge of the fabric.

“Hello,” you greet him, that soft smile still in place as you introduce yourself.

“Mayday,” he replies, and his voice is deeper and and more gravelly than you’ve heard from other clones. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Up close, you can see faint lines around his eyes, and a sprinkle of silver in his hair. Definitely older than Hexx, then. 

“Can I get you a beer?” you offer. “Or are you a whiskey man?”

“A beer sounds great, thanks,” he says, and you hand him the cold bottle you just pulled out of the conservator. His fingers brush against yours, soft and warm, and his eyes follow you as you turn to pull another bottle out of the conservator. “How do you know Hexx and Sunni?”

“Sunni is my sister,” you reply.

“I thought I saw the resemblance,” he says. “Why aren’t you out partying with the others?”

“Just came in for a drink,” you reply. He arches an eyebrow, and you buckle immediately under his unspoken interrogation. “And to hide for a few minutes.”

“Now, why would you want to hide?” he asks, tapping his bottle against yours and taking a long sip.

You shrug. “Not a huge fan of crowds. They make me nervous.”

“You must hate living on Coruscant, then,” he says.

“I would if I lived here,” you reply.

“You’re not local?” he asks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of regret in his tone.

“No, I live on Nakadia,” you reply. “I’m only on Corrie for the engagement party.”

“Nakadia?” he asks. “Then you must be the farmer.”

“Yes, I own a flower farm there,” you reply. “How did you know?”

“Hexx told me they were having the wedding at your farm. You’re a brave woman to agree to host that many clones for a party,” he says with a charming smile.

“I’d do anything for Sunni,” you reply. “But I have to admit it’s weird to think that she’s getting married when I still see the adorable little girl with fluffy hair and a face covered in jelly when I look at her.”

“I know the feeling,” Mayday says with an ironic twist of his mouth. “We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what they’re doing.”

“Hexx seems like a good man,” you say tentatively. “And he makes her happy.”

“Have you known him long?” he asks.

“I’d only spoken to him on holocalls until I got to Corrie three days ago,” you reply. “What about you? Did you serve with him?”

Mayday nods. “I’m his commanding officer, at least for the moment. I can tell you that there’s not a more loyal soldier in the GAR. He’ll take good care of your sister.”

“When you say ‘for the moment,’ what does that mean? Is he being reassigned?” you ask curiously. Sunni hadn’t mentioned it.

“Not to my knowledge,” he replies. “But I am retiring.”

He seems too young to be retiring, but there is a weariness about his eyes that makes you think he’s earned it.

“What will you do then?” you ask, relaxing back against the countertop.

Mayday mimics your laid-back posture, leaning against the wall as he answers. “Haven’t decided yet. I might just spend some time enjoying being the only person in charge of my time.”

“You’re not going to rush down to RTL to find the love of your life?” you ask, a teasing light springing into your eyes.

“Nah, not for me,” he replies. “I’d prefer to meet somebody organically.”

“Understandable,” you reply. “Though it certainly worked out well for Sunni and Hexx.”

“And what about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” You take a sip of beer and enjoy its icy effervescence on your tongue.

“Any plans to visit the matchmaker?”

“I’m not really interested,” you admit.

Mayday nods slightly, his eyes unreadable. “So you’re taken, then?”

The door slides open abruptly, and Sunni bursts in like the force of nature that she truly is, tugging Hexx behind her.

“Are you hiding in here?” she demands with an infectious laugh. 

“Of course not!” you lie with dignity. “I was entertaining your guest.”

“Welcome, Commander,” Hexx says, subtly standing at attention.

“Relax, Hexx. You don’t need to salute me at your own engagement party,” Mayday says with that easy, charming smile.

Hexx and Sunni sweep you back outside to join the rest of the party goers before you get a chance to tell Mayday that you are very single.

Months pass before you see Mayday again. Sunni is swept up in wedding plans, and you head back to Nakadia to tend to your farm. There’s plenty to do, between your normal responsibilities and the additional work of getting the property ready to host a large wedding. If you think Sunni is a social butterfly, she pales in comparison to Hexx and his multitude of brothers. Sunni is going to have the largest family-in-law in the galaxy, and it seems like half the GAR will be attending the wedding, along with their plus-ones, most of whom had met through Right to Love Matchmaking. Several of the matchmakers are also invited, and you hope they aren’t so dedicated to their work that they will harass you to sign up for their services. 

A few weeks before the wedding, Sunni and Hexx arrive with a large contingent of clones to help with the labor of getting the farm ready for such a large gathering. Veetch is there, of course, along with numerous members of the 77th Heavy Brigade. 

And, of course, Mayday is there. 

It takes an unbelievable amount of work to get the farm ready, but given that Hexx has quite literally brought a small army to help, it goes faster than you expect. The entire first day is spent clearing brush to make space for the large pavilion where the reception will take place. It is dirty, sweaty, backbreaking work, even with the help of the droids. You are exhausted at the end of the day, and after taking a quick shower, you make your way out to the front porch to watch the sunset. It’s your favorite vantage point, and it’s a nightly ritual that you almost never miss.

Tonight, though, someone has already claimed your spot. His tall, broad form leans casually against the pillar as he surveys your lovely farm. In the golden light of early sunset, you pick up the glints of lighter brown and gold in his dark hair, and for an instant, you wonder what it would feel like to twine your fingers through it. On impulse, you stop in the kitchen and pull two bottles of ale out of your conservator. You join him and offer him a bottle wordlessly. He nods his thanks and goes back to staring out at the kaleidoscopic fields of flowers. 

You didn’t see much of him today. He has been busy working on a special project in the barn, and his sleeves are littered with a fine layer of wood shavings. Your knees creak a little as you lower yourself to sit on the porch step, and soon he joins you. 

“Nice place you have here,” he says at last, breaking the evening serenity. “Peaceful.”

“That’s what drew me here,” you reply.

He looks at you curiously. “Trying to avoid crowds?”

You nod, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of the moment by delving into your personal history. “It’s a good place to live a quiet life.”

“That sounds…” he begins, but he trails off. 

His eyes have a faraway expression, and you wonder what horrors he’s seen to make him look so karking tired. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t prod him. Instead, you quietly watch the sun paint the sky in a wash of pastel. As the light fades and the dusk creeps in, you exchange occasional desultory remarks, but mostly you sit in companionable silence, drinking slowly and simply enjoying each other’s nearness.

“It’s a good place for a wedding,” he observes.

“Yes, I always thought if I ever got married, it would be here.” You smile. “I wouldn’t want the big party, though. Just a few people. Sunni and Hexx, a few close friends. A simple ceremony, and then a cozy dinner party under those trees,” you say, gesturing at the nearby copse of acthorn trees.

“You’ve thought it out,” he observes.

You let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Kind of hard not to with everything going on.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “I never thought much about weddings. Didn’t think it would be a possibility.”

“Is this the first you’ve been to?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head. “The matchmakers have been busy. Half of the commanders have paired up, and the other half are just waiting for their turn.”

“But not you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending, until it did. By then, it seemed a little late to start planning a life I never thought I’d have.”

You frown. “It’s not too late. You’ve earned that life, Mayday.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t find it on a speed date.”

He’s waiting for you the next night, too, and the one after. Each evening, you open up more to him, and the two of you spend hours conversing in low voices late into the night.

“How many kinds of flowers do you grow?” he asks as he looks out across the vibrant patchwork of blossoms that stretches to the edge of your farm.

“Hundreds,” you reply. “Not all at once. I stagger the plantings to extend the growing season and keep the income a little more predictable.”

“Which ones are your favorite?”

“Fire lilies,” you reply. “They’re unpopular with buyers, but I still grow a patch of them just for myself.”

“I’ve never seen one,” he says.

“Would you like to?”

“Very much,” he replies.

You stand slowly. You’re accustomed to hard work, but the past few days have been a whole other level of manual labor. A tiny moan of relief escapes you as you stretch your tired muscles. When you turn to Mayday, he is watching you with an indecipherable expression. He’s very good at that, you’ve noticed. Sometimes he is very open and easy to read, and others he is incredibly guarded. He must be an excellent sabbac player, you reflect.

With a small smile at the thought, you lead him through the twilight into the garden. In the fading purple light, the lush perfume of the lilies surrounds you in a sweet, heady cloud.

“May I pick one?” he asks.

“Of course,” you reply. 

Most people don’t bother to ask, and you never realized how much it bothered you until Mayday’s courtesy reminds you that you have a right to say no. He plucks a blossom carefully, reverently, making sure not to damage the rest of the plant. 

“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “I can see why they’re your favorite. Why don’t buyers like them?”

“They don’t last long once they’re picked,” you reply. “It makes transporting them tricky.”

“Then I’m sorry I picked this one,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “There will be more tomorrow.”

The sun has fully set now, and his dark eyes reflect the pale light of the moons. He examines the blossom closely, taking in the graceful curves of the petals, the striations and speckles at the center, the delicate filaments of the stamens. His eyes rise to your face, and his hands follow nearly unconsciously. His knuckles brush subtly against your cheek as he tucks the flower into your hair. Your mouth suddenly feels very dry, and you swallow without meaning to.

“Beautiful,” he repeats.

---

Read Chapter 2 here!

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 2

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff and mild angst

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 1 here!

After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasn’t arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadn’t opened it so hastily earlier.

It’s surprising and a little alarming how quickly you’ve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You can’t help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?

Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You can’t stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard day’s labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.

Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike. 

Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?

He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You don’t hear him enter, and you don’t hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. It’s none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.

Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but don’t see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while they’re all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.

The barn hasn’t housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when they’re not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something new—something at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn. 

He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.

Mayday hasn’t spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.

“Hello,” you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.

He doesn’t look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

“I came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,” you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.

He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. “I didn’t even realize it had started raining.”

“It’s been raining for hours,” you say. “Aren’t you cold?”

He smiles at that. “This is nothing compared to Barton IV.”

“What happened on Barton IV?” you ask.

“Nothing good,” he replies. “We were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.”

“You should be safe from snow here,” you reply. “Even in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. It’s what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.”

Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you. 

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They’re all inside playing a game,” you reply. 

“I’ve never been one for games,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve also never been one for standing out in the rain when there’s a perfectly warm house available.”

“We’re not standing in the rain,” he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smoky—something uniquely Mayday.

“True,” you admit.

He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. “But you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, “We can go in the back and avoid the crowd if you’d rather.”

“Is there somewhere we can go where they won’t find us and drag us into their game?” he asks with a smile.

You shrug. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Lead the way,” he replies.

On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.

“Don’t you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?” he asks, his voice laden with amusement.

“But we’ll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,” you laugh. “Come on!”

He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“It’s my reading room,” you reply.

His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” he says. “At least, not paper ones.”

“Holonovels are wonderful, but there’s something so comforting about a physical book,” you say by way of explanation. “I started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.”

“Have you read them all?” he asks curiously.

You laugh. “I intend to read them all, but I have to admit, there’s an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. You’re welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.”

His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,” you reply. “I can’t choose just one.”

“Humor me.” His voice is a low rumble.

You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.”

“You can take them with you, if you’d like,” you offer. “You can give them back at the wedding.”

“You’d trust me with them?” he asks.

You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. 

His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.

“Don’t.” 

Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you. 

“Mayday?” you whisper.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” he says quietly.

“Sorry,” you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.

You don’t bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, there’s no sunset, anyway.

It’s easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but it’s a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and you’ll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.

It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunni’s lovely dress, the way Hexx’s eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesn’t approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.

Unfortunately, you can’t evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, it’s unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Mayday’s arm—maid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. It’s a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiant’s instructions.

The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sunni sighs happily.

You nod, unable to speak.

“I had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,” she says with a radiant smile. “Our gift to you.”

Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.

By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you don’t taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.

Mayday doesn’t dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clones—also commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.

Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetch’s embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that he’s enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.

So you dance with him and with Hexx’s other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.

(I made a taglist form a while ago and don’t think I ever posted about it????? who knows, not me)

Masterlist of masterlists

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In Another Life

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick, Bad Times at the El Royale, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Miles Miller, f!reader, Soulmate AU

Summary: It's so hard to say goodbye to the one you love. But even at the end, you remind Miles that you'll see him again. Even if it isn't in this life….

Word Count: 1058

TW: Soulmate AU, Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Reader Death/Rebirth, Happy Ending

Notes: Thank you to @slightly-psycho-multifan for sending the title for the made-up title game! I ended up running with it and I hope you like it!

You were fading fast. They had told you there was a better chance of survival due to your young age but in the end, it didn’t matter. Between the multiple rounds of radiation and the war being raged within your body, you just didn’t have the strength to fight for much longer and you knew it. That’s why you were happy that you had been able to convince your husband to check you out of the hospital and bring you home to the hotel. The El Royale wasn’t much, but it was home. It was where you and Miles first met. And it was where you wanted to spend your final moments.

As another coughing fit hit you, Miles was suddenly at your side with a glass of water. Carefully, he helped you drink it then sat down in the chair next to your bed. Once you had caught your breath, you gave him a weak smile and whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

He nodded, then looked away but not before you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. You tried to reach out to take his hand, but he pulled it away. With a soft sob, he cried, “This is all my fault!”

“What?” you asked incredulously. “Miles Miller! How in the world did you come to that conclusion?”

“God’s punishing the woman I love for my sins. For all the horrible things I did during the war.” His shoulders began to shake as his sobs intensified. “It should be me laying in that bed, not you.”

“Miles, look at me.” This time, you didn’t take no for an answer. You grabbed his hand and held on as tightly as your frail body would allow. He stopped fighting you and slowly turned to face you. “This is not God trying to punish anyone. It’s just my time. I know it’s a lot shorter than either of us expected but we still had so many wonderful years together! Years I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“But I can’t lose you, bumblebee!”

“You’re not. We’re just saying goodbye for now.” You reached up with the hand not holding his and wiped a tear off his face. “Do you remember what you told me the night we met? When you saw me in the lobby for the first time?”

Miles nodded, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “I said you looked awful familiar. Like someone from a dream I once had.”

“And what did I say?”

“You agreed and said it probably meant we were soulmates or something. That we must have met in another life before.”

You smiled at the memory. You had only meant to stop at the El Royale as you were passing through on the way to find yourself in California. However, you found everything you could ever want and more in Miles, so you never left. Now it seemed as if you never would. 

Trying to clear the lump in your throat, you said, “So if we met before in another life, I know we’ll meet again sometime in the future. Just please take your time coming for me, okay? I don’t mind waiting.”

Miles buried his face in the crook of your neck and you could feel his tears dampening your skin as you ran your hand over his curls trying to soothe him. Though it was muffled by your neck, you heard him cry, “I love you, my bumblebee. In this and every life.”

“I love you too, Miles. And I promise, I’ll see you in our next adventure.”

You were running late for the first briefing of this new Top Gun assignment. The irony that you– a pilot –were late because there was an emergency and they had to find someone else to fly your commercial plane from Nevada to California was not lost on you. Neither was the fact you would have gotten here sooner if you had just rented a car like your sister suggested. But you were here now, though you were disappointed you missed the gathering at the Hard Deck the night before. 

Just as you were about to fling open the doors to the hangar, you heard someone behind you shout, “Look who the cat dragged in!”

You whirled around with a wide grin and threw your arms around Phoenix. “Hey! You didn’t tell me you were going to be here!”

“Neither did you!” she said, hugging you back. “I thought you might be but when I didn’t see you last night, I figured they made a mistake in their selection process.”

“Nope, just a delayed flight.” You pulled back and for the first time noticed Phoenix wasn’t alone. “And who is this?”

“Oh, this is my new WSO, Bob. And before you ask, yes, that is his callsign.”

But you almost miss the last part that she said as the world around you seemed to fade slightly. You stared at the man, your head tilting slightly. There was something so familiar about him but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was his sparkling blue eyes that radiated kindness. Or the timid way he held himself despite the strength you could see within him. Or the soft pout that pulled at his lips as he stared back at you with the same curious expression. The glasses and hair were throwing you off slightly, but you definitely knew this guy from somewhere. 

You stuck out your hand. “Have we met? You look awfully familiar.”

“I-I don’t think so. I don’t think I could ever forget someone like you.” His face grew red as he took your hand and gave it a surprisingly firm shake, his thumb grazing across the back of your hand. “But I don’t know. I-I feel….”

He trailed off but you knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t something you could put into words. It was just a feeling deep in your chest unlike anything you had ever felt before. Like an ache that you hadn’t ever even realized was there suddenly fading away. You felt….. whole.

However, you weren’t going to tell this stranger that, so instead you said, “Yeah, it’s weird. But who knows? Maybe we knew each other in another life or something.” Still shaking his hand, you smiled. “Regardless, it’s nice to meet you, Bob. I’m Bumblebee.”

Taglist:@nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @luckyladycreator2, @valoraxxx-blog @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog,  @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @jamesbuckyburns, @a-sweet-little-fangirl, @happyblogstuff, @randomlifeunit, @boringusername3, @lclove2012-blog, @3tabbiesandalab

Playing House || Miles Miller/F!Reader

Playing House Summary: A moment together with Miles.  518 words Female/AFAB reader (established relationship) Warning: canon non-compliance.  Notes:  For @hederasgarden​ who asked for “playing house with Miles” for my reverse birthday event. Comments and reblogs fuel the muses. Likes are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading, it’s so appreciated and means the most.  *** Tag list is no more. Please follow @wbslibrary​ ***

You watch the clock, anxious as the minutes tick by. The room was tidy, bed made with fresh sheets, the curtains drawn, lights off except for the ones on the bedside tables, Candles were placed in the middle of the wobbly table, along with a warm dinner. You had changed from your work uniform into a dress, stockings, the seams perfectly aligned along the back of your legs. You wander over to the small bookcase, pulling a record from the collection you’ve built, placing it on the record player, dropping the needle.

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