Reprieve

Reprieve

Notes: Bodhi Rook/Reader, gender neutral reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, mild hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, domestic fluff

**CW: **implied suicidality, depression/seasonal depression, chronic illness, canon-tyoical war war injuries, chronic pain, anxiety/PTSD, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

The wind is howling through the trees in your back yard when you wake, a few branches scraping against the transparisteel of your bedroom window. Immediately you realize that you’ve slept past noon, as you often do on overcast days like this, the gloom of winter hindering your ability to keep time. And the house is so quiet, other than the wind and the trees. When you coax yourself out of bed, you see that it’s snowing, the white beginning to cover the Chandrilan ground.

Bodhi should be home, but he’s not. You try his comms, and there’s no answer. When your support droid Cilvie comes in from the garage, she tells you that she thought your husband and his droid were headed for the shop when they left early this morning. But when you call the shop you only reach Pao, who tells you he hasn’t heard from Bodhi but that he’d been talking a lot about the recent string of groundquakes on Jedha.

When it came to Jedha, you always let Bodhi come to you. Let him wait and tell you if he needed to talk. Maybe you’d been doing it wrong. Because in that moment you know exactly what Bodhi is doing and you’re terrified.

“Cilvie,” you say, “tell me you can find Red.”

Apparently Pao has the same idea, because it’s not long after the little C1-unit begins her search that the Drabatan calls you and says that he’s been able to place Bodhi and his droid just outside of Chandrila’s orbit. He offers to close the shop and come over while you figure out what’s going on, but you decline. There’s nothing he can do for you right now.

Cilvie chirps low: not good.

“No,” you say. “It’s not. How long before you can you contact Red?”

Cilvie beeps and whirrs: thirty-eight seconds

“Tell him to come home. To bring Bodhi home to me.”

You husband comes through the door two hours later wearing a hoodie over the t-shirt he slept in last night somehow stained with grease. No gloves, no jacket, his hair messy and wet from the snow. Your instinct is to run into his arms. To wrap him in a warm blanket and pour him a hot cup of tea. But you’re also so angry. And so, so lost. Red beeps and chirps an apology before rolling back to his charging port. Cilvie grumbles and follows him, leaving you and Bodhi in the kitchen alone.

“How could you not tell me?” Tears hit your cheeks, hot. “You were just going to leave?”

“Love, I could never. Not like that. Not at all.”

“What were you doing, then? Rushing off-planet while I was sleeping, turning off your comms, heading straight for a moon that’s actively imploding?”

“But I didn’t leave,” Bodhi says, reaching to brush away your tears. When you pull away, he softly takes your elbow in his hand. And you let him, your eyes closing to blink back more tears as he caresses your elbow with his thumb. “I was already turning the ship around when Red gave me your message.”

“Kriff, Bodhi, your comms were off! Not out of range, not jammed—off.” You try to take a breath, but your heart is racing. “This is so unlike you and I don’t know what to do.”  You choke the words out and then start to sob.

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all of your wonderful fics always make me feel comforted & loved. they are often the stories I turn to when I need them most. thank you for pouring your heart into all of the words, for touching upon difficult subjects having to do with carrying invisible scars, & for always making their endings (& new beginnings) hopeful with a message that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. 💜 xo

Bitter Rain (Bodhi Rook X F!Reader)

“What happened to your face?” you ask over that first meal (lunch? dinner? you aren’t sure), gesturing at his temple. He puts a hand to the strange circular scars, brow furrowed like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about; it takes a full ten seconds for understanding to click behind his eyes. 

“Oh,” he says, half swallowing the word, and you guess torture and flip your fork around in your hand, changing the grip from utensil to weapon. “When I first defected…” 

“Rebels did that to you?”

Bitter Rain (AO3 link)

AWKWARD OVERSHARE: I started this on Tuesday. My father died on Wednesday. I barely know what planet I live on anymore, but I poured a lot of emotion into these words.

Tagging some folks I think might be interested: @princessxkenobi @uwingdispatch @oh-nostalgiia

all of this felt soothing, and warm, and so endlessly beautiful 💙

going to leave kudos over on ao3 also, amazing fics always 💐 xo

Every Embrace

Every Embrace

★★★★★★★★

You don’t know many people who wear glasses. Most beings on Chandrila and other developed worlds undergo a simple surgery to correct their vision. But Bodhi—he had a particularly unpleasant experience with the Imperial surgeon who’d worked on his eyes at the academy, and he has no intention of ever having that kind of surgery again. Which means the goggles he wears for other mechanical work aren’t just a safety precaution—they now have prescription lenses. And if he needs to read anything, whether it’s his data pad or a cereal box, he needs glasses.

At the moment, Bodhi is frantically going through every drawer in the house. “Love,” he asks, “are you sure you didn’t move them?”

“I never touch your glasses,” you say. “Because of exactly this.”

He sighs. “I could have sworn I left them on the table in the living room.”

It occurs to you that Bodhi fell asleep reading on the sofa last night and had to be coaxed to get up and come to bed. After lifting a few cushions, you find not one but two pairs of specs in the sofa. You call his name and hold your findings up in front of you.

His smile brightens his whole face. “I was starting to feel a bit mad,” he says. “Where were they?”

“Couch cushions.”

Bodhi takes the lenses from you, puts one pair on the kitchen counter and one on his head, like he used to wear those welding goggles back during the war. You know based on your own experience with eye health, and the eye health of many of your peers, that one of these days your partner is going to find himself needing corrective lenses for more than just reading. As you watch him return to his task, hunched over the recipe he’d been trying to read, those glasses ever so slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose—you can’t help but think how handsome he looks.

“Good,” he says. “I added a few things to the grocery list, and I’ve sent it to Cilvie in case you two want to do that tomorrow.”

“Bodhi—”

“It’s fine if you don’t. I can take care of it after work.”

“We can probably go to the store tomorrow. But I need you to sit down. You haven’t stopped moving since you got home.”

Bodhi sighs, running a hand through his long, dark hair. “I’ve been trying not to think about it,” he says. “I just feel like…maybe I’m forgetting again.”

Every fiber of your being wants to run to him, but you know he needs to come to you. With his memory—he doesn’t talk about it if he doesn’t want to and you know not to pry.

So you sit on the couch, take a deep breath, close your eyes. And when you open them, he’s there, next to you. He wraps his arms around you, his big hands gentle and warm. He slides his glasses to the top of his head again, pushing back his hair.

“You always figure me out,” he says. “But please don’t panic on my behalf.”

“Are you actually comforting me right now, Bo?” you ask. “When you’re clearly struggling?”

“No one calls me that but you,” he says. “Not since I was small.” He stares straight ahead for a moment, something in his eyes tells you he’s not entirely here with you.

“Bo,” you say, “come back to me.”

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so perfect, so beautiful always, I love these stories so much, thank you for writing them. 👋😭💜

I can't even begin to tell you how much comfort these fics always bring to my days when I really need it. warm hugs from me to you. ✨️

leaving some favorite parts below !

You have outdone yourself! I love Bodhi's confidence here, how the reader is able to pull him over those few moments where he slips and bring him back to that confidence.

I loved thinking about Bodhi and his leather jacket, having started a sleeve of tattoos, wondering where that sleeve might be going.

And then the ending! Throwing “flyboy” in there which just put me right in that space, Bodhi being so incredibly cheeky with the reader...I was not prepared and I sure hope you write a sequel. ;)

I know we've already talked about this, but I just want to thank you again here for brightening my day 🌼 I am so happy you loved this story. This was probably one of my favorites that I've written so far. Thank you for our comforting chats ! & also just for being so cool. 💛💫

I'm thinking that there should definitely be some kind of sequel ! one plot based & maybe an indulgent one 👀 !

thank you also to @miraclesabound & @trickstersp8 for reading & sharing 💌 all the love always xo A

How Generous the Stars

How Generous the Stars

★★★★★★★★

Usually Bodhi insists you stay comfortable at home when he comes in from off-planet—he knows it can be a struggle getting into this part of the city, and that the crowds here can be overwhelming with so many beings coming and going from Chandrila. But today, meeting him here at the spaceport feels urgent.

So you’re in one of the lounge areas that’s afforded to pilots of Bodhi’s stature which, while a bit bougie, is at least quieter than the area you’d be in if you were waiting for a typical passenger. Still, your mind is buzzing with anxiety. You’ve been having nightmares, and as much as you hate to give them any of your energy, you won’t feel okay until you see Bodhi’s face. And he should have landed by now.

Your little C1 astromech chirps at you—a phrase that roughly translates to deep breath, you are safe.

“I know I’m safe, Cilvie,” you say. “I know he’s probably safe, too. It’s just a bad feeling.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath anyway. When you open them Red is rolling toward you, your partner’s droid companion whistling in delight as he approaches. And not far behind him is Bodhi in his well-worn leather jacket, a sleepy smile on his face, his dark hair loose over his shoulders. He drops his duffel bag when he sees you. He knew you were coming, but he clearly didn’t expect tears upon his arrival.

“Stars, love, what’s wrong?” he asks, sweeping you into his arms. You hadn’t realized you were weeping until he was wiping your tears away.

“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all. I’m just so relieved.”

Cilvie warbles behind you in binary: scary sleep.

“Nightmares?” Bodhi asks. “Why didn’t you say anything? I figured you wanted to go out to dinner or something when you said you’d meet me here.”

“We could,” you say. “I didn’t want to scare you, I just felt so anxious when I woke up today—I needed to see you as soon as possible.”

Bodhi runs his fingers soft along your cheek. “I’m here, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As he steps back and takes your hands, you realize he’s wearing nicer clothes than he’d usually wear to fly solo. Not dressed up, per se, but his slightly open collar and dark, tight-fitting jeans are typical attire for date night. You’re starting to feel a little guilty when Red whistles, suggesting he and Cilvie take a cab home so you and Bodhi can go out.

“It is a nice night,” you say. “We could go downtown?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You’ve made your way to the parking garage when Bodhi takes your face in his hands and kisses you, hungrily, as you both lean against his landspeeder in the quiet, nearly empty garage. On any other day, there would be dozens of beings coming and going, but by sheer luck you’ve been given this moment, and you savor it, tucking Bodhi’s hair behind his ears so you can see his face, his warm brown eyes, the bits of silver that have started to appear in his short beard.

An engine sputters, startling the both of you, and you laugh. Bodhi tosses his duffel into the back of the speeder.

“Where to?” he asks, taking your hand as you slide into the passenger seat.

With a flutter in your heart, you reply, “Anywhere you want.”

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oh !! 🥰 this was so amazing, I felt like I was living a dream ! their night out together was everything so beautiful I could have ever imagined. then waking up the next morning to enjoy the comfort of their home together, finding simple joys in just being with one another. seriously I think this one is my new favorite bodhi fic of yours, always so wonderful xo 👋💖

Hi! I just wanted to pop in and let y'all know I’m alive, just a bit scatterbrained at the moment so I haven’t been able to interact here as much as I’d like. But I did want to share a little snippet of the Bodhi fic I’m working on. Love y'all.

In this scene, the reader has just met Bodhi at the space port—which normally they don’t do—after having nightmares about something going wrong on his return.

★★★★★★★★

“I didn’t want to scare you, I just had such a bad feeling when I woke up today. I needed to see you as soon as possible.”

Bodhi runs his fingers soft on your cheek. “I’m here, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

As he steps back and takes your hands, you realize he’s wearing nicer clothes than he’d usually fly solo in. Not dressed up per se, but his slightly open collared shirt and tight-fitting dark jeans are typical attire for date night. You’re starting to feel a little guilty when Red chirps, suggesting he and Cilvie take a cab home so you and Bodhi can go out.

“It is a nice night,” you say. “We could go downtown?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You’ve made your way to the parking garage when Bodhi takes your face in his hands and kisses you, hungrily, as you both lean against his landspeeder in the quiet, nearly empty garage. On any other day, there would be dozens of beings coming and going, but by sheer luck you’ve been given this moment, and you savor it, tucking Bodhi’s hair behind his ears so you can see his face, his warm brown eyes, the bits of silver that have started to appear in his short beard.

An engine sputters, startling the both of you, and you laugh. Bodhi tosses his duffel into the back of the speeder.

“Where to?” he asks, taking your hand as you slide into the passenger seat.

With a flutter in your heart you reply, “Anywhere you want.”

★★★★★★★★

Tagging a few folks who I think would enjoy this: @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @maul-ologue @operation-spot @waterpancakeao3 @strwrs @aerynwrites @justrunamok @galaxtic-writings @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @laserbrains @r1-sw-lover @infinityrevengers @greatcaesarsghost @darthanakin @usernamesarebitches

Just imagining this right now is making my heart swoon 🥰 I can already tell this story is going to be beautiful ! 💫 so excited to read. 🌸

Warmhearted

Warmhearted

★★★★★★★★

You’ve just arrived at Bodhi’s shop when you realize tonight might not go as planned. You’d planned to meet here before heading downtown for dinner, but Bodhi isn’t at his desk…or anywhere in sight. Pao wishes you a happy birthday before explaining that there’d been an issue with a particularly irritating customer earlier in the day and that it was spilling into the evening. The Drabatan looks exhausted—there’s no way this is going to be a good story.

“What happened?” you ask Pao. “Is everyone okay?”

You’ve learned enough of Pao’s native tongue to communicate effectively, even if you aren’t fluent yet. Pao’s physiology makes it difficult for him to speak Basic, and humans aren’t great with Drabatan either—but he’s family. You’re learning as much as you can for him.

Pao tells you that Bodhi went to the capitol to solve a problem with a Coruscanti senator’s aide whose astromech had returned with “an attitude problem,” supposedly after exposure to the shop’s no restraining bolt policy. Pao would have gone himself, given your plans, but the customer insisted on speaking only with Bodhi on account of the “language barrier.” You suspect, given the number of protocol droids available to senate staff, this customer is perhaps more speciesist than Pao is letting on.

A message from Red, Bodhi’s droid, prompts you to pick up your datapad. It can’t be good that Bodhi can’t even com you himself. You sigh when you see Red’s message, your heart sinking just a little.

“Sounds like we’re going to miss our reservation,” you say. Another message from Red appears, telling you not to wait to eat. You sigh and ask Pao, “If I order a pizza, will you share it with me?”

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beautiful as always 💐 bodhi is my favorite 💛 & the story he told about his friend really touched my heart, it was relatable to a memory I had of some friends when I was younger, the good ones who really cared. 🌼 sometimes giving & receiving kindness & love is all you really need. xo

loved imagining this here:

definitely a favorite for sure, loved writing this one ! @uwingdispatch 💜

Steady Hearts

Steady Hearts

★★★★★★★★

You’re in town when your body starts overheating, dizziness and nausea hitting you soon after. You’re trying so had to breathe, to make sure you get enough air as you stumble out of the shop to the patio where you find a bench to sit.

You took a train to get into the center of the city to the specialty grocery store, and you’d been feeling fine while you did your shopping, filling your basket with little goodies to stock your pantry—dried meiloorun slices, unpopped yarum seeds, carbonated fruit juices, and other indulgences that you can’t find at your neighborhood store. But at the checkout, something happened. And while often you can figure out what triggers your anxiety, this is a mystery.

A few folks are also on the patio, having lunch from the market’s deli. You fumble in your shoulderbag for your canteen, try and sip some water. You’re about to put your head between your knees to keep from passing out when your com buzzes in your pocket.

“Bodhi,” you say. “Hi.”

“I got home early and you weren’t here,” he says. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A small part of you wants to laugh, but you let out a deep breath. “I’m at the trader’s market in town. Wanted to pick up some treats for holofilm night.”

“You don’t sound great, is everything all right?”

“I’m having a panic attack,” you say.

“What happened, love?” Bodhi’s voice is soft, calming. Just hearing him helped a little. But you were still dizzy, your heart beating too fast.

“I have no idea,” you take a slow breath, let it out. “My whole body just…went rogue. I’m sitting outside trying to get some air but I’m definitely going to miss the train home.”

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beautiful as always 🌼💛 xo ! love bodhi so much !

A Little Bodhi x Reader Excerpt

The writing is slow going for me today, daylight savings is kicking my ass. But I wanted to share a little excerpt from the Bodhi x Reader piece I’m working on that I’ll hopefully have finished by the end of the week. In this scene Bodhi has just rushed across town to meet the reader who is having a panic attack on the patio outside a fancy grocery store.

There’s no way Bodhi didn’t take some sketchy route into town—he arrives at least twenty minutes sooner than he should have, likely taking his speeder bike way too fast down alleys and through parks to get to you.

To look at Bodhi, one wouldn’t think he’d be a risk-taker. He’s shy, careful, deeply anxious—until someone he cares about needs him to be bold. When his U-Wing went down over Endor, it took two hours for him to report in and you’d been braced for the worst. But he and an astromech had spent those two hours pulling to safety the five other crew members—three humans, a Sullustan, and a gonk droid—who were trapped in the wreckage. There were a lot of injuries, some serious. But everyone survived.

When Bodhi pulls up along the shop’s patio he scrambles off the speeder toward the bench where you’ve been waiting. You almost don’t notice him, with your head balanced in your hands, and you ears ringing. But his voice pulls you back into the moment as he softly speaks your name.

“I’m here, love,” he says, kneeling. “Can you look at me?”

You lift your head, tears of relief welling in your eyes.

“Bodhi,” you say, almost in a whisper. “You drive like a maniac.”

“Are you okay?” He takes your hands in his as you meet his gaze. “Just look at me, love. Focus on me. Breathe.”

You nod, taking steady breaths, looking into Bodhi’s warm brown eyes. His hair has come loose from where he’s tied it back and a few strands are caught in the wind. You reach for his face, tuck the loose hair behind his ears. “Keep talking,” you say. “I just need to hear your voice.”

Bodhi sits with you on the bench, moving your tote full of groceries aside. “I brought your tablets,” he says. “If you need one. Wasn’t sure if you had any in your purse.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the bottle from him and tapping out one pill, swallowing it with water from your canteen.

Bodhi starts poking through the grocery tote. “Ooh, you got the fizzy drinks from Naboo. You know I love those.”

You smile. “Of course I did. And those cookies with the chocolate in the middle.”

“You spoil me,” he says. “Do you remember the first time we had chocolate?”

“I was just thinking about that day,” you say. “I can’t believe I lived so much of my life without it. Can you imagine?”

“I’d never even seen it before. It was so scarce during the occupation. And now we can just pop into a shop. I still don’t know where the hell Baze found it but he always seemed to have a stash of something back then.”

“He still does,” you say, with a laugh.

Bodhi kisses your forehead, cradles your face in his hand, brushes his thumb over your check. “That’s it, darling. I love to hear you laugh.”

🤗 yes so excited for this one ! xo

These Gentle Hands

These Gentle Hands

★★★★★★★★

Your neck and shoulders had ached for days when you realized you were going to need to ask for help. You’d been this kind of sore before, but never to the point where you couldn’t do simple things for yourself. Like brush your hair. Or finish getting dressed.

The first day, you’d managed. Maybe you’d slept wrong. Bodhi was away and you’d been restless, always worried about your partner when he was on missions that could be so unpredictable. Everything had been moving so fast since the Battle of Jakku, and while the Empire was on its way out, there was still so much to do if the Rebellion wanted to keep the people of the galaxy safe, to build a new republic. The New Republic. And it could be dangerous.

But on the second day this pain forced you to leave your workstation early. Your supervisor knew your limitations and was graceful about them. Usually instead of abandoning your work completely, you’d focus on a less strenuous task and save work that would be more difficult for a day when you were experiencing less pain. But you knew when you needed to rest.

And on the third day, you hit your limit. You had no choice but to stay in your quarters for the day, defeated.

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wonderful stories as always ! 💖 loved Red's origin story 🥺 (& also the end notes about BB-8 !), kind & soft Bodhi, he's so caring & sincere, despite all that he's been through. I love how he and his partner feel comfortable opening up to each other like this. they deserve the world. my heart is full. all of your comfort fics always come at the right time. 💫 xo

Blooming

Blooming

★★★★★★★★

You’re in the living room curled up with a cup of tea and your tooka-cat when he comes through the door exhausted, immediately taking his work clothes off and throwing them in the wash. You can sense the stress radiating from him even before Red chirps something about “bad mood” and “grease problem.”

So you wait until he’s in the kitchen checking on his slow cooker to say, “No hello for me today?”

Bodhi lets out an audible sigh. “This droid came in today,” he says, making his way to join you on the couch. “leaky oil valve, but nobody said a word about it so we found out the hard way. The droid panicked and lost control of his motivator, so now there’s black oil all over the shop. Never been so thankful for that little locker room, but I’ll be washing it out of my hair for ages.”

He sits down on the sofa where you’ve been resting and draws you toward him, displacing the tooka before running a hand through his hair, still damp from trying to wash it at work. He’s wearing just his favorite pair of soft lounge pants, and you rest your head on his warm chest. He smells like the herb-y soap he keeps at the shop and, yes, oil. But his heart—you can hear its quickened pace, the stress of a bad day perhaps sparking anxiety.

“It’s not so bad,” you say. “Give me a minute.”

You get up and retrieve a weighted blanket from the linen closet before returning to him and his open arms. Wrapping the blanket around the both of you, you cuddle into Bodhi, nose to nose, and you run a hand down his arm, fingers lightly tracing the lines of his tattoos—a touch you know he finds relaxing.

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definitely my favorite bodhi fic of yours so far ! sigh ❤ daydreaming about this wonderful man now (tattoos, their tooka cat, he cooks !) I feel like I always say this, but this was such a comfort to read & was exactly what my heart has been really needing right now. ✨

Patient Footfalls

Bodhi Rook x GN!Reader

"Well, baby, I like to think right now, I'm the lucky one…"

That was so fluffy and adorable. Ah! It's so soft and light and sweet and poetic. 💖

thank you 🙏💖🌸 !

Patient Footfalls

Bodhi Rook x GN!Reader

"Well, baby, I like to think right now, I'm the lucky one…"

Ahh this was so sweet and tender, all the small moments, smiles, meetings, and bits of conversation building up to such a beautiful ending. 💕 This was so gorgeous!

🥺💐💕 ! I am so, so happy this made you smile, thank you ✨