devieuls - Tumblr blog

devieuls · 2 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . 🗡

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoor sex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.1k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀⠀Chapter X: Not Enough

The months had slipped away like sand through your fingers since you had agreed to become Qimir's pupil. Your relationship, once so complex and full of emotions, now seemed like a surface smoothed by the cold wind of your master's discipline. There was a distance you hadn’t expected, a coldness that hit you harder than any combat technique. You had thought, perhaps with a naïveté that now weighed on you like a stone, that Qimir had become detached out of necessity and duty. You had to see him as your master, not as the man who once held you in his arms, who whispered sweet words in your ear.

But you couldn’t help but desire him. His warmth. You craved it like a flame that burned incessantly inside you. Every time you looked at him, out of the corner of your eye, your heart raced, hoping in vain that the old intimacy would resurface. You remembered every moment when his lips had brushed yours, every touch that took your breath away, the power you believed you had over him. Now, all gone.

When Qimir corrected you during training, his hands slid over your body suggestively, making you hope he would touch you like before, with a desire for that contact growing increasingly unbearable. But it never happened. His fingers guided you through the movements, sometimes lingering a second too long on your skin, a gesture that made you tremble inside. You wished those fingers would stop, that he would let go, that he would make you feel once again like the woman you were. But every time, just when your body reacted to his touch and your breath grew heavier, he would pull away. As if he realized what was happening. As if he couldn’t cross that line. As if he had to keep his distance.

And you were left there, torn between frustration and longing, while your heart burned for the attention he denied you.

This dance between desire and control was wearing down your mind. You found yourself searching in his eyes for a spark of the old Qimir, that man who had shown you sweetness and devotion that now seemed like a distant memory. But you never found anything. His gaze was cold, impenetrable, and behind that wall of ice hid a man who seemed to have relegated you to a distant, formal role. He had even started wearing his helmet more than necessary, even in your presence.

Still, you continued to seek his approval. You craved it. Every glance, every word of praise, no matter how small, became a source of relief. But it was never enough.

You constantly felt under pressure, as if every move you made was judged, observed with a critical and merciless eye, evaluated every single second in his presence. His silence was an unbearable burden that crushed you. You would have given anything to hear from his mouth that you were improving, that you were on the right path, that you were enough. Anything that would warm both of you in the cold that you were beginning to doubt was only autumnal.

The truth, though, bit harder every day. If you had known that your relationship would turn into this cold theater of formality and discipline, perhaps you wouldn’t have agreed to train to become a Sith. Maybe you would have chosen another path, one where you wouldn’t have to suffer every day to win back even a crumb of his recognition.

Your mind obsessively returned to the moments of closeness, trying to reconstruct every touch, every word he had spoken in the past. Now, every gesture from Qimir seemed calculated to maintain that distance, driven by a strange dark presence you could constantly sense.

You wanted him by your side again, not just as a master, but as something more. The thought burned inside you, as if even thinking it was forbidden, as if you couldn’t truly reveal it even to yourself. You dreamed of feeling his lips on yours again, like that one time, so unexpected, so intimate. But it was just a distant, elusive memory, one that tormented you every night when you painfully "entertain" yourself alone.

"You're getting slow." Qimir's voice echoed, cold and distant, muffled by the helmet he wore, pulling your mind back to the training. Each word was a blade, sharp and relentless, piercing your chest and making you falter. You looked at him, but you couldn’t truly see him. The helmet he wore, dark and glossy, hid his face behind an impenetrable mask. There were no eyes, just the metallic echo of his critique. Yet, you could feel the weight of his judgment on you, as if his pupils were piercing through you, cold and disappointed.

You clutched your arm, trying to intensify the pain pulsing from the blow you’d received, the burn left by his lightsaber. The pain was real, tangible, but it was nothing compared to what you felt inside. The physical pain, however searing, was something you could cling to, something that helped you draw from the Force. But the emotional pain, that constant feeling of never being enough, of not deserving his attention, was devouring you from the inside.

The sky above you was turning red, a dying sun casting long shadows over the rocky beach. The waves crashed violently against the rocks, their frantic and irregular rhythm almost mirroring the chaos swirling within you. Each crash of the waves was like the pounding of your heart, hammering in sync with the frustration consuming you.

You doubled over, gasping, gritting your teeth as your muscles still burned from exhaustion. You couldn’t give up, not again. The desire to prove to him that you were worthy of his teaching, of his attention, pushed you beyond the limits of what you could endure. You had to keep going, you had to show him you were strong. But every word that came out of his mouth made you doubt yourself more and more. His voice, so distant, so full of unreachable expectations, made you feel insignificant.

"I'm sorry" you hissed, your voice poisoned by restrained anger, as you glared at him with burning eyes. It was more than just an apology; it was a challenge. You weren’t truly apologizing; you were accusing him of not seeing your efforts, of ignoring how much you were suffering to meet his expectations. Every fiber of your body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from frustration, from the desire to prove yourself worthy in his eyes. You wanted him to see beyond your weaknesses, beyond your failures.

Qimir remained impassive, unmoving like a statue. The cold wind blowing from the sea made his dark cape flutter behind him, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His figure was an oppressive presence, a black mountain against the orange sky. There wasn’t a trace of emotion in his posture, as if your pain and desperation meant nothing to him.

You clenched your fist, the tension in the muscles of your injured arm making you shake. Your breath broke as you tried to maintain control, but you felt like you were about to explode. The weight of his judgment, the coldness with which he observed you, as if you were nothing more than a faulty tool to be fixed or discarded, made your blood boil.

"Stand up." he ordered, without moving a muscle. The tone of his voice left no room for argument, as if he were speaking to a disobedient dog. The humiliation struck you like a slap, but it forced you to your feet. You straightened your back, trying to ignore the pain, trying not to show him how fragile you felt in that moment.

The wind lashed the beach, making grains of black sand dance around your feet, and the sound of the waves mixed with the hiss of the wind. It was a harsh, rugged landscape, perfectly reflecting the coldness between the two of you. As you got back into position, tightening your grip on the lightsaber, you felt the desperation growing inside you.

But Qimir didn’t move. He stood there, impassive, his gaze hidden but piercing, as if he already knew you would fail again. And it was that very presumption that drove you mad. You hated him and desired him at the same time. You hated how he made you feel so small, yet somehow, all you wanted was for him to see you, to acknowledge you. To understand how hard you were fighting, not just for him, but for yourself.

His words still echoed in your head: "You're slow." And as the sun dipped further toward the horizon, casting everything in a crimson red, you clenched your teeth, feeling the anger course through your veins. Was that what he wanted? Did he want you to be angry? Did he want you to use the Force as he did, driven by fury, by desperation?

You charged at him again, but this time there was no hesitation in your movements. The pain in your shoulder was just a spark in your mind. You wanted to hit him, and you would.

The duel began with a clash of opposing energies. The lightsabers crossed in a flash of light and shadow, the energy waves from the impact shaking the air and sand. Your movements were a raw dance of agility, as your red blades sliced through the darkness with lethal precision. Qimir, with icy calm and deadly precision, met each of your attacks with controlled fury, guided by a mastery that seemed unmatched.

Your master seemed intent on testing your resolve, using each strike to push you to the edge without fully crushing you with aggression. His movements were measured, calculated, every attack aimed at forcing you to make a mistake, or rather, to understand your true potential, the darkness that was stirring within you.

The rage and pain were consuming you, fueling each blow as you desperately tried to keep up, but Qimir’s defense was more than impenetrable. Every time your lightsaber sought an opening, he deflected you effortlessly to the side, not hesitating to get physical when necessary. His strength and skill were undeniable, his demeanor that of a hunter in ambush. Meanwhile, your energy was draining fast. Exhaustion took hold, and you felt your strength wavering. Your movements became increasingly erratic, especially with the growing pain in your shoulder. Each block was weaker, each strike slower. Your breath was labored, and the darkness seemed to close in around you, as the glow of your lightsaber grew dimmer.

When you extended your hand to use the Force, his counterattack was merciless. Qimir’s invisible blow hit you like an avalanche, his power overwhelming you with a brutality that nearly knocked you unconscious. You felt yourself being thrown backward, your body crashing violently to the ground, the breath forced from your lungs. Sand clung to your sweat-drenched skin, almost suffocating you. The sand rose around you, and the pain in your shoulder exploded in your chest like a searing flame. You doubled over, gasping, desperately trying to hold onto reality, but everything seemed to slip away, like water through your fingers.

The sunset reflected off the distant waves, the horizon a strip of dying light blending with the darkness that seemed to engulf everything. You could feel the sand beneath you, its cold contrast against the heat of your exhausted body, sweat mixing with the grime. Your mind was in turmoil, a whirlwind of rage, pain, and frustration. Nothing was clear anymore, just the overwhelming sense of yet another failure, tightening around your chest like a slow, creeping poison.

Each breath you took felt heavy, as if the weight of your defeat was pressing down on your lungs, suffocating you. You could barely hold onto the present moment, your thoughts clouded by a crushing disappointment that threatened to swallow you whole.

"The thing you do to your wounds, weakens you." Qimir said with that icy calm you had grown to hate. His voice seemed to come from a distant world. You watched him approach, his dark figure silhouetted against the burning sky, the cloak billowing elegantly behind him, like a shadow moving to the rhythm of the wind.

He removed his helmet. A clear signal: the training was over. But your inner battle was far from finished. His eyes looked down at you, as hard as ever, but there was a different light in them, softer, like a thread of compassion hidden behind the harshness.

"Hitting your wound to use pain to access the Force may work, but if you don’t know how to control it, it will consume you. As it is happening to you now" he continued, his voice sharp, though his words carried wisdom that almost mocked you. It was as if he was teaching you, yet making you feel vulnerable and weak at the same time.

Qimir extended his hand. A surprising gesture, in stark contrast to his usual hardness. You looked at him, hesitant. His raven-black hair, perfect as always, swayed slightly in the wind. Unlike yours. Dirty, covered in sand and sweat, plastered to your face. You felt defeated, your body aching, but what hurt the most was his gaze. It wasn’t hard, but distant. That void between you, the absence of the warmth you had once felt, had now become a chasm.

You grasped his hand, despite everything. The touch hit you like lightning, a mix of gratitude and resentment. He helped you up with surprising ease, though it took all your strength. Your legs trembled, pain pulsing through your shoulder, making you falter. Your eyes were ablaze with rage. You couldn’t stand his coldness, his apparent indifference. You had fought with everything you had, yet he seemed not to see it. Humiliation burned in your throat like bile.

Although, for a moment, his touch seemed almost… delicate. A brief moment, a flash of humanity that disappeared almost immediately.

The silence that followed his words was deafening. The wind seemed to stop, the air itself becoming oppressive, charged with electricity between you. Your eyes burned, locked onto his, searching for any flicker of emotion, any reaction that might offer you comfort. But he remained impassive, his mask of calm perfectly intact, as if nothing you felt could penetrate it.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" you murmured, your voice breaking under the weight of a desperation you could no longer contain. It was a whisper loaded with frustration, as if every word were a fragment of your soul reaching out for him. You wanted an answer, a direction, anything to give you a sense of guidance in the chaos inside you. "The Force is within you" he finally said, his voice so sharp it felt like a physical blow. "You do not possess it; you are part of it. But you struggle, like a lost soul clinging to weak methods."

His words cut deep, slicing away at any resistance you tried to maintain. You felt the blood racing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right for him to treat you this way, to continue denying you what you knew you were ready to receive. He knew it, too.

Then his voice shifted, dropping to a lower pitch, laden with an intensity that caught you off guard.

"Use the anger, the resentment, the hatred you have toward me…" he said, his gaze growing heavier on you, almost consuming. You felt his warm knuckles brush briefly against your cheek, making you sway, teetering on that needy touch. "I feel it in you; it is powerful. You have already used it. When you killed Sol… you needed nothing else. Your hatred was enough."

The memory of Sol surged in your mind with a violence that stole your breath. His last words, his lifeless eyes wide open, the weight of your lightsaber piercing his body. Your hatred had been an unstoppable flame, and for a moment, you had felt invincible. But that power had left you empty, cold, as if every part of you had been consumed by your own fire.

"But you are not ready yet." he continued, pulling away again, as if your pain were nothing more than an insignificant detail. The distance between you seemed to grow, like an abyss you could no longer bridge. His hand left your face, and the chill of the air hit you fully, making you shiver. His tone was not accusatory but definitive.

"I am ready. Teach me!" Your voice broke with the demand, yet the echo of that phrase seemed to lose strength against the impenetrable barrier of indifference he had erected. You stared at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Qimir scrutinized you with that icy calm you so despised in that moment.

"How can I teach you something you already know how to use?" His response made you feel small, insignificant. It was as if your pleas carried no weight, as if you were just a weak spark in the vastness of his darkness.

"You are my master! You must be able to teach me everything!" you shouted, your voice filled with a rage you could no longer contain. The sound reverberated between you, making you seem even more vulnerable in your desperation.

"As I said. You are not ready." he repeated, and this time those words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was a total, immovable rejection. Every emotion, every desire of yours was crushed under the weight of that latest judgment. He stepped back slightly from you, with a nonchalance that made bile rise in your throat.

"What must I do to make you satisfied?" you shouted, your voice cracking with desperation and exhaustion, frustration bubbling over. Every word felt like a blow, an attempt to make him yield, to elicit a reaction to your need to feel accepted by him again.

There was a long silence. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly, but his face remained rigid, controlled.

"It's not about satisfaction, Y/N," he finally said, his voice so calm it sent chills down your spine. There was something unnatural in that warm coldness, as if he were playing a part. "It's about you. About who you want to be. About who you are now."

Those words crushed you. It was as if everything you had done up to that point, all your efforts, had been in vain. He saw you as fragile, incapable of grasping what the true power of the dark side meant.

"You seek from me the treatment your Jedi master gave you," he continued, his words sharp as blades. "You don’t understand that my method is the farthest thing from that world."

Those words hit you like a whip. They were not what you wanted to hear. You would have preferred any other response, something that could explain the reason for his distance, for his cold demeanor. Was this really his way of training you? To plunge you into doubt to force you to emerge stronger?

"I seek from you what you promised me." Your tone shifted, becoming softer yet laden with a more subtle, dangerous anger. You stepped closer to him, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. Your faces were just a hand's breadth apart, and you noticed how his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed slowly, a sign that you were breaking through his control.

"You said you wanted to be completely mine." Your words were poison, sweet and lethal, as you locked your gaze on his, searching for that spark you knew was hidden behind his facade. "But you're not. You're more distant than you were at the beginning." You bit your lip hardly, unable to accept his detachment any longer.

"We need to go back home so I can treat your wound and rest for tomorrow," he replied, ignoring your words with his usual impenetrable calm. But something in his voice trembled, a crack you couldn't ignore.

You could no longer tolerate it. You grabbed his face, your hands trembling yet resolute. Your eyes fluttered slightly as your lips brushed against each other, a barely perceptible touch, but enough to send shivers through both of you. You felt his breath quicken, and a shiver ran through his body, revealing a vulnerability he desperately tried to conceal.

"Qimir." You felt his burning gaze on you as you breathed in his breath, feeling alive for that brief moment. "Tell me you’re still mine," you whispered against his lips, your warm breath against his skin as your lips trailed down his jaw. You felt him tremble under your touch, and you knew you had struck the right chord. His breath became ragged as your hands wrapped around his neck.

"Tell me you want me." Your tone was sensual, heavy with a desire that could no longer be denied. Your lips glided down his skin, every touch making his resolve waver. You could feel him faltering, his mask starting to crack. The heat of his body radiated, the tension in his muscles tightening under your caress. You wanted him more than anything, and you knew he wanted you just as much. But just as you felt you had him in your grasp, his hands closed tightly around your wrists, holding you in place.

"Stop it, Y/n," he commanded, his voice firm yet strained, a sign that he was struggling against himself. Your eyes met his defiantly, a nearly satisfied smile on your face.

"Or what?" you challenged, your voice now a low, venomous hiss, almost inviting him to be swept away by your own desire. You stepped closer with determined strides, forcing him to take a step back, and his expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hesitation passing across his face. You could feel him yielding, even as he tried to hide it behind his composed facade.

"What happens if I don’t stop?" you continued, your tone now laced with a dangerous challenge but also seductive, an invitation to drop that façade. Every word was a weapon, every movement calculated to maintain your advantage over him, to make him waver even more. The air between you crackled with tension; each inch of distance that closed made you feel as if you had already won.

His breathing grew heavier, and though he tried to maintain an appearance of control, you couldn't help but notice how he swallowed hard, cold sweat glistening on his skin, trembling silently with the urge to possess every inch of your being. The way his gaze flickered repeatedly to your lips suggested he was struggling against the desire to close that small space between you once more.

"I know how you feel about me, Qimir," you continued, your voice sliding like silk, weaving into his thoughts, wrapping around him. Each word was a painful caress, a constant reminder of the power you held over him. "I know this is all just a facade. A silly charade you insist on maintaining for some strange reason. But I don’t care."

You moved even closer, feeling the warmth of his body brush against yours again. Your gaze intensified, as if you were trying to pull him completely into your world.

"I want you, Qimir. I don't care that you're my master, or that you think you need to uphold some kind of ethics." Your words ignited a fire between you, consuming any remnants of resistance that remained. "You said I’m free. That you’re free too."

You felt his breath quicken, watching as he fought to maintain a posture of superiority, distant from you, even though what he truly wanted was the opposite. You could see his eyes darting nervously between yours and the space around you, as if searching for an escape route.

“Then tell me, Qimir… what’s wrong with this?” Your voice was now almost a whisper, soft, seductive, a sweet poison slowly seeping into his body, leaving him with no escape. You felt his control slipping away, his body rigid as the tension between you grew to an unbearable level. You enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable, so teetering between what he wanted and what he believed he had to do. It made you feel less alone in that moment.

"You’re injured," he said, but his voice was cracked, weak, almost pleading as he clenched his jaw. He cleared his throat to make it sound more firm and authoritative. "And you can't afford distractions during your training." His words, despite aiming to be a reprimand, sounded empty, stripped of their usual firmness. And you knew it. You knew it well. He was weak for you, and his continued denial drove you insane.

His gaze betrayed his words, and for a moment, he seemed to waver. Qimir's eyes lingered on your lips again, longer this time, with a desire so evident that his breathing became erratic. He wanted to kiss you, to consume you completely, tearing at your skin with his mouth, marking his territory. But every second of resistance he put between you only made him more vulnerable, more ensnared in the web you had woven around him.

“It hurts me more your stupid charade.” you spat acidly, the anger and frustration now boiling inside you. Your eyes sharpened, and with a quick, decisive movement, you tore your wrists from his grip, feeling the tension in his muscles relax abruptly. The emptiness left by his hands on your wrists hit you harder than you had imagined, but you stepped back nonetheless, gritting your teeth. He stood still, petrified, watching you go.

You turned abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest, determined not to yield once again to the power he held over you. The silence that followed was unbearable, a muted roar filling the beach. You walked toward your duffel bag, the sound of your heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness between you. You decisively grabbed your training gear, your hands trembling slightly from the frustration tightening around your throat; you waited, almost hoping he would stop you, that he would say something anything.

But he didn’t.

You paused for a moment, closing your eyes, trying to regain control over your emotions as your chest heaved up and down frantically.

“Do you know what the truth is?” you murmured, your voice a taut whisper cutting through the thick air between you. The growing darkness seemed to reflect the weight of the words you were about to speak, heavy with a challenge you could no longer contain. Your grip tightened on the leather strap of your duffel bag, almost to stabilize the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you.

“The truth is that you’re afraid, Qimir.” Those words came out with a glacial firmness, a definitive statement that cut off any possibility of rebuttal. You felt his body stiffen behind you, the rising tension palpable in the air.

You turned, determined not to give him any more space, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your resolve waver. Your hand moved swiftly to the side, snapping your fingers to wake Huhn, your faithful Nexu sleeping behind a rock.

You felt its piercing call echo as Huhn woke and stretched, a familiar vibration bringing you back to your world, to your strength. He was not just an animal; Huhn was somehow your connection to who you once were, to the blood of the Nightsisters flowing within you. The very name, "Kill Cry," a fierce declaration in Paecian, paid tribute to that part of you that you could never ignore. Your mother had taught you that, the language of the warrior witches of Dathomir, along with their determination.

Huhn emerged from the twilight, his agile and fierce figure racing toward you. His dark eyes sparkled for a moment in the reflection of the last reddish rays of the sun, which was now slipping below the horizon. With a quick leap, he crouched beside you, his powerful presence reassuring. You stroked his head, feeling his muscles quiver beneath his skin. In just a few months, he had grown enough to reach your calves.

You could still feel Qimir’s gaze on you, burning, trapped in the conflict between desire and duty. And you knew that, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, the bond you shared would never be something he could control alone for long. That thought gave you a strange sense of power.

Without looking back, you walked toward the path that would lead you back to the cave, Huhn by your side. The sand beneath your feet began to cool, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks was a constant backdrop, almost hypnotic. The salty air filled your lungs as the sun sank lower, leaving the sky tinged with a muted red that slowly faded into the dark blue of evening. Huhn followed you with silent steps, his steady breath matching the rhythm of your walk. Occasionally, you felt the weight of his body brush against yours, a constant reminder of his protective presence, as if he could sense your restless state of mind.

The rocks grew narrower as you climbed the final stretch of the path, ascending the last steps that would bring you home. The sound of the waves crashing below you seemed distant now, a faraway noise blending with the beat of your heart. You finally entered the cave, the darkness enveloping you completely.

You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The air here was cooler, somehow helping to clear your mind before your roommate arrived.

Huhn crouched beside what had become your bed, where you had set up a sort of nest for him, curling up once again into a ball as you moved around the room to gather some items to tend to your wounds. You wondered what would happen next.

You still didn't know what his next move would be, but one thing was clear in your mind: you would reclaim what was yours. And he belonged to you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Sorry I’ve disappeared, but I’ve been very busy. In addition, there are about 3 chapters (maximum 4) that I intend to finish and publish between this week and next. After that I will start one shot with some nice ideas or stories from 2 parties maximum. In addition I would also publish the FF on Yao (Another character that Manny has played, where is a sexy wellness consultant ;) will be spicy)

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

40 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . ☉

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.8k

Recommended song: here

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀⠀Chapter IX: Seeing you

“Let’s go home.” you hissed coldly, pulling up your hood that had fallen during the battle. You didn't even turn to give a final glance at Sol's body. You reached out and retrieved Mae's lightsaber, placing it at your side before walking toward the exit of that place, letting the flames consume the green lung of the temple, burning the last roots that still tied you to it, abandoning the memory that had returned to you of your old master.

Qimir lowered his gaze in silence, wiping a lonely tear that wrinkled his face, feeling your pain for you, following you out of that memory with your ex master, sensing that faint flame extinguishing within you.

He nodded before following you outside, using the Force suppression once again to cover both your tracks, especially yours, which had become stronger. More chaotic.

Your footsteps echoed on the lacquered floor of the temple, light yet firm, as if each step was a declaration of war against the world around you. Qimir walked behind you, silent, his mood palpable like an oppressive shadow. There was something different about him, something you had never felt so intensely before: a profound melancholy, almost tangible, as if the weight of shared memories had settled on him as well. The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the dull sound of your steps bouncing off the stone walls.

You had noticed that tear streaking down his face earlier. He had shed it in your place, while inside you, there was only apathy. Nothing but a merciless void, an absolute coldness devouring you from within. Your gaze was cold as you advanced through the temple corridors like a ghost wandering through the ruins of the past.

"Why so emotional?" you asked with a cynical voice, sharp like the blade of a knife. The gray smoke, caused by the fires you had unleashed, began filtering through the corridors, carrying with it the acrid scent of destruction. You kept walking, changing direction to avoid the wave of Jedi knights heading toward the Hall of a Thousand Fountains. "After all, he was my master, not yours." Every word was laced with an almost unnatural coldness. You couldn’t understand why Qimir was so troubled, so emotionally involved. He hadn’t killed Sol. You had. It was your sentence. "I don't understand why you have such a dark aura" you concluded without turning around, ignoring the murmurs of the Jedi calling out to gather as many people as possible to help save the hall.

You turned the corner, the faint light of the torches reflecting off the polished surfaces of the walls and floor, the once-sacred temple now reduced to a scene of ruin and betrayal. The carved columns and lush plants that adorned the corridor seemed more dead than alive under the oppressive veil of smoke. You stopped for a moment, breathing in the thick air, as Qimir’s voice reached your ears like a deep, distant whisper.

"It's because… I saw your memory." Those words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. The cold that enveloped you cracked, if only for an instant.

That flashback, that memory so private, a fragment of the past you wished you could erase forever, had now been seen by him. Your blood boiled within you, but your gaze remained empty as you turned to face him. You clenched your jaw, your hands balled into fists, and you looked at him with a menacing glare, full of a disappointment that scratched at your soul.

"You went into my mind?" Your tone was venomous, almost suffocated by disgust. It wasn’t just an invasion of your privacy; it was a wound reopening, your pain exposed, bare, vulnerable. To him. And that enraged you. Your voice, which had been steady just moments before, now trembled ever so slightly.

Qimir sighed, running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on you. He approached slowly, his imposing figure towering over you, yet without any threat, only understanding and presence. Not that he could have intimidated you in the state of mind you were in.

"No." His reply was simple, but loaded with sincerity. "I think the Force connected us."

A hollow, icy, ironic laugh escaped your lips, almost hysterical. It was ridiculous, a clumsy attempt to justify an act that couldn’t be justified. The Force? That same Force that now seemed foreign, distant to you? Your laugh died on your lips as you looked at him with disdain.

"Of course. obviously. The Force." you replied sarcastically, the acidity in your words palpable. You turned to continue walking, your steps quick and determined toward the exit. "It was just a stupid memory" you muttered, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care anymore. But inside, something stirred, a thin wave of pain you tried to suppress. It was all that remained of you, the memory of who you once were.

But Qimir didn’t relent. His voice reached you like a warm caress, and it was almost unbearable to endure. The fact that he understood you more than you understood yourself, as if he were part of you and your mind was his.

"Y/N… I feel it. That action stirred something within you." His voice was softer now, almost fatherly, as if he were trying to reach the last fragment of you that could still be saved. His words echoed in your head like an annoying refrain. He didn’t want to let you go, and that hurt. A dull pain, smothered beneath layers of hate and anger. The cold inside you seemed to melt only to make way for an even greater void.

"It’s not like that." you replied, sharp as a blade. The emptiness inside you deepened, devouring everything that had once been warm, human. You didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to feel understood. You didn’t want to be saved.

Qimir fell behind, following you as your steps led you toward the temple’s exit. The corridors grew darker and narrower, the smell of smoke more intense. The columns adorned with ancient symbols seemed to weep, covered by the soot from the fire and the chaos you were leaving behind. The walls, decorated with Jedi tapestries, once symbols of serenity, now stood as witnesses to an impending end, consumed by the fire slowly devouring them from within, like a cancer.

You reached the exit, the cold wind hitting your face, carrying with it the scent of ash and ruin. The temple behind you was dying, like everything else inside you. And without turning back, you felt that something fundamental had broken forever. You paused for a moment, letting the saturated air fill your lungs.

You felt Qimir’s intense gaze on your back, like a blade piercing you without restraint, digging into your thoughts and being, an invisible weight that made you clench your jaw, your blood boiling beneath your skin. Compassion. The way he looked at you, filled with a compassion you neither sought nor wanted, made you clench your fists until it hurt. You couldn’t bear that silence laden with pity any longer. You stopped, your breathing heavier than expected, while the sound of your boots echoed in the empty temple.

You turned abruptly, a surge of anger shaking the air around you, facing him with a gaze that could burn.

"Are you going to keep doing that for long?" Your voice was sharp, a breath of venom that caught him by surprise. Qimir looked at you, confused, with that slight tilt of the head that betrayed his attempt to understand what was going through your mind. You stared at him with a mix of rage and defiance, your arms crossing over your chest, creating a barrier between you and him.

"Looking at me like I’m some orphan mourning the only parent she has left?" The words came out like a whip, harsh, cruel, spoken with such intensity that they could have hurt anyone. Your voice vibrated with a fury you tried to mask behind a wall of acidic sarcasm. You felt exposed, naked before him, and that emotion made you seethe even more.

Qimir remained impassive, his face serious, almost stoic, as he watched you without moving a muscle, unfazed. His gaze stayed fixed on you, but there was no anger in his eyes, only deep regret. Then, with placid calm, he approached slowly, his eyes penetrating yet serene.

"You weren’t ready." His words, though spoken gently, hit you like a truth you didn’t want to accept. His voice was calm and serious, as if he were merely stating a fact. That disarming calm made you clench your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

Qimir had just passed you, his figure moving ahead with composure, as if your outburst hadn’t affected him at all. He walked with the same steady pace, heading toward the ship without looking back. You stood still for a moment, your gaze fixed on his retreating form, your breath quickening, while a storm raged inside you. His words echoed in your mind. "You weren’t ready." A wave of frustration hit you like a flood. How dare he? How dare he reduce everything to that simple phrase? You were no longer a child, no longer that insecure and vulnerable Padawan. You had done it. You had killed Sol.

You turned sharply, now following his steps, your breath sharp and quick, fueled by your rage, and every step you took seemed to pull you deeper into the abyss.

"I did it. And I succeeded. Because I was ready." Your words were charged with a desperate anger, defending your choice, your decision. But there was an echo of vulnerability beneath that anger you couldn’t hide.

Qimir stopped for a moment, his back straight, his presence solid and unshakable. His gaze darkened as he responded, still not fully turning to face you. And when his words finally came, they hurt more than you wanted to admit.

"And now look at you." His voice was colder now, like a blade piercing straight into your chest. "You don’t even seem like yourself anymore." Each word was a heavy judgment, pushing you deeper into an abyss you refused to recognize. "You needed time to think. To reflect, grow, and learn. To gradually let go of your Jedi side. Instead, you destroyed your own balance."

You stopped in your tracks, your muscles tense like cords about to snap, feeling your heart pounding furiously in your chest as if it were about to burst. Inside you, something broke, and the silence that followed was deafening. An unrelenting fury erupted within you, a force you could no longer contain. You clenched your fists once more, your breathing irregular as his words continued to tear you apart from the inside.

"I’m not a child." Your voice came out cold, sharp, but with a slight tremor that betrayed the emotional storm overtaking you. Qimir paused, turning slowly toward you, and his gaze, almost fatherly, pierced you once again. But this time, there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, a disappointment that made you feel even more vulnerable, as if the ground beneath you were giving way, making you want to scream at him until it hurt.

"But you’re acting like one." His words were a dagger straight to your heart. Your breath caught, and for a moment you couldn’t find the words, but the rage inside you exploded like a volcano. The air grew heavier, and every fiber of your being silently screamed your pain.

Without thinking, you stepped forward with determined anger, pointing your finger on his chest with fierce intensity, as if you wanted to pierce him with your own hand. Your voice cracked between a scream and a sob you didn’t want to let out.

"You know nothing about me!" Your breath was ragged, your voice trembling with rage and pain, but he remained unmoved, as if he already knew what you were about to say. You stared at him with fierce intensity, the trembling in your hands becoming more evident with each passing moment.

Qimir stood motionless, his gaze filled with an almost painful calm, a level of understanding you couldn’t bear. His tone was measured, almost serene, as he replied in that warm voice you despised at that moment.

"I know enough," he said, his voice deep and loaded with unyielding calm, "to see that killing Sol killed a part of you. And I understand. You weren’t ready. If you had been, you wouldn’t have kept that memory." His voice wrapped around you, suffocating, making you feel smaller and smaller under the weight of a truth you didn’t want to accept. "Or you wouldn’t have taken his lightsaber, keeping it with Mae’s." Those words hit you like a whip, and your heart clenched in a knot of pain you could no longer unravel. He had seen. He had understood.

"I’m not a damn child!" you screamed, your voice cracked by emotion, almost hysterical. Your body trembled as you backed away from him, your breath labored and disordered. "I don’t need you to understand me," you continued, your voice desperate, while inside you, something seemed to piece back together only to shatter even harder. Tears began to fall, silently, without you even realizing it. An invisible torrent streamed down your face as your body wavered under the weight of everything you had repressed. "I don’t need words of comfort while you think I’m grieving over someone who killed my only family! I don’t care about Sol, I don’t care about killing him, I don’t care about any of it! I don’t care." Your words erupted like a storm, a tornado of emotions that had finally found their way out.

The silence that followed your words was deafening. Qimir looked at you, unmoving, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, a mixture of pain and understanding that drove you even crazier.

"And stop looking at me like that," you whispered, almost pleading, your voice now broken, fragile. Your heart was crumbling, piece by piece, as you desperately tried to maintain the wall around you, now shattered. "I said stop looking at me like that…" Your voice was almost unrecognizable.

The air felt as heavy as a ton of bricks around you, each breath a boulder crushing your chest. Qimir approached, slowly, as if walking on tiptoes through the minefield surrounding you. Each step he took seemed to amplify the chaos within you, the tornado of emotions ravaging everything you once were.

"And don’t come any closer, damn it." Your voice exploded hysterically, a desperate scream you could no longer hold back. A roar of pain masked by anger, a desperate warning you knew wouldn’t stop Qimir. Your heart pounded frenetically, almost painfully, as every muscle in your body tensed to the extreme, as if simply standing were an impossible task. Every thought, every emotion clashed with the other, making you feel like you were about to explode.

Every step he took, drawing nearer with an almost unbearable slowness, squeezed your heart tighter. Why wouldn’t he stop? Why did he insist on trying to break down the wall you were desperately building around yourself?

"I don’t need you. Or him. Or anyone else." The words spilled out of you, a mix of hatred and desolation. You were lying, but that lie seemed like the only thing that could give you a semblance of control in that moment. Each word was like a heavy stone thrown into the void, and you hoped it would make you feel stronger, more detached. But it didn’t work. "I don’t care about the Jedi, the Sith, or that Force nonsense." The last word left your lips like a hiss, your tone almost empty, as if all those emotions were already draining what was left of you. The fire inside you was dying, and all that remained was ash, a hollow emptiness consuming you from within.

Qimir paused for a few seconds, listening, his gaze fixed on you—understanding, but not patronizing. He allowed you to be who you were in that moment: fragile, broken, in pieces. He said nothing. His silence was devastating, as though he understood everything, as if he could see through your lies, through the wall you had built. He didn’t need to speak, because he knew your words, your anger, were just armor to hide the pain.

"I don’t care about anything…" you repeated, but this time your voice cracked, the tone less certain, less fierce. Did you really not care?

Qimir began moving again, slowly, ignoring your initial warning. And when he got close enough to brush against your skin, you didn’t push him away. He gently took your wrist, his touch disarming. The contact made you tremble, and before you could react, you found yourself wrapped in his embrace, a warmth you hadn’t remembered feeling in so long. That warmth shattered you completely. You cried. You cried into his chest, your sobs muffled by his protective embrace, and with each sob, the last barrier you had built to protect yourself began to crumble.

"I don’t need you." you sobbed, your voice now a whisper devoid of conviction.

"I know" he replied softly, gently stroking your head with a tenderness you had never wanted, but now seemed to desperately need. He let you break down, knowing that in that moment, no words could ease the pain consuming you.

"I don’t care that I killed him. It doesn’t matter, really, I don't" you repeated, almost as if trying to convince yourself, but deep down, even you knew those words were hollow.

"It’s okay, I know" he responded, his voice a safe refuge, a place where you could let go, if only for a moment. His answer was a comfort, but not a true response, just an echo of everything you had lost.

You clung to the edges of Qimir’s black tunic with such force that your nails dug into the fabric, as if in that desperate grasp you could find the stability you so deeply lacked within yourself. His chest was solid, warm, a fleeting shelter from the storm still raging in your heart. You could no longer hold back the tears; they flowed like a silent but devastating waterfall, as your face sank into the dark fabric. You felt his breath, deep and calm, like a distant melody trying to soothe the turmoil devouring your soul. And strangely, it began to work.

“It’s okay to let it out. He was someone you cared about.” His voice, a whisper in your hair, had the softness of a blanket wrapping around you on a freezing winter night. Qimir didn’t push you, didn’t judge you, but each of his words sank into you with an inescapable truth. And that gentle tone… it stirred something even more painful within you. Perhaps it was a memory of who you used to be or who you had wanted to become.

“He was no one.” Your voice, fragile and trembling, fought against the reality you so desperately tried to deny. But that denial was crumbling with each word you spoke. Sol wasn’t “no one.” His ghost still clung to you, you could feel him in the chaos swirling within, in the cold air around you, in the light breeze that stung your face as you tried to regain control. He had been everything: mentor, confidant, guide, father. And now, he was gone. And your soul felt empty, like an abandoned shell.

Qimir took a step back, but his words remained, cold and sharp, like knives slowly carving into your heart.

“You need to accept the truth, or what you did will never bring you any peace. You killed him, y/n. Because he killed your sister, didn’t he? And he was important. You did it, and you’ve severed yourself from him.”

Those words hit you with a devastating force. Like lightning, they tore through the silence you had built around your pain. Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt every muscle tense in a suffocating grip. You couldn’t deny it.

“You said you were ready. If you were really, you’d-”

“He was like a father…” The whisper that escaped your lips surprised you, cutting off his words. You hadn’t even been aware of wanting to say it, but there it was, alive, full of truth. Qimir watched you with unrelenting calm, and for the first time, there was no judgment in his gaze. There was understanding, but also a push, a need for you to face what you had been running from.

Qimir smiled, but it was not a kind smile; it was bitter, cruel in its awareness. “He was.” he confirmed, and you felt his breath slow, almost measured. He lifted your chin with two fingers, the touch firm yet strangely gentle. His eyes locked with yours, a dark mirror in which your suffering reflected, distorted. “And you killed him.”

Those words echoed in the emptiness around you. There was no more room for lies. Your tears kept falling, silent rivers, and your sobs grew weaker, stifled by the crushing realization tearing you apart. You did it. Qimir didn’t let go. Every word he spoke was another stone, adding weight to your burden.

You swallowed, your throat tightening like a noose. A tingling sensation crept to the tip of your nose, a familiar sign that more tears were on the way. You didn’t want to cry anymore, but the tears came anyway, silent, unstoppable.

“And I killed him…” Your voice was a broken sound, cracked by pain and awareness. The words fell heavy, like boulders shattering the oppressive silence of the room.

“Even though he was important and the last thing tying you to the Jedi.” He was forcing you to feel the weight of the truth, to confront every facet of your pain. You hated him for it, hated his unshakable calm, as if none of this affected him. But a deeper part of you, the part that couldn’t lie, knew he was right. You gritted your teeth, your face twisting into an expression of pain and suppressed rage. You wanted to hate him, to scream at him, but you couldn’t summon the strength. His calm infuriated you, yet there was something hypnotic in the way his voice softly slid into your thoughts, like a whisper sinking deep, dismantling every defense you’d built.

“Say it, y/n. You killed him even though he was like a father.” Qimir’s tone grew heavier, his words falling like stones into the silence, weighty and unavoidable. Every statement was a knife, cutting deeper into your soul, stripping away each layer of falsehood you’d built around yourself.

“Not for Mae, not because he abandoned you in Khofar. You did it to detach yourself from something that was never truly yours.” Qimir continued, relentless, but now there was a tenderness in his tone, as if he were guiding you through the darkness. His words were sharp, but the harshness from before was gone; he seemed to be leading you toward some essential truth, toward a revelation. His eyes followed every shift in your expression, observing, measuring your reactions, while his hand remained steady, your wrist still trembling in his grasp.

Anger flared up again, like fire igniting beneath your skin. Your fists clenched, but you couldn’t find the words. Every time you wanted to shout, his voice would cut through, digging deeper, exposing everything you’d always tried to hide. Each of his words left you feeling naked before him, vulnerable.

“It’s not like that…” you whispered weakly, your voice tinged with anger, frustration, but mostly fear. Fear of admitting that perhaps Qimir was right. “I was a Jedi.” Your voice came out with force, as if speaking the words could make them true. But you knew it was just a defense, an illusion you were trying to build to shield yourself from the truths he was slowly unraveling.

“No. You never were.” Qimir’s voice was firm, without a hint of hesitation. “Kind. You said that to Sol, only to please him. You never truly wanted to be a Jedi. You never felt like one, and that’s why you gave it up. That’s why you left. You only found someone who, for the first time, seemed to see you, only you. Not Mae.”

His words pierced you like poisoned arrows, making you tremble with both rage and pain. You clenched your jaw, tears continuing to stream down your face, burning like acid. You desperately tried to pull away from him, to break the contact that made you feel so vulnerable. But he didn’t budge, his grip firm and secure like a vice.

“You never really cared for Mae. Sure, you mourned her death. But you’ve always envied her. Hated her… because your mothers always seemed to prefer her. She, who was always ahead of you, better, more attuned to the Force” he continued, his tone sweet like bitter honey. His words were a punch to the gut, an uncomfortable truth that had tormented you your whole life, a shadow you could never dispel.

“Enough…” you whispered, your voice broken, a stifled scream that you couldn’t release. You could no longer bear that pain, that cruelty masked as kindness.

“Did you really want to be ‘kind’?” he asked, his gaze piercing, cold yet sweet at the same time. He seemed almost curious, as if trying to gauge how far he could push you. “How could you truly believe you could become that, if deep down… you wanted Mae to die. To be truly dead. You knew she wasn’t when you were still a child, but you liked the idea.”

“It’s not like that…” you protested, your voice trembling, a thin thread of anger and despair fading with every word. You tried to deny it, to defend yourself, but his words seeped through your defenses like water dripping into a crack.

“But Sol saw you, didn’t he? He chose you over Mae; for the first time, you were the one. And you liked it. That’s why you left Brendok without looking for her corpse, that’s why you said you wanted to be ‘kind’; you knew the Jedi Masters would have rejected you if you had truly answered. Y/n, you could never have been a Jedi if you had responded honestly. You’ve always been consumed by jealousy, anger, fear… by the darkness.”

His voice was low and warm, almost a whisper, but each word was a blow that sank you deeper into the abyss. Every sentence he spoke opened a wound you thought was closed, and now it was bleeding, a sharp and dull pain that clouded your senses.

“Stop, please…” you moaned, your body trembling, your hands clutching him, searching for a foothold, an anchor in that ocean of confusion and despair, feeling vulnerable.

“Yes, it is. What would you have really answered Sol that day if his gaze hadn’t pleaded with you to respond as he wanted? Who did you want to become? Who did you really want to become, y/n?” His voice turned hard, imperative, and his gaze pierced you like a blade. It was as if he were forcing you to look within yourself alongside him, to dig deep to find the answer you had always feared.

“I… I don’t know” you whispered, panic engulfing your mind. You felt the world collapsing around you, everything you believed yourself to be disintegrating under the weight of his words. Your hands trembled, your body rigid like a taut string, and your eyes darted frantically around, searching for an escape, something to cling to.

“You know… say it, y/n. That day you cried, you lied to be accepted. To fit in. Say it, what did you really want?” he insisted, his tone softening yet becoming more dangerous. Your glassy eyes locked onto him, and you felt your mind emptying. A distant echo reverberated in your head, the truth surfacing from the darkness where you had imprisoned it.

“To be truly myself…be accepted.” you finally whispered, the words almost inaudible, devoid of life, as the weight of that revelation crushed your soul. The truth had emerged, bare and simple. Qimir nodded slowly, his expression cold yet understanding.

“Exactly. And who are you really?” Qimir continued, not loosening his grip, his voice growing warmer as if he wanted to guide you out of that darkness. Each of his words was a step toward liberation, a painful yet necessary path. You could no longer hide, not from him, not from yourself. You were collapsing, yet at the same time, you were reconstructing yourself, piece by piece.

“I am me…” you murmured, the words slowly unrolling with a newfound awareness as you lowered your gaze to your hands. You breathed more slowly now, your chest rising and falling in a more regular rhythm as a sense of peace began to break through within you, a strange and unexpected calm.

“You are darkness, y/n. You are anger, frustration, envy, disgust, desire. You are freedom, confusion, chaos, strength. You are yourself. You killed Sol to kill yourself. Not him, but the false, unhappy person you’ve always been. Living a life that never felt like your own.” His voice was warm and enveloping, and as he spoke, his fingers caressed your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continued to flow. Every gesture was delicate, almost loving, as if he were trying to soothe the pain he had just inflicted. You felt his strength, his presence, and that sensation of warmth filled you, sweeping away the coldness that had surrounded you.

“I wanted to be free.” you finally asserted, your tone stronger, more certain, as you looked into his eyes and saw your liberation reflected there. His smile softened, and his eyes sparkled with a new light as he pulled you closer, resting your head against his chest. “I am free…” you murmured, closing your eyes. The warmth of his embrace was a refuge, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a profound peace spreading within you, banishing the shadows that had accompanied you for so long. You could feel his hand moving through your hair, his breath gently rocking you, and in that moment, you allowed yourself to truly feel.

“My good girl…” he whispered, his voice vibrating with a tenderness that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. “How could you face a world that wouldn’t accept who you truly are, if not by pretending?” You closed your eyes, surrendering to that feeling of peace, of freedom, that you had never experienced before. Your mind emptied, your emotions settled, and for the first time in as long as you could remember, you truly felt… yourself.

“Now do you understand? You never belonged to that world, you never embraced your darkness, and you became weak” Qimir whispered, his voice like a gentle caress to your mind, penetrating your despair like a dense shadow spreading across a gloomy sky. You turned to look at him; he gazed at you with an unshakeable calm, his deep eyes full of a strength that seemed to pull you into an abyss from which there was no escape.

“I see you, y/n. I’ve always seen you. And I know this is the right path you should have walked all along. Mae… she didn’t have what you have” he continued, his warm hand resting on your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, drawing a line of fire across your skin. You felt your heart race, a mix of anger and desire swirling within you.

Your gaze dropped, trying to escape the weight of his words, but Qimir’s hand gently moved under your chin, lifting it firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

“You’ve been… cruel” you whispered, your voice a thin thread, broken and fragile like shattered glass. He smiled softly, a smile that sent shivers down your spine, laden with a twisted sweetness that seemed to touch the deepest chords of your soul.

“You would have remained trapped in a loop of self-deception, never accepting your true self,” he murmured, his fingers softly caressing your cheeks now. “Now you’re like me. You’ve lost everything, you’ve hit You have touched the rock bottom, and you’re free to be. To exist as you truly are.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, weaving into your mind, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil inside you, then sighed deeply and nodded faintly.

Then, without warning, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you toward the still-burning temple, the dying flames illuminating the structure. “You died. There. Today. Alongside your master.” he said, leaning toward you, his warm breath brushing your ear, making you tremble. “And you have been reborn. Stronger. You could have everything, if only you would let yourself be guided.” His words were a dangerous mix that slipped inside you, sowing confusion and desire. You slowly turned your head, your gaze lost in his, and for a moment it seemed as if the world had stopped. His closeness was both suffocating and reassuring, his warmth enveloping you, and you felt yourself falling, falling for him, into that darkness that had always been there, waiting for you.

“You want me to become your apprentice,” you murmured in a thin voice, a bitter sarcasm masking your fear and hesitation.

“I want you to become my pupil. My acolyte” he replied, his voice dropping lower and deeper, almost a low growl that resonated in your chest. His eyes scrutinized you with an intensity that took your breath away, as if he wanted to see every thought, every hidden emotion inside you. “I still want to be completely yours, but let me help you blossom… We could have everything, y/n.”

His gaze was hypnotic, a living flame drawing you in closer. You looked down, your breath becoming heavy and irregular. You felt lost, trapped between the desire to escape again and the urge to surrender completely to him. Slowly, you turned, raising your eyes to meet his, your heart racing as you approached. And then, without thinking, your lips pressed against his.

The contact was like an electric shock coursing through your body, a fire igniting within you, burning away every uncertainty. His lips were warm and strong against yours, and for a moment, the world ceased to exist. Your hand moved instinctively, seeking the hilt of his lightsaber, the cold metal fitting perfectly in your palm. You gripped it firmly, feeling the power it contained, like a heartbeat resonating in sync with yours. Qimir didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands moved slowly, gently but decisively, settling over yours, enveloping it with a possessive grip. His thumb caressed your skin, while his tongue brushed against yours, inviting you to join him in a dance of desire and power. You felt his warm breath mixing with yours, his body pressing against yours, as the kiss deepened, became more intense. Each movement of his lips was a promise, a whispered secret that made you tremble with longing.

And in that moment, as the world seemed to burn around you, as the temple crumbled like the past you had left behind, you understood that this was how it was meant to be. That he would be your master, your guide, the one who would protect you. That you would follow that darkness, embrace the power flowing through your veins.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

I missed a little bit of dark Qimir. this man is so bipolar fr fr.

Anyway, I’m still stuck at the front chapter, I read it in loop. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

47 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　

Okay, I haven’t written at all these days. but it’s because Manny Jacinto kidnapped me with the series: "Nine perfect strangers".

AND guess who will also write for Yao (his character in the series)? Yes, exactly. Me. So now I continue the series Haunted, and in the meantime you also expect some mini series or one shot about Yao (He's so fucking hot???). I saw some body movements he did, and I sweated cold.

It’s so sad that practically nobody writes about Yao. I’ve only seen two fic about him??, and it’s so unfair. Someone respect this man pls. Has potential.

Below, the parts that convinced me to write about Yao. If you are sensitive in heart, do not go down. Manny was savage.

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　

Stay tuned to see and read more about this majestic man

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　

#ℳ𝚎𝚕'𝚜 #ℳ𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 #haunted qimir #manny jacinto #manny jacinto gifs #yao #Yao nine perfect strangers #qimir #qimir star wars #nine perfect strangers #mjacintoedit #manny jacinto icons #Yao nine perfect strangers x reader

44 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Note

NOOO. The holy trinity of fandom on Qimir are: Mel, @fhrlclln and @amarmoria

Three beautiful Queens with hands blessed for writing

Oh well, holy trinity? hahaha, thank you, darling

#ℳ𝚎𝚕'𝚜 #mel's flowers

3 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Note

Actually, you and @amarmoria are carrying the burden of having the two most beautiful series about Daddy Qimir. Carry the fandom on your shoulders, Queens

Oh my god, thank you darling. I read her story about Qimir and I fell in love with it too, tbh. But thank you for the compliment, it means a lot to me <3

#ℳ𝚎𝚕'𝚜 #mel's flowers #haunted qimir

2 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

I’m so sad.

2K notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . ✺

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 8.3k

Recommended song: (Especially towards the end) here

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀Chapter VIII: Connections

The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. Still sitting on him, your breaths mingled with his, but in your mind, everything had grown cold and distant, serene. When you pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his, your eyes closed as if shielding yourself from what you felt, isolating your thoughts while the weight of your decision suffocated you. Qimir still held you, but he seemed to sense the growing distance between you.

His hands moved with an almost painful tenderness across your skin, caressing your cheek as if trying to hold onto you in that moment, pulling you back from your thoughts.

"You don’t have to do this" he whispered, his voice filled with sweetness and concern. He was trying to bring you back to him, into the present, into the world you two had built in that fleeting moment stolen from fate. But he already knew, deep down, that his words would carry little weight.

You swallowed, your eyes still closed, but you felt that void within you, a space that seemed impossible to fill. When you finally opened them, he saw something different. The light that once burned bright and fierce was now replaced by a darker, deeper shadow, fueled by a fire that even you seemed unable to fully control.

"I owe it to Mae." Your words were cold, filled with fierce determination. The name of your sister slipped from your lips like a vow, an unbreakable promise. And Qimir felt a shiver run down his spine. The pain you had kept hidden beneath layers of suppressed emotions had turned into pure resolve.

"You already know where this path will lead." His piercing gaze sought yours, as if trying to stop you from fully giving in to the darkness that was slowly taking hold, the same darkness he had once offered you to accept. He could sense your determination like an impenetrable wall, reminiscent of what he himself had experienced so many years ago, when he was a padawan and embraced the dark side.

You turned your face, firmly brushing his hand aside. Your gaze, unwavering and sharp as a blade, was now devoid of the sweetness you had offered him just moments before. Then you stood up, composed, a figure full of authority and resolve. Every movement was measured, almost cold, mirroring his.

“You can’t know that,” you retorted, your voice icy and devoid of emotion. “I’m no longer a Jedi; there’s no light or darkness left for me to follow” you declared in a cutting tone. Your gaze briefly shifted to the nexu, watching you both silently, almost entranced by your interaction. “You said it yourself. I am who I am, and I choose me.” Those words, so final and distant, sounded like a sentence as you turned and began walking toward the ship’s corridor, moving away from him.

Qimir watched you as you distanced yourself, lowering his gaze in frustration. A long sigh escaped his lips as he turned back to the ship’s controls, raising a hand to his face to rub his temples. Yet even as you physically pulled away, he could still feel the shadow of your presence. The bond that the Force created between the two of you was powerful, a web of life and power that made every fiber of your beings vibrate. It was as if he could feel every thought, every emotion, without needing to enter your mind.

And as much as he tried to suppress the fear, he knew something was changing in you. The Force flowed strongly within you, but with it came danger. The Jedi would never have allowed you to fully give in to the darkness, yet your refusal to choose between light and dark made you unpredictable a volatile threat to Him…

What he had glimpsed in your false memories during that kiss left him deeply shaken. The fragments he had seen showed a future where your path seemed carved out toward a dark destiny, one he had followed himself, one he both hoped and feared you would embrace. Inside you was a power that the Jedi had never fully understood, a latent force now emerging with newfound ferocity, fueled by your thirst for vengeance and your search for freedom. For your own identity.

Qimir knew what that path meant; he understood the consequences. Yet deep in his heart, there was a spark of hope that your decision to face Sol would draw you closer to his mission. Perhaps, deep down, he even wanted it. He had invested too much in you, in the moments you two shared, to let you slip away so easily. Qimir had sacrificed a part of himself to find you, to bind himself to you, and he was willing to sacrifice even more if it meant not losing you.

He knew that if you killed Sol, you would throw open the doors to the part of yourself you had so long tried to deny. And perhaps, when everything was over, you would realize that your freedom would never be complete unless you fully embraced the bond between you.

The hours dissolved quickly as your ship glided through Coruscant’s atmosphere, landing far from the bustling chaos of the central capital. The metal and glass dome of the vessel allowed you to take in the sprawling labyrinth of the capital city below, oppressive and vivid all at once.

Qimir sat beside you, still in the pilot’s seat, his gaze fixed on the familiar landscape with a look that betrayed a certain caution. For him, returning there meant reopening old wounds, scars from his past that had never fully healed. He knew he was taking a risk by coming back into the heart of danger, into the wolf's den where his old master awaited him, perhaps unknowingly. If she sensed his presence, his survival would hang by a thread, but that didn’t stop him. He knew he was doing this for you, to give you the freedom and peace you had been chasing for so long. And yet, as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a part of him wondered if it was truly worth it.

Once you landed, you rose from the co-pilot’s seat, distancing yourself from him for a brief moment. Then, like a shadow fading in the light, you felt something shift. You turned, returning to him, expecting to sense the familiar flow of the Force coursing around his body, that subtle vibration that linked every fiber of his being to your perception. But there was nothing. No trace of him, no echo of power. It was as if Qimir had been swallowed by a void, as if his connection to the Force had been snuffed out.

This wasn’t the first time Qimir had suppressed the flow of the Force within him, masking it as he did when he first encountered Sol in what had been his cover shop.

You stood there, staring at him, surprised, almost destabilized, as he donned his black cloak. You couldn’t read his presence as you had so many times before. He was there, right in front of you, yet he wasn’t. Or rather, it felt as though his essence had been wrapped in something invisible, a cloak that obscured every signal, rendering him almost imperceptible to your senses. It wasn’t just his power that was hidden, but his very essence, as if his soul itself had receded deep within, distant and unreachable.

It was unsettling, surreal. He had become a complete stranger, a faint outline in your field of vision. Yet there was something incredibly captivating about this ability of his. His capacity to conceal himself, to merge with the darkness, was something you had never witnessed before, something not even the Jedi Masters had taught, as they knew too little of such techniques.

You walked with determined steps along the wide streets of the capital’s outskirts, the burgundy cloak that once belonged to Mae covering your head, hiding your face from the many eyes of the city. You didn’t ask how Qimir managed to hide himself so perfectly. Every time you tried to sense him, to touch that spark in the Force that made him recognizable, you were met with a disconcerting emptiness. He was there, just a few steps behind you, yet his presence seemed to dissolve like smoke in the air.

It was afternoon, and the outskirts were brimming with life and movement. Merchants argued loudly, vendors shouted to promote their goods, and from the bars, the sound of music and raised voices mingled with the rowdy hustle of tipsy customers and the sweet perfume of prostitutes who tried to charm passersby with false smiles and hollow eyes. The scent of spices, the worn air, and the sweet aroma of the women of pleasure invaded your senses, and the crowd served as a perfect cloak to hide your presence. You ignored it all, as if the city itself had become nothing more than a faded backdrop to your mission. Nothing else existed but that dark call, the pull leading you toward your master.

The cloak protected you from curious glances, but not from the chaos within. You walked with a steady pace, ignoring the external world, focusing every thought on Sol. You could feel him, his power in the Force was like a beacon in the storm of emotions within you. You knew exactly where to find him, and each step brought you closer.

Qimir followed silently behind you, though every so often, his warm, low voice seemed to try and bridge the invisible distance you had created between you, like an underground current trying to pull you back.

“You're still in time to…” he began, as if offering you one last chance to turn back, but you silenced him with a cold, almost icy response without even looking at him.

“I know.” Your gaze remained fixed ahead, among the crowd that moved like a river around you. Your voice carried the weight of someone who had already decided, immovable. Yet you felt a thin tension between you that threatened to snap. You could sense his concern, even though he had rendered himself invisible to the Force.

The streets grew more chaotic, and you moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going. The voices of merchants echoed in your ears, offering exotic goods, jewelry, and food, but your mind was elsewhere. Behind you, you felt Qimir’s gaze following you, silent but palpable. He knew what you were thinking; he could feel it.

“You’re not ready to face him, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice lower, almost choked. The tone was filled with concern but also with a cold awareness that you were refusing to acknowledge.

His words, however, struck you like an electric shock running down your spine. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the heat of resentment rising within you, the weight of his judgment making your blood boil. Your gaze hardened.

You couldn’t afford to waver.

“I’m not you.” Your words were sharp as a dagger, cutting into the wound that had never fully healed in him. “I won’t let my master strike me down only to run away wounded. I’ll do what I came here to do,” you finished. Your voice was hard, almost cruel, and as you walked, you didn’t realize how those words came out, sharp like a blade, sinking into Qimir’s heart with lethal precision. The pain in his gaze was unmistakable, even though he tried to hide it behind a veil of silence.

Only when you turned, searching for his figure behind you, did you notice that veil of pain in his gaze. You had touched a nerve, and you knew it. Qimir had never forgotten that wound, neither physical nor emotional, but he had opened up to you, letting you glimpse that fragment of his past.

You felt the weight of your words falling back on you. His gaze lowered slightly, and the silent pain he carried seemed to etch itself even deeper into his features. You bit the inside of your cheek, cursing yourself for having spoken so harshly. But it was too late to take those words back.

That expression struck you harder than you wanted to admit, and a pang of remorse tightened your breath. You didn’t understand why, in that very moment, you had become so cold towards him, as if part of you had built an icy wall. Perhaps it was the pressure, the growing tension as you approached Sol. Or maybe your own heart was too full of conflicting emotions to see clearly.

“I…” you began, your voice breaking. “You know I didn’t mean what I said.” you whispered, resuming your walk, your voice finally softer, almost regretful. You didn’t want to admit it, but you truly felt sorry for having struck so harshly. Qimir had always been there for you, and in that moment, you realized how much your emotions were taking over.

“I know” Qimir replied, but his tone was hollow, distant. He tried to mask the pain you had caused, but he couldn’t entirely hide it.

You stopped again without turning, your breath uneven as you tried to gather the pieces of yourself. The chaos of Galactic City continued around you, but for a moment, everything felt distant, as if the world had retreated to the background. Clenching your fists beneath the burgundy cloak, you searched for clarity in the turmoil consuming you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured through gritted teeth, nearly choked by your own frustration. "It’s just… I'm full of emotions, sensations … That I can't think straight. It’s this place." Your words were sincere, but you knew they wouldn't be enough to erase the pain you'd inflicted. Inside, a storm was raging, hatred, fear, pain, and a glimmer of hope, all intertwined and clashing.

"You're more like her than you realize" Qimir said, his voice an echo of the past, heavy with an observation he'd carried for a long time. His gaze, laced with recognition, held a weight that hit you deeply. The mention of Mae, always a thin thread binding everything you did, twisted painfully inside you. Hearing her name associated with you in that way made a lump form in your throat.

You clenched your jaw, pushing down the wave of emotions his words stirred within you. At that moment, it seemed only fair that he had found a way to wound you as well, even though he hadn’t meant to hurt you, just a thought spoken aloud. You took a deep breath and started walking again, this time faster, ignoring him. Your steps grew more resolute, almost angry, as you headed towards the upper part of the city.

After fifteen minutes, the city's energy shifted. You could feel it, an oppressive presence in the Force, like a heavy cloud wrapping around you. Jedi on patrol, Jedi strolling, politicians, they all resonated like notes in a rising symphony within your mind. Swallowing hard, you tried to focus on the connection with Sol, but something about this place unsettled you, as if a part of you wanted to retreat. A pure, distant, yet palpable energy teased your senses, like a whisper urging you to reconsider your actions.

Your heartbeat quickened, and with it, your frustration. Anxiety clouded your focus, and suddenly, the thread of Sol slipped through your grasp like sand between your fingers. You stopped abruptly, breath ragged, muscles tense. You had lost control, and Qimir noticed immediately.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice gentle, soothing against the confusion assaulting you. His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and despite everything, the gesture anchored you to reality for a fleeting moment.

"If you keep pushing, you'll attune yourself to the Force of the entire city. Focus on your connection to him, find it within you. Use your emotions to guide you," his voice was calm, a guide as you followed his instructions, slowly finding your center.

His words flowed through you like a fresh breeze, cutting through the storm of thoughts and feelings swirling inside. You took a deep breath, letting the uncertainty slip away. Closing your eyes, you dove into the Force, trying to feel Sol once again. The chaotic vibrations of the city began to fade, blending into the background as you focused solely on him. The invisible threads of the Force around you shifted like taut strings, each belonging to someone in the capital, but you sought the one that bound you to Sol.

One heartbeat, then another, your breath deep and steady. Finally, you felt it. That thread, intense, familiar, pulsed in the Force like a blinding light. You recognized it.

“That way.” you murmured decisively, opening your eyes and fixing your gaze in the direction that now seemed inevitable. You began walking, your steps still filled with tension, but this time they were purposeful, deliberate. Each meter you covered brought you closer to the Jedi Temple.

Qimir followed closely, his gaze watchful and silent. He could sense the struggle within you, feel your uncertainty growing with every step. He knew how much this was costing you, how hard you were trying to maintain control, but the fear that your determination might lead you back to your master crept into his thoughts. He prayed it wouldn’t happen, it would be unbearable to watch you die in front of him.

When the Jedi Temple finally appeared in the distance, an imposing and solemn structure, you paused for a moment, your breath short and nervous. You had hoped with all your heart that Sol wasn’t there. You didn’t want to step back into that place you once called home. You didn’t want to face the ghosts that resided there.

You ventured deeper into the temple, followed closely by Qimir, whose presence seemed to envelop you like an invisible veil, making you almost imperceptible as you crossed the main atrium. Each step was accompanied by the irregular beat of your heart, an incessant drum of nervousness. You prayed you wouldn’t encounter anyone you knew, and fortunately, no familiar faces appeared. Yet, every corner, every corridor whispered forgotten memories, the voices of the past calling out to you. Your time as a Padawan resurfaced like thin blades, slowly and imperceptibly cutting into your skin with each recollection, with every step forward.

The towering walls of the temple’s ziggurat loomed over you, cold and silent, heavy with history. They had once been your protectors; now, they felt like ghosts, shadows of what you had lost. You continued walking, your steps growing more hesitant, until you reached the First Knowledge Quarter, in the northwest section of the ancient building. Each step in that direction strengthened the bond with your master. It was a sensation that shook you to your core: a mix of familiarity and terror, like the pull of a truth you had tried to escape.

The corridor leading to a place that had once been your refuge, your sanctuary from the sharp tongues of those who doubted you were worthy of being a Padawan, struck you with a wave of emotion. You felt a longing for it, feeling almost the nostalgia of…

"The Room of a Thousand Fountains…" Qimir whispered, completing the thought you had kept to yourself. His words echoed like a shared memory. You glanced at him, surprised to remember that he too had walked these halls, many years before you. His face was unreadable, but in his eyes, you glimpsed a deep understanding of what you were feeling.

“He’s there.” you murmured, swallowing heavily.

In front of you lay the entrance to the room, a gateway that seemed to conceal far more than just a physical space. Entering meant turning back, facing not just Sol, but everything you had been, everything that had driven you to become a Jedi, and everything you had lost.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was exactly as you remembered it, yet something about it felt different. Time hadn’t altered its majestic beauty: exotic flora and fauna from all over the galaxy filled the space, creating a landscape both alien and comforting. The artisans and botanists who had designed it had managed to craft an oasis of peace and serenity in a temple that, although dedicated to the Force, could often become an oppressive place. The sound of water flowed softly, gurgling from a thousand small fountains, reflecting the light in delicate cascades that seemed to dance among the lush trees and bushes. A light mist rose from the streams, cloaking the air with a freshness that carried the weight of ancient tranquility.

A part of you longed to stop, to breathe deeply in that peace, and lose yourself in the place that, as a child, you had considered your true home. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting the water of the fountains in golden and azure hues. The trees, covered in bright flowers, swayed gently, moved by a breeze that seemed to come from another world. But today, this place was no longer a refuge. Today, it was the stage for your battle, for your fall.

With every step you took into the room, you drew closer to Sol, and with it, the weight of emotion grew heavier. There was no room left for serenity; everything within you was transforming into a grip of tension. Your breath was quick and shallow, your fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of Mae’s cloak. The memory of her, of her loss, fueled the fire of your determination, but at the same time, it consumed you.

Behind you, Qimir followed you in silence, his gaze piercing, as if he could sense every conflict raging within you. He felt your nervousness, the way your strength seemed to waver between control and impulse, between light and darkness. And he said nothing, letting you sink into your thoughts. It was your battle, and he knew it.

When you stopped in front of the central area of the hall, time seemed to slow down. The beating of your heart echoed in your ears like drums on a battlefield. Sol was there, sitting cross-legged, immersed in meditation, his unmistakable figure at the center of that oasis which had once been your refuge. But now, that serenity seemed to you like a cruel illusion, a mirror reflecting a calm you could never reach again. The sound of the fountains blended with your thoughts, amplifying the inner turmoil devouring you. Every drop of water seemed to fall as heavily as a blade on your skin, flowing slowly but relentlessly, carving invisible wounds.

Inside you, the storm was growing. Fear, nostalgia, pain, anger… Every emotion you had repressed was now rising to the surface, like a river that had burst its banks. The image of Sol in front of you was both familiar and foreign. You could no longer recognize the man you once considered a guide, an almost fatherly figure. Now, seeing his calmness, the contrast with your fury was unbearable. Your hand clenched around the hilt of the lightsaber that Osha had wielded at Qimir's side for years. The cold sensation of the metal against your skin was the only anchor to reality.

Sol's voice shattered the silence with devastating power.

“Y/n…” Sol's voice cut through the air with the same intensity as the water from the fountains crashing onto the ground below. You shivered at the sound of your name on his lips, a blow to your soul. How dare he speak to you with such familiarity? How dare he drag you back with just one word?

You didn’t respond. Every fiber of your being strained to contain the fury rising within. You felt the heat of anger burning inside, mixed with a deeper cold: the cold of betrayal. You watched him rise with the same calm that had always been his, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. You saw him turn toward you, his expression shifting from the relief of feeling your presence again to the gravity of the situation he now faced. The serene, relieved look quickly gave way to the shadow of understanding. Your stance, the lightsaber in your hand, everything, spoke louder than words.

“Master.” The word slipped from your lips like a blade of ice, sharp, cold, laced with pain and resentment. It was the first time you had called him that since he abandoned you on Khofar. Every time you spoke that title, the poison of the past resurfaced, tainting every thought, every memory. You had admired him, followed him blindly, and he had left you behind, without explanation, without a helping hand. Abandoned to the enemy.

Sol swallowed, and you saw the flash of realization in his eyes. He understood. Finally, he understood.

“Don’t do that…” His voice, now broken by a plea, seemed almost surreal. He, who had once been your rock, the one who always knew what to do, was now there, disarmed, vulnerable, almost defenseless, a shadow of the man you once considered a father. His lightsaber lay a few steps away from him, but he didn’t call it to him. He didn’t want to fight you. Or at least, he still hoped he wouldn’t have to.

He could sense everything about you: the turmoil of emotions, the growing hatred, the fear consuming you. He could read your thoughts, see the depth of your suffering, and he understood exactly how far you were willing to go. But that wasn’t enough to stop you. Not anymore. You belonged to the darkness now.

Pain gripped your chest like a vice. Your time with Qimir had forged a different person, a harder, more ruthless one. But the real blow, the true trauma, had been being abandoned by him, right when you needed him most. He had fled, leaving you to face the pain and the Sith without looking back. Your mind was a whirlwind of contrasting images: his teachings, the warmth of his affection… and then the coldness with which he left, abandoning you. The open wound that had turned into a scar burned, and you no longer knew if you were driven by the desire for revenge or the desperation to understand.

And then there was Mae.

A wave of hatred surged through you at the thought of your sister, dead under circumstances that still tore at your soul, so inexplicable they were. You had feared that Sol might have been involved, that he had made the fatal decision that led to her death. You couldn’t look at him without seeing hands stained with blood—the blood of your family. The uncertainty, the anguish of not knowing if he was responsible, strangled your soul.

Betrayal, abandonment, hatred. And fear.

Fear that, deep down, he truly was the man you feared he had become. Fear that his wisdom had been an illusion, that everything he taught you was merely a shadow of what he really was. The possibility that he could have been the one behind Mae’s death terrified you, made you lose control.

Your breath was becoming more labored, and your fingers clenched around the lightsaber as if the mere grip could contain all the chaos you were trying to tame. But you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

‘I can’t stop.’ you thought, the echo of your own determination reverberating through the peaceful hall.

Qimir watched the scene from a distance, hidden in the shadow of a massive tree at the edge of the hall. The sound of rushing water seemed to muffle everything happening, but he could sense every single emotion coursing through you. It was as if your emotions were an extension of his own, a distorted reflection of his past.

The hatred burning within you was palpable, a poison spreading through the air like an invisible gas. Qimir felt it vibrating in his bones, seeing in your fury what had once been his own. The hatred for his Jedi master, the repressed anger at the teachings that had imprisoned him, the thirst for revenge that had consumed him. It was like a flashback swallowing him whole, a cycle repeating with cruel precision.

He remembered perfectly when, decades earlier, he had found himself in the same place you were now. With a trembling hand on his lightsaber, ready to lash out at his master, blinded by pain and rage. He knew what it meant to be devoured by hatred, to understand that there would be no redemption in committing the final act, losing everything. That revenge would not bring peace but only an unstoppable spiral of chaos. Qimir had been drawn into that darkness and had never managed to find a way out. His life had been marked by that one decision that had finally set him free.

And now he saw you there. He knew perfectly well that you wouldn’t find peace in killing Sol. The illusion of relief would last a mere heartbeat during the confrontation, and then emptiness would claim everything. But he wouldn’t intervene. Not this time.

Qimir had already made up his mind. He wouldn’t stop you.

If he interfered, he would break that cycle, and somehow your suffering would redeem his. But he wasn’t ready for that. In a sense, he shouldn’t be. Allowing you to commit that act was necessary, as it would lead you down the path to the dark side. It would be so; He had decided it would be so, and he found himself succumbing to a decision he knew would be destructive for you.

He knew it wouldn’t be your hatred that would destroy you, but your conviction that this was the only way to find peace.

Sol's voice was like a sharp blade piercing your soul, but the pain wasn’t enough to stop you. His words,

"This isn't you, my old Padawan" echoed like a distant memory, buried beneath layers of hatred and resentment. Every fiber of your being screamed for vengeance, each step you took toward him charged with an unstoppable tension. Sol's paternal tone grated against your ears, covered by anger and bitterness, as you found the strength to ask the fatal question.

"Mae… Where is she?" Your voice trembled, and you hated yourself for that weakness. You desperately sought a thread of hope, a sign that she was still alive, that it had all been a mistake. A part of you even hoped to discover that she was actually alive and that you didn't feel the Force bond with her only because she had used a skill similar to the one Qimir employed to disguise herself. But that was not the case; Sol's expression answered you more than his words could.

"Y/n… we-" he began, desperately trying to find the right words, but it was useless. Your grip on the lightsaber was so tight that your knuckles turned white.

"You killed her." Your words were pure poison, a definitive condemnation. The resentment and darkness in your gaze would have made anyone tremble, even the bravest of Jedi Masters.

"That's not what happened…" His hand reached out toward you, hoping to reclaim what was left of the Padawan he once knew, but his other hand was ready to call his lightsaber.

You advanced slowly, each step heavy as lead, uncertain yet determined at the same time. For a single, desperate moment, you hoped that somehow he could tell you that he hadn’t done anything, that he wasn’t responsible for what had been your sister’s death.

"But it was like that…" you murmured, almost trying to convince yourself, still in disbelief and confusion. Then you saw it in his eyes: betrayal, guilt. The fragments of your heart shattered into a thousand pieces, burning with hatred.

"You… you killed her." Your whisper became a verdict, and for the first time, you noticed fear in your old master's eyes. The man you had once revered now trembled before you, aware of how much you had changed, completely consumed by hatred. And it was in that moment that everything collapsed.

"I… y/n…"

Sol quickly called his lightsaber to him, the familiar sound of its activation resonating in the hall. You struck at him with all your strength, the weight of your pain pouring into the violence of the attack. He blocked your strike at the last second, but the clash of the blades echoed in the room, breaking the harmony of the waterfalls and the chirping of some birds.

There, amidst the beauty of nature, the serenity of the place shattered under the fire of combat. The blades hissed in the air, illuminating the waterfalls and the exotic plants around you, while the water reflected flashes of red and blue light. The rough stone floor beneath you vibrated with each impact, and every time the lightsabers met, a spark of pure energy lit up the green of the surrounding garden. The leaves of the trees rustled beneath your swift movements, as your heavy breaths mingled with the constant sound of flowing water.

"Y/n, don’t succumb to your darkness…" Sol still tried to reach you, but his words were drowned out by the clash of lightsabers. Each strike you unleashed was fiercer than the last, an explosion of uncontrollable rage. Your technique merged with a brutality you had never known. Sol, his face etched with pain and disappointment, struggled to defend himself, blocking your attacks with increasing difficulty.

In your fury, you had lost all control. Every thrust was heavy with hatred, the blade of your lightsaber sliding close to his flesh, grazing his Jedi robes with lethal precision. The sound of water became more distant, muffled by the pounding beat of your heart. Each blow that Sol parried drove you to strike harder, faster, as if only his destruction could quell the turmoil within you.

"You’re not like this!" Sol shouted, retreating, almost pleading, as he defended against yet another strike. But he knew he could no longer stop you. Your emotions were a raging river, overwhelming, uncontrollable. The past, the lies, Mae’s death… everything had pushed you beyond your limit, and now you were unstoppable. Sol, the master who had once taught you calm and peace, was now the target of your deepest hatred.

The hall transformed into a theater of destruction. The harmonious sound of the artificial forest was drowned out by the sharp hum of lightsabers and the violent clash of your blades striking with ferocity. You felt nothing, saw nothing; all you felt now was hatred. The vibrant green of the plants and the blue of the waters no longer existed for you. Only the red of your fury.

"You promised to protect me!" Your scream exploded in the hall, echoing against the walls as your saber finally found its mark. The blade sizzled as it struck Sol’s shoulder, leaving a burning cut. It wasn’t enough. His face contorted in pure terror as he used the Force to throw you back, the instinctive gesture of a man pushed to his limit, yet still reluctant to hurt you. "To protect both of us!" you continued, your anger resonating in your voice like thunder as you rose again, fueled by hatred. You lunged at him once more with uncontrolled fury, your strikes becoming faster, more precise, as you sought every possible opening. Sol was now forced to defend himself desperately, parrying your thrusts with quick but increasingly fatigued movements, barely dodging your last attack.

"It was a mistake…" he said in a strained voice, his breathing heavy, bringing a hand to the burn on his shoulder, seeking relief he would never find. He retreated, his face twisted in pain, both physical and emotional, unable to tear his gaze from you, as if he were looking at someone he no longer recognized.

But you could no longer hear his words. Each time your blade met his, your frustration grew. You struck with such violence that pieces of flora fell to the ground, severed and charred. The fountains, once symbols of your serenity, now reflected the darkness consuming you. Your emotions, once controlled, were now an uncontrollable torrent of pain, grief, and anger. Your lightsaber sliced through the air with ferocity, hissing like a snake ready to strike, destroying everything you had once loved. Every blow you dealt was an act of accusation, an open wound.

"I trusted you…" Your voice cracked, a mix of hatred and regret reflected in your movements. Sol, despite his fatigue, still managed to defend himself, but his movements grew slower. Your anger made you stronger, but also more unpredictable, and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

With a scream of rage, you plunged your saber with all your might, aiming for his chest, seeking the decisive blow. But Sol, in a last desperate act, blocked the strike with a speed you wouldn’t have thought possible. Your blades crossed with devastating force, sparks flying in every direction, illuminating the space around you. The sound of metal and energy colliding was deafening, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Only you and Sol remained.

Your sabers sizzled and screeched, locked in a struggle of strength and will. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of remorse, any confirmation that the Sol you once knew still existed. What you found broke your heart.

With a furious cry, you pushed with all your strength, forcing him to retreat once again. But he, breathless and moving slower, had no intention of hurting you. He blocked every strike, dodging with pinpoint precision, but he did not counterattack. His gaze was that of a broken man, aware of what he had lost, powerless to reclaim it. The gaze of a father…

"Please…" he whispered, but his words were drowned out by the roar of your blade approaching once more. The movements became frantic. Your legs moved agilely, jumping over small ponds and the carved rocks decorating the hall, seizing every hold to try to strike him from a new angle. But Sol, despite the pain and fatigue, still held his ground. He jumped back, parrying and dodging, but each time he was closer to his limit.

The beauty of the Room of a Thousand Fountains was consumed by the fury of battle. The waterfalls, once symbols of calm and contemplation, now reflected the destruction around you. The exotic trees, once lush, fell to the ground one after another, struck by your merciless blade. The air itself felt denser, suffocating, as your strikes grew more desperate. Broken plants, shattered statues, water splashing everywhere as your blade mercilessly cut not only the nature around you but also the memories of your childhood, the moments when this place had been your home, your refuge. It was no longer any of that. Now it was just the stage for your revenge.

Sol continued to defend himself, desperately seeking a way to stop you without hurting you. But you were now unstoppable. Every blow, every movement, was heavy with the weight of years of pain and betrayal. Yet beneath all that anger, there was still a part of you that didn’t want this end. A part that screamed to stop, that knew if you continued, you would lose yourself forever.

Every strike you unleashed against Sol was a cry of despair, an explosion of years of pain and betrayal. Your blade buzzed in the air, seeking its target, but each time it was halted by the stubborn resistance of your old master. Yet, he did not counterattack. Sol would never raise his blade against you, even as death approached ever closer. His face, a mask of torment, reflected not hatred but only regret and love, wounded by your darkness.

"I believed in you!"

The words choked out of your throat, a strangled cry as pain cut through the armor of rage that surrounded you. Tears threatened to fall, but you held them back, fueled by the fury that now completely dominated you. Every movement was fierce, every strike a silent scream of your broken heart. You were close to the edge, and he knew it. Each blow he barely parried, each step back he took, pushed you further toward the point of no return. Yet, deep within you, something still screamed, desperately trying to stop you. But you no longer listened to that voice.

Frustration grew inside you. The awareness urging you not to do this was no longer enough. Every blow parried by Sol felt like a rejection of your vengeance, a denial of the last act of love you could have offered to Mae.

Sol managed to send your lightsaber flying with a decisive wave of his hand, using the Force one last time with the last of his strength. You felt the absence of the familiar weight of the weapon, and panic mixed with rage surged through you. You were disarmed. He knew it. He sheathed his inactive lightsaber at his side and moved quickly toward you, his face etched with pain and determination. Before you could react, his arms enveloped you in a desperate embrace, the hands that once supported you now holding you captive.

His arms, once a refuge, were now a cold, suffocating trap. The force with which he held you was not just physical but emotional: a desperate attempt to bring you back, to save what remained of his padawan. You felt his voice break against your ear as he tried to explain himself, the hope of changing your mind clashing with the growing despair.

"I had to do it, I-"

But his words were muffled when your hand, driven by an unstoppable dark impulse, found his lightsaber.

And then, something broke inside you.

It was as if an invisible thread, the one that had kept you tied to humanity, had snapped. You felt your hand become steady, your mind go blank, frozen in the moment. In that brief instant, the world seemed to slow down.

In a fluid, almost mechanical motion, you activated it without hesitation at his side. The sharp sound of the energy blade piercing his flesh, burning it, echoed in the room like a sudden crash in the quiet. You felt his body stiffen, a strangled sob escaping him, and the warmth of his blood rising in his throat, splattering on your shoulder. That blood, thick and dark, burned your skin like the mark of an irreversible wound.

Time distorted, and everything became a distant echo. Sol stood still for a moment, almost in disbelief, his eyes widening as they met yours with a mix of pain and surprise. The deep brown of his irises seemed to fade, replaced by profound sadness, an emptiness that reflected your own. His lips trembled as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.

As he felt his life slipping away, his gaze deepened further, becoming a window into all the emotions he had suppressed until that moment. There was infinite disappointment, not in you, but in himself. He should have protected you; he should have been there for you. In that final moment, he realized that he had failed.

Sol's eyes searched yours, as if still hoping to see the young padawan he had trained, the girl he loved like a daughter. But he found nothing of what he remembered. He finally understood that there was no way to bring you back, and with that realization, a deep sadness clouded his gaze. There was no hatred in him, only a silent forgiveness.

Sol staggered, collapsing to his knees as your gaze remained fixed in the void, devoid of any spark of compassion. The weight of his body grew lighter in your arms, yet you felt nothing. Inside you, something had broken forever, but it was not pain you felt, only a cold emptiness that enveloped you completely.

As he fell to his knees, Sol's eyes never left yours, as if he wanted to imprint that final message in you: despite everything, he would always love you, until the end. His eyelids slowly closed, like the lowering of a curtain on a tragedy, and with one last whisper of your name, he surrendered to his fate.

"You promised…" you whispered, your voice no longer seeming like your own, drained of emotion and warmth, as if it were rising from the depths of an endless abyss. As you slowly clenched your hand into a fist, giving him a death more painful than he deserved, suffocating him with the Force. There was no more hatred, no more anger. Only a deafening silence now.

And as Sol's body fell to the ground, his gaze now slowly empty, you understood that there was no redemption, no return. Inside you, there was nothing left. The fury, the hatred, the desire for vengeance that had guided you until that moment had faded, leaving you only with the unbearable weight of the realization: you had lost everything.

Tears streamed down your impassive face as you gripped the iron hilt, watching the now semi-destroyed hall. The blue blade slowly began to take on the crimson hue of Qimir and your sister. You had nothing left. You had nothing left, not even vengeance.

A memory crashed over you like a sudden wave, trapping you in a fragment of time you had almost forgotten, yet it was there, buried beneath layers of pain and hatred.

You were still a young padawan, sitting in front of Sol in the council chamber, a vast and imposing room that made you feel even smaller. The Jedi council members were arranged in a circle, their serious and stern eyes focused on you. Despite the tension, Sol's figure beside you was a beacon of warmth, a paternal presence that shielded you from the oppressive atmosphere. His warm hands gently rested on your slender arms covered by your padawan robes, a gesture that spoke of affection and reassurance, and for a moment, you felt safe.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

He asked gently, his low, enveloping voice inviting you to look within yourself. There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine interest, a sincere curiosity to know how you imagined your future. His eyes studied you with affection, reflecting a trust that had always comforted you, even in the most difficult moments.

But that question, so simple, suddenly made you feel exposed. The knot in your throat tightened with unexpected force, the words seemed to be stifled before they could even form. You looked at Sol, searching his eyes for the answer, something that would make him proud, something that could alleviate the weight growing inside you. You could feel the weight of the other Jedi's gazes around you, as if the fate of your entire future depended on that one answer.

“Kind…”

You finally whispered, your voice weak and almost broken, as if that word had been drawn from the depths of your heart with great effort. Your lips trembled slightly as you held back the tears threatening to fall. You didn’t want to cry; you didn’t even know why that word had struck you so deeply.

Sol, sensing your hesitation and fragility, smiled. A smile full of understanding and comfort. His eyes sparkled with pure emotion, and without saying anything, he wrapped you in an embrace, enveloping you in his reassuring presence. In that moment, it felt like nothing could ever hurt you.

“Mh…” Sol murmured in a deep tone, full of satisfaction. He was reassured, as if that answer had confirmed everything he already knew or thought he knew about you. That sound seemed to contain all that needed no words: his approval, his pride, his joy in knowing he could guide you along the path you had just begun to walk. There was no doubt now: he would become your master. You knew it. He knew it too.

And for a brief moment, amidst the chaos of your fractured mind, that memory brought back the feeling of no longer being that innocent, hopeful young padawan; you had killed him along with the paternal figure now lying at your feet. But then, the memory shattered, dissolving into the empty echo of the present. And you were back there, with Sol's lifeless body on the ground, your hands still stained with his blood and your gaze cold.

You shifted your gaze to one of the trees, watching it slowly catch fire in front of you. You recognized its bark as coming from Brendok, your home planet. As a child, you loved to hide among its branches, climbing up and disappearing from your friends. You loved that tree; it reminded you of your mother, strong and wise, always ready to protect you. Now, you felt nothing for it. You turned and met Qimir's gaze, which seemed to understand your absence.

Was this what he meant when he told you he had lost everything and had finally become free? Was this the cost of freedom?

He nodded before following you outside, using the Force suppression once again to cover both your tracks, especially yours, which had become stronger. More chaotic.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

I admit that I cried several times during the writing. Especially in the Padawan flashback scene, I felt a lot of emotions inside. I think it’s the chapter that I loved to write most of all. I hope to have also excited you in some way during the reading, I wish that you could feel my writing vividly, as if it were the real story of your experience.

Plus, who do you think is the "Him" that Qimir refers to?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, tell me what you think. Love you, thank you for the support

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

62 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . ༄

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.8k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀ Chapter VII: Mistakes

The night passed slowly, every minute feeling like an eternity, and you found yourself running your fingers over your lips, as if you still wanted to taste his. Every time you thought of Qimir, of the way his lips had found yours with such longing, your heart began to beat faster, your chest tightened, and desire burned inside you. You couldn't push him out of your mind; it was as if his touch had stayed on you, imprinted on your skin like an invisible tattoo.

You turned to the side in bed, gripping the sheets in your hands as the memory of those fingers that had clung to your flesh, digging in with an insatiable hunger, tormented you. You swallowed with difficulty, desperately trying to free yourself from the images crowding your mind: your mouths joined in wet and desperate kisses, his deep breaths against your neck, the shared gasps filling the air as if they were the only language you both knew. You had started it all, you, and it was as if you had unleashed a force you could no longer stop, and you were ashamed of it.

His words echoed in your head, piercing like a wound that refused to heal. “Let me be yours .” Those words had broken something inside you, revealing a Qimir you had never seen before: vulnerable, open, yet still so imposing, so dangerous. His pleading voice as he looked at you with his mouth still on your breast, as if he had desired nothing else in the world but to belong to you, was impossible to forget.

You closed your eyes, but the scene continued to haunt you. "Completely." The sincerity in his eyes, the need that resonated in every word. You wanted to forget everything, to drive away the feeling of his hands on your body, the warmth of his skin against yours. But the more you tried to push him away, the more you found yourself wrapped in those memories, as if your own body refused to let him go.

It was as if the memory of that night was alive, pulsing beneath your skin. Your breathing became irregular, and every heartbeat seemed to amplify his absent presence. His voice echoed in your mind, a whisper blending with the night wind, making you shiver. "If isn't right, then why do you like it so much?"

The memory of his touch was vivid, warm, and your intimacy began to burn at the spot where Qimir had brushed his fingers over your pants. And without even realizing it, your hand slid toward that heat that was slowly consuming you, a desire that burned without extinguishing. Every inch of your skin wanted to keep that memory of a few hours earlier alive, and the need to feel him again, to have that moment back, was becoming more unbearable. You urgently pulled off your pants, throwing them to the floor.

Your breath grew heavier and more erratic, the images in your mind more real, as if his presence was right there with you, now. His name surfaced on your lips with the same intensity as the night wind, a choked whisper, as you began to rub your fingertips over that increasingly needy bundle of nerves. Your mind couldn’t escape the thought of him. You imagined his shoulders, so broad, so strong, where you had dug your nails in. His arms wrapped around your body to keep you from going anywhere. His mouth claiming yours with hunger.

You bit the side of your lip lightly, closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath. You tried once again to push away your thoughts, but your left hand began to brush over your breast, imagining it was his. "We’ve barely begun" his slow, warm voice, gentle yet deep, echoed in your head.

You began to move your hips back and forth against your fingers, feeling your warm, wet skin, seeking more friction to relieve that strange sensation that kept growing. Suddenly, you felt breathless when you touched the sensitive tip of your bud, your eyes wide, your body trembling and slightly arched, eager to discover what else you could touch to satisfy yourself.

An irrational need to explore your intimacy further took hold of you. You plunged two fingers inside yourself, pressing your palm against your swollen clitoris, and immediately began moving your fingers, feeling shivers run down your spine, almost forgetting where you were and that, who knows how many meters away, the man you were now imagining as you touched yourself was sleeping.

This was not Jedi behavior; nothing you had done that night was. Yet, why did you keep thinking about it? The lessons from your masters echoed in a distant corner of your mind, warning you that desire was a corrupt path, a road that would inevitably lead you toward the dark side. Pleasure, especially carnal pleasure, was even worse: it would cloud your clarity, undermine your balance, and weaken your connection to the Force. But how could something that had made you feel so alive, so real, after so much time spent in apathy, be wrong?

The memory of Qimir, the way he had touched you, kissed you, and the warmth of his body against yours, made you feel free in a way you had never experienced before. It was as if he had awakened a part of you that had remained dormant, buried beneath layers of discipline and control.

You weren’t used to these sensations; you had never thought that your body could crave something with such intensity. Your masters had taught you to keep your mind pure, to not allow distractions to divert you from your path. But now, both your mind and body seemed estranged from such restrictive teachings.

The idea of exploring your body, of giving yourself permission to touch and discover yourself as Qimir had, had become irresistible. His attention to you had opened a world of desires you had never dared to explore or imagine. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his hands, felt the warmth of his breath, and the burning of his kisses, accompanied by small bites. It was as if he had unlocked a part of you that had always been there, but that you had ignored and repressed.

It was wrong, you knew that, and yet, in that moment, it felt like the most right thing you had ever experienced.

You turned once more in bed, the sheets feeling too hot, suffocating against your tense and restless skin. You gripped a corner of fabric with such force that your nails dug into your palms, leaving small crescent marks. The memory of his hands, his lips on you, continued to torment you. You bit your lip, trying to push those images away, yet every effort was in vain as you pumped your fingers in and out, searching for the most delicate points of yourself, feeling a new kind of tension building inside you, an insistent need to give more to feel more.

Your eyes clenched shut, trembling, while your toes curled with every movement you made to satisfy yourself. Your heart started to beat faster, and you felt more sensitive and weaker, reaching the point where your mind was emptied of everything, focusing solely on pushing yourself beyond the limit that seemed to slip further away.

You brought your hand to your mouth, stifling a deep moan. Your face was slightly sweaty and flushed as you felt liquid slipping from your fingers once they were pulled from your intimacy. You breathed deeply, almost panting, as your fingers slipped through your hair, desperately trying to bring some order back to your mind. You ran your hand over your face, as if that simple gesture could erase your mistakes, the ones you kept collecting, one after another, dragging you further from the path you had sworn to follow.

You got out of bed, your body still trembling, and a wave of pain shot through your ankle, reminding you of the sprain. Limping, you reached the rudimentary rock faucet inside the cave, cold water running over your hands as if it could wash away not just your fluids, but also the memories of the man who had led you to commit such a pleasurable act. You scrubbed vigorously, trying to erase every trace of that night.

You returned to bed with difficulty, massaging your aching ankle. Every step felt like divine punishment for what you had done, as if to remind you it was wrong, and you kept making mistakes. You leaned against the pillow, your gaze lost in the emptiness, until your eyes fell on the small Nexu, peacefully sleeping next to your bed. That cub, unaware of your dogmas, had become your only anchor. You reached out to him, your fingers threading through his rough fur, finding comfort in a place you could no longer find within yourself. "Shit" you hissed through clenched teeth, the frustration suffocating you. You stroked the cub, trying to find peace in that gesture, but your mind was in turmoil. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Qimir again. You couldn’t shake him off, no matter how hard you tried.

But maybe, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to forget anything about that night.

You only fell asleep after hours of fighting your own thoughts, your hand still resting on the cub. The sleep was shallow, disturbed by images and sensations you couldn’t push away. When you woke, Qimir was there. You felt him approaching, his gaze burning on your skin as you kept your eyes closed a little longer. He watched you in silence, almost affectionately, as if he were trying to understand every single detail of your face. He leaned slightly over you, moving a rebellious strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment on your still-warm skin. There was something different about your face, something he couldn’t fully decipher but that intrigued him.

As soon as you opened your eyes, you sensed his presence retreat. Qimir stepped back, turning his back to you as he grabbed something from a natural shelf in the cave, his movement slow and calculated. His tone was light, almost distracted, when he spoke.

"Rough night?" he asked with a casual air. Panic hit you like a punch to the chest. You sat up quickly, clutching the blanket around you, swallowing as you tried to find an answer that wouldn’t betray the turmoil inside you after a night spent touching yourself, thinking of him.

"Not at all." you replied too quickly, your voice louder than normal, and you realized it only after you had spoken. Qimir turned to look at you, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow, staring at you with a gaze that seemed to see through every barrier, every excuse.

His eyes immediately settled on your disheveled hair, then on your wrinkled and slightly twisted tunic, before trailing down to the pants lying on the cave floor. His lips curled into a barely restrained smirk as he leaned casually against the rocky wall, arms crossed over his chest in a way that made it clear he was amused, as if he knew exactly what you'd done that night.

"It's not what you think" you stammered nervously, your voice a little too high-pitched as the blush spread across your cheeks. The instinct to defend yourself against any accusation clashed with the awareness that you were in an indefensible position, no matter how obvious it seemed.

Qimir tilted his head slightly, his smile widening, mischievous, as if savoring every second of your clumsy attempt at dissimulation.

"And what do you think I'm thinking?" he replied, his voice low, a velvet whisper, his eyes narrowing in amusement but also in a dangerously inquisitive way. Your heart pounded faster as you desperately tried to find a response that wouldn’t make things even more awkward.

"There's nothing to think about," you finally answered, trying to regain control of the situation, even though you felt the tension rise with every passing second. Qimir chuckled softly, a laugh that sounded almost affectionate, as he ran a hand through his hair with that relaxed manner of his, as if the situation didn’t bother him in the least.

"There’s nothing wrong if-"

"Qimir!" You cut him off, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at him, overwhelmed by the embarrassment washing over you like a violent wave. The very concept of sexuality was something you had always ignored. And now, to find yourself discussing it with him made everything unbearably real.

"Alright, alright…" he began, laughing as he handed you the pillow back. "I just hope that whoever put these ideas in your head at least… satisfied you. In your imagination, I mean" He dropped that line with a calm and malice that sent a shiver down your spine, offering you the pillow as if he hadn't just implied the most audacious thing you’d ever heard.

"Shut up" you muttered, snatching the pillow and looking away from him, burning with embarrassment. The silence that followed was thick with tension as you tried to ignore him, pretending that conversation had never happened.

Qimir, however, didn’t seem ready to let it go. He cleared his throat lightly, coughing in that deliberate way that always seemed to signal he was about to stir trouble.

"Oh…" he murmured softly, as if a piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place, realization dawning on him. Your body tensed instantly, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as you felt his eyes studying you with a renewed interest. "You were thinking…" he started, but didn’t finish, because your sharp glare immediately silenced him.

"No." You responded curtly, hoping the firmness of your tone would be enough to end the matter.

He turned away, but not before shooting you a look of pure understanding, paired with a smirk that made you feel utterly exposed and vulnerable in front of him.

"I wouldn’t take offense, you know, if I happened to be the object of your desire" he said with unsettling ease, moving towards the corner of the cave where he had stored some fruit a few days earlier.

"I wasn’t thinking about you." Your voice was icy, tinged with nervousness—a desperate attempt to salvage whatever dignity you had left, though you knew your reactions betrayed every word you spoke.

"If you say so, my lady" he replied, emphasizing that "my lady" with a soft and delicate tone, almost reverent, sending another wave of shivers down your spine.

"But, you know, autoerotism isn’t exactly something the Jedi Masters teach their Padawans, if I remember well. So, it would be quite a honor to be the cause of your… desire." His words dripped with teasing affection, a taunting edge to them, but beneath it all, you could feel an underlying sincerity that only made your predicament more infuriating.

The word "autoerotism" hit you like a cold blade. You had never heard it used in that context, and as much as you tried to maintain an impenetrable façade, your mind was in turmoil. You were trained not to think about certain things, to never let yourself get distracted, but now it felt as if Qimir had opened a secret door that you had always ignored. Sure, once you left the Order, you could have explored all those emotions that had been forbidden to you, but retreating into solitude meant you had renounced that curiosity toward worldly pleasures of a carnal kind.

Your face flushed even more as you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back words that you knew would be either too aggressive or too… desperate.

Qimir was watching you carefully, his gaze suddenly growing more serious, almost surprised, as he noticed your reaction.

"Wait…" he said, as if he had just understood what he had deliberately ignored all this time. "You've never… touched yourself?" His voice was low, almost incredulous, as if he were realizing just how distant you were from that world.

His question struck you like lightning. You couldn’t respond. You suddenly felt trapped, as if there was no way out of that situation without addressing the topic.

"A Jedi doesn’t experience… certain types of-" you started, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but your voice cracked under the weight of the emotions as you searched for the right word.

"Desires? Cravings? Needs?" His voice was a warm whisper, finishing your sentence with a curiosity that seemed to dig deep into your being. His eyes were fixed on you, studying you with an intensity that made you feel exposed.

"Emotions." you quickly corrected him, taking a deep breath to regain your composure. But his proximity, that penetrating gaze, made it hard to focus.

Qimir paused briefly, his face relaxed, though his eyes were full of malice and curiosity that he couldn’t hide.

"For quite some time now, you haven’t been a Jedi," he said in that velvety voice of his, laden with a gravity that didn’t expect any rebuttal. "Do you really want to tell me that you’ve never been curious to… explore yourself intimately?"

You lowered your gaze, seeking refuge in the sight of the Nexu, which was slowly stirring awake. His words, however, lingered in the air, pinning you to his question.

"This is not a conversation that should interest you" you replied through gritted teeth, trying to steer the discussion elsewhere. But your answer betrayed your firmness, and he knew it. Your nervousness grew as Qimir watched you closely, his smile barely noticeable. He seemed to savor every shade of your reaction, as if he were playing with something delicate and dangerous.

He approached with slow, confident movements, offering you the fruit.

"You’re terribly beautiful when you’re embarrassed and nervous, you know?" His voice grew warmer, sweeter, almost a caress on your moral wounds. He sat on the edge of the bed, his closeness somehow reassuring you.

"Stop it" you ordered, trying to maintain distance, but your voice lacked true conviction. It wasn’t a command; it was a plea. Overwhelmed by growing embarrassment, you grabbed the Nexu cub in your arms, seeking a physical barrier between you and him. Qimir chuckled softly, but with no hint of mockery. He seemed to understand how you were struggling between what you believed was right and what you felt.

"You don’t have to fight everything" he whispered, his tone low, intimate. "Not with me." His hand lightly brushed the back of yours, almost reverently, as if even that minimal contact were sacred.

Your gaze fell on his hand touching yours lightly, and you swallowed slightly as you reluctantly took the fruit.

"I already told you I’m not your sister," you whispered, trying to establish a distance that was nonetheless growing thinner. Seeing his jaw tighten as he seemed to press the tip of his tongue against his sealed lips, and his expression darken, made you realize that your words had affected him.

"You definitely not" he replied, his voice hoarse, almost a lament hiding a mix of desire and frustration. Slowly, almost cautiously, Qimir moved closer to you, as if testing your boundaries.

You allowed him into your personal space.

"Then you know that…" you tried to explain, but he interrupted you, his tone so similar to yours that it made you smile internally for a moment.

"I already told you" he whispered, his voice full of a sweetness he reserved only for you. "I’m here for you." He murmured with a devoted tone. You bit your lip, lowering your gaze and letting it wander over him, his imposing figure filling the space between you.

"Yesterday, I said many things while we… you know." You began, your voice uncertain and almost trembling, trying to rationalize the whirlwind of emotions. "A part of me is still connected to the Jedi Order."

"Despite everything they did to you?" His question was a direct hit, full of disbelief and pain. It was as if he couldn’t understand how you could still hold loyalty toward those who had betrayed you. Hurt you.

"Despite what they did to me…" you repeated in a low, bitter voice. You felt torn, broken in two. "I don’t want to believe that Mae… that Sol" The sentence stuck in your throat, too painful to complete. It was as if every word was tearing you apart inside.

"You want to go back to him…" he murmured, and in his voice was a shadow of sadness that hurt you more than you wanted to admit. He wanted to let you go, yet couldn’t. It was as if his soul were anchored to the hope that you might stay with him, choose him.

But he knew that moment had not yet come, and maybe it never would. His eyes, however, still held a glimmer of hope, as if he hoped you wouldn’t actually want to return to your Jedi master.

"I need answers…" you whispered, with a tight throat, each word a searing cut on his heart. You knew it, you felt it. Yet you couldn’t avoid that truth. The answers you sought could not come from him.

Qimir lowered his eyes, the tension in his face evident, as if those words were poison to him. With a gentle gesture, you placed your hand on his cheek, feeling his warm skin under your fingers.

"I can’t give you what you’re looking for now, Qimir… I’m not Mae." It was a difficult truth to say, a truth that seemed to crack everything you had slowly and silently built together.

Qimir leaned into your caress for a moment, closing his eyes as if he wanted to savor that moment before it faded. His skin seemed to melt under your hand, as if every second was too precious to waste.

But then, with a slow and painful decision, he pulled away.

"I understand." He said in a tone that didn’t reflect at all the depth of his disappointment. He took a step back, breaking that contact which for a moment had given both of you a semblance of illusion.

You opened your mouth, desperately trying to find something to say, anything that could ease that painful moment, that could slow down the time that seemed to be slipping away too quickly. But no sound came out. You felt empty, devoid of the right words and voice, yet your heart screamed the truth you were ignoring with such insistence. You wanted to give him a chance. You wanted to give yourselves a chance, but it couldn't be.

"We leave in a few hours." His voice was flat, distant, and the lack of warmth in those words struck you like a thunderbolt out of the blue sky.

Qimir didn’t look at you; his eyes were turned elsewhere, perhaps to hide the bitterness written on his face. Perhaps to avoid showing vulnerability in a moment that was suffocating both of you.

You felt a sharp, dull pain in your chest, as if your heart had been ripped away with a harsh gesture. You hadn't expected to have to leave him so soon, not now, not like this. The idea of leaving that refuge of stone and silence, of abandoning the fragile bond that had formed between you, made you feel as though you were losing something invaluable.

"Qimir…" you finally managed to whisper, your voice barely a breath.

The hours seemed to pass in an oppressive silence, heavy with all that neither of you dared to say. Qimir, in his silent way, had once again used the Force to tend to your ankle. His hands were precise and sure, but lacking the warm touch you had come to recognize in him. After finishing the task, he had avoided you. Not a single glance, not a word. Just… distance.

You gathered the few belongings you had, each small action done in silence, as if even the faintest noise could shatter the fragile truce that had been established between you. When you finally found yourselves in his spacecraft, the tension was still palpable. The Nexu roamed around the metallic room with curiosity. Its carefree behavior made you smile for a brief moment, but the weight of the situation quickly returned to your shoulders.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to confront Qimir. His gaze was fixed on the control panel, his fingers pressing the buttons with almost mechanical precision.

"Are you angry with me?" you finally asked, your voice a thread of sound, fragile and unsure. You didn't expect an immediate answer, fearing the weight of his words.

Qimir paused for a moment, his hands hovering above the controls. He took a deep, almost imperceptible breath, as if he was trying to gather his emotions before speaking.

"I could never be." His voice was dry, distant, lacking the warmth you had longed to hear again. It was as if he had built a wall, a barrier that prevented you from getting closer to him and hurting him further.

The spacecraft began to take off, the sound of the engines filling the surrounding space as the ground beneath you receded further away. You looked out the viewport, the idyllic landscape slowly fading away, giving way to the emptiness of space.

"It doesn’t seem" you murmured, your gaze shifting back to him. Qimir didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed ahead, as if he didn’t want to confront the conversation. You felt a pang of disappointment and pain, but you held it back.

"It’s not your fault" he finally said, his voice lower, almost choked by the emotions he was trying to suppress. "It’s me who shouldn’t… feel what I feel."

You felt guilty for not being able to allow yourself to freely experience what you so desperately wanted. The emotions you had tried to suppress now overwhelmed you like a raging wave.

"What you said yesterday… did you really mean it? Do you truly want to be mine?" you asked with a delicate, uncertain tone, your voice a whisper barely audible over the noise of the spacecraft.

"What do you think?" Qimir replied, his voice a mix of hope and resignation. His tone seemed to have softened slightly, just as your gaze had.

"You’re a Sith, Qimir… How could you ever want to belong to me?" Your voice broke as you moved closer to him, the pain and confusion clearly visible in your eyes, which he couldn't see.

He hesitated, a shadow of sadness crossing his face as he contemplated the question. Time seemed to slow as he searched for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

"Why do you think I don’t really want it? You’re no longer a Jedi, and I see who you really are." His statement was filled with a sincerity that struck you deeply.

He set the autopilot, allowing the spacecraft to continue on its course without his direct control, and turned toward you. His posture was more relaxed now, as if your question had released a tension he had been holding for a long time.

"The fact that I am or am not a Jedi doesn’t matter… You follow a path I cannot follow" you said, gently cradling his face in your hands. The contact was light, but your heart pounded strongly, almost in sync with his.

"Can’t you… or don’t you want to?" Qimir’s question was sharp but tinged with desperate curiosity. It unsettled you for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Your hands trembled slightly as you caressed his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His deep, dark eyes scrutinized you with such intensity that it made you waver once again. The question he had posed hung in the air, laden with a truth you were trying to ignore.

"I can’t…" you finally whispered, your voice almost a breath. It was the most certain answer you could give, but deep down, you knew the truth was quite different. It wasn’t just a matter of possibility, but of desire. A desire that grew every time his eyes fell on you, every time his body drew near yours. Every time you abandoned your ideals for a dangerous freedom.

"I’m not asking you to change your path" he said, his words carrying a hint of tenderness and determination as he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his face against your abdomen. "I’m just asking if you can see beyond my choices. If you can accept who I am, just as I accept who you are."

"I don’t know who I am anymore…" you whispered, your voice faint. Your arms gently cradled his head, feeling a bitter taste in your mouth after that statement. You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek, a sign of how disconnected your heart was from your mind.

Being with him, beginning to feel deep and genuine emotions, experiencing that dark freedom, had stripped you of everything you had always believed in. Your identity, built with years of discipline and sacrifice, seemed to have vanished with him. You were a Jedi, you defined yourself as such even after leaving the Order; their rules, their beliefs, had formed the foundation of your existence even after your departure.

But now, after defying every principle you had followed for your entire life, what remained but a name and an identity that no longer belonged to you?

You were no longer a Jedi, that was evident, but neither were you a Sith. Following a dark path would inevitably lead you to a fate similar to that of your sister, and you knew you couldn’t allow that to happen.

You couldn’t become the person you feared becoming, the kind of person you had sworn to destroy for the greater good. But at the same time, you had no right to decide for Qimir, to force him to change to satisfy your whims. You might think you were "saving" him, but what was salvation to you if not a prison for the man who was offering himself to you with such pure devotion?

Qimir lifted his face, noticing the tear on your cheek, and gently wiped it away with a caress. "Y/n…" he whispered, as if to bring you back from your own thoughts.

"I… can’t" you whispered, your voice breaking. You avoided his gaze, feeling as though you were relinquishing a fundamental part of yourself that you had given to him over the past month.

"Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart" he said softly, trying to capture your gaze with his pleading eyes. His tenderness, his devotion, made you sensitive.

"Please…" your plea was a desperate whisper, a supplication that cut like a knife.

"Y/n. Deny my path, reject who I am, forget what I have done, or if you don’t want to, tell me that you want me, and I will no longer be a Sith. Only what I am is your enemy, I am I, and you are you," Qimir said, his gaze filled with fervent hope and undeniable sadness. His plea was a mixture of desire and acceptance, an offer that seemed to challenge every rule you had ever known.

You leaned in and pressed your lips against his. You didn’t know exactly why you were doing it. All you knew was that at that moment, as you looked into his exhausting eyes, you wanted to feel his taste once more. At least for one last time, and you would be damned if you didn’t get what you wanted.

"If I accepted, I would deprive you of your freedom" you whispered, the words a warm murmur between the cracks of your kisses.

"Then be free with me" he replied, holding the edges of your dress. The kiss grew more intense, your lips consuming each other with a rising and persistent passion. Your breaths mixed in a frantic rhythm, seeking relief, as a warm and steady wave clashed against your tongues.

Qimir lifted you slightly, seating you on him, his hands sliding over your hips, holding you with a gentle strength that made you shiver with pleasure. The warmth of his body was enveloping, and his touches were like a flame igniting every fiber of your being.

"If I did…" The words mixed with your kisses, your voice trembling as you wove your fingers through his hair, holding him close. The sensation of his hair between your fingers was enveloping, and his scent was a mix of distant lands and a fragrance that had become too familiar. "I would become like you…" you finished with difficulty, as you shivered at his touch on your back now.

"For once, choose yourself… Not the Jedi, not me. But you. Be free" he whispered, pulling away from your lips, placing two fingers under your chin. "Be yourself."

Your eyes lingered on his. Your breath was short, your lips reddened from the voracious kiss, and his delicate touch on your body, while he implored you to choose yourself.

"If I choose myself, I would betray everything I believed in" you whispered, your tone faint. Your forehead rested against his, closing your eyes to seek some comfort and reflection. His hands slid gently over your hips, the warm and reassuring contact as he tried to offer you all the support you needed.

"But if I choose the path I have always followed, I would betray myself. I would betray the peace I found with you…" you admitted through clenched teeth, the words almost choked by emotion and inner conflict.

The realization that you had to make an impossible choice tormented you, and the pain of parting from him made you feel as though you were breaking something precious inside you.

"Choose yourself…" Qimir whispered, his lips touching yours with a tenderness laden with passion. He moved to your jaw, leaving more wet kisses on that spot. "Choose freedom," his voice was a warm and pleading whisper, as his lips glided over your exposed neck, causing a deep shiver and making you gasp. His tongue traced fiery paths on your skin, making you gasp as the warmth of his body grew more intense.

"Choose me." The warmth of his breath on your neck, the way his hands moved along your back, everything was a dance of passion and intensity that left you clear on one decision.

"I… have to kill Sol." you stated, your voice trembling but determination palpable. Qimir slowly pulled away from your neck, his astonished and penetrating gaze meeting yours, trying to decipher the turmoil in your words.

"If he killed Mae… I have to do it. I have to do it for her, I have to do it for me" you explained, your heart heavy and your mind crowded with too precise thoughts.

Your declaration was followed by a silence heavy with tension. You moved closer to him again, seeking comfort in his lips, with an urgency and need that seemed deeper than any words you could express. Your lips brushed his with a trembling sweetness.

"After that, I’ll be free" you murmured between kisses, your voice a burning whisper on his lips.

The kiss became voracious and insatiable, an explosion of desire that overwhelmed both of you. Your breaths mingled in a harmony of shivers and overwhelming sensations. Qimir’s lips were warm and expressive against yours, and every touch seemed to intensify the connection you had, transforming the moment into a storm of passion and desire.

His mouth, experienced and hungry, explored every corner of your mouth with an intensity that seemed to consume you both. Your tongues intertwined with his, dancing in a passionate and intense rhythm that spoke of all the emotions you felt, from despair to desire.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Okay, it took me a while to write this one, and it’s a bridge chapter for the next one. I hope you liked it anyway. Y/n who finally melts with this man desperate for her, I scream.

Tell me what you think

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

57 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . 𓆩𓆪

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 6.6k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀ Chapter VI: Choosing you

The return to what you now considered "home" felt strangely long, longer than you would have imagined. You could have sworn you hadn’t run that far, but the feeling that Qimir was stretching out the path crept into your mind. Maybe he was lost, or maybe he simply wanted to keep holding you against his chest a little longer. Your head rested there, right above his heart, and each deep, steady beat pulsed against your ear. His slow, even breathing made you smile slightly, but it didn’t escape your sharp ear how his heartbeat quickened when you settled more comfortably against him. It was ironic to think that, despite his earlier sarcasm, he was the one now nervous because of your closeness.

In your arms, the little creature you had saved had curled up, now calm, sleeping peacefully in your lap. It slept soundly, unaware that it was moving away from the only world it had known since birth. Your eyes drifted over it, noticing every small movement as it breathed in sync with you, almost as if it had found the same peace. Its breathing seemed to mirror yours as your gaze turned almost protective, maternal, feeling somehow guilty for the chaos you had put the cub through.

"Have you already thought of a name to give him?" Qimir asked, breaking the silence with his low, almost soft voice, while he walked confidently through the trees. He held you easily with one arm, while with the other he brandished his lightsaber, illuminating the path ahead of you. The red glow reflected on the trunks and leaves, creating dancing shadows that seemed to follow you.

You stared at him for a moment, surprised by the question. It was as if his voice was the only sound capable of grounding you to that moment, to that fragile intimacy you were unknowingly forming with both him and the cub. Your eyes lingered on his profile, sculpted by the soft light, almost startling you with how long you spent admiring him. You swallowed slightly, lowering your gaze, aware of how much you had lingered.

"Not yet…" you replied in a faint voice, while your fingers stroked the rough, spiky mane of the animal. "You should give it a name" Qimir continued, his voice low and relaxed, but with a deeper tone than usual, as if he didn’t want to break the stillness. "They’re incredibly intelligent creatures…" he added, while the distant sound of the ocean began to grow clearer in your ears. "As much as they are dangerous." he concluded.

Finally, you lifted your gaze toward him, feeling the need to respond. "At last, I’ll have someone intelligent around me, then," you replied with a note of sarcasm in your voice, sharper than you had intended. You felt a slight vibration from Qimir’s chest, a low, deep laugh that then spilled from his lips like a wave, easing the tension. You held back from smiling, though the corner of your mouth betrayed your attempt, and Qimir noticed without letting you know.

“Still so sharp?” he commented, amused. “And I’m even letting you keep a pet, quite a nuisance,” he continued, stopping briefly. Turning off the lightsaber, he sheathed it at his side and turned to look at you in the cold moonlight. For a moment, his eyes were fixed on yours, then slid down to your lips before resting on the cub nestled in your lap. “You two resemble each other more than I thought.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. You hated the fact that, for once, there was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “You’re insufferable.” you hissed, though without the real conviction to offend him.

Qimir didn’t notice your annoyance, and his smile became barely perceptible. “It’s not an insult,” he clarified, keeping that subtle tone of sweetness. “You’re both prickly, easily irritated, dangerous… and fragile.” The word ‘fragile’ struck you, and you shot him a cold glance, irritated. However, part of you knew he wasn’t wrong. “But unlike them, you don’t let anyone guide or approach you” he concluded with a slight hint of wistful admiration.

“Shut up” you hissed, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue, not just physical but emotional. Without further protest, you leaned back against him, this time resting on his shoulder. The contact, which had initially been a necessity, now seemed to hide something more. Perhaps it wasn’t just need, but almost a silent search for protection from him.

Qimir smiled, satisfied with your surrender, while he tightened his grip around your body slightly. His warmth enveloped you more, and as you watched the moonlight caress his skin, a strange peace settled over you. When the lightsaber ignited again, with its characteristic red glow, you felt inexplicably calm, almost as if the shadow of danger surrounding him was your new… security.

When you two finally reached the cave, Qimir gently laid you down on the mattress that served as a bed, the weight of your body sinking slightly into the coarse fabric. He went to find something to disinfect and clean the wound on your back, leaving you momentarily alone as you almost forgot about the cuts inflicted by the cub's mother. When Qimir returned, his steps were slow, almost reluctant, as he sat beside you. His hands firmly grasped the tools to tend to your wounds, but the tone of his voice betrayed a certain embarrassment you had never seen in him before. “Can you…” he began, his voice low and tense. “Can you undo your tunic?” The silence between you now was palpable, filled with an intimacy not entirely wanted.

His words hit you like a jolt of electricity. You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, and part of you hesitated as you slowly turned your back to him, remaining seated. You moved the cub from your lap, placing it on a pillow you had set on the floor, then turned away from Qimir. Your fingers lingered on the black fabric belt, slowly unfastening it as you let it slide down your side.

Qimir wanted to look away as you slowly undressed, but he managed only to lower his gaze, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw nervously, restraining himself. You slipped off the long-sleeved black outer tunic with more confidence, leaving only the inner tunic with its typical V-neck. Your arms were now bare, and you felt the cool air of the cave brush against your exposed skin, causing a slight shiver. Your hesitant hands lingered on the side knot holding the garment closed, while he seemed to fix his eyes on your uncertain fingers, his breathing slightly slower and deeper. You swallowed softly before undoing the knot and lowering the tunic down to your hips, and in that moment, the tension grew like a taut rope stretched to its limit.

Now your back was completely exposed to his gaze, vulnerable under the dim light of the cave. Qimir remained still for a few seconds, his eyes lingering on the delicate curves of your figure, a subtle beauty that seemed almost unrepeatable. Qimir struggled to breathe properly as he tried to focus on your wound. His breathing grew irregular, as if he was fighting to maintain control and respect for you, while the sight of your bare skin tested his restraint.

He tried to concentrate, to remain unaffected, but every time his gaze swept over your shoulders and the lines of your back, he felt his heart beat faster. He remembered the time when he had tended to the wound on your side, but back then, your tunic covered everything else, he had only lifted it enough to see the cut. Now, with you fully conscious, the situation felt entirely different. He wanted to distance himself from the silent desire creeping into his mind, cursing himself for the thoughts arising within him, but breaking the visual connection with your back seemed impossible.

You finally felt his fingers brush against your back, the surprisingly gentle touch making you flinch slightly. The touch was wet from the disinfectant, causing a slight sting that made you hiss in pain. “I know, I know…” he whispered with a quiet tenderness, as if he could feel the sting himself. He carefully cleaned the dirt and grime that had gotten into the wound from your various falls.

His warm breath lightly grazed your skin with a delicacy that sent a shiver through you, every small movement of his stirring a reaction you couldn’t control. Your bare back suddenly felt far too sensitive to the touch of his hands, yet it was precisely that contact you had imagined and hoped for that afternoon on the beach. And you already knew that this sensation would haunt your mind all night, maybe for days.

Qimir was struggling to stay focused, trying to keep his hands steady as he carefully passed the gauze over your wound. The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the rustle of fabric and your breathing, now heavier. He felt a knot of guilt tighten in his chest, this wound was the result of an attack he hadn’t been able to prevent, and for a moment, he felt powerless, as if his silent duty to protect you had been breached.

But his fingers betrayed his apparent calm. The more he cleaned the wound, the more he seemed to linger on you, the light brush of his knuckles against your uninjured skin becoming almost deliberate and lingering, as if every part of him needed to feel that you were there with him and not some distant dream.

Your shoulders were tense, almost as if you were holding your breath, and Qimir could feel every slight shift of your body under his touch. His heart beat faster each time he noticed one of your reactions, but he forced himself to maintain control, resisting the pull of a desire that went beyond simply tending to your wounds. His gaze wandered over your exposed skin once again, finding himself admiring the delicate lines of your body again, the vulnerability you showed without intending to.

“I’m sorry…” he finally murmured, his voice so low you almost couldn’t hear it. His hands paused for a moment, and when he touched you again, the gesture was even more gentle, as if he didn’t want to cause you any more pain. “Not your fault.” you whispered in return, looking at your crossed legs as you tried to steady your racing heart.

You could feel his gaze on you, and the intensity of that silent exchange made the air heavier, as if something invisible yet powerful was unfolding between you. Both of you sensed the weight of an inexplicable connection. His touch conveyed protection, but there was also an undercurrent of desire neither of you dared to voice, though it was clear in his movements.

Your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly under his warm touch, despite the lingering sting of the wound that was slowly fading. Qimir placed his palm on your back, and almost immediately, you felt a surge of energy ripple through your skin. The tingling sensation that followed was unexpected, a wave that seemed to spread from the wound, as your flesh knit itself together under his touch. The cold shivers running through you weren’t just physical; they were emotional as well. You knew exactly what he was doing, and your body reacted as if trying to decipher the action.

You had heard stories of Jedi and healing masters who used the Force to mend wounds, channeling their own life energy to repair the injuries of others.

But seeing it, no, feeling it on yourself was an entirely different experience. Your past as a Padawan had brought you into contact with powerful masters, and one of them had been a renowned Force healer. She had taught you that healing in such a way required impeccable control, for it was an act of sacrifice: the healer would lose a portion of their own life force, leaving them weakened. Not all Jedi were capable of this, in fact, very few were, as it was a rare ability, nearly impossible to teach to anyone who wasn’t already deeply attuned to the Force.

As the warmth of Qimir’s hands withdrew from your skin, you could feel the weight of that sacrifice, absorbing it for a moment. Qimir’s breathing grew slightly heavier, and you could sense a part of him within you now. The thought made your fingers unconsciously tighten around the mattress.

You swallowed, turning your face slightly to the side, catching a blurred glimpse of his face from the corner of your eye. Your gaze slid slowly down his arm, and only then did you notice the old, untreated scars traces of past battles and the fresh wound still bleeding, a sign of how little he had cared for himself up until that moment.

"You're bleeding…" you murmured, your voice a fragile thread, filled with a strange concern you couldn't hide. It wasn’t just the sight of his blood that made you speak, but the fact that he had ignored his own pain to heal yours. Something about that gesture shook you deeply, perhaps more than you were willing to admit.

Qimir looked away, as if he wanted to downplay the seriousness of his injuries, but he couldn’t ignore the worry in your eyes.

"It’s nothing serious" he replied in a firm tone, trying to brush away your concern with the same confidence he had always shown. Yet, there was something in his voice that didn’t match his usual detached demeanor. Maybe it was the fact that he had just healed you, or perhaps it was the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

You reached for your tunic, still resting around your hips, and pulled it back over yourself before turning fully towards him. Your eyes lingered on the wound, and for a moment, the silence between you grew heavy, laden with all the unspoken emotions.

Your fingers moved almost without thinking, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out to gently touch his skin. You felt the warmth of his body beneath your fingertips.

"Let me help you…" you whispered, almost pleading, as your hand hovered near the edge of the wound. You felt his breath deepen, as if he were battling the instinct to pull away out of pride or indifference.

Qimir looked at you for a moment, his dark eyes probing yours as if trying to understand how seriously you were willing to take care of him. For the first time, it seemed to him that you were lowering your defenses, letting slip the vulnerability you had always hidden behind your sarcastic tone and hostile demeanor.

“There’s no need.” he began, but perhaps, for a brief instant, he too longed for that comfort, that touch that would make him feel less alone.

“Please” you insisted, and this time your hand became more decisive, though still delicate.

Qimir sighed, a deep sound that seemed both resigned and, at the same time, almost happy that you wanted to take care of him. “Alright” he finally murmured, his voice softer, more human, as he slowly lowered his arm, allowing you to come closer.

You moved toward him slowly, taking some cloths soaked in the same liquid he had used on you to disinfect your wound, and began to clean his with a care and tenderness that seemed almost uncharacteristic of you. Your eyes examined the cut, realizing that it was clearly deeper and more painful than the one the nexu had left on you.

“What an idiot. Using the Force to heal me when you…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, frustration and anger rising within you, not quite understanding why you were so upset. You applied an ointment he had brought with him, spreading it over the cut to temporarily numb the area.

Qimir remained silent as he watched you tending to his wound. His eyes were soft, filled with desire and almost entranced by your slender figure, so focused on him. The silence between you both thickened, and he swallowed slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of him in any way, and the warmth it stirred in his heart left him genuinely speechless. Seeing you so concerned for him was a feeling he didn’t know how to process.

You lifted your gaze from his wound, with words of rebuke ready on your lips. You wanted to scold him for his recklessness, for his habit of putting you first, even before himself. He had proven it that day when he saved you and brought you to this unknown planet, the times he gave you the best parts of the hunted meat, when he let you have the more comfortable "bed." And even earlier that afternoon, when he had used his body as a shield, carried you home despite the deep cut on his arm, and then tended to your small wound instead of his much worse one.

But when your eyes met his, all thoughts of anger dissolved into the silence. Qimir was looking at you in a way you had seen before, intense and disarming, leaving you breathless. His gaze was deep, fixed on you as if trying to decipher every part of you, admiring you as if you were his whole universe, as if he saw something in you that you had not yet fully understood.

In that moment, there were no more sharp words or sarcastic quips to mask what was happening between you. To him, it was as if, for the first time, you were showing him your true self, the one hidden beneath layers of pride and coldness. You felt your heart pound harder as a warm sensation wrapped around you, along with his hand now gently gripping your elbow, keeping you close to him.

"You should have healed yourself…" you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. Your fingers were still resting on his arm, brushing against the torn skin, as if trying to heal him with just a touch.

"You are more important" he murmured in response, his warm, deep voice blending with yours. There was something in his words that struck you straight to the heart. It wasn't just a casual phrase, not simply reassurance. It was the way he said it, that tone that revealed complete sincerity and an almost inexplicable devotion to you.

His words made you press your lips together as you tried to process what you were feeling. The tension between you was tangible, heavy like the air before a storm. Qimir's gaze never left you, and you felt his hand grip your elbow a little tighter, as if he feared you might slip away, that you might withdraw from this moment. But you didn't want to, you couldn't.

"Don't… don't say things you don't mean" you stammered, but there was little conviction in your voice. You knew, just as well as he did, that his words weren’t shallow but came from something much deeper, something that scared you.

Qimir moved imperceptibly closer, not enough to cross that invisible line that still kept you both suspended and slightly apart, but enough for you to feel the heat of his nearness.

"I will always put you first" he whispered with a disarming calm that you could feel resonating in your skin. "I will always choose you." he concluded, making you hold your breath, and for a moment, it felt as if the world around you had stopped.

You didn't quite understand what triggered inside you, what invisible force had snapped that thread of control you had always maintained with care and consistency. It was as if, in an instant, something had exploded within you, a spark that burned away all reservations, all doubts, all decisions driven by your selfish self. It wasn't a thought-out or calculated gesture, yet, at that moment, you felt finally liberated from your own judgment.

Your hands moved almost on their own, finding his face with desperation, your fingers brushing his rough, warm skin, holding him tight as if fearing he might disappear, as if fearing that not touching him would make it just a vague illusion of something that never happened.

There were no second thoughts when your lips met his, and in that kiss, you poured out every emotion you had hidden inside, every quickened heartbeat, every held breath. The contact was intense, an explosion of sensations that made you tremble. You tasted the bittersweet flavor of his lips, felt the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, his breath mingling with yours in the same need. A sudden fragility overcame you, a nearly painful surprise at realizing how much you had desired this moment, without ever admitting it even to yourself.

You moved closer to him, your body instinctively shifting to rest on his thighs, seeking more contact, more warmth, as if you could never get enough.

Without hesitation, Qimir welcomed you onto him, his arms moving with a decisiveness that made you shiver. One arm wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you to him as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, while the other found your neck, his fingers weaving into your hair, drawing you even closer.

The kiss deepened, filled with a desperation and need that both of you had tried to suppress. It was as if everything you had kept hidden for too long was finally exploding in that contact. You felt his breath quicken against your lips, his chest rising and falling erratically against yours. You were overwhelmed by the flood of sensations, unable to stop, unable to resist. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his tunic, holding him as if your very life depended on that moment. Every fiber of your being burned with undeniable desire, but there was something deeper, a sense of urgency and desperation that made you tremble.

The kiss grew hungrier, more intense, almost wild, as you felt the heat of his body merging with yours. You gasped, the hot and humid air between your lips, and pulled away just for a moment, the breathlessness making your words of concern almost incomprehensible.

“The wound…” you whispered, breathlessly, before feeling his lips against yours again, accepting your concern in that way. His hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it gently with possession, a slight smile against your lips in response.

If before he hadn’t cared much about the cut, now it was a distant and vague thought. There was a subtle fierceness in that kiss, as if you both knew it was wrong, yet couldn’t stop, remaining complicit in the act. In fact, the impossibility of what you were experiencing made everything even more urgent, even more desperate, before having to return to reality and relinquish it all. Every breath, every touch, every brush was a cry for something that could not be put into words.

Your hands moved with an urgency that mirrored the intensity of your desire. You pulled at the edges of Qimir's tunic, your fingers trembling but determined, and unfastened his belt with impatient speed. The belt flew away, landing behind you, as you slowly lowered the garment, savoring every inch of his skin that you were finally able to touch, revealing his muscular back. Your hands traced along his neck, the touch both delicate and fiery, then slid back down his back, trying to explore every possible inch, to feel every contour.

Qimir responded with equal eagerness, his hands moving over your thighs, exploring and caressing as if he wanted to imprint every sensation into his memory. The kiss became increasingly desperate and fervent, a physical expression of a desire neither of you had been able to silence until now. Your skin ignited at the contact, your heart raced in a frantic rhythm, and the urgency of that desire seemed to grow with every breath.

Qimir's lips traveled with ardent haste along your neck, savoring every inch of your skin with heated kisses and light bites. Shivers raced through your body as muffled gasps escaped his lips. His hands, firm and assured, gripped your soft thighs, mapping out a trail of passion and possessiveness that made you shiver with pleasure.

Suspended between languor and frenzy, you found yourself with your eyes closed, gasping, your back slightly arched to offer him more space to explore. The heat of his body against yours seemed to absorb every rational thought, leaving only the raw intensity of the moment. Your trembling, anxious hand found his hair, your fingers weaving through the dark, disheveled strands. You guided his movements with a gentle but firm pressure, tilting your head to offer him greater freedom.

Qimir’s mouth traveled up your neck and jawline, never breaking contact, his lips finally capturing yours again in a searing kiss. His tongue pressed past your lips as you rubbed your thigh against his side. You moaned softly between kisses, completely forgetting the principles you once held dear. He was your enemy, belonging to the wrong side of the Force, and you knew it, but why couldn’t you pull away? Were your values really that strong, or had the real you only emerged now? Here was a man you should have hated with all your being, yet he had confessed his devotion with a sincerity that shattered every belief you had.

Qimir pulled back slightly, his hand caressing your face before continuing, wanting to ensure he wasn’t pushing you too far. His sharp, dark eyes met yours again. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin.

“I thought a Jedi didn’t have desires” he said, tilting his head slightly, reminding you of who you were. His tone was sharp and provocative, but there was a note of curiosity.

The question seemed like a distant memory as you responded in a voice strained by desire and breathlessness.

“Do you still consider me a Jedi?” The question was a cry of desperation, a recognition of your need to free yourself from the chains you had always followed, believing them to be right.

Without waiting for an answer, you grasped his neck, pulling him closer again. The next kiss was an act of pure necessity, an attempt to hold onto something real and intense that you felt in that moment. Your hands clung to his neck with determination, pushing your mouth against his with an urgency that left little room for rationality. Every touch, every contact was a plea for freedom from a life of duties and restrictions, a yearning for an intimacy that only Qimir could offer you at that moment.

"Last chance, Y/n. Tell me to stop now, or I won’t be able to do it" he whispered against your lips. His words were a mix of desire and respect, a sincere warning revealing how torn he was between what he wanted and what he knew was right. He desired you more than anything else in the world, which was why he respected you. That’s why he reminded you who you were, why he was giving you signals to stop him before he couldn't stop something he deeply craved.

"Stop talking" you panted against his mouth in response. Your breaths were ragged, your eyes closed as your hands gripped his hair with fervor. The contact of your bodies was a fire that seemed to burn through to your core, and you couldn’t separate, as if the attraction was an invisible force holding you together. Your hands tried to sink into his skin, pulling him even closer.

Qimir’s fingers began working on the knot of your tunic with a delicacy that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. Each movement was deliberate, but his hands trembled slightly from excitement. He untied the knot carefully, letting the tunic slide down your body, revealing your bare skin under the flickering light of the torches and the moon filtering through the cave entrance.

His hands traced along your back, exploring every curve with palpable devotion. His warm skin touched yours with an intensity that was both tender and devoted. His touches were a mix of adoration and desire, caressing and grazing in an act of reverence.

The cold night wind brushed against your exposed skin, jolting you back to reality with an unexpected force. You pulled away abruptly, as if a wave of clarity had struck you suddenly along with that divine breath from outside.

You felt your heart pounding furiously in your chest, as your hands, which moments before clung to him with blind desperation, now moved with determination. You tugged at Qimir's hair to push him away from you, your ragged breath trembling on your bitten lips, as if trying to rein in the emotions that had taken control of you, making you realize what you had started.

You looked down at him, still seated on his lap, with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with confusion and desire. There was a flash of hesitation in your eyes, but also a fierce resolve. Your mouth, slightly open as if to say something, quickly closed into a thin line as you tried to regain order in the inner storm that overwhelmed you.

"Enough" you declared with short breath and lips reddened and swollen from the kisses. Though your words were meant to sound like a command, there was an incredible uncertainty in your tone. Your eyes were sharp, almost trying to put distance between you, as if only moments ago you hadn't given him complete access to your body, forcing him to silence, but still filled with desire.

Qimir, still breathing heavily, remained still for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on yours, studying you, trying to decipher what was going on in your mind. He smiled at you, finally noticing that familiar Jedi look of pride when they know they've made a mistake but won’t apologize for it.

His hand, which moments ago had devotedly gripped your thighs, moved slightly inward, teasing the fabric of the pants covering your intimacy. Despite your attempt to regain control, your body seemed to contradict you. Your breasts brushed against his bare chest, and your hands, instead of pulling away, lingered, as if they wanted to hold on to that forbidden contact. Qimir licked his lips, desire pulsing in his gaze.

"As your wish" Qimir whispered, his voice laced with subtle amusement, before capturing your lips again with a hunger that seemed to grow with every accelerating heartbeat. Despite your words, your body betrayed your internal conflict: you responded to the kiss with equal passion, parting your lips to let him in once more, as if every resistance was slowly dissolving in that heat.

"I mean it," you murmured against his lips, but your voice trembled, uncertain, broken by the urgency that consumed you. You kissed him again with the same fervor you felt bubbling in your chest before pulling away with difficulty.

"We should stop…" you added, but your words sounded hollow, while a strand of saliva still connected you. The fire inside you had not yet died down, and you knew that, even if your words sought to restrain the passion, your body was still screaming another truth.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, burning with a lethal mix of desire and frustration. His hands tightened around your waist, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, massaging it as if to anchor you to him, preventing you from fleeing.

"Stop what, exactly?" he whispered against your jaw before beginning to kiss you slowly along your face, the warmth of his lips tracing a wet path on your skin, making you close your eyes and involuntarily sigh with pleasure.

"We’ve barely begun" he added, and you could hear the smile in his words, a challenge masked as sweetness. His hands held you firmly as he continued to make you feel his skilled and enveloping touch.

“You know…” you sighed with a whisper, trying to regain control, but your resolve was dissolving under his touch that was breaking you piece by piece, making you weak. At the same time, you wanted him as you had never wanted anything before. The contrast between what you believed was right and what your body craved was unbearable, and you knew you would lose that battle. You sighed slightly, pulling away from him with effort, though still remaining above him.

"This isn’t right, we can’t go any further." Your voice trembled with confusion and desire, but also with an awareness that what you were doing was dangerous, too real to ignore.

Qimir drew you back to him, noticing your attempt to rise. His gaze was fixed on you as he took your hand, kissing the palm with extreme slowness, his warm, gentle lips against your skin. The way his lips moved was making you forget everything but the present moment.

“Isn't right?” he repeated, his tone dripping with a dangerous sweetness, almost as if challenging you. He brought the hand he had been kissing to his chest, holding it lightly. His free hand slid down your body, a movement that made every fiber of your being tremble, before resting gently under your chin. His thumb pressed lightly against your lips, caressing them with such tenderness that it seemed impossible to resist him. His eyes, filled with desire and determination, were locked on yours, and as he leaned closer to your ear, his warm breath made you shiver.

“If isn't right” he whispered in a low, deep tone that struck you like a jolt, “then why do you like it so much?”

His voice was a caress, the sound itself sliding over you with the same effect as his touches. His mouth lightly brushed your earlobe, a contact that made you bite your lip, and his thumb traced the outline of your mouth as he smiled. You felt every defense crumbling, and the awareness of how wrong it was made both of you even more desperate for each other’s touch. The line between what should be and what was was vanishing, an abyss of desire into which you were both plunging without hesitation.

“Stop…” you murmured, but your voice was choked by a lump in your throat, imbued with a desire you couldn’t contain. Qimir resumed his torturous, slow, and precise touch, making you feel increasingly helpless, a slave to the sensations he knew how to evoke in you.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away from me, y/n.” he replied, his voice low and sincere, almost affectionate, as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your neck. You gasped as his kisses made you lose your head.

“You’re the one who keeps kissing me…” you retorted, but without strength. Your lips trembled as you tried to make sense of what was happening, but it was impossible with his body so close to yours, his hands sliding again over your hips, leaving a trail of shivers behind. Qimir chuckled, the deep sound resonating in his chest, igniting another fire within you.

“Perhaps we’re both powerless to resist” he continued, his voice now a whisper against your skin, so close yet so far from what your mind was trying to say.

“You’re still my enemy…” you whispered mournfully, but even those words dissolved as you leaned further into his kisses. Your skin burned under his lips as they moved along your collarbone, down toward your chest.

“Let me be yours then.” he whispered against your skin, offering a solution to your dilemma. His warm breath on your breast as he looked up to meet your gaze. His eyes scrutinized you with such devotion that you felt your heart stop for a moment.

In that moment, you realized that Qimir was not claiming you as his own. He wasn’t trying to impose himself or take control. No, he wanted you to know that he was the one who wanted to belong to you. It was he who was offering himself, putting the power to choose into your hands. It was a pure desire, untainted by power or pride. He wanted you to understand that, regardless of what you decided, he would be yours. Always.

For the first time, you felt a sense of power you had never experienced before. It wasn’t the Force you had learned to control, nor the skill of fighting or resisting temptation. It was the power to choose, to have someone admire and respect you enough to lay himself at your feet, ready to follow you in whatever direction you wished.

“Do you want to be… mine?” you asked, your voice cracking with disbelief, as he slowly approached, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. The light touch of his fingers made you close your eyes for a moment, as if you wanted to capture that moment between you.

“Completely” Qimir replied, his voice almost submissive, yet his presence and aura spoke otherwise. You knew he wouldn’t be so submissive in other realms and circumstances. Yet, in front of you, now, he seemed ready to set aside everything that defined him to be yours, asking nothing in return.

You kissed him one last time, with an intensity that mixed desire and tenderness, your hands resting on his face with a delicacy you didn’t know you possessed for him. Then, slowly, you distanced yourself from him, taking your tunic and covering yourself again, as if the act was meant to protect you.

You rested your head on his chest, seeking a respite from the storm within you. Qimir sighed, a deep and calming sound, as he wrapped you in a warm and reassuring embrace, as if his body wanted to say he would stay there to protect you, even from yourself.

“It’s okay,” he whispered gently, his words almost a balm to your uncertainties. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to respond right now, I’ll wait.” There was infinite patience in his voice, a desire to give you space to understand, to decide, to choose the right moment.

With unexpected tenderness, he lifted you slightly, moving you from his lap and settling you onto the mattress beside him. He kissed your forehead, a gesture as tender as it was intimate, before covering you with the blanket protecting you not only from the cold of the cave but also from the conflicting emotions that had overwhelmed you.

“Goodnight, y/n” he said with a sweetness that warmed your heart. He wanted you to know he didn’t need anything more from you; just having you close was enough for him. You reached out, lightly grasping the edge of his pants as he began to move away, feeling a pang of guilt for giving him the impression that you were ready to push things further. Your voice was low, almost a whisper, but Qimir seemed to sense everything you couldn’t articulate.

“Qimir…” the word slipped from your lips like a plea, as if you wanted to stop him, explain yourself, but couldn’t find the words. He turned, smiling at you with a tenderness that made your heart beat faster, understanding your gaze.

“I don’t intend to make love with you if you’re not comfortable. Sleep well, my lady” he said, his voice firm and reassuring, before turning and disappearing into the shadows of the cave where he usually rested.

Left alone, the soft sound of your breathing filled the space around you. “Thank you” you whispered into the silence, knowing he wouldn’t have heard.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Okay, my sweet and dear flowers,

I gave you a little taste of what you were asking me ( now love me pls :,) ). The story will get a little bit more dense. I’m writing a slow burn and hope you like it. What is the general sentiment for this chapter?

I hope you enjoyed it, let me know.

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

69 notes · View notes

devieuls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ Haunted . ✯

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.6k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀ Chapter V: Away from me

Qimir's breath mingled with yours, the air between you growing thicker and suffocating, almost tangible. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, a rhythm that seemed out of control and threatened to give you a heart attack. Every word that left his lips was a wave of heat that overwhelmed you, making you feel vulnerable in ways you had never experienced and didn't know you could. "Please…" you whispered, your voice cracked, but it wasn't a plea directed at him; it was a muffled cry to yourself, to that part of you that was giving in, losing ground under the weight of that burning desire. Please, resist. You thought, echoing in your mind, as you felt the last shred of reason slip away. You were begging yourself to resist, not to succumb to that growing desire devouring you from within. But it was almost impossible. Everything about him, his penetrating gaze, his fingers barely brushing your lips, the warmth of his breath caressing you, was too powerful a temptation. Everything about him pushed you to the edge of a precipice you weren't sure you wanted to avoid.

And as your eyes fell on his lips, the attraction became a slow, exhausting torture. He was there, a breath away from you, so close that you forgot he was your enemy, that this was madness. You realized you were wavering. Your held breath was breaking with difficulty, as if your lungs were struggling to take in air amidst the fiery tension vibrating between you. The part of you that wanted to resist, that screamed against this senseless desire, was growing smaller and weaker.

Your body was clearly betraying every rational thought you were desperately trying to hold onto. Each breath you took was shorter, heavier, as if you were holding it in. Desire was making its way through you, creeping into every cell, making your hands tremble as you tried to keep them steady on his chest to maintain a bit of distance. You felt the heat of his body invade your space, his scent, the barely audible breath that grazed your lips. And, against all logic, a part of you yearned desperately to feel him even closer. Every inch of your body was aching for that forbidden touch, the feel of his lips against yours, his warm, strong hands on your hips, your bodies drawing nearer until no space remained between you. Your skin tingled at the thought, your heart pounded faster, as if your very body was begging you to let go, even if just for a moment.

You didn’t want this, did you? But then why were your lips trembling at the thought of his kiss, and why did your body crave that contact you knew was impossible?

"You know exactly why we can't." The sound of your own voice felt distant, as if it didn't really belong to you. It was a fragile defense, built on the sinking sands of your crumbling self-control. You felt the weight of those words, but also their futility. Every word you uttered felt like a lie, a lie you were desperately trying to convince yourself was true. His breath was still there, warm and insistent on your lips, making you tremble as time consumed you from within. "You and I… we're different." But as you said it, your eyes remained fixed on his lips, holding your breath for a second that seemed to burn inside you, captivated by that sweet temptation that continued to torment you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a knot formed in your throat, hard to swallow. Your mouth dried up, and the weight in your stomach grew, a mix of fear and desire. "We're not meant for any of this." you continued, but your words felt hollow, even to you.

And that’s when Qimir smiled. Not his usual smile, dripping with sarcasm or the one he used when he was trying to irritate you. No, this was different. It was a satisfied smile, as if he knew exactly where all of this was leading, as if your words didn’t matter. He was confident, certain that sooner or later, you would be his. Not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but his gaze promised that moment would come. And that smile confirmed it. His confidence drove you mad, because in some way, you felt he was right. He wanted you, you knew it. Not just with that carnal desire that was consuming you, but with a determination that made you feel like a prisoner of his will.

Your eyes slowly traveled back up to his, and the breath you had been holding broke into a faint, almost painful sigh. You found yourself trapped in his gaze, a deep abyss pulling you in without mercy. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away from you for even a moment, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered right then. And you, as much as you wanted to escape, couldn’t pull yourself away from him. You wanted him.

“Don’t look at me like that…” Your voice was almost imperceptible, but you knew he heard it. There was a hidden plea within those words, a desperate attempt to restore balance, to break the spell that seemed to bind you to him. You felt your body react in all the wrong ways, your nerves tense like strings ready to snap. You tried to take a few steps back, but your legs felt like lead, and your body, though trying to move away, was magnetically drawn to him. His gaze remained fixed on you, hungry, pleading, as if every second without touching you was pure torment.

“Like what?” he responded, in that tone that made every one of your defenses feel ridiculous, as if he knew every thought, every desire you were trying to suppress. A strand of hair slipped from your face, and with agonizing slowness, he tucked it behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather, yet devastating in its effect. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so fiercely it hurt, and his fingers, though gentle, seemed to set your skin on fire.

“Like I’m the only thing you crave.” you whispered, your trembling voice betraying the whirlwind of emotions you were desperately trying to keep in check. Your gaze had long since lost the confidence you once wore with pride; now it mirrored Qimir’s. It was as if, despite everything, the situation was somehow in your hands. That faint feeling of control sent a jolt of determination through you, even as it seemed that Qimir was waiting for your permission. He wanted you, and he respected you, did that perhaps make him a captive of your will?

You turned your face to the side, trying to regain some composure, breathing deeply as if each breath could bring you back to reality. If the power truly was in your hands, you had to use it to resist, to resist him. “Maybe because it is” he said, his words a sweet, penetrating poison, seeping into your thoughts and corroding your defenses. For a moment, you wondered if resisting was utterly futile, a battle lost before it even began. His hand gently slipped beneath your chin, lifting it just a few inches, forcing you to meet his eyes. The touch was so light and intimate it sent a shiver through you.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too” he whispered, his voice a hoarse murmur that echoed in every corner of your mind. As he spoke, his thumb traced a soft circle on your cheek, a movement that made you shudder and made it impossible to ignore what both of you were feeling.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to find the strength to resist, to remember who you were and who he was. The warmth of his hand, his nearness, overwhelmed you, and the line between reality and desire was blurring, every rational thought slipping further away. You felt his hand slowly slide down your neck, and then you shivered as his lips pressed against your sensitive skin, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses, savoring you as you melted against him. Qimir guided you back until you reached some kind of rocky wall, pinning you there, though still leaving you at least two ways out in case you no longer wanted his closeness. He placed both hands on your hips, massaging them with a tenderness and possession that felt almost reverent.

"We can't… we shouldn't…" The words caught in your throat, but even you didn't really believe them. Panting as you gripped the fabric of his shirt, clutching it as if it were an anchor from the madness of that moment. "And yet here we are. You can. And you want to." His voice dropped lower, closer. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and the line between duty and desire became ever thinner, more fragile, as his mouth devoured your neck, savoring it with devotion and hunger. Your hands tangled in his hair, as if in some way welcoming his touch, almost hoping he wouldn’t stop, in fact you, you prayed that he would do more.

“Qimir… stop…” you managed to say with the last shred of reason you had, but your voice sounded weak, almost like a plea without strength. Your body was responding in a way contrary to what you said, rubbing upon him with need while you panted his name. Where had your will gone? and your dignity? It felt like you didn’t recognize yourself anymore, like you were a stranger in your own body. Your mind told you to stop, to push him away, but your heart beat so wildly it seemed deaf to any rational call.

Qimir didn’t move, staying there, inhaling your delicate scent. "Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t crave my touch.." he whispered in your ear, his voice warm and sensual, a temptation in itself. You could feel his presence so close, so invasive, that each of his breaths seemed to ignite your body, making you tremble, making you crave him.

His face was now mere millimeters from yours, and the air between your lips felt too thick to pass through due to the closeness.

"Tell me you don’t want to feel my lips on yours" he continued, his voice becoming a desperate plea, heavy with a desire that was nearly consuming him. His tone was incredibly seductive, and his breathing, already ragged, became even slower, as if he were breathing away every reason you had to tell him 'no'.

You clenched your jaw as a slight breeze brushed your neck, sending a shiver through you because of the wet trail of ravenous kisses he had left behind. “I…” you began, your gaze locking with his one last time. Emotions crashed inside you like wild waves, and you felt your insides twist once more. You wanted to kiss him. You needed to. It was an uncontrollable, burning desire, leaving you vulnerable, eager to give in to that thrill, to that temptation.

You fled, seizing the escape Qimir had left open for you. You couldn't. You shouldn't. It was wrong.

Your steps sank into the uneven ground, echoing in the uneasy silence. The panic wrapping around you was relentless. You ran as if your legs were about to give way under the weight of your desperation, with no clear direction, only the obsession to escape. Your steps echoed on the black sand beach. The stormy sea was a sinister companion, its waves crashing against the rocks with a roar that amplified the turmoil inside you.

The soles of your feet warmed with the impact of your run, but you couldn't stop. Your breaths were ragged, as if you were trying to breathe underwater, and your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might explode. Images of Qimir… his gaze, his words, his kisses, were burned into your closed eyes, as if an invisible force was pulling you back, making each step a painful sacrifice.

The jagged rocks of the beach gave way to dense vegetation as you neared the forest. The scent of earth and moss mingled with the now distant salty air of the sea, creating a strange, intoxicating contrast. Through the branches of the trees, the light of the setting sun filtered in thin streaks, dancing on the leaves and turning the path ahead into a blur of shadow and light.

Your run took you deep into the forest, and low branches scratched your face and arms, as if trying to hold you back. You ignored the pain, pushing forward through the underbrush, past bushes and exposed roots that seemed intent on tripping you. Every sound of the forest: the rustling of leaves, the birds chirping, the distant crash of the waves was amplified by your state of mind, becoming a symphony that haunted you.

The leaves and branches seemed to wrap around you like invisible hands as you sprinted through the trees, desperately trying to escape your own inner anguish. Your muscles were tense and aching, each movement requiring increasing effort. But the thought of Qimir, with his eyes piercing through you and his touch making you tremble, gave you the strength to keep going, to never stop.

Finally, you stopped, doubled over before collapsing to the ground, your body trembling, your breath labored. You leaned against a tree, your back pressed into the rough bark as you tried to steady your breathing, hands clutching your chest. But your heart still pounded wildly, and your mind relentlessly replayed every moment with Qimir: his eyes, his hands, his lips. You couldn’t shake him, even as you sought solace in the stillness of the forest.

The quiet of the woods was surreal, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions you'd just fled. As you tried to regain some sense of clarity, the realization of how close that kiss had come, how dangerously near you'd been to crossing that line, gnawed at you, leaving you adrift in a sea of unresolved desire and confusion.

Qimir stood still, watching you run away, his hand running through his hair in frustration as his muscles tensed with irritation. For what felt like an eternity, he had almost hoped you wouldn’t flee, that you’d stay in his arms and surrender. He hoped that you wanted him at least half as much as he desired you. He brought two fingers to his lips, brushing them lightly, as if he could still taste your skin, while his mind fixated on the memory of your soft gasps and your internal battle to keep yourself from giving in to him.

Qimir darted into the forest without a second thought, quickly grabbing the inactive lightsaber you had dropped just before he pinned you against the rocks. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, fear creeping under his skin, cold and suffocating. The lightsaber in his hand felt heavier than it ever had as his feet dug forcefully into the sand. Each step took him further from the beach, but not close enough to you. His breath was ragged, shallow, and his heart seemed to want to burst out of his chest, beating with the force of a crazed drum.

The forest was dark, the towering tree trunks looming like ghosts, with thick branches blocking out the dying rays of the sun, making him feel as though he was trapped in a maze. Every sound, every rustle of leaves or crackle beneath his feet, was amplified as if something might leap at him at any moment. But what terrified him wasn’t the forest itself: it was the thought of you, lost and alone in that hostile place.

The thought of you being completely defenseless, lost in a world you didn’t know, pounded relentlessly in Qimir’s head. That planet was unlike any other: every corner, every shadow hid dangers only he truly knew, dangers that silently slithered among the branches and through the undergrowth during the night.

His heart raced faster, blood roaring in his ears along with one singular thought. You had no lightsaber, no weapon to protect yourself. And that thought terrified him. Every second that passed was another risk for you, another chance that you might encounter one of those creatures, left to face them in the dark with only fear and loneliness as your companions.

His hands trembled as he gripped the lightsaber, almost unable to activate it to light his way. His eyes frantically searched for any sign of you, but the encroaching darkness blurred everything, turning shadows and broken branches into confusing shapes. Every misstep meant losing time, and the thought was driving him mad. You were out there, vulnerable, and he couldn’t protect you. That realization consumed him, cursing himself for not running after you the moment he still had the chance.

"Y/n!" he shouted your name, but his voice was swallowed up by the trees, lost in the oppressive silence. The rustling leaves seemed to echo back at him with a sinister hum, almost mocking his desperation. "Y/n!" he called again, louder this time, but still no answer came. Every second without a sign of you only dragged him deeper into a pit of dread.

Fear coiled tightly in his stomach, and a suffocating sense of helplessness was closing in on him. The darkness was falling faster now, and he knew all too well what that meant: with the night came the creatures of the forest, emerging from their hiding places, ready to hunt. Creatures he knew far too well, savage beasts that would show no mercy to a defenseless prey.

He stopped for just a moment, bent over, panting, trying and failing to calm himself. He couldn’t even sense your presence through the Force. His eyes scanned every corner, every tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of your figure, to hear any sound, even a whimper.

Nothing.

The silence surrounding you was eating him alive, and the thought of you in danger terrified him in a way he didn’t know how to process. He couldn't remember ever feeling such a raw, primal fear, not since… not since he had lost everything.

"Y/N!" he shouted again, his voice cracking, a desperate cry. His steps resumed, more frantic this time, and the world around him seemed to close in, every shadow more threatening, every step more uncertain. His breath quickened, his stomach twisting tighter with every passing second. What if it was too late? What if something had happened to you? What if he had lost you?

The image of your closed eyes, your body lifeless among the roots, flashed in his mind, nearly bringing him to his knees. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t afford to. The forest enveloped him, the darkness tightening its grip like a vice. He knew he had to find you, he had to, before it was too late. Frustration and anguish clawed at his chest, driving him to run even faster, barely paying attention to where he stepped or the growing pain in his feet from the constant friction. He had to find you before something irreversible happened.

You heard your name echoing among the trees, Qimir’s voice closer than you wanted. Instinctively, you hid behind a massive tree, your heart still pounding fiercely. The damp, resinous bark pressed against your back, as if the forest itself were trying to hold you back, protect you. You breathed heavily, struggling to calm your overwhelming emotions. You covered your mouth with your hand, almost afraid that the sound of your breath might betray you. You didn’t want to be found, didn’t want to feel that whirlwind of emotions caused by him again. Not again. Not now.

Then you heard it. Small, clumsy steps approaching you. The soft crunch of leaves made you turn quickly, and your eyes settled on a tiny creature that had just emerged from a bush, a fuzzy, striped puppy with a sort of toothy grin painted on its adorable face. It looked lost, just like you. It moved hesitantly, baring its tiny teeth as if to intimidate you.

Its little legs trembled slightly, but not from fear, rather from an innate caution. You swallowed and reached out a hand towards it, watching as it displayed a row of tiny quills along its back while making a funny growl, trying to scare you with what might have seemed like a threat. Its small eyes had an aggressive expression, almost comical in its endearing fierceness. You stayed still, waiting for the pup to realize you weren’t a threat.

After a few minutes, the animal seemed to sniff the air between you and your outstretched hand, and its defensive stance relaxed just a bit. Its eyes scrutinized you with suspicion, gradually softening as it approached, allowing you to touch its head.

You felt its body relax under your gentle touch, and in response, it rubbed against you, wagging its tail, as if it had decided you weren’t a threat. It emitted a reassuring sound, almost a request for affection as it made what seemed like purring noises.

A small smile crept onto your lips. It was incredibly cute, with its tender clumsiness and its seemingly threatening appearance.

You didn’t realize what was about to happen, too focused on the cuteness of the pup that seemed to have taken a liking to you, calming your panic. In the dense darkness of the forest, just a few meters from you, something moved silently in the night. The creature’s eyes, perfectly positioned to detect body heat, had already spotted you. It couldn’t see you clearly, you were a small, glowing spot in the night, perceived through the warmth of your body enveloping its pup.

Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air, savoring the scent of prey close to its little. Its breathing was calm and measured while its sharp teeth seemed ready to tear into your soft flesh. Every muscle in its body was tense, poised to spring. The feline made no sound, each step a calculated move, every motion deliberate to minimize noise. The faint trace of moisture in the ground was traversed by its sharp claws, sliding with lethal precision between the leaves and roots. Its approach was a growing crescendo of hunger, an eerie melody of death drawing nearer.

While Qimir raced against time, death seemed to walk alongside the beast, guiding it toward life.

Qimir's footsteps echoed through the forest with a frantic urgency, irregular and feverish. Each beat of his heart seemed to resonate in his hurried steps, laden with anxiety and concern. He moved like a man slipping on a thin line between hope and despair, the ground beneath him seeming to give way under the weight of his panic. The growing moonlight filtered through the foliage, casting shadows that danced frenetically around him as his rapid breaths shattered the silence of the night.

The feline, on the contrary, was in no hurry; time was on its side, after all. Each step was heavy and deliberate, emanating an unrelenting threat. The noise it made was subtler, a whisper of footsteps moving with dark calm, as if the prey was already ensnared in the invisible net of its attention. Sensing the beat of your heart, it drooled with anticipation, almost salivating at the thought of tasting you. The ground beneath its paws didn’t tremble but seemed instead to be caressed by a cold gaze of death, each movement shrouded in darkness.

You didn’t know. You couldn’t know.

The cub, now nestled in your lap, seemed to calm your tumultuous soul as the presence of its mother drew nearer, scrutinizing you more closely. The beast cleverly climbed the tree just behind yours, preparing to pounce on you from above, so you wouldn’t even have time to react to the sadistic hunt it had planned. The forest suddenly fell silent, as if it, too, was waiting for something to happen.

Qimir's shout broke the silence, his voice filled with urgency and fear, like a beacon in the dark night. When he finally found you, his eyes were filled with terror at the sight of the cub in your arms.

“Y/N, put that cub down, now!” His tone was fraught with anxiety as he gave the command, his steps cautious as he approached, trying to remain calm while noticing how the animal was becoming agitated at his presence.

"Go away." Your voice was tense, trying to soothe the cub. You didn’t want to confront him; your mind was still clouded, and the desire to distance yourself from him grew stronger. You didn’t care at all about being lost; somehow, you would find your way out even without him.

The warm, calculated breath of the feline hovered above, its presence a sinister and hot whisper over you, laden with a palpable threat that filled the air with unbearable tension. Its presence was heavy and restless, preparing for the attack, its claws poised to strike. It was now clear to Qimir that it was right in front of you; he sensed the danger, the presence of something harmful.

“Y/N, please. Put it down before-” He couldn’t finish the sentence that with a lightning movement, ran towards you, not wasting time, tearing you from death for a second time. He grabbed you with such desperate force that when the beast landed, it was unable to grasp you, only grazing your shoulder, scratching it enough to draw a trickle of blood from the torn fabric.

Time seemed to slow as the feline landed exactly where you had been a moment before. Its massive body crashed into the ground, and its roar of frustration filled the air, a primordial sound of rage and hunger.

Still trembling, you held the cub to your chest as Qimir positioned himself between you and the beast, making his body a protective barrier. His hand was firm on the handle of the lightsaber, his muscles tensed and ready to face the beast with its own ferocity. Every fiber of his being was focused on keeping you safe.

The beast’s fauces opened in a furious snarl at both of you, and the situation grew tense, your terrified gaze fixed on the beast as you remained paralyzed behind him, barely aware of the pain in your back.

The beast began to sidle, facing you with what now seemed like a challenging and almost vengeful look for having taken its prey, searching for another opportunity to strike. “Don’t kill her” you whispered almost pleadingly, not wanting her to die. You thought maybe she just wanted her cub back and empathized with the creature pressed against your chest.

Qimir was not intimidated by its movements. With a swift and decisive motion, he activated the lightsaber, the hum of the laser filling the air with a dull, sharp sound. The red blade shone like a beacon of hope and terror, slicing through the beast with a precise strike. The glowing cut traced a clean line through the animal’s paw, emitting a cry of pain and frustration. The burned flesh left a trail of smoke and acrid odor as the beast leapt back, its attack momentarily thwarted.

But the recoil was harsh, and Qimir staggered slightly. A sharp claw, launched with ferocity, struck his right arm, tearing through the skin and creating a deep gash. The pain erupted in a wave of heat and burning, and Qimir hissed, trying to ignore the wound as blood began to flow, sliding down his arm and staining his black tunic. His face contorted in a grimace of pain, but his gaze remained unwavering, fixed on the beast.

His mind was focused on one goal: keeping you safe. With each attack, each swing of the lightsaber, Qimir exposed himself further, his body battered but his determination unyielding. The forest, once silent, was now a battlefield, the beast's roars calling for its companions, the clashes of the saber, and the pounding rhythm of Qimir’s heartbeat pulsing in frantic rhythm.

The air in the forest had grown thick with terror and blood as the pack of beasts emerged, drawn by the call of the creature. Their drooling jaws, their eyes glowing with primal ferocity, joined the chaos with a palpable air of menace. Qimir, his face contorted into a mask of determination, gripped the lightsaber and, with a fluid and decisive movement, struck upwards. He handed you the longer lightsaber, which would allow you better mobility. Qimir then charged at the newcomers with relentless fury, his blade slicing through the air with precision as carcasses fell before him. While the alpha, the most majestic and fierce predator, was distracted by the battle, she drew closer to you, roaring with blind, devastating rage.

The beast hit you with brute force, overwhelming you with such momentum that you felt yourself slam against the ground, pain exploding sharply in your back. The beast loomed over you, her fiery eyes fixed on you as her hot breath engulfed you. You didn’t want to kill her. With extreme effort, you twisted and, with your remaining strength, kicked the beast decisively, stunning her and causing her to recoil momentarily, allowing you to lose her cub from your arms. Pain intensified in your back as the animal seemed to recover and prepare for another attack.

Meanwhile, Qimir had dealt with his opponents with ruthless efficiency. His weapons gleamed with crimson light as he approached the main beast above you, now halted only by the deactivated handle of the lightsaber. Every movement was a dance of death, an act of fierce and relentless protection.

When Qimir arrived behind the beast, his gaze was cynical, emotionless. With a precise and unhesitating move, the lightsaber sliced through the beast's body with a clean and lethal cut. The animal's body trembled and convulsed. The beast let out one last guttural growl before collapsing beside you, her heavy body falling to the ground, under your empty gaze, in derealization-

He knelt beside you, his face pale and marked with traces of blood, but his eyes were filled with concern for you. Even though his arm was bleeding much more than yours and his breath was labored, his presence remained a solid rock in that sea of chaos. With a steady hand, he helped lift you up.

Your gaze fell on the cub approaching its mother’s carcass, rubbing its head against the huge paw, searching for a response. The scene was heartbreaking; the little beast, desperate, seemed to not understand why its mother did not respond.

“I said…” you began, your voice heavy with regret, not taking your eyes off the mourning animal. “I know. But it was the only way” he replied, his tone cold but still concerned as he looked at the scratch on your back. “It won’t have a mother anymore… and not even a pack. It’s just…alone” your voice broke, torn by the sight of the cub desperately seeking maternal warmth. “It’ll be all right” Qimir stated, moving closer to you, his voice reflecting a mix of resoluteness and indifference toward the beast.

Your voice trembled, filled with sadness for the animal's reaction. The mother's death had been immediate and almost violent, but now her cub was alone, abandoned to its fate. “It’s just a cub…” Your sad gaze met his. Qimir clenched his jaw and looked away, not knowing how much resolve he could express if he looked you in the eyes to respond.

“It’s nature.”

Your look of disdain turned toward him as you approached the cub, which growled at you, uncertain and scared. You hesitated for a moment, understanding its pain and fear. Qimir watched the scene with the corner of his eye, as he picked up the piece of hilt that he had given you, piecing his lightsaber together. He stood up again, crossing his arms over his chest. His breath heavy, and he sighed slightly, realizing what you had in mind.

“No.” he said firmly. “You killed its mother; it’s only fair.” you retorted, finally taking the cub into your arms. Your voice was a mix of determination and tenderness for the little creature as you tried to calm it. “Nexu are not domestic animals, y/n,” Qimir countered, the exasperation evident in his voice. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be domesticated,” you replied, gently stroking the cub, your calm contrasting with the new tension between you. Qimir wavered slightly, struck by your determination and the sweetness you showed the cub. “It’s still a no. We don’t know if there’s a larger pack, and this is my home.” His voice was authoritative, almost unyielding. “And you brought me here. That means it’s also mine now.” you responded firmly, your gaze sharp. The determination in your words seemed to prevail. Qimir ran a hand through his hair in frustration, but his face softened a bit, at least you considered his home, your home. “Alright…” he finally admitted, resigned, knowing you wouldn’t relent.

You turned completely towards him, happy that he had agreed. But when you took another step, you felt a stabbing pain in your ankle, causing you to stagger forward. Qimir picked you up with a sigh, ignoring the blood from his arm that would stain your clothes.

“Hey…” you hissed, feeling his solid and protective hold under you. “You’ve sprained your ankle, sweetheart. We won’t be home soon if I have to let you walk alone” he said with a note of concern, his tone softer. “But…” You began to protest, the heartbeat accelerated and irregular, as if your mind was trying to process too fast that you were back in his arms. The puppy in the meantime rested quietly on your lap, cradled by the steps of Qimir.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Is proximity making you weak for me?” he asked with a sarcastic tone as he started through the forest, his voice mixed with a tired but amused smile. You didn’t answer, you just leaned against his chest. A sigh escaped you, while Qimir seemed to interpret your silence with a note of satisfaction. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

This chapter is a little longer because I didn’t post the chapter yesterday, and I wanted to cuddle you a bit. Don’t hate me for the missed kiss, I hear from my window an angry crowd :,). I promise to make it up to you, how did you find this chapter? I love you,

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

54 notes · View notes