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fluffshisuga · 2 years ago

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Sweet Medicine

Went shopping today for college supplies, got the Star Wars book Kenobi to add to the brand new Padawan book by Kiersten White along with a shirt covered in Obi-Wan Kenobi from Hot Topic, life is good, and my paycheck is gone. Anyway

Summary: while being ambushed on a planet, you and Obi-Wan retreat and tend to your wounds.

Blaster fire rang out through the forest, chunks of bark flying apart with each missed shot. You spun around a tree, narrowly dodging a blast that would have left your arm in a world of pain later. The voices of nearby droids drew closer as you readied your blaster once again, shifting your eyes to another tree next to you. There stood Obi-Wan, who desperately tried to get a message through to the Jedi order while also dodging debris and blaster fire. The soft thud of fallen rebels started growing faint and you stood behind the tree, not knowing if they were all dead or had managed to find shelter away from the battle.

“Think you can cover me really quick?” Obi-Wan shouted, droid bomb in hand. You nodded and moved from your position, firing at any droid nearby and drawing any fire to yourself. Obi-Wan tossed the bomb, the electricity taking down a relatively large group of droids, making the perfect opening. Leaping from your hiding spot you drew your saber and started cutting down the remaining droids that surrounded you. Obi-Wan joined you and covered your back, spinning his own saber and cutting down the droids.

A sharp pain shot through your thigh as you failed to block a blast, but you bit back the yelp in your throat and continued your defense, pushing away some droids that got too close with your force. “They don’t seem to be stopping, Obi!” You yelled, looking over your shoulder to find him fully surrounded. You ran towards the group and slammed into a droid with your body, the light metal still strong enough to cause a bruise. Obi-Wan ducked as you swung your saber over his head, throwing it as it spun and sliced through three droids. “Is that your way of saying we should retreat?” Obi-Wan jeered, swiping at the legs of a droid. Another blast hits your shoulder as you force your lightsaber back into your hands. Holding back the pain, you reply, “I suppose so. You don’t see anyone else here to help us, do you?” He nods in response, blocking a few more blasts before grabbing your arm and pulling you deeper into the trees.

You ran as far as you could, as much as your leg would allow you at least. Branches snapped under your feet and you were dragged through the brush, holding tightly to the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s robe and his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist. The sound of droids had faded and so had your strength, and you started to slow down, pulling Obi-Wan with you.

“We can’t stop now, y/n. We need to find the ship and get out of here,” he said, tightening his grip and pulling you along. You trudged behind and then felt your leg give out, tossing you to the earth. Obi-Wan turned quickly and knelt by you, still holding your wrist. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll be doing that at this moment, Obi.” You stated, sitting up and examining your injuries. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he took realization that you had been injured. He looked quickly between your shoulder and thigh, where your main wounds were. He saw the blood drip from your chin from your fall, and the small cuts you had sustained from the thorns found throughout the plants you had run through. He sighed as he looked into your eyes, fatigue evident as well as pain. “Why didn’t you say something about these earlier, I would have helped you with this,” he questioned, still glancing between your wounds and the area around. You looked over him as well, taking note of the light burn marks and cuts to his own body. “Didn’t have much time to think about it, with running away from killer bots and all.” You joked, a slight smile on your lips. Obi-Wan scoffed as his lips twitched slightly, moving to help you stand. “Yeah, well we’ll have plenty of time to mull that over when we get to the ship, if there is one still there.” He said, looking in the direction of the setting sun.

You grasped his arm as you limped along, watching your step to avoid falling over a root or some other obstacle. The pain throbbing through your body now with each step, your grip on his arm tightened. Obi-Wan took notice of the growing pain and knew that dragging you around was only causing you more pain, but the idea of picking you up and carrying you around made a heat rise to his cheeks. He had struggled more than once in the past few months with his ever-growing feelings for you, which had come from years prior to your Padawan time. You were close, but he didn’t know if you were close enough for it not to be weird if he picked you up bridal style. Pushing the feeling away and trying to calm his now racing heartbeat, he stopped walking and turned to you. You looked up at him curiously and made a small yelp when he swung his arm under your legs and held you against his chest, not saying a word as he continued walking ahead, holding you close.

The ship was finally in sights nearly an hour later, untouched. Obi-Wan sighed a breath of relief; medical supplies were a must in their current situation. He looked down to check on you, your eyes fluttered shut and a calm look across your face; you had become exhausted from the battle and wounds. He held you tighter to him as he started moving quicker to the ship, placing you in the copilot seat when he got in. He searched the compartments for bacta patches and bandages, finding them towards the back of the ship. “Really should have these placed elsewhere,” he mumbled to himself, carrying the pack back up to the cockpit, where you sat awake from the change of atmosphere.

“You’ll have to take off your robe so I can take a look at your shoulder, y/n.” Obi-Wan said quietly, feeling his cheeks heat slightly as if he just asker you to take your top off. You nodded slowly and shrugged the robe off, trying to roll your sleeve up to give him more room to work. Obi-Wan looked closely at the wound, the surrounding skin burnt and red, but the main wound relatively clean from blood since the blasters were pure light and heat. “That bad?” you quipped; breath fanning past Obi-Wan’s ear. He shivered slightly as he noticed just how close he was to your face, turning slightly to look into your eyes. Your cheeks were lightly dusted with pink, whether it was from pain or something else, Obi-Wan had no time to figure it out. He quickly looked back down and began cleaning the area. “This will sting, but it shouldn’t be too bad,” he warned, bacta patch in hand. “Says you,” you started before hissing at the contact. Burying you head into the crook of his neck, you gasped as the cooling agent began making its way through your shoulder, numbing it and making the pain slowly fade. “I told you,” Obi-Wan breathed, gliding his hand up and down your back.

His next target was the nasty shot that was present on your thigh. It was nasty, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. He cleaned the dirt a dried blood from it, unmoving each time your nails dug into his shoulder in pain. Once cleaned, Obi-Wan was able to really examine the damage. The hit went deep, multiple layers of skin had been burned and there was a spot that kept bleeding, so the bacta patch would have to come later. He looked up at your eyes from his knelt position, a knit between his brows. “We’ll have to get you some professional medical attention to this one, but I think I can stabilize it until we get there.” He said, grabbing gauze, bandages, and burn gel. A slight chuckle left your lips as you looked down at him, causing him to meet your eyes once again. “You mean you aren’t a doctor? Maker what else are you hiding?” You joked, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself. Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed at the last statement, which didn’t go unnoticed by you. He quickly wrapped up your thigh and began taking out a small bandage for your chin.

“I’m sure I don’t need all that Obi-Wan,” you said, sitting up. He said nothing as he took out the bandage and swiftly hooked his fingers under your chin, lifting your head slightly so he could get to the small gash. Your face felt hot, a sudden flash from a sudden action. He quickly placed the bandage and lowered your chin slowly, thumb resting on the side of your chin. The air grew hot as you looked into his blue eyes, watching his pupils dilate and widen at thoughts that ran through his mind. You felt his other hand rest lightly on your hip, the one holding your chin moving up to cup your cheek. His breath fanned and mixed with your own as he leaned closer, stopping when your noses began to touch. You felt your lips part as your eyes fluttered closed, the action granting him permission to close the gap.

His lips felt soft against your own and moved in sync as you deepened the kiss. Every thought pertaining to the Jedi Order and its rules left your thoughts as you felt Obi-Wan move closer to you, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You hummed and moved you hand into his soft auburn locks, messaging his scalp. A soft groan left his lips and you smiled into the kiss, pulling away shortly afterwards to breath. Obi-Wan rested his forehead against your own, smile spreading across his lips. “Well, now that that’s been settled, lets have a look at you, hm?” You said removing his own robe and tending to his wounds.

#obi wan star wars #star wars imagine #star wars #obi wan imagine #obi wan x y/n #obi wan spoilers #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #star wars x reader #star wars x you

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loth-wolffe · 3 years ago

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Do you think we could get “ i guess somewhere along the way, i fell in love. and i don’t know how it happened, or when, but… “ with Rex, please? I read a really heart breaking fic with him last night and could just really use something sweet and fluffy with a happy ending. If not, totally fine! :)

@generaldumbbitch kindly asked: could i request rex x jedi reader with the prompt “I've been trying to talk myself out of it." "Then talk yourself into it."

Do I wanna know?

(if this feeling floats both ways)

Pairing: our precious blonde captain x jedi!reader.

Word count: 1,6k not proofread you know the drill.

Warnings: mutual pining and yearning come with their own warning. this is a lil bit of a slow burn I think ?? the use of sir is neutral in this house. mentions of rex touching himself 👀 but nothing explicit okay it's a safe space here.

It wasn't usual for Rex to get injured, but it hasn't been one of those days where he got minor scratches, maybe a few dark bruises here and there but most of the time he has been untouched.

Today, though, war has been rougher than usual, a deep cut was found on his side that he doesn't know how he got, face covered in small, little cuts and he could still taste the blood from his split lip.

Which had led him to you, in a way, as he looked for supplies he ended up finding you, and in your stubborn nature you had offered to help him clean his wounds, with a racing heart and fluttering butterflies he had no option but to let out a rushed "yes sir."

After properly applying bacta on his side, you take extra care with his face, skilled hands softly pressing the wet cloth on the wounds. He doesn't hiss, nor shows discomfort, only flinching occasionally, as if he was too familiar with the feeling, too used to the pain it brought.

Amber eyes find you sometimes, as he takes quick glances he hopes you don't notice. He takes a good look of you, the way you bite your lip in concentration, your furrowed brows, how your hair looks, the little necklace hanging from it's hidden place under your robes.

"Is there something on your mind, Rex?"

Sometimes he forgets you're a Jedi, a General, his superior, when he has you so close, this close, and when your hands brush together when he hands you whatever, his heart beating loudly in his ears, mostly when you touch him, your hand on his shoulder or back, on his forearm or waist when you pass by and to move him in the slightest.

He forgets the most at night, when he thinks on where else you could touch him, in how your lips would feel against his, your hands exploring his body and his name falling from your lips in a state of delirious bliss. Shame crawling back into his mind right after as he remembers again who you are, always out of his limit but he can't find it in himself to stop, not when you look at him like that.

"Nothing, General." He finally admits, a lie he hopes you don't sense but you do.

Pulling back to assess him, he already misses you, you give him a look, one that tells him you're not impressed.

"No need for formalities, I have already told you that." You give him an easy smile, one that feels like melting his insides and turning into a puddle.

Only you have the power to leave him nothing but helpless. He's not sure he hates it.

"Sorry, Ge–" your pointed eyes make him chuckle, quickly changing the rank for your name. You give him your most charming smile and he's left hypnotized, sucking a breath when you lean over again, going back to tend his wounds.

He's got it bad for you.

"So?" You ask, in the simplest of murmurs, as if speaking any louder would break your concentration.

"So?" He echoes, confused, warm eyes never leaving you and when your eyes meet, he blushes slightly.

There's something about the intimacy of it all that leaves him this I don't know what in his chest that makes him feel like a cadet all over again.

"The thing you want to tell me, what is it?"

"I don't–" There is something in your eyes he feels drawn to, magnetized by the color of your irises and the emotions they try to shield from him. Rex sighs, he knows there's no way around this, and he wonders if this was your plan all along, to corner him somewhere and casually urge him to confess. "I've been feeling something," he eventually mumbles, eyes looking forward to the door, he's not sure he wants to see your expression.

There's this little mhm that leaves your throat, and he can see from the corner of his eyes how your attention falls in the cut on his forehead. Your eyes flicker to his.

"I wanted to ask you..." he thinks, if you feel the same? "for an advice." He doesn't wait for you to answer, already knowing you're willing to help him out, like you have always been. "There's this– someone." You stop your movement, surprised for a moment and he finds that your unreadable expression makes him anxious.

There's no turning back now.

"And I'm not sure they feel the same, so I've been trying to talk myself out of it, and–"

"Then you should try to talk yourself into it."

You sound so sure, he's sincerely surprised. He watches you go back to the task at hand, the cloth trying to remove the dried blood from his skin.

"You think?"

"We need more love in the galaxy Rex, there's been too much pain these days to stop ourselves from feeling anything but something that resembles it, don't you think?"

He frowns, taking in your words and he supposes you must be right, you're a Jedi, at the end of the day, wiseness is something you have by default, isn't it?

"I guess."

There's a silence that follows, where it's just you working and the rumble of the machines. It's not awkward, per se, but it's not as comfortable as it was when you first begun.

"It's you," he says after a while in the most casual tone possible. He's got nothing more but his life to lose.

You take a step back, looking at him with confusion written in your face, and his hands are shaking with all the emotions he's trying to put at bay. He can't take it back. Not now. He's never been one to stand down from a fight.

"I–" he clears his throat, "the one I have uh, feelings for. I guess somewhere along the way, I fell in love." He finds your eyes, and there's nothing in them that calms him down. He panics, an awkward cough leaves his throat and he feels his neck and ears burning. "With you. And I don't know how it happened, or when, but I, I, I do."

Before he gives you a second to react, he's already standing up, probably opening the cut from his side with the action.

"I apologize if this is too unprofessional, I should probably head out and–"

"Wait," it's a whisper, and it could be humiliating the power you hold over him if it wasn't for the excuse in the back of his mind that reminds him he was bred to follow orders. "You don't want to know what I have to say?"

He hesitates, torn between wanting to know, if the gentleness in your tone and the barely-there smile you're giving him is something to go by, or not wanting to know for the possible consequences of whatever answer your might give him.

If you don't love him back, he doesn't think he'll be able to live with it, much less with how close you and his General are, always working together and Maker, Cody is never going to let him hear the end of it.

But if you do, he could be court martial if anyone finds out, but that's nothing compared to you being casted out from the order. He knows their ideals, he has heard enough from the Commander, you could be torn away from everything you know. He's not worth it, he knows. Compared to everything your life is, he's nothing.

Yet, he nods.

You walk towards him, closing the distance that separates you, Rex wishes you didn't, he can never think straight when you're so close, hence the predicament he finds himself in.

When your hand cups his cheek, he flinches, he has never felt anything close to soft against his skin, always the end of someone's knuckles, the steel of some droid, the heat of a blaster shot. Never something so tender as someone else's hand, slightly calloused by the arduous training of the art of holding a lightsaber and the constant firmness in your grip that these unrelenting times need you to have.

Your eyes fall on him, analyzing his expression that lays so vulnerable in his face when there's nothing that helps him mask it, he seems timid, and like he was about to brace for a punch that never comes.

"You know," your voice serene, warm, and he doesn't understand why, how in the middle of all this, buried in corpses and hands dripping with blood you still find a way to shine so bright, to illuminate a path for him in the chaos of everything and anchor him back. "If you weren't so ready to sprint back to your quarters, I could tell you that I'm in love with you too."

"You are?" You smile, warmed by his naiveness, and he gulps when he sees your eyes flickering to his lips.

"I thought I was obvious," you try to explain, the amused glint in his face warms his cheeks, "I've been flirting with you since I met you, Captain, what took you so long?"

"You were?"

You chuckle, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth, a peck, soft and sweet for him to crumble down at your feet. He feels light-headed and you have barely done anything.

"Are you going to kiss me, trooper?"

He nods, licking his lips with anticipation, taking a moment to learn by heart the gleam in your eyes, and the little marks of your face, and the shape of your lips, and everything that makes you, you.

Rex smiles lightly, closing the gap between your bodies with a single step, his own gloved hands cupping your face.

"Sir, yes sir."

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#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #rex x reader #clone trooper x reader #SPOILER ALERT #they dont even KISS #im screaming #this is my best and worst work #ari writes

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eucalyptuspines · 3 years ago

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Lean On Me

Chapter Two

"MASTER!" You screamed.

The blood was everywhere, his hand missing from his body. His lightsaber was no where in sight.

His body was covered in little shards of glass, like he had been thrown into a window. They were sticking out of his skin, leaving red imprints on his exposed neck and face.

You bend down trying to stop the bleeding when he grabbed your arm with his remaining hand.

"Don't try to speak master, I am going to take care of you. We will get you healed up and everything will be fine." You said as you continued to work on him.

Unfastening your belt from your hip you go to strap it around the arm of the missing hand.

Examining the the hand you realized it has been cauterized.

Odd. It was almost as if it was cut off by a lightsaber.

No, that makes no sense. You thought to yourself.

You move your hands up each leg, finding breaks in both legs. His hand gone, his other hand and wrist swollen purple.

Finally you found what was causing the heavy blood pooling around him body. A large gash in the back of his torso, a large piece of glass still sticking in his body. You left the piece where it was, not wanting to make him lose even more blood.

What the hell happened to you? You wondered to yourself. You wanted to appear as calm as possible for him. It was a wonder he was still alive with all the breaks and blood loss.

He grabbed your attention with his other arm, eyes wide in either fear or shock. When he tried to speak the blood collecting in his mouth oozed out of the corner of his lips, only to fill his mouth back up moments later.

This is not good. He was in bad shape. If you didn't get him help now he would surely die, he couldn't have much longer.

Looking down at the man who literally had your back from the day you showed up at the temple, you knew you could manage to get him to help on time. Your healing abilities weren't exactly effective yet, you wouldn't be able to help him on your own even with help from the force.

You weren't going to give up on him. He never gave up on you.

He coughed once and blood sprayed onto your face, covering you in little red splotches like paint on a canvas.

"Go..." He managed to say. You would not leave him like this, no. Not like this. He was the closest thing that came to a father that you ever had.

"I won't leave you!!" You shout as tears run down your face, falling on his tan tunic.

As you tried to lift him, blaster fire came flying towards you.

You ducked in time to see it was a clone trooper shooting at you.

What the hell is going on?

Why are they firing at us? you ask yourself.

"Order. I.... won't make it." It came out as a whisper. You could tell he was about to fall unconscious.

"Order? We will make it; it is not too far to my cruiser. You just need to hang in there before—"

More shots were fired in your direction. You were able to dodge all but one. The single blaster shot hit you right in your leg and you fell to the ground.

You roll and try to grab at your master. As you get within inches of him, he hold up his good hand up towards you. Using whatever strength he had left, he force pushed you away.

"Run or.... both ...die!" He barely managed to get out before his breathing gave and it went silent. His eyes lying open, staring back into yours.

"M-Master??" You ask, crawling over to him.

He was gone, there was nothing you could do.

Blaster fire came again. You heard the loud footsteps of the soldiers coming towards you, blasters at the ready.

————————————————————-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The banging persisted as your eyes flew open.

You sat up straight in your bed trying to get a grasp on where you were. Sweat pouring down your face. Your hand trembled as you wiped the remaining sweat away.

Who would be at my door? You thought to yourself.

The knocking sounded again; this time louder.

You reach under your bed for your knife you had bought at one of the shops close by.

You only bought it for the design. The blade designed with beautiful knots and vines running down it. It was gorgeous to say the least, and you could appreciate the time and effort that went into making such a beautiful piece of weaponry.

You slowly approach the door, unlock it and nearly run into a wall sized man in front of you.

"Whoa! Easy their killer, I come in peace!" Wrecker shouts as he puts his left hand in the air.

You sigh in annoyance. You forgot people knew where you lived now. A few days had passed since your meeting with Clone Force 99.

You haven't gone to Cid's place since, not because you were avoiding them, but because the guilt was eating at you. Even though it was nice to commune with other people and find ally's, possible ally's that is, you took a turn for the worse. You mind constantly chattering at you about that day.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as you shove the knife into the doorframe letting it rest there.

You aren't exactly jumping for joy to see a clone at your doorstep. You had to admit though, Wrecker was handsome. You never really thought of the clones in that sense, it was always business with you. Maybe because he didn't look like your average clone? He was definitely built different.

I am allowed to find someone attractive. You tell yourself before the guilt trip starts.

The truth was, it has been a while since you saw anyone in that way. The Jedi never approved of emotional attachments, but most of you would still dabble in the dating world.

Nothing serious ever came of it though. You knew a couple of Jedis who had serious relationships. some you suspected had life partners even, but you yourself never became overly attached to someone.

Wrecker rubs the back of his neck nervously as he pulls a small brown bag from his right hand.

"Oh, ugh Omega made muffins this morning in Cid's kitchen. She wanted you to have some." He said as he pushed the bag into your stomach.

You instinctively grab the bag and open it.

The heat was rolling out of the bag in waves, the blueberries oozing from the top of the golden-brown muffins. Topped with little sugar flakes.

"Oh. Uhm well tell her I said thank you." You smiled.

"Of course." He said with a smile as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

His white teeth flashing between his lips catching your attention.

You realized you were staring at his lips for a good couple seconds. You quickly averted your eyes back to his, hoping he didn't notice.

"Was there anything else?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him.

He didn't say anything to you. He looked you up and down, eyes widening as he trailed his eyes from your legs to the top of your head.

You suddenly realized how close he was to you.

You were so close to him you could smell him and feel the heat coming off his body. His scent of cedar and eucalyptus encompassing the air in front of you.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

Get a grip girl, this is NOT the time! You yelled at yourself.

Nope. Not going to let this happen.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer." You bite out. Maybe a little more harshly than you intended but you refused to let this giant wampa effect you in any way.

He gave a small smirk out of the corner of his lips, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry mesh' la, maybe you shouldn't answer the door in your underwear." His eyes traveling down your body once more.

You looked down at yourself realizing you answered the door in barely any clothes at all.

Again, in your defense you never had visitors come to your door.

The bright blue boxer shorts with your white tank top were bare minimum in your book, and your cheeks instantly flushed a deep red.

"What's the matter sweetie? Are we shy?" He asked in a teasing manner. He tilted his head to the side while seeming to settle into my doorway, clearly having no intention of leaving my front doorstep.

"Okay, well tell Omega thanks for the muffin. As for you, don't you have a bean stock to climb up?" your eyes glaring into his.

"Oh, little one has fangs...I like that. I am here for another reason as well; Cid wants you down at the parlor." He said leaning his body on the door frame.

"For what?"

"Didn't ask, don't care either. She said to get you, so I am here." His eyes never leaving yours.

"Fine I will be there in a little bit." You sigh turning away from Wrecker. As you go to close the door, Wrecker blocks it with his foot.

"Move your foot." You stared at him pointedly.

"You might want to put on more clothes when you come down to Cid's, don't want the patrons thinking you're their evening entertainment mesh' la." Still leaning on the frame with his foot in the pathway of the door, He smiled slyly.

"Move your foot before I force choke the shit out of you." You warned him. He was pushing it. Your patience was wearing thin.

Wrecker laughs loudly as he straightens.

"Don't forget to eat the muffins Omega made, she would be disappointed if you didn't." He moved his foot and walked away without another word.

That man was insufferable.

You slam the door in frustration locking it behind you. You walked into your kitchen opening the brown bag that you were carrying. You sat at the small dining table ripping the muffin in half and eating it. It was delicious. You stomach growling in agreement.

You ate all three muffins in a matter of minutes, not realizing how hungry you had been. Your stomach finally feeling warm and full for the first time in weeks, sure you had meals here and there but nothing that stuck to your ribs long enough.

————————————————————

You get done showering and get dressed to head down to Cid's.

It was so thoughtful for Omega to make you something.

You always liked kids. The council would always give you time to read to the younglings or help them during training, that was before the war though.

Everyone at the temple knew you were quite the reader. Especially the younglings, they really seemed to enjoy story time.

Every week you would spend a couple hours with the younglings, either reading or creating stories to grab their attention. This gave them time to relax and get their mind off their studies.

You pushed down the anxiety and pain forming in your chest at the thought of the younglings.

The idea that someone could hurt them was too much. There were nights you would throw up all night just thinking about them, seeing their faces in your mind. Which is probably why you had lost so much weight. Not being able to keep food down most days was really messing with your body and weight. Any time you thought you were making progress, the guilt would strike again making you wish you were dead.

You tried, but it was hard to stay healthy when guilt and pain constantly overcame you.

You push the thoughts down and walk over to your chest. You dig around for the book you were looking for. The younglings always loved the fairy tale book you read to them, Omega might like it too. Once you found it, you closed the chest and walked out into the busy streets of the city.

As soon as you walk into Cid's you pull the hood away from your eyes. As you're about to turn the corridor a purple laser arrow almost takes your head off.

If it wasn't for your jedi reflexes you may not have been so lucky.

You look over to where the arrow was shot from to see Omega sporting a cross bow and the guys trying to teach her how to shoot.

"Oh! Sorry!" Omega yells with a sheepish smile.

Omega turned back to the target, Echo coaching her from behind.

"Steady. Arms level. Keep your eye on the target." He speaks.

The entire parlor watching with hopeful eyes as Omega let the arrow fly once more. The arrow hits the edge of the target and Omega jumps with joy.

You can't help but to smile at her accomplishment. You remember the days of learning how to shoot, or the days you trained with your very first lightsaber.

"Okay, again..." Echo says eyeing the target again.

"But I have already hit the target three times." She exclaims.

"Out of twelve. That is luck Omega, not skill. Soldiers need to be consistent." He tells her. She sighs and deflates a little but arches her back to take aim once more.

"Look who finally showed up." You turn to see Wrecker leaning against the bar, smirking at you.

You roll your eyes at him turning to focus on Omega's shooting.

"I see you found a more appropriate outfit mesh' la." He speaks low so only you can hear. His eyes lingering over your body slowly before his eyes met yours and shine with mischief.

"What is mesh' la? Stop calling me that!" You grind out, hands balled into fists.

"I liked the other outfit, so any time you want to play dress up or in your case, dress down.. I'm more than willing to participate." He whispers in your ear.

" I would rather be eaten by Ewoks." You say over your shoulder. Your stomach doing somersaults at his close proximity.

You turn as you hear Cid's voice talking to Hunter about a mission. You and Wrecker both approach, listening to the conversation.

"With the heat on you it is the best option you got." She concludes.

"Fine, I guess we are in." He sighs.

"I know your in, i just told you you were in. (y/n) you're going with them." She says.

"Wait what?" You eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

"Welcome to the team (y/n), can't wait to work with ya." Wrecker laughs slinging an arm around your shoulder.

"Not going to happen, I never agreed to this and I refuse." You say as you throw wreckers arm off your shoulders.

"I feed you and I keep you under the radar, your going, end of discussion." She walks away talking to another patron asking her about the menu.

"I am going too!" Omega smiles up at you, holding her crossbow proudly strapped behind her back.

"You're bringing a child?" you turn to the guys in question, completely shocked. Even the younglings at the temple stayed away from the battlefield, we knew better than to throw them into the pit without being properly trained.

There was no possible way they could bring Omega on a mission, she was so young.

"She is a part of our team; she goes with us." Hunter says.

"She is a kid.." you say to Hunter. It’s was like these guys didn’t understand the concept of her being a child. Maker they were dence. I am sure their intentions were true, you could see they cared for the girl but being caught in the crossfire was risky. People who were backed into a corner become desperate and the thought of Omega being used as a bargaining chip because she was with them unsettled your stomach.

" We can't trust anyone with her, she is one of us. Where we go, she goes." He says. Based on his tone you realized it was not up for discussion.

You didn't have a choice, you would have to work with these guys either way. Cid has done a lot for you, you were in no shape to deny her something like this, you knew that. The idea of a child out on mission with these reckless soldiers did not sit well with you and at least this way you could keep Omega safe.

You look back towards Omega with a smile, grabbing the bow from her.

"You're releasing too soon because of your small arms; you need to build up the muscles so you can stabilize the bow." You release three arrows in a matter of three seconds hitting the bullseye each time.

"Here endith the lesson."

She turns to see the guys in awe, clearly impressed with your shooting skills. You walk past the lot of them.

As you pass Wrecker, he grabs your arm and whispers.

"Oh, this is gunna be fun mesh' la." He says with a smirk.

You won't lie, you had butterflies in your stomach.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch #star wars smut #star wars fluff #wrecker smut #ao3 #wattpad

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ameliajessicawilliamspond · 3 years ago

Text

PART 2

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

A heavy kick to his ribs was Luke Skywalker's rude awakening.

"Rise and Shine, sweetheart!" A cruel voice mocked.

"Come on, Qiler." Someone responded, exasperated.

Luke looked around the room grogily. The jedi was surrounded by five men, his hands bound above his head to an old rusty poll in a cold, dingy bunker. His head was still spinning from whatever they had given him to knock him out.

"Hey, kid!" A man to his left slapped him across the face to get his attention. "What are you doing in our territory?"

Luke bit his lip, thinking. If they knew why he was here, they might kill him. If they knew who he was, they might kill him. If he said nothing, they might kill him. Either way, this was not an ideal situation to be stuck in. His silence earned him a punch to the stomach from the larger man to his right. "My friend just asked you a question. I suggest you answer."

"Haha! Good one, Keye!" Another laughed.

"I..." Luke began before biting his tongue once more. He had to decide how best to deal with this situation. He could use the force right now, break the bonds, take these ruffians out and be done with it. After all, Din was unconscious somewhere out there in the cold; freezing, dying, alone....

But these men may be their only help around for miles. Plus, they could be the smugglers who had found the holocron, which means it could be close.

He had to be smart about this.

Luke leaned forward, his mouth open as if he was about to speak, before sighing and leaning back against the cold metal behind him. "Nah, you guys wouldn't know what I'm looking for."

"What do you mean?" The man in the middle -Qiler, he remembered the skinny one say earlier- asked.

"It's just that...well," Luke looked them up and down, wrinkling his nose. "it's above YOUR paygrade." He said, as snoody as he could, earning himself another slap across the face. Qiler grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close enough that their noses nearly touched.

"We are the famous Smugglers of Kajimi." He said, glaring into the jedi's eyes.

Luke blinked. "...Who?"

"The..." Qiler stuttered. "We're..." His grip loosened as he broke eye contact to look at his comrades. They all looked as surprised as he was. "You've never heard of us?"

"Sorry." Luke shrugged. "Must be local fame or something."

"Where are you from?" The skinny one asked.

"Ever heard of the Galatic Republic?" The jedi felt tension rush through the room at his words. "I was sent on a mission to find some artifact for them."

"What kind of artifact?" The big meaty one asked.

"Like I said, you've probably never even heard of it." Luke said, sitting back again, nonchalantly. "I mean, it's common knowledge where I'm from, but maybe not all the way out here."

Qiler reached forward at lighting speed, grabbing his jaw and pulling him close once again.

"What. Is. It?" He demanded.

Luke stared the man down for a moment before yanking his face from the man's grasp. "A Jedi Holocron."

The men looked at each other. Luke shrugged, regaining his non-chalant demeanor. "Like I said, I'm sure you've never heard of it. Why would you?" He laughed.

"Oh yeah, smartass?" Qiler yelled, turning back toward the table behind him. He reached into a drawer and pulled out an odd cube.

There it was.

Din was right. The Smugglers of Kajimi did find it. But they hadn't sold it yet!

"What do you think of that?" He said, tossing it in the air like it was a ball and not one of the rarest artifacts in the galaxy.

"I think you better give that to me so I can return it to the Republic." Luke said, his whole demeanor had changed, his tone low and serious.

Qiler let out a hearty laugh, putting it down on the table with a loud thump that made the Jedi flinch. "Empire, Republic, none of them have ever done nothing for me."

Luke took a deep breath before shrugging and leaning back against the pole that held him there, trying to regain his charade. "Oh well. The Republic would have paid you big for that, as well as for me." He made his eyes go wide, feigning surprise. "...oops."

"What was that?" Qiler asked, rising from his seat.

Luke stayed silent.

"Maskter, run a search on him." He said and the group turned their backs on him. Maskter ran through the bounty database before finally pulling up Luke's bounty.

"A jedi?" Maskter read. The group looked between each other. The bounty on him was...It was insane.

Just as they were about to round on the jedi, Luke sprang into action. He snapped his binds and stood, extending his hand and shoving the group apart with the force. He pulled Din's scarf from his back pocket and rushed forward, grabbing and wrapping the holocron in the fabric before making a break for the door.

It flew open, intense cold rushing in and wrapping around his body like frozen fingers gripping at his limbs. A sudden memory flashed through his mind of --Cold, so cold, Ben? Ben was here. Degoba? Pain, pain, pain...Han?-- He shook his head, pulling himself from the awful memory and rushed into the snow, cradling the artifact. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't care. He knew he had to get out of the area first, find the waterfall, get Din and get the kriff home. His mind swam with the last image of Din he had; laying on the bank, reaching for him...

Engrossed in his own worry, he missed the sudden sharp warning in the Force as something tore through his abdomen.

Luke stopped in his tracks, the air sucked out of his lungs. With wide eyes, Luke slowly looked down, his hand touching his stomach. When he pulled it away, it was wet with blood.

A bullistic. And not blaster fire, a solid bullet had gone through his body.

So, his bounty was dead or alive, then?

Luke dropped to his knees, one shaking hand gripped over the wound and the other clinging desperately to the wrapped holocron.

Behind him he heard voices. The smugglers were gaining on him.

Luke screwed his eyes shut, trying, desperately trying to push past the pain spreading through his body. He stood slowly, ever so slowly, placing the holocron down next to him.

He stretched out his fingers, trying to stall their shaking with little results. The men got closer, their voice grew louder. He raised his arms high in the air before slamming them down. The earth beneath him shook and a huge flurry of snow flew up behind him, blinding the group pursuing him. They screamed in frustration as they stumbled and got lost in the sudden snow storm.

Luke bent down, letting out a cry as his wounded side protested the movement, then ran as fast as he could. He ran and ran and ran, not caring where he ended up, he just had to away. Away from the smugglers, the bunker, the violence, the pain. He ran until his body didn't allow him to run anymore. He found a large snowbank and rushed behind it, falling behind the freezing cover, hoping it was enough to shield him from his pursuers. Luke gasped in breath after breath, trembling hands gripped against his wound, dropping the holocron next to him so both hands could put pressure on the wound. His body wouldn't respond anymore, too cold, too hurt to move. Luke choked back a sob as another rush of pain went through him.

He really hated the cold.

"I'm sorry, Din." He mumbled, before slipping into unconciousness.

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

"Luke!" Din woke with a start, the jedi's name dripping from his lips. He sat up before instantly regretting it, his aching body bringing him swiftly back to the ground.

"Well, well, the sleeping beauty awakens." A gruff voice says from behind him. He turns to see a woman entering the doorway, a pile of logs in her arms. She looked to be in her late 60's with long blue hair and shining orange eyes hidden behind the markings of wisdom her age had earned her.

"Where am I?" Din asked.

"You are a guest in my home, even if as a reluctant one." She said, tending the fire.

Din's memory began to catch up with him and he remembered his last cognitive memory; Luke being drugged and dragged away by strangers as they left him for dead. "Where is my companion?"

"I didn't seen anyone else. Although there were a lot of markings on the ground from what looked like a scuffle." She told him.

"Who's out here?" Din asked.

The woman froze for a moment. "There's been some activity around the waterfall within the last week."

"Pirates?" Din questioned.

Her glowing eyes latched onto his helmet. "The Spice Runners of Kajimi."

Din's chest tightened. If the Spice Runners discovered who he was, Luke would be in a world of danger. His face was plastered all over the bounty boards, and from what he last saw a few of those were marked "dead or alive." He stood up, rushing toward the door.

"Hey, a thank you would be nice!" The woman yelled after him.

Din froze, hand hovering over the door handle, before turning back toward his host. "How did you know to check the lake?"

The woman's eyes became distant. "I just...felt like I needed to go there." She explained slowly, like she wasn't sure what had brought her there herself. "There was this...feeling. Like the heaviness of desperation was burnt into the air, a silent voice begging for help through the wind..."

Din sucked in a breath.

--Oh, Luke...-- Din thought.

"Thank you for saving me. I have to go." He said, turning back to the door.

"This companion of yours, must be pretty important." She said. Din didn't answer. The woman stared him down, studying him before reaching down into a bag and pulling out a metal cylinder. She tossed it to the Mandalorian. Din caught it, studying the tube. It was Luke's Lightsaber.

"Found that near the lake. This friend of yours. He's one of those jedi." She said. It wasn't a question.

Din stayed silent.

"I used to run with them. I know where their base is." She said.

"Why are you helping me?" Din asked.

The woman turned her head and bit her lip, contemplating what to say. "One of his kind helped me get away from those people when they turned on me. It's only right I return the favor."

"You knew a jedi?" Din asked, stepping toward her.

"A togruta woman. She carries two of those. She was looking for someone, ended up finding me instead..." She reminisced. "But that's a story for another time." She said, making her way toward a drawer against the wall. She reached in, pulling a holomap from it, then handed it to Din. He activated it, the place where Luke was being held glowing before his eyes. He wasn't far. He thanked her again, shaking her hand. She nodded at him. "Go find your jedi."

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

Luke's could feel hands on him, shaking him back into consciousness. One was gripping his shirt, the other tapping his face. Someone was trying to wake him up.

"Din?" Luke whispered out, hoping beyond hope.

"He's alive!" Someone yelled. Luke screwed his nose up at the sound.

That wasn't Din's voice.

He was pulled roughly to his knees, the movement jostling his aching body and pulling a cry from his trembling lips.

"You wanna treat us like we're stupid?" The voice said above him, hitting him hard across the jaw. "You wanna pretend you're better than us?" He said again, a knee entering his sternum, causing the jedi to cough, blood mixed with spit falling on the prestine white snow.

"Please..."Luke begged, his body screaming against the assault.

"Oh, now you want to beg? Too late!" The man mocked. "You make a mockery of us, you don't leave alive!" He yelled. Something cold and hard was pressed against Luke's forehead.

"Hey, we may get more credits if he's alive!" Someone yelled from behind Qiler.

"No! You saw that thing he did with the snow! He's too dangerous, I want him dead!" The man screamed, beyond crazed with anger. The barrell was removed from his head, the man grabbing him by the jaw, ripping Luke's head up to look at him as a knife was pressed to his throat. "The only question is if I wanna do it fast or slow." He growled.

Before Qiler could make his desicion, the earth erupted around them.

Single spikes from what seemed to be bombs set off around the perimeter. A row of them cut off Qiler from the rest, seperating the party. Qiler looked around at the disruption before turning his wide, crazed eyes back to the jedi. "What did you do!?" He screamed. Luke was too cold, in too much pain to respond, he tried to shake his head to convey this wasn't his doing this time. Qiler hoisted Luke up by the shirt and flipped him around so that his back was flush against Qiler's chest, knife to his throat as the smuggler backed away from the commotion. Scattered screams echoed incoherently through the blinding snow as whoever was hunting them made their way through the crew.

Using the diversion to his advantage, Luke shoved the man off him with the little amount of Force he could muster, his broken body crumpled to the ground.

Qiler recovered, letting out a frustrated scream as he barrelled after the jedi. He grabbed his ankles and flipped Luke onto his back, pinning his arms above his head and digging a knee into the wound on his side, mounting him. Luke screamed, his voice cracking in the process. The knife was pressed to his throat once again, this time, drawing blood. "Bye bye, jedi." He mocked.

But his threat remained unfinished, thanks to the blaster bullet the just went through his skull. The man fell off Luke with a thump, legs still tangled around his damaged torso.

Luke didn't move, he couldn't anymore. Any adrenaline he had left was sucked dry the second he landed on the ground. He lay there, staining the white snow red like the sands of Crait, shivering so violently it could be mistaken for convulsing. He heard footsteps approaching him. Luke pinched eyes shut, waiting for whoever hunted down the smugglers to do the same to him.

"Luke?"

The jedi's eyes shot open. That voice sounded familiar.

The man kneeled down next to the fallen jedi. Luke gasped, in spite of himself as a familiar helmet came into view. "You're alive?"

Din Djarin nodded. "I told you we were getting off this blasted rock, didn't I?"

Luke's wrecked body finally caught up to him. Every nerve seemed to be frozen over, except for his side which screamed at every movement. He caught a glance at his reflection in Din's visor. His blond hair was thick and frozen, little blond icicles dipped in red from the blood that had pooled around him. His lips were purple, chapped beyond compare. His neck leaked blood from where the knife had pushed in and Luke realized this was the first time he'd ever experienced a murder attempt that was actually a threat since... He couldn't hold back the sob that escaped his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Luke, this never should of happened. I'm so, so sorry." Din said, voice shaken as he put pressure on the wound, pulling a cry from the younger man. Din shook his head. "Kark that blasted holocron, I'm taking you home."

The Holocron! Luke looked past Din, spotting the artifact still wrapped in the scarf. Luke reached toward it, trying to pull it with the Force. When the thing wouldn't budge, Luke let out a grunt of frustration, trying to sit up. Din pushed him back down. "Luke, enough, please, cyare, enough." He begged, taking Luke's shaking hand in his own.

"No, Din, please, please!" He managed to say, ripping his hand free from Din's, pointing a trembling finger at the wrapped box.

Din glanced back, spotting what had Luke's attention. "I can get another one, it's alright." He said about the scarf, continuing his field medicine.

"No, no! Please!" Luke insisted, wiggling against the pressure on his abdomen, shoving at Din's hands. Din let out a sigh as Luke stubbornly pointed at the scarf again.

"Okay. Okay, cyar'ika, alright. Put pressure on this." He instructed, guiding Luke's frozen hands to his side, pressing them into it. He stood, fingers lingering over the man's wrecked body for a moment, before turning to go. "I'll be right back." He promised.

Luke watched with greying vision as the mandolorian reached down and picked it up. With a sigh of relief, he looked back up at the sky, watching the snow fall lightly around him. He had stopped shivering, something that should have worried him more than it was. He didn't have the energy to care, he was too tired. His eyes slipped closed and he gave into oblivion.

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

[TAG REQUEST! @asthefirerisesblog @reinaorgana @zarakem @16mistypaw @ryleeamberrr @bi-witch-rose @mayor-aaya @theonlyredcar @kineko123 ]

If there are any mistakes please let me know!

There will be a part 3!!!! Comment in the notes if you'd like to be tagged in it!

EDIT: Just went through and fixed a few buggy parts. Sorry, did not check this right the first time! Hopefully that's a bit better!

#dinluke #star wars #part 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #luke skywalker #din djaren #din djarin #the mandolarian #mandolarian #poor luke #I did him so dirty #its okay next chapter will have fluff #hurt/comfort #whump #like for part 3

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shiftybells · 4 years ago

Text

Cody shifted as General Kenobi gestured to the holo-map, a frown accompanying the crease in-between his eyebrows. The general was discussing tactics and strategies with the dreadful Wilffur Tarkin, and the two were debating over the better battle plan.

(It was arguing really, one-sided as it was.)

‘Well’ Cody mused. ‘Which strategy will allow more Vod’e to walk away alive.’

Tarkin was infamous in the GAR, ruthless in all his plans, and he certainly didn’t care about how many brothers died, and if all of them died but the battle was won, all those deaths were overlooked by everyone.

Except the Jedi.

The Jedi treated them like people, sentient beings with thoughts and feeling, not flesh droids. Called them by their names rather than their numbers, mourned them and loved them.

And Cody’s general, Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator, was the best of them all.

Tarkins’ oily voice was cold and snide as he leered at Kenobi through the hologram.

“Well, General Kenobi” He spat out their Jedi’s title, which evidently didn’t go unnoticed, if nearly every brother on the bridge bristling in offense was any indication. “It seems that we are yet to meet at a compromise, I shall call at a later date to discuss this again.” With a harsh flick the call was cut.

Under his bucket Cody frowned. He hated the way Tarkin talked or looked at his Jedi. Obi-wan had turned around, a scowl in place of his normal charming smile, and Cody longed to run his thumb over those soft pink lips and kiss them sweetly.

The sudden beeping of the comms nearly made Cody jump. Nearly. Though judging by Waxer and Boils snickering, his brothers still noticed. Fuck.

“Kenobi?” Helixes’ drawl trickled through. “The Jedi healers arrived sir.”

Obi-wan nodded, even if Helix couldn’t see it. “Bring them to the bridge, thank you Helix.” Cody sighed internally, whether it was from relief or anticipation, he wasn’t sure yet. The senate had finally caved and ordered for a Jedi healer to be stationed with major and heavy-hitting battalions to assist and to make sure that those Jedi didn’t get themselves killed or captured as more and more cases of force exhaustion and force coma’s quickly rose among the Jedi.

Cody could still remember Pond’s terrified voice trickling through their comms, his breathing laboured and speech borderline hysterical. Sobbing about how during one of Windu’s worse bouts of force exhaustion and headaches, caused by there being too many shatterpoints had left them vulnerable.

Ponds was clutching his generals lightsaber in both fists, hands trembling and obviously trying to not think about what Dooku and Ventress could’ve been doing to his riduur, and he had refused to let go of the lightsaber until they had finally located and retrieved Windu two months later, the master of the order in a force induced coma and still temple bound.

Cody repressed a shudder. The sheer brokenness in Ponds eyes as he stared at the Korrun’s battered body floating lifelessly in the bacta tank, then later spending every day religiously by his side while holding his hand gently, not caring of the days going by as he sat his protective vigil by the comatose Jedi’s side.

Cody pursed his lips. It’s probably for the better.

Obi-wan’s expression morphed into slight confusion, even if it’ was only a slight narrowing of the eyes.

Cody removed his bucket to rest it on his hip and opened his mouth. “Sir?” He was going to say more, but he was cut off by the door to the bridge opening and a scream of “OBI!” echoing in the room. A blur of cream and blue robes and pinkish red skin rushing past him which quickly turned into a hug like tackle, the blur turning out to be a red-pink Calamari woman in a combined set of cream and blue robes, her shout having quickly drawn the attention of everyone on the bridge.

Obi-wan had looked up at the shout, surprise then joy spreading across is face as the calamari latched onto him like a barnacle from Kamino’s oceans.

Cody felt his eyebrows rise, in curiosity, and when Obi-wan hugged the vibrating stranger back just as tightly, he was pretty sure they were going to fly off his head.

Obi-wan smiled warmly, and for one in a long time, it met his eyes.

“Bant! I didn’t expect you to be assigned to u!”

Head against Obi-wan’s chest, the side of the temple where ears on a human would be rested right over his hears. Crys cleared his throat.

“I’m going to guess that you two know each other?”

Obi-wan gave a rare, but blindingly radiant smile. The two shifted so his and Bant’s arms were wrapped around each other’s shoulders a position Cody was familiar with. It was one of kinship and a way to acknowledge siblings.

Bant giggled. “Obi’s my Clanmate and brother in everything but blood.” Cody blinked.

“Clanmate..?” He ventured. “Is that like the vode’s batchmates?”

For a ridiculous moment Cody thought that would’ve been confused about the concept of batchmates, but her large eyes sparkled and she smiled.

“Exactly! There’s a few differences obviously, but the concept is same!”

Cody gave a small smile at the praise, ignoring Cry’s imploring look.

Suddenly Obi-wan straightened. “Everyone, this is Bant Eerin, she’ll be serving alongside our medics for an unprecedented amount of time.” A shiny whose name Cody has yet to learn raised their hand.

Obi-wan nodded at the shiny. “Yes..?” the prompt for their name went unsaid. They shifted on the spot. “Ace sir.” He tapped his fingers against his yet to be painted armour. “If you don’t mind me asking, but what’s different about clanmates?”

Bant smiled. “Great question Ace! Clanmates are like a Jedi initiates family until they are picked by a master, and then they join that lineage’s family.”

She bumped her shoulder against Obi-wan’s with a small grin. “It’s up to an individual whether or not they still consider their clanmates family or not.”

She fiddled with a necklace, the rope and pendant barely noticeable under her robes. “Sometimes a Jedi will switch masters, whether because they requested a change or something happens to the master, then you will be considered apart of two different lineages.”

Obi-wan grinned and nodded. “Does that answer your questions Ace?”

The clone nodded bashfully, a small smile and a soft blush making its way onto his face.

Crys leaned against a console with his arms crossed, but swiftly raised a hand. Obi-wan nodded over at him. “Yes Crys?”

Crys stared at the two Jedi with thinly veiled curiosity, and on the excited shifting from the rest of the Vod’e, they were just as excited to learn.

“What did General Eerin mean by if a Jetti shiny requests a new master?” They all knew what ‘if something happened to the master’ meant. Too incapacitated to teach and raise, or dead.

Bant’s eyes grew sad, while Obi-wan closed his eyes. “If,” Bant began, a mix of grief and anger swirling in her eyes. “-A padawan requests a new master, an investigation is launched immediately for why they want a change.”

Obi-wan took over. “There has been only a few cases of abuse, but they still exist, some instances a master had declining physical or mental health. And both have agreed that it would be safer and more beneficial for both to part ways.”

Obi-wan grew quiet. “And there has only been a handful of time where the master has fallen to the darkside.”

The bridge grew quiet at that. Cody hadn’t seen a Jedi that had fallen outside of Dooku, but he’s heard stories, tales of how they became a shell of their former selves. He shuddered at the idea of an ad’ika happened to be with them…

And Cody dreaded the idea of his general falling. Pale skin splashed with the blood of innocents, Jedi and Vod’e alike, warm blue-green eyes taken over by a cold, molten gold that boiled with rage and hate. His blue lightsaber, usually a blazing symbol of hope and safety, instead replaced with red, a symbol of fear and darkness.

Cody let out a breath. He and the rest f his brothers would rather be cut down or eat their own blasters than fight against their general.

“-Ways Bant, do you need any directions or do you want to go straight to the med-bay?”

Cody jerked out of his head, eternally grateful that he had put his bucket back on.

Bant and Obi-Wan had turned to face each other. Bant smirked. “Are you saying you’re willing to go to med-bay with me?” The bridges occupants collectively held their breaths.

Bant hummed. “Sixty-six seconds Obi, better start running.” Cody watched in amusement as a few clones cheered or yelled out “go general!” as he dashed down the hall, and Cody managed to catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan kicking a vent covering open and leaping into the vents just as the covering fell back into place.

Sixty-six seconds later and Bant stood from where she was sitting and cleared her throat. “Alright, boys!”

She grinned. “Who wants to help me hunt down a rogue patient?”

Cody grinned as Crossbones cheered from his spot next to Crys.

#obi-wan #mace windu #codywan #cody #crys #helix #bant eerin #ponds #wilhuff tarkin

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intergalactic-padawan · 4 years ago

Text

inquisitor - Ezra Bridger

Requested: yes, by the beautiful @raganbridger! Sorry for the wait, it's finally here!

Warnings: angst, dark side!reader, confusion, mentions of bad injuries/blood, betrayal

A/N: You asked for le angst, so here it is! I've had this idea for a long while and this request was the motivation I needed to start. LOTS of alternative endings were written, this was mostly the reason it took so long.

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"oh, good, you're awake"

You sit and inhale sharply, focusing back on the real world, startled at the strange voice.

Well, not so strange per se. You knew who was talking to you. What was strange was why he was talking to you.

Before you can adjust your vision to the unfamiliar environment, the memories from hours earlier instantly come flooding back.

Malachor. The place where jedi go to die.

An easy kill for you and your inquisitor colleagues.

That's what they had said on the ship, at least. You, on the other hand, knew better than to underestimate how slippery those jedi could be - especially if they fought side by side, like they always did.

You remember cornering the younger one during the fight. His skill was minimal compared to yours, which would give you an advantage against his master if he were to die first.

The boy and his friends go after the sith holocron. There had been a blinding light when it was placed at the altar.

And also, the jedi knight who was blinded by your former master, Maul.

Maul.

Not only had the cursed man left you for dead years before, he had come back from hiding to haunt you and join forces with your other enemies.

But you were an inquisitor. You wouldn't - you couldn't let him get the best of you, not this time.

You feel a light hand pressing your forehead and recoil in fear, reaching for your lightsaber, only to feel it was not there.

-"whoah, woah, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you" - it was the padawan you'd been fighting before - Ezra Bridger. He had placed you and his master inside a cave in a planet you were not familiar with when you'd escaped Malachor.

You'd escapd Malachor? But how?

You couldn't have, unless he'd carried you back to his ship.

-"hey, hey, it's alright."

-"what do you want, jedi?" - you wince in pain again.

-"a thank you would be nice, actually. I did just save your life"

-"a foolish mistake. One you will pay for with yours"

You reach out for your lightsaber, but can't feel it anywhere close. Scouring with the force for its presence, you quickly realize he must have hidden it outside the place.

-"Nope, absolutely not" - just as quickly, he slaps your outstreched hand - "I may be an idiot, but i'm not stupid. Your lightsaber's not here, it's caused enough damage already."

You rub the hand he pushed away, more shocked at his actions than anything. How DARE he?

-"Then what do you want from me, if not revenge? Why treat my wounds if not to finish the battle we started?"

-"Listen, I'm not sure if it's the adrnaline or something, but you're in no condition to fight anyone any time soon"

-"You underestimete me, Jedi. Even in these conditions you would be no match for me."

-"Like I wasn't a match for you at the sith temple?"

At the mention of the event, images of the fight start to come back.

Back at the sanctuary, you drew him away from the fight, knowing his strengh lied with his allies. Only, you hadn't imagined your former master to join his side - not until you'd seen the holocron in Ezra's hands, at least. You'd warned him: "he will use it and throw you away. Like he did to me". Needless to say, he didn't listen.

Your vision starts to lose focus at the intensity of your anger and you groan in pain, not able to sit anymore. Driven by instinct, the padawan holds your side so you won't fall completely, pressing your abdomen and making you hiss in pain.

-"ah, looks like I was right. You're conscious, but not healed" - you feel yourself be adjusted back on the ground, too weak to fight him.

-"where are we? Why did you save my life?"

He hesitates, eyes studying you, like you might attack him any second and he still knew it.

-"not so sure" - he finally answers - "maybe because now you owe me one?"

-"Did you hit your head or something?" You scoff - "Make no mistake, I WILL kill you when the opportunity rises!"

-"And that is why your lightsaber privileges have been revoked for now."

You lock eyes, studying him like he had you. It made no sense- you'd followed his group to the sith temple, tried to kill him several times, called for the man who had murdered his strongest ally, Ahsoak Tano. Why was he helping you?

With a shiver, you realize he's still holding your side, not as firmly as before but still providing support for your back. Inhaling sharply, you graze his hand and he lets go instantly, realizing how close the two of you had gotten.

Standing up just as quickly, he brushes a strand of unruly hair our of his forehead, while you you clean your throat, diverting your attention to the exit of the cave. The rain pours on the large trees outside, but you can't make out much except for the fact that you're in a forest planet (maybe a moon?) and his ship is in less than ideal conditions to get out of it.

-"here" - Ezra kneels down with two bacta patches and a piece of fabric from a medical kit -"i felt your back was pretty sore, but didn't want to take off your shirt while you were out. Your cuts need cleaning."

You hesitantly take the items, using the rocks behind you as support to lean your body on. He stands up, hands on hips, and chuckles when you sniff the gel, suspicious.

With the small bit of privacy he gives you by turning around to check on his master, you fumble with your shirt, deciding to take it off in order to see better.

-"Need some help over there?" - he asks, hearing you grunt in frustration at not being able to reach some spots

-"Not from you, thank you very much"

-"Oh, so she CAN say thank you! That's a welcome change"

You throw the rag at his direction, irritated out of your mind. Who does he think he is??

He must sense the harmless ball of soaked fabric coming his way, turning around to catch it mid-air. Now that he's turned, you see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your rage, giving you the answer you needed as to why he went through the trouble of saving you; it was merely to see you suffer and laugh at your expense, apparently.

His expression quickly changed when he saw your bruised torso, however.

- "who did this to you?" - he whispers, and you look down at you look down at your sore ~ well, everything~, covered only by a wrap in the bust area.

-"As you said, jedi. I may be better than you, but you still gave me a decent challenge"

"No. I didn't even hit you there." - his serious reaction to your injuries had caught you off guard, you had to admit. - "those are old and deep, you shouldn't even be able to walk!"

-"I'm not, remember?" - you motion at your debilitated situation, unable to even sit down or cross your legs properly -"But i will be, soon. And then it's over for you"

-"you know what? I think if you wanted to, you would have killed me by now." - he shoots back and you're impressed at his audacity once again.

But he had a point. Why hadn't you attacked him yet?

Sure, you had no lightsaber or phisical conditions to stand, but your force abilities were still as strong as ever. You were vulnerable, but so was he, and you weren't kidding when you said you could deal with him even at your worse.

-"you know what? " - you cross your arms. He was playing with fire now - "maybe I might"

-"and why haven't you?"

-"because I wouldn't enjoy it as much." - you snap back venomously - "I want to see you suffer before I bring you to Lord Vader"

His expression darkens at the mention of Ahsoka's murderer. His whole body stiffens as he balls his wrists and clearly struggles to control his anger at the recent loss. For a moment, you fear you've gone too far, but reprimand yourself for worrying about his feelings over yours. You're not supposed to be anything more than indifferent to the weak and ruthless to those who dare oppose you.

-"Yeah, no matter what you do, you're still imperial scum"

You're not prepared for those words to affect you so much. You're supposed to have a response, but nothing coherent seems to come out of your mouth, so you settle for an an uncomfortable silence.

It doesn't last for long, however, as his comlink goes off. It's his droid, asking - no, demanding - that he go help him with repairs on the ship. He hesitates, looking at you and contemplating how bad it would be to leave you unnatended in the company of his defenseless master.

-"Dont worry."- You reassure him. -"I won't make his situation worse. Maul is the worse you can get, and I refuse to step that low"

You can see he doesnt like it, but leaves for a few moments before returning with what must be the droid that talked to him before. It was a C1 series unit with an orange top and a bratty atitude, you could tell that much by just seeing him interact with the jedi.

-"Chopper will stay here, just in case"

-"I understand. It's fine."

-"I wasn't asking if you were fine with it. Behave" - you can't be sure if his command is directed at you or the droid, but you weren't about to ask.

The coldness he now had to his voice was understandable - you had worked to get him to that emotional state - ,but you felt hurt at the change. The droid didn't do much to help you think clearly about what just happened, and by the look of it, your frustration would only grow bigger in the many hours it would still take to repair the ship to a normal flying condition.

'He thinks i'm imperial scum, huh?' - you think as you scour a pile of your belongings with the force, not too far away inside the cave.

Bad news, your lightsaber really wasn't there.

Good news, your wrist comm was.

'i'll show him imperial scum'

With a plan forming in mind, all you had to do now was be patient and wait for the right time. There's no exchange of words between the two of you when he gets back, which makes time fly by before he's betrayed by exaution and finally gives in to sleep. You take care of the droid easily after that.

Activating the tracking beacon, you start to leave the cave, but not before noticing the boy's lightsaber beside him. It was a bold move, he could easily wake up if you took it, but you knew that if he woke up to see you gone you'd need it to compensate for your injuries.

You were still on opposing sides, after all.

You knew there had to be an imperial ship near the planet, and they would pick up your signal in an instant when you called. Wallking to a less dense area of the forest, away from the crash site, you're proven right when, in a matter of minutes, a shuttle tripulated by four troopers and a senior lieutenant meet you on the ground.

-"and what of the jedi?" - the higher ranking woman asks when you finish your brief description of the events that led you there.

Well, not all events. You'd left out the part where Bridger had helped you recover.

You could just tell them to take the two jedi for excecution. You were supposed to do it, in fact.

-"it's just me. And the younger one's lightsaber" - you finally answer, not exactly knowing why you'd deliberately just saved them.

She nods curtly and escorts you back to the ship without a second glance. It was a good story so far, but you would have to work on it if your superiors were to believe it.

-"Wait- " - you start, second-guessing your motives for not giving away their location. One of the troopers turns to you expectantly.

-"yes, sir?"

You hesitate for a moment, ready to do what you'd beeen taught to do your whle life. Kill the jedi.

Kill the jedi.

A tingling crept up your sides, where the padawan had touched earlier to give you support. You try to betray the gut feeling pressing you to do your duty as an inquisitor, but it's stronger than you. Something is forcing your better judgement to be leaving your natural enemies alive.

-"nothing." - the tingle goes away as soon as it had come, leaving an unusual feeling of relief. - "Thought i'd sensed something. Let's leave"

'Perhaps it's for the best'. - you think as the shuttle's door closes. After all, you did owe him one for saving your life - whatever his reason was for doing so.

That was what you told yourself as you boarded the ship, at least. Now, the next time you saw him, there would be nothing to stop you from finishing him and his friends for good.

Hope you like it? I gave him a 'hands on hips' moment in honour of your videos for a more personalized touch hahahaha

#ezra bridger fic #ezra bridger #ezra bridger imagine #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x you #ezra bridger x y/n #inquisitor!reader

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luvvewan · 3 years ago

Note

I'm so excited you are taking prompt again!!! For the hurt/comfort dialogue prompt #12, “You’re normally the tough guy. Today, let me be tough for the both of us.” From Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon. It doesn't have to be exact words, because I am honestly having trouble picturing Obi calling Qui a "tough guy"....

Thank you cass-rw for the prompt! I did change the dialogue up a little, as you suggested: “You have protected me more times than I can count, Master. This time, let me protect you.”

I’m still accepting prompts! This one got me good, wrote the whole thing this morning instead of doing any chores. It was glorious.

—

“No.”

Obi-Wan turned away, gathering a breath. The vastness of the dark forest beyond the small cave stared at him and he stared back, half in fear, half in wild, unearned hope. He knew from his research back on the ship, before all of this happened, before—he blinked and swallowed, shooing away the intrusive thoughts. He needed to be clear-headed. Focused. Alright, he could do that. On the ship, he had read about a small village somewhere in this forest.

People. Medicine, perhaps. Help.

“Padawan.”

The hand on his wrist tightened, though the pressure was still alarmingly weak. Obi-Wan looked down at his Master. “What else would I do? Leave you here to..” the words caught in his throat and he shook his head. “Master, you know I must do this.”

Qui-Gon’s blue eyes were clouded with pain, but they focused on Obi-Wan. Sweat gleamed on his too-pale skin. His long hair had come loose somewhere along the way and hung limply around his face. “You must…do as I say,” he managed to rasp.

Obi-Wan wiped the sweat from Qui-Gon’s brow with the edge of his sleeve. Heat blazed against his fingers where they brushed against his teacher’s forehead. “Let me look at it.”

Qui-Gon tensed where he was slouched against the rough cave wall. His hand crept over the wound. “There’s nothing to be done, young one. We called for help. They’ll…” he paused, trying to wet his dry lips, “Someone will come.”

With a careful touch, Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon’s hand away, so he could see the tiny tear in Qui-Gon’s tunic, rust-colored blood blooming around it.

Not very much blood, but then, it wasn’t blood loss Obi-Wan was worried about. It was the poison.

Qui-Gon must have noticed the change in his expression, despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to appear calm, because he reached for Obi-Wan, patting his knee. “It seems to be slow-acting. I feel…okay, right now. We were lucky to find shelter.” A moan escaped him, and Obi-Wan helped him settle on the ground, quickly shedding his own robe and rolling it up under Qui-Gon’s head.

The cave was decent enough shelter, and the Force shields were added camouflage, well-worth the strain to Obi-Wan. Master Windu had said no skill was mastered until used in the field; certainly Obi-Wan had never maintained a Force shield for so long before. But he knew it would not be enough. The Noxii hunters that chased them were cunning and quick—able to land the poisoned dart in Qui-Gon’s flank before Obi-Wan even understood what was happening. There was no doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind that the Noxxi would catch up to them, despite the advantages the Force afforded them.

Which was why he needed to go for help. The Noxxi were outlaws, with very little support outside of the extreme fringes of society. He doubted the modest village was a haven for criminals, but they might be sympathetic to a young Jedi. The problem was he could not get through the dense forest fast enough with Qui-Gon in tow. If the Noxxi found them on their journey, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could defend himself and his Master from them all. Yes, he was sure he needed to make the trip alone. He would be infinitely faster. Once he reached the village, he could borrow a speeder, medical supplies…

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon called to him, softly, from the ground.

He had two water skins in his pack. He would leave them both with Qui-Gon, and just take a swig before he set off. If necessary, he knew how to coax water from the forest.

“Obi-Wan.”

He’d need to gently pull Qui-Gon further into the cave, as far into the concealment of the shadows as possible, and cover him with branches and moss, so the Noxxi might not notice him, if they passed through while Obi-Wan was gone. Qui-Gon would have his lightsaber if—

“PADAWAN.”

The harsh whisper cut through everything. Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped at the obvious rebuke in the word. He kneeled beside Qui-Gon, head bowed in acknowledgement. His raggedy braid slipped out from behind his shoulder and dangled between them.

Qui-Gon inhaled, as if gathering the strength merely to speak. “I told you, young one. I forbid this.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “I cannot stay here and wait for you to die, Qui-Gon.”

An unexpected smile briefly brightened Qui-Gon’s eyes. He lifted his hand, and Obi-Wan ducked down to meet it. His mentor cradled Obi-Wan’s cheek in a wide, clammy palm. “I cannot let you leave when it might kill you, Padawan. You will not do this. Not for me.”

Obi-Wan blinked against the sudden prick of warm moisture in his eyes. He squeezed Qui-Gon’s hand and rocked a little, letting the wave of worry and fear crest within him before replacing it with the steadiness of resolve, duty, the Force. “You have protected me more times than I can count, Master. This time, let me protect you.”

Despite his growing fragility, Qui-Gon dragged him in closer, until their foreheads were nearly pressed together.

Obi-Wan could feel the sick-sour breath against his face. He was not an initiate, or even a child anymore, but something inside him wanted to curl into the comfort of his Master, someone older and wiser, and hope the threats around them just vanished into the cool night air.

Qui-Gon stroked the back of his head, smoothing down the nerftail. “It is my duty…” he coughed and moaned, his pain spiking through their Force connection. “My duty to protect you. Don’t take that from me.”

He had very rarely gone against Qui-Gon in their near-decade as master and apprentice. Obi-Wan knew it was the right thing to do in this instance, but it didn’t make it easier. He could be sanctioned by the Council, or worse, damage the bond between himself and the man who had raised him. Yet no conceivable consequence mattered when Qui-Gon’s life was at stake.

He would do what he must.

Obi-Wan shored up the guards around his thoughts while allowing Qui-Gon access to his general presence in the Force. He emanated frustration and dutiful acceptance, emotions of a loyal Padawan’s surrender. “Yes, Master,” he answered at last.

A relieved, shaky sigh. “Thank you.”

—

Qui-Gon came to the independent conclusion that they should settle in the depths of the cave. Obi-Wan was sweating and trembling a bit himself by the time it was done.

His Master apologized for his helplessness and insisted Obi-Wan drink from a water skin.

Obi-Wan helped Qui-Gon take a few slow sips before doing as he was told, just a swallow to soothe the dry burn in his throat. The night ripened outside the cave; he heard the drone of nocturnal insects, the rustle of a slight wind through the trees.

“Come here,” Qui-Gon tugged at his tabards and Obi-Wan turned, crawling over to him. The ceiling of the cave was much lower here, claustrophobic. He wasn’t sure how a man of Qui-Gon’s size had been able to fit, but Obi-Wan was neither tall nor broad, and squeezed in beside his teacher.

Qui-Gon was spread on his side, head still pillowed by Obi-Wan’s robe. Obi-Wan drew closer at Qui-Gon’s urging, until he was snug in the curve of his Master’s body, and a heavy arm rested over top of him.

“Help will come,” Qui-Gon murmured against his hair.

Obi-Wan watched the night-flies twinkle and wink at the mouth of the forest. He wondered how long it would be until someone received their message, way out here. He wasn’t so sure Qui-Gon would be alive when reinforcements finally arrived. “I can help you,” he tried again, this time using a different tactic. “Do you think I’m incapable?”

Obi-Wan felt immediately guilty for pretending to be offended, for questioning his Master at all in a dire time like this. A large hand laid on his chest, over his heart.

“There is nothing of which you are incapable,” Qui-Gon told him, his feeble voice somehow filling up the entire cave. “It is me. Obi-Wan. I..I am…incapable of losing you.”

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s lips press into his sweaty hair.

“Someone will come. Just stay here with me, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan found he couldn’t speak so he nodded, the forest suddenly blurring. He listened to Qui-Gon’s breathing slow down, though it did not find a healthy rhythm. He sensed the poison seeping through his Master’s aura, like a scum-squid’s fatal ink spreading in clear, clean water.

The dart was wrapped up in a cloth in one of his belt pouches. He wondered if a healer could at least vaguely identify the toxin from inspection of the dart. Qui-Gon’s symptoms were so common—fever, weakness, pain. How difficult would it be to narrow the options down?

He needed time. He couldn’t wait.

As if he could hear the direction of Obi-Wan’s thoughts, Qui-Gon pulled him tighter to his chest, inhaling fitfully in his sleep.

The dirt was surprisingly soft under Obi-Wan’s cheek. His adrenaline waned now that he was lying down and his own, slighter injuries made themselves known. He had some painful bruising on his back from a fall during their desperate, clumsy escape from the Noxxi ambush. Headache raged behind his temples. He wasn’t certain what hour it was, only moderately confident in the date, but it had been a long while since he’d eaten or slept.

Was Qui-Gon right? Would the travail to the village pose too great a risk? Obi-Wan shut his eyes, the headache pulsing harder. He wondered if he might be concussed. Perhaps he was overestimating his abilities. After all, he was not yet a senior Padawan, and his own Master, a devastatingly adept warrior, had been felled by these hunters.

He let the warmth of Qui-Gon’s arms settle in his bones. He knew the man’s plan had been exactly this, to keep Obi-Wan so close there was no way he could leave the cave without Qui-Gon knowing. Right now, Obi-Wan could not even roll over onto his other side and not awaken his Master.

He thought of Qui-Gon’s fear, a slash of silver in the black night. No fear for himself, of course.

I am incapable of losing you.

Obi-Wan understood what Qui-Gon had meant by those words, because Obi-Wan felt the same way. Losing his Master was not something he would survive. And he had not been taught to surrender in the face of mortal danger.

Resolved, his eyes flew open, and Obi-Wan steeled himself for what he needed to do next. He was no match for Qui-Gon, in Force strength or physical might, except the poison was stealing away his vitality with every passing moment. In their current circumstance, Obi-Wan might be able to nudge Qui-Gon deeper into sleep, maybe even a healing trance, and then he could extract himself from the protective embrace.

They had not covered Force suggestions among fellow Jedi before, not even at the Temple. Obi-Wan supposed it was a more advanced technique for a mid-level Padawan. Or Qui-Gon just didn’t want him to know how to do it because…well, because of situations such as the one they were in now.

Luckily, Qui-Gon was unshielded, and his unconscious Force presence floated out in the open. Obi-Wan sent calm sensations along the ties that held them together.

I am alright. I am here with you.

He repeated the messages, dispatching more and more, letting them carry Qui-Gon deeper into the soft, sheltering void of sleep.

Poison cannot touch you. You are of the Force. The Force cannot be poisoned. May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn.

He was not a healer, any more than he was a Jedi Master, but Obi-Wan wished fervently for a blessing, that his attempts at healing would do something to help Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan waited a few minutes, until he sensed Qui-Gon sink well below the surface. Then he very carefully pulled back the arm that held him, and inched out, replacing it on the bed of powdery dirt.

His hand drifted to his belt, alighting on his saber, and touching the leather pouch where the deadly dart was stored, just to be sure. He set the water skins close to Qui-Gon and placed leaves, branches and tangled moss on top and around him. He spared a second to study his Master, just in case—

No. There was no just in case.

Only the Force.

Obi-Wan wanted to touch Qui-Gon’s bearded cheek, but worried it would wake him. His throat felt like it was closing. “Forgive me,” he whispered, and sneaked out of the cave, away from his wounded Master and into the night, towards help.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #fanfic #obi wan and qui gon fanfiction #fanfic prompts #LuvEwan prompts

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stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years ago

Note

If you feel like it, maybe "You have to help(/save) him! Please!" referring to Anakin, for either Ahsoka about her Master or Obi-Wan about his Padawan?

Thank you for the prompt! I went with Obi-Wan and Anakin as his padawan! // from these prompts // prompts now closed

---

Obi-Wan can sense Anakin weakening with every hour that passes.

The boy is limp in his arms and Obi-Wan is constantly pushing against their young bond to make sure that it still exists — that Anakin still lives.

“You have to stay with me, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, his voice betraying his own fears. “Come on, keep your eyes open.”

“Can’t,” Anakin murmurs.

“Yes, you can,” Obi-Wan insists. “Just open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Hurts. Don’t feel good.”

“I know, but you have to hang in there. We’re almost out of here,” Obi-Wan says, hoping he is right.

Evidently, Anakin can sense that it is only that — a hope.

“You don’t know that,” Anakin says. “You don’t even know where we are.”

The boy has him there. He can only guess which direction to go, relying heavily on the Force and hoping that his intuition is correct.

Being lost in the jungle is not the ideal situation. Being lost in the jungle with a young Padawan is an even less ideal situation. Being lost in the jungle with a young and very sick Padawan with no supplies? Well, that is just bad luck.

Very bad luck.

Their ship crashed days ago. Obi-Wan got away unscathed, but Anakin received a nasty gash on his arm — a nasty gash that is now infected. Anakin’s feverish skin burns so hot, Obi-Wan can feel it through his tunics.

Obi-Wan had been able to salvage some water and a little bit of food from the wreckage. The food ran out two days ago and the water ran out this morning. Every stream and babbling brook he passes tempts him, but he resists the urge to drink. Obi-Wan did not have any iodine to treat the water, and even though his mouth feels like it is stuffed with cotton, he knows making himself sick with unclean water will only serve to make the situation worse.

He growls in frustration. Without bacta, without water, without antibiotics, Anakin will not make it to tomorrow. Without water, Obi-Wan will not make it much longer than that.

Obi-Wan keeps moving forward and prays it is the right direction.

His prayers are answered. Or at least, he hopes they are. The forest thins slightly and his eyes land on a rudimentary palisade. Behind it, he can see the sloping arches of roofs.

Obi-Wan finds himself once again praying to the Force. This time, he prays the people living behind those walls are friendly. He conceals his lightsaber in his robe and follows the palisade until he comes across a gate with a metal latch. Tossing Anakin over his shoulder, his shaking fingers work the gate’s handle until it swings open.

The jungle has been cleared to make way for homes and buildings. They are not as advanced as anything that would be found on Coruscant, but they are not as underdeveloped as the rotting palisades or the surrounding jungle environment would have led Obi-Wan to believe.

It is evening, and presumably, a quiet one as no one appears on the gravel streets. Obi-Wan once again relies on his intuition to select a small house. He stumbles over to it and bangs on the door.

No answer.

His fist connects with the hardwood. The last shreds of Obi-Wan’s hope exist behind that door, and the thought of carrying on in search of help somewhere else after coming so far is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. He extends his hand to knock a third time when the door swings open.

“Hello?” a middle-aged man asks, confusion and caution guarding his expression. Obi-Wan can hardly blame him, but desperation has replaced decorum for the time being.

“You have to help him,” Obi-Wan pleads with the stranger. “Please. He’s sick, he’s injured and…”

Obi-Wan sways — thirst, hunger, and exhaustion seemingly catching up with him now that he has found some help.

“We have a healer in town,” the man says without questioning the mud-covered man standing at his doorstep. “Come, it seems you both need it.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says gratefully. He shifts Anakin off of his shoulder and back into his arms.

“I can take him,” the man offers.

Something protective rears its head inside of Obi-Wan. “No, I’ve got him,” he says suspiciously.

The man raises his hands in surrender. “Let me know if you change your mind. You’re not looking too good is all.”

“I’m fine. It’s him who needs help.”

“I’d say you both do. Can I ask what happened?”

“Our ship crashed and we got lost. He’s hurt and I can feel him slipping away and it’s my…”

Obi-Wan can’t finish the thought. His voice is thick with emotion from the stress of the whole debacle and the fear that Anakin very well might not make it even when they do get to the healer.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Sounds like you’ve been through quite a lot. Let’s just find that healer alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded, grateful for the kindness of strangers.

The man leads Obi-Wan to a small, but sturdy-looking building. They rush in and find the healer that was promised.

“Please help him,” Obi-Wan practically begs. “He needs help.”

“Come, young one, bring him here,” the healer responds, gesturing to a bed. “Lay him down. I’ll take a look at him.”

Obi-Wan sets Anakin down and takes a stumbling step backward. The man grips his shoulders and steadies him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, but his voice sounds like it’s underwater.

“Help him… you have to…” Obi-Wan’s knees buckle and he can vaguely feel large hands grab hold of him before he hits the floor.

His legs drag useless and limp underneath him as he is pulled across the room and laid down on a soft surface.

“Anakin…” he murmurs one last time before falling into unconsciousness.

***

When Obi-Wan wakes, he bolts up where he sits. His chest heaves up and down rapidly. To his side, Anakin lays pale and still as death.

“Anakin?” he asks, panic curling into his voice, his lungs, his very soul. “Anakin please.”

“He’s alive,” the healer from before says as she enters the room.

Obi-Wan’s fears are only partially alleviated. “Will he stay that way?”

“The infection was aggressive, but I have him on strong antibiotics. He is stable and will be fine as long as you keep him on the antibiotics, keep the wound clean and keep him hydrated.”

Obi-Wan lets out a deep breath.

“Now as for you,” the healer says accusingly. “Your blood sugar was very low. You were very dehydrated as well.”

“We were lost. We ran out of supplies,” Obi-Wan offers as defense.

“Really? The boy was not nearly as dehydrated as you were.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. “He needed the water more than me. He was sick. I needed him to stay alive.”

“If you died of thirst before him, neither of you would have made it.”

Obi-Wan looks down in shame. “He needs to live,” Obi-Wan says, offering the reasoning for a second time. He cannot call it an excuse because he means every word of it.

“Very well. Just be more careful with yourself next time? He needs you too, you know?.”

Obi-Wan feels a lump form in his throat. “I will.”

There is a pause and Obi-Wan starts to sense a trepidation coming from the woman.

“I know what you are,” the healer says, glancing over at a side table where Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lay. She must have found it while he was unconscious.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan questions, unsure if the people of this planet are for or against the Jedi. Obi-Wan really hopes this isn’t one of those planets that believes the Jedi practice witchcraft and ought to be burned at the stake.

“The people around here don’t really care for your kind.”

So much for that.

Obi-Wan’s chest tightens at the confirmation of his suspicions.

“We sent off one of our own to the Order years ago,” the woman explains. “She died on a mission. It was a long time ago, but this is a small community. It’s hard to forget.”

Obi-Wan wonders if it was a Jedi he knew, or if it was a Jedi who died before he was even born.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. It is all he has to offer at the moment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your identity quiet.”

Relief pours into his veins. “Can I ask why?”

She gestures to Anakin. “I would hate whatever family he has left to find out he died on a mission. It’s a tragic thing.” the healer says. “Besides, it is my job to heal, no matter what you are.”

“You’re honorable.”

“I’m just a healer,” she said, brushing him off. “I have already gone to the liberty of contacting your Order. They will come for you and your apprentice tomorrow. Just don’t try to leave here before they come to pick you up. I can’t protect you once you leave these halls.”

The tightness in Obi-Wan’s chest loosens somewhat.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, “for your kindness and for your discretion.”

“Of course. Just don’t make a habit of crash landing on my planet.”

“I’ll do my best,” Obi-Wan says with a weak smile.

The healer leaves and Obi-Wan is left alone with Anakin. He stares at the child lying still in the bed beside him and has to watch for the slight rise and fall of his chest to reassure himself that the boy is, in fact, alive.

Obi-Wan swings his legs over the side of the bed and drags his IV along with him so that he can stand beside Anakin. His legs still feel shaky and his body weakened, but he refuses to leave Anakin’s side.

Eventually, he finds a chair to drag over and sit in. He grabs Anakin’s hand and rubs his knuckles with his thumb. Anakin’s hand is still small and soft with youth. It does not yet have calluses formed from years of wielding a lightsaber as Obi-Wan’s do.

He’s still innocent.

Obi-Wan tries not to think about how close he was to losing Anakin. He doesn’t think he could have taken it — not so soon after his Master and well… it would have been an awfully cruel thing to lose two members of his lineage in the span of a few months.

A soft groan escapes the child’s lips and Obi-Wan perks up.

“Anakin?”

Anakin scrunches his face up in discomfort.

“Wait here, I’ll find the healer and then—” The little hand squeezes Obi-Wan’s tighter, stopping him in his tracks.

“Master…” Anakin murmurs. He squints and blinks a few times. Anakin’s eyes focus on him and Obi-Wan could swear he saw them light up just the slightest bit.

“Master?” Anakin asks. “Where are we? What happened? Why am I…”

“Shhh,” Obi-Wan says, slowing Anakin down before he can get himself worked up. “You’re safe now. We found our way out of the jungle. We’re going to go home soon.”

Anakin nods, but remains silent

“Talk to me, Anakin. Does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

“No… I mean… a little. Don’t feel that good.”

Guilt pools in Obi-Wan’s stomach and he takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Anakin. For all of this.”

“Why? You got us out,” Anakin says. “You saved us.”

Obi-Wan looks away. “I also crashed the ship. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have… you wouldn’t have…”

His eyes sting and he blinks rapidly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin says, and he is so sure of himself Obi-Wan almost feels some of the guilt melt away. “You got us out didn’t you? And I’m going to be okay. Really.”

“You’re okay,” Obi-Wan says softly, reaffirming it to himself.

“What about you?” Anakin asks.

“What about me?”

Owlish eyes blink up at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

Obi-Wan squeezes Anakin’s hand.

“Yes, Padawan. I’m going to be okay.”

#prompts now closed #thanks for the prompt!#my writing #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

Note

glimmer do you think you’d ever write an obikin smut prompt again? I’ve been nervous about asking but this one wouldn’t leave my head: Obi-Wan and Anakin at a fancy party, either in the aftermath of a fight, or seeing each other for the first time in a while, going nuts with frustration/longing and finally having frantic reunion/make-up sex in a library or coatroom somewhere while the party rages on around them. Maybe Anakin has to put his hand on Obi-Wan’s mouth to keep him quiet...

Alright, so, I had a devil of a time trying to make this prompt work in canon, and then realized, well, why not pick an AU where I could better see it happening? Obi-Wan!Prime may perhaps not be down with an assignation during an important diplomatic event. Emperor Obi-Wan from the mirror!au, though? Oh, he could be persuaded. AND SO HE HAS BEEN.

Technically, reading “Through a Glass, Darkly” probably would make this make more sense, since this takes place AFTER the end of that fic. But I don’t think it’s necessary. This is a “both Obi-Wan and Anakin were raised as dark-siders because ALL the Jedi are dark-siders” au, wherein Anakin has managed to put Obi-Wan on the throne.

This fic is NOT SAFE FOR WIZARDS. SPICY. BE YE SO WARNED.

(Also, OP, I want you to know that I only realized today that you meant a fight between the BOYS and not, say, a battle with the Seppies. So that’s where my head has been the last few months.)

~~~~~

Anakin spotted Obi-Wan first in a knot of Senators, the politicians clustered all around him like noisily squawking birds. They were a background consideration, one Anakin dismissed out of hand as he stepped fully into the ballroom.

He’d never cared much for such...galas. He’d been forced to attend many, when Palpatine ruled as Emperor. Palpatine had enjoyed showing him off, whispering into Anakin’s ear as the Senators slowly mingled around, the sour tang of their ambition mingling with the sharper edge of their fear through the Force.

Anakin enjoyed the events slightly more, these days, with Obi-Wan in his rightful place.

He looked better in the fine robes of office than Palpatine ever had. He was wearing robes all in black and gold, tailored to accentuate his shoulders and the trimness of his waist, all the lines of the fabric drawing attention to the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

He was the best thing Anakin had seen in weeks, since he’d - with a certain degree of vicious delight - taken the army to settle some….uprisings from the long defeated Hutts. It was good to remind them of their place, every now and then.

But, oh, Anakin had ached with missing Obi-Wan the entire time he was away. He understood, perfectly well, that Obi-Wan could not go galavanting around the galaxy, the way he once had. He was Emperor, now. His place was on Coruscant, protected and safe.

Obi-Wan turned as Anakin moved through the crowd, single-minded, ignoring the Senators who tried to catch his attention. None of them mattered. Every one of them could have dropped dead, as far as he was concerned.

Anakin’s breath caught, momentarily, as Obi-Wan finally faced him, head tilting to the side, golden eyes catching the lights around the room. He’d worn his hair loose, all in a spill down over his shoulder, held back from his face by the crown high on his brow.

There was one foolish Senator directly between them, still chattering away inanely, and Anakin put a hand on the man, pushing him to the side, ignoring the sound he made.

Obi-Wan pulled a little face at the action, but any ire washed away almost immediately, when Anakin went to one knee, snagging one of Obi-Wan’s hands and pulling it close, brushing a kiss across his soft, warm skin. “High General,” Obi-Wan said, warm and full of promise, looking down at him, “you are returned.”

“I am,” Anakin said, flowing back to his feet, sliding his hand up Obi-Wan’s arm, over his shoulder, to curve against his neck. He murmured, ignoring the stares, “As I promised,” and leaned down, taking the kiss he’d more than earned in his time away.

The Senators, proving they were not complete fools, found other places to be.

Obi-Wan’s mouth curved into a warm smile when Anakin drew back, his eyes half-shut as though he savored still the kiss. “I missed you,” Anakin murmured, brushing his nose against Obi-Wan’s cheek, enjoying the hitch of his breath, the clean smell of his skin.

Anakin knew, perfectly well, that he smelled not so finely. He’d come directly from the shuttle, still battered a bit from the last battle, impatient to see Obi-Wan, to put hands on him and pull him close.

“And I you,” Obi-Wan told him, and made a thick, pleased sound when Anakin took his hand and turned, moving through the crowd. He knew the palace well enough, recalled little nooks and rooms from so many past galas.

Some days, he wanted to have Obi-Wan in front of the entire Senate, in front of the whole galaxy, so they knew exactly how he felt, what he wanted, what they risked if they spoke ill of Obi-Wan or tried to harm him in any way.

More often, though, he wanted Obi-Wan for his own, wanted no others to see the way he looked so soft and sweet when Anakin kissed or touched him. Obi-Wan wanted the galaxy to be taken care of. He wanted people to be treated well, to live...fulfilling lives, Anakin supposed.

Anakin cared little for any of that.

He wanted Obi-Wan, pulling him through one of the fine, arched doors onto a balcony overlooking so much of Coruscant and, with a nudge of the Force, shutting the door behind them definitively.

The air on the balcony was cool and refreshing. Anakin was sure the lights below were luminous and lovely.

He wasn’t paying attention to them. It was so much better to crowd Obi-Wan against the closest wall, to brace a hand by Obi-Wan’s head and lean down far enough to kiss him properly, the way he deserved to be kissed.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan gasped, clever hands busy between them, all his want curling around Anakin, clear as a physical touch.

“I missed you,” Anakin told him, nipping at his smooth jaw, back towards his throat. “I missed you so fucking much, I--”

He grew too impatient for words. They’d never been his strong suit, anyway. He curled his fingers into Obi-Wan’s hair, kissed him again, hard, and assisted with shoving fabric out of the way.

It was a relief, something pure and right, to get his hand around Obi-Wan’s cock, freeing him from silken and velvet fabrics. Anakin could take them both in hand if he tried, the leather of his glove smooth and cool, Obi-Wan’s skin against his, Obi-Wan’s breath punching out against his mouth, the entire rest of the world going away, and--

And, when this kriffing party ended, Anakin was going to carry Obi-Wan off and arrange for a more fitting reunion. For the moment, he brought them both off, fast and impatient. The hot spill of Obi-Wan’s come across his fingers - his cock - was enough to take the edge off, to pull Anakin over into his own release.

They slumped against each other for a moment, breathing the same air, and then Obi-Wan hummed and said, “Oh, dear one, it’s so good to have you back.”

Anakin felt his mouth curve up, sweet delight racing up his spine. It was worth it, all of it, the fighting and death and blood, to hear those words. Worth it to have Obi-Wan grip his hand and lift it, to frown over the mess on his glove and to grouse, softly, “This mess won’t do, though.”

Anakin watched him, cock twitching again, as he licked across the leather, battered by battle and covered with their mingled come and--

Obi-Wan kept eye contact the entire time, and smiled, when he finished, leaning forward to kiss Anakin, mouth tasting of them.

“Come on, then,” Obi-Wan said, breezy, “shall we make our goodbyes?”

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #obikin #spicy #not safe for wizards #mirror au #sith obiwan AND sith anakin #getting a reunion

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shatouto · 4 years ago

Text

eyes in liminality

(also on ao3)

The galaxy sees Obi-Wan Kenobi as the exemplary Jedi of the Order: calm, collected, and carefully detached. The galaxy sees Obi-Wan Kenobi as the aloof, accomplished being that he is reported to be: defeated a Sith when he was but an apprentice; training the Force’s son right after his knighting.

But if the galaxy truly has eyes, it would see that the child Kenobi is in his heart is not quite that much older than the child he carries under his wing. If the galaxy has eyes at all, they would see that deep inside Kenobi’s closet, hidden behind boxes and neatly folded clothing, there lies a redwood box that has not been opened in years. They would see inside the redwood box, where a coppery-auburn braid coils around a late Master’s lightsaber, silently reaching for its green Kyber core.

The galaxy does not have eyes.

——

The Council exits the Chamber of Ceremony in murmured chatter, leaving only the pair of former Master and newly-graduated Knight. Obi-Wan looks to his student, now a grown Jedi, with such pride in his chest that he cannot help but smile. Anakin is flushed and grinning ear-to-ear at him, bathed in the streams of early afternoon light that flow freely through tall windows. For a fraction of a second Obi-Wan wonders what it feels like to be Anakin right now. What it feels like to be knighted by your Master’s own warm hands and have them squeeze your shoulders as you think of a good gift-wrapping sentence to give them the severed braid in your hand.

Anakin fiddles with the golden cord of hair, twists it between his fingers. He has never been able to hide his fidgeting, and it isn’t as though Obi-Wan minds. It’s not quite proper, yes, but it is harmless. And quite endearing, although Obi-Wan would keep this remark to himself.

“Shall we walk back?”

Anakin nods, and shuffles closer to him as they traverse the hallways. Silence is barely noticeable between them, silken as a spring breeze and warm as a morning kiss. Anakin’s hands are firmly tucked into his sleeves, where Obi-Wan imagines he’s still wrapping and unwrapping the Padawan braid around his fingers. Obi-Wan stops himself before he could start wondering to whom Anakin is going to gift it. A Padawan’s severed braid is the most cherished, tangible remnant of their apprenticeship; the physical embodiment of their will and wits; the culmination of years of blood, sweat and tears. It is no small matter to decide who to entrust it, and it is often the case that a newly-knighted Jedi would place it in the hands of their former mentor as a token of gratitude and a treasured memento.

It is a privilege to be able to do so.

But, evidently, it is by no mean a mandatory practice. Some former Padawans do give their braids to their closest friends. Legends even have it that one old Master was known for having encased her braid in amber, like a pendant, and put it around the neck of her beloved varactyl. While uncommon, it isn’t unheard of that a former apprentice gave their Padawan braid to someone other than their Master. It is ultimately the decision of the individual fresh Knight, and they have no obligations to disclose the destinator of their braid nor the reason therefore. It should be keenly noted that not receiving their former apprentice’s Padawan braid does not reflect a failing on the part of the Master.

So Obi-Wan tells himself, when Anakin never comes to him with the golden braid.

It has been months after the ceremony, and he still wakes up some mornings wondering why.

He shouldn’t. It is utterly unbecoming of a Jedi to be so mired in such small matters. He knows better than anyone else that Anakin, his apprentice, his student, his friend, and often his mission partner, does not owe it to him. The fact that he is not Anakin’s first choice only means that somebody else has been cherishing Anakin better than he did. That is not, strictly, a Master’s failure. A personal failure, perhaps, but such a line of thoughts is unbearable and so opposed to the Code that Obi-Wan has little choice but to forfeit it. Moving on and living in the present is the only way, especially for a Jedi Master of his station.

And if he cannot, if the buried wounds fester and ache on lonesome starless night, then he has only himself to blame.

——

“Knight Skywalker… Skywalker!”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin dodges a hapless stranger who’s caught in the chase. He hops towards the stairs. “I need to go. I swear I’ll be back by this evening!”

“You have never kept that kind of promise in your life!” The healer who’s chasing after him is breathless and exasperated and, well, angry, although anger is unbefitting of a Jedi. “Knight Skywalker, come back here!”

“Sorry!” Anakin yells, without much thought, climbing over the spiral stairway’s railings. He drops himself down. Air reels through his hair as he free-falls, and he lands on his feet, only mildly aching where his shoulder has just been bandaged.

The ground is a little dented, but that’s not his problem.

He dashes across the corridor and catches a lift tube before the healer can send someone after him. Usually, this is where they give up - no use wasting so much time and effort on a runaway patient when there are plenty others in need - and Anakin is fairly sure this time it is the case too. He just has to be safe. He needs proper time, this time.

Because Obi-Wan has just gotten back to the Temple, and Anakin is finally ready.

He can just follow his Master’s light - he can do that even when they’re separated on an unknown mountainous planet covered in perennial fog, much less here in the Temple where the Force sings in their veins. He runs so fast he’s nearly gliding through the air, feet barely touching the ground. Obi-Wan’s signature beckons him in the most innocuous way, their bond glowing despite the conclusion of his apprenticeship about half a year ago. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done what all former Padawans are meant to do; although Anakin doubts the dissolution of a decade-long mental link is as simple as giving away one piece of yourself. He’s going to do that now, in any case.

(He hopes that doesn’t do anything to their bond, really.)

The door to their quarters slide open and Anakin hurries in, already smiling to feel Obi-Wan so near. Obi-Wan’s pack is still on the couch, and his shuffling in the kitchenette can be heard all the way from the main door. Anakin makes a beeline for it.

“Master,” he greets, so sure that Obi-Wan has also picked up on his presence that it surprises him a little to see Obi-Wan turn around slightly wide-eyed as if unaware. Still, his Master nods with the subtlest smile under his whisker and a tilt of the head. And then immediately he furrows his brows.

“Anakin, those are infirmary robes. Did you just—”

Anakin cuts in; there’s no time. “I have something I need to give to you.”

Obi-Wan stares at him for a blank moment. “Is it something so important that you felt the need to cut your own treatment short for?” He gestures, eyes already intent on the bandages peeking out from under the too-loose vee of Anakin’s tunic.

“It is.” Anakin nods firmly.

He bids Obi-Wan to stay and wait and disappears into his bedroom. He’s kept it in a little leather pouch with suede drawstrings; dark and nothing elaborate, but sturdy and waterproof. He would have embroidered it if he had the time; although, if he thinks about it, it might be better this way, purely practical in a way that Obi-Wan would have appreciated more. Anakin’s not sure, really. He is working himself into nervousness and he needs to get out of this room before his courage fails him in the most crucial moment.

His Master is still standing in wait in the middle of the living room by the time he returns. Briefly Anakin wonders why Obi-Wan doesn’t take a seat; but there isn’t any time to question that now.

(Maybe if Anakin is any less distracted by the fluttering in his stomach, he would have noticed Obi-Wan’s hands bunched beneath his great sleeves, the way he always does to hide his own anxiety.)

He positions himself before Obi-Wan, almost stilted with his sudden compulsion for solemnity. He blinks, and smiles, and he thinks he has whispered Here it is, or he might’ve only thought the words and hoped Obi-Wan heard them too. Either way, he opens the pouch, gingerly pulls out the item. He takes Obi-Wan’s hand, and presses into it a bracelet.

A bracelet made of Anakin’s braid.

Gentle light sheens on the golden cord. Strung onto it are a few Japor beads that has taken Anakin quite some time to find. They rest snugly against the old bands - red, for piloting, and blue, for mechanics - that Obi-Wan has tied on with his own hands years ago. The ends of the braid are secured with lightsaber-steel caps and connected to a clasp. It lies serenely against the valley of Obi-Wan’s palm, almost glowing in the early afternoon sun.

Silence. Anakin peeks at his former Master’s face from under his lashes, chewing the inside of his mouth. He’ll be the first to admit that he has gone the unusual route. He can already imagine some other Master calling it frivolous, even. Not that he cares. He doesn’t care about anybody’s possible comment or side-eye at this moment, or ever. Just Obi-Wan’s.

And Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted, but that is about it. Although surprise has never shown itself so blatantly on Obi-Wan’s face, it’s still such an understated display. Anakin’s bravery is slowly seeping down the drain, his heart thumping madly all the way to his trembling fingertips.

“I, uh, I made it,” he says, just to say something. Obi-Wan’s lashes flutter as if he is only blinking himself awake then. Anakin swallows thickly, and continues, “I figured that, um, this way, you could wear it if you wanted to. You don’t have to wear it, of course! You can keep the pouch. I mean you can keep it with the pouch. Keep it in the pouch.” Anakin winces, tripping over his words. “I’m not going to take it back, it’s still my Padawan braid which you—”

“Thank you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiles, and Anakin freezes. His Master’s warm hand with all of its familiar calluses closes around his own, squeezing around his knuckles in a clear display of affectedness. There’s that flush across Obi-Wan’s face too, tinting his ears pink.

“You’re welcome. Sorry it took so long.” Anakin grins, even as the corners of his lips wobble and his eyes sting because Obi-Wan is unclasping the bracelet right then and there. He intercepts. “Here, Master, let me put it on for you.”

So he takes Obi-Wan’s hand and he rolls down the undertunic sleeve a little bit; he secures the braid around his Master’s wrist and he pulls the sleeve above it, safely concealing that part of himself on Obi-Wan’s person. He pats the spot and can’t bring himself to pull away.

Obi-Wan doesn’t, either. He leaves out a moment before speaking up so tenderly: “Anakin?”

“I just…” Anakin struggles. He lingers in the liminality between apprenticeship and knighthood even as they stand as equals, tethering himself onto the former Master with whom his bond still shines. “I need a moment.”

Obi-Wan holds his, and now both of their hands are linked together, fingers upon fingers, closing around each other like layers of mutual protection. Their hands are about the same size now, aren’t they? There was a time when his whole spread hand would fit into Obi-Wan’s palm like a tiny starfish, no more. Anakin brushes a thumb over this one scar on the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. He can’t remember who saved whose life that time. It’s not like there is a difference, anyway.

“...So do I,” says Obi-Wan, so quietly. Something wavers in his voice and glistens in his eyes and Anakin can see it. Anakin sees it all.

——

Perhaps, the galaxy does have eyes.

#obikin #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #mostly gen #platonic in action but Platonic in my heart #capital P platonic for real #shatou writes #shatou has been writing a lot lately #what is going on

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growup-thatbeautiful · 4 years ago

Text

sad but not alone

Ahsoka and Rex post-order 66 fic

Word Count: 1,382

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, death, angst

Please let me know if you want to be on a tag list!

This is for @radbatch !! Happiest of birthdays! (Ik i’m late, but i wanted to do a little more) Share the Ahsoka love a little :))

Ahsoka doesn’t ask for help when she needs it. That’s something Rex has known for a very long time. It’s something all of the Jedi share, he’s learned. Cody has come to him countless times, complaining about General Kenobi’s recklessness and sleeplessness. Now is one of those times that Ahsoka isn’t asking for help.

It’s not like Rex is in some mentally stable place either, though. He’s probably one of the least qualified people to give advice in the face of an intergalactic crisis. Force, he just lost all of his brothers in a matter of hours. For the first time, he’s truly alone. No, he reminds himself, Ahsoka’s still here. Ahsoka, who’s so young and has had so much pain bestowed upon her, who treated every single man under her like a person, not a clone, who used to laugh with General Skywalker to distract the rest of them from death.

If he’s lost all his brothers today, she’s lost everyone slowly over time, taking the blows she’s been dealt standing tall. He doesn’t know what’s running through her head right now, but whatever it is he wants to be there with her for it. She’s the only person he’s really seen grow up, and he would be lying if he said he isn’t impressed with the fighter she’s become. But the Jedi aren’t supposed to be fighters, they’re supposed to protect peace. Peace, an idea he’s not even sure he could recognize.

If there’s one thing the 501st taught him, it’s that having someone to be sad with is better than having no one to be sad with.

Fives had been big on that. When they lost Echo, they had spent countless hours together, sitting in the silence of hyperspace. Rex would open his mouth to say something, maybe try and help Fives get through the loss, but he genuinely had nothing to say then. He still doesn’t have anything to say, but he still talks to Fives all the time. Ahsoka says that it’s healthy and that he could be out there listening. Rex doesn’t know if he believes her, but it’s a nice thought.

They walked away from the grave together, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow that they didn’t try at all to cover up. No one was supposed to survive that crash. That alone had given them the time they needed to build the grave in the first place.

It had been Ahsoka’s idea. The duty of burying the dead usually fell to clones below Rex, but he tried to be there most of the time to say goodbye. It’s always a sad occasion, of course it is. Saying goodbye to someone you’ve fought beside is never easy. Today was different. They didn’t lose in a hard-fought battle. Those men didn’t die protecting the Republic, they died with weapons pointed at their beloved Commander.

Ahsoka didn’t take the job lightly. Each body she found in various levels of destruction she treated tenderly, rearranging cold, dead limbs into peaceful, sleeping positions. Wiping the blood away, really just smearing it around. It breaks Rex’s heart how familiar she is with these motions. He’s no stranger to them either, and he would never make Ahsoka do it alone. For each of the brothers that he finds, the names fall off his lips like the meditative prayers of Kenobi. There’s so many of them. If it was ever eerie to see something so close to his own face staring back up at him, dead, that’s worn off. Years of this have made sure of it.

“Rex.” It’s one of the first things Ahsoka’s said since the crash. He follows her haunted voice, stopping when he sees why she called out.

Jesse. His helmet is cracked, a canyon through the Republic’s crest and Ahsoka’s paint, splitting it down the middle. His body is wrapped around himself, curled up like a child, like he was hiding from the screams and chaos. The armour on his chest is stained red, and his neck is bent at a broken angle. It brings Rex to his knees, hitting the floor hard. He doesn’t notice the impact, too preoccupied with the blinding and overwhelming pain from inside and the feel of tears streaming down his cheeks.

Ahsoka is on her knees beside him, a comforting hand on his back where he’s doubled over, making these terrible hitching noises in the back of his throat. He knows that whatever he’s feeling Ahsoka can feel too, and he doesn’t want to be the one to hurt her even more, but he can’t help it. The waves of tears keep coming until there aren’t any more, and he’s left with scratchy eyes and red cheeks. Through it all, Ahsoka stayed by his side. He looks up at her to see his tears mirrored on her face, quiet and impassive. One of her hands is facing palm up, resting on her knees, and she’s whispering soothing words for Jesse. Or Rex. Or both.

They help each other to their feet, ignoring the battle pains. The helmets are set up on pikes, the most they can do. Ahsoka leaves her lightsabers in the snow with the dead. Rex doesn’t have the energy to think about that significance.

They build a camp in a cave a little ways away, figuring that it’s better to be safe and wait it out a few days in case anyone comes looking. Rex doesn’t actually think that anyone will, and he’s pretty sure Ahsoka doesn’t either. But this isn’t a battle that they can recover from easily. No, they have to take a second to regroup.

Ahsoka starts a fire and Rex grabs some ration bars that he grabbed from the wreck. They sit side by side, shoulders pressed together tightly, reassuring each other that someone is there.

To his surprise, she opens up before he can ask her. It saves him the trouble of figuring out what to say. “I can’t feel anything. I’ve always had the force beside me, inside me, and now it’s out of balance. It’s like there’s this gaping darkness that was never there before, and I don’t know why. I don’t know if-“ her voice breaks here, and she covers her mouth, hiding a sob.

Predictably, she pushes through. “I don’t know if I made this happen. What if it’s my fault? It’s never felt this…wrong, and, stars, I can’t feel Anakin. It’s not the same as when I left the Order. Then it was distant, but he was still there with me. Now that part of me feels broken and painful. I think he’s gone.” A quiet confession by the fire, her face lit in shadows. It doesn’t surprise Rex as much as it should, but he knows the Padawan-Master bond is strong. If she says it, it’s true.

“I’m scared. Rex, I don’t want to be alone.” He knows this takes a lot for her to admit this. She’s usually the epitome of strength, never letting her guard down in front of the people counting on her. It’s a habit that she most likely picked up from Obi-Wan. Force knows it’s not Skywalker’s style. He can’t just leave that hanging, though.

“Hey, kid, it’s alright. You’ve been lost before, yeah? You’re gonna find your way again. Everything’s going to work out.” The last sentence falls flat. He’s not even fooling himself. “And maybe things won’t be okay, but we’re still us, right? I’ve still got my Commander with me, and you’ve still got your Captain. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand the force, but I know that, so far, it hasn’t led you wrong. Things are changing in the galaxy, and we can’t control that, so we might as well be along for the ride. I know you, Commander, and you’re not going to let this change you. Sure, you’re gonna grow with it, but you’ll always have what he taught you. What they all taught you. What I taught you.”

“So, trust in the force.” It’s something he’s heard General Kenobi say a million times to his Padawan and Grandpadawan. “Let it guide you. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

“Of course, Commander.”

#ahsoka tano #ahsoka star wars #ahsoka #ahsoka and rex #rex #captain rex #commander tano #commander rex #order 66 #post order 66 #ahsoka fic #ahsoka tano fic #rex fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #nxvna writing #nxvna post

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thebounty · 4 years ago

Text

Incompatible (Mandalorian x Female!Hunter!Jedi Reader)

Chapter One: The Huntress

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: language, tension? Some grammar errors. That’s about it!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here is chapter one of Incompatible! I hope you all enjoy it, feedback is highly appreciated. This story will be following some typical canon events, but might stray away from it most of the time to have a more unique story and more unpredictable events. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Huntress

“Kriff. How long could one person hide out in this hell forsaken planet.” You whispered, perched on a dune on the planet Tatooine, waiting for your bounty to leave the cantina they have no doubt been hiding in for the past two hours. You always managed to have bounties here, and for some reason you kept taking them. Even though you hated- no despised- this planet.

Something about Tatooine always got under your skin. Maybe it was the fact that your clothes were black and leather keeping the heat close to your body. Or the fact that you always ran into some sort of trouble here. No matter how many bounties you successfully caught here, you always seemed to leave with a new scar as well. The force was strong here as well, it was more prominent here than any other planet. That might be why as well.

“Well, I hope it won’t be much longer. I’m kriffing starving.” You groaned and looked through your binoculars once more, reading the heat signature of your bounty still in the cantina, and sighed. You mentally slapped yourself in the face for taking this offer Greef Karga gave you. However, the reward was substantial, so you guess you could live. You wondered why the reward was so high, this criminal didn’t seem out of the ordinary for you, no one special. Shrugging you thought of a new plan, since all else seemed to fail at this point.

“Maybe I’ll go pay them a visit. Kill two birds with one stone and hope I don’t break anything else in the cantina.” You shook your head while wiping the sweat off your brow. It wasn’t the worst idea, but it was not the best idea either. This cantina had to have a record of you somewhere, they had to. Because every single bounty on this planet seemed to go to this cantina, and you could not afford to pay for another set of booths, tables, and liquor you destroyed from obtaining a bounty. They probably did it so they could fund the cantina with your destruction. Even though you so could afford a few broken tables and what not, you did not want to waste your credits on something useless, and potentially destroy the food you plan on eating afterwards.

“Alright, I guess this is going to go one of two ways. And I am eating afterwards, that’s always on the table. No matter how this ends.” You spoke into the setting sun, with no one else accompanying you on your hunts, ever, you always spoke to the sun. Or the moon depending on the time of day. Even though you could technically speak to someone through the force, you did not want to waste any energy in a pointless conversation. You might need it later. The setting sun creates a beautiful picture in front of you, almost making you forget what planet you were on. But the ever-present sand that lingers inside your boots makes you remember where you are.

Stuffing your binoculars and your blaster back in the holster you ran a hand over your concealed dagger and hauled yourself up to make your way to the cantina. You were boiling to say the least, your clothes seemed to be way tighter than normal given the heat, so walking was uncomfortable. But you decided that looking menacing was more useful to you than comfort, so you didn’t pay any mind to the way your thighs were chaffing against each other. Your cloak flowed behind you in the wind as you marched through the tiny village, sticking out like a sore thumb among the people here who mostly wore white and tan clothes to go against the unforgiving sun. Well, they had the right idea, you thought as your black boots hit the sand getting closer to the cantina. Taking a deep breath, you stepped on the platform to open the door.

The doors swung open, allowing your cloak to sway in the wind it created to help make you more intimidating. All heads turned towards you, making you smirk. You knew everyone here knew who you were. Based on the history of the cantina for starters and the fact that you were a ruthless bounty hunter of the guild, you loved being intimidating. You walked slowly, making sure to scan the room before your eyes landed on your bounty, a blue Twi’lek male, and gave him a wink before asking for a drink from the bartender.

The Twi’lek tensed, around what seemed to be, possibly, his group of friends. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe she was not here for me, he thought, maybe she just thought I was attractive, he told himself while looking at his drink before looking up again at her. However, she was no longer in her seat at the bar. Panic written all over his face, he tensed as he slowly scanned the room but found no trace of her. Maybe she left?

“Looking for someone?” Whispered a voice, and before anyone could so much as breathe in response, you pulled your dagger against his throat. The sight of their expressions alone was enough payment. The shock mixed with confusion was enough to make your ego soar. You always dreamed of being this intimidating, and it was far too easy with this bounty and his companions. His friends all tensed around you while you held your dagger hard against their criminal of a friend’s neck. You chuckled.

“Well, here I am, and I hope you plan to come with me willingly. It has been an awfully long day, and all I want is to stuff your ass in carbonite on my ship and eat some fucking soup.” You insisted while the Twi’lek male shuttered and gulped before speaking. The people around you were deathly still while you held your beautiful dagger. So many people have tried to buy it from you in the past, and you don’t blame them. It was made of beskar, which you just recently realized was exceedingly rare, that your father gave you. So, you always held it tightly to you, but it was so good at slicing through flesh you couldn’t keep it hidden like the lightsaber strapped to your back. That was a different type of concealment.

“I-I…I don’t think you h-have the right guy miss…” He stammered causing you to laugh, almost doubling over. You yanked out the tracking fob before pressing it on the table to show that you in fact had the right person. The blue hologram showing the Twi’leks face, reflected off the steel table and created a nice glow in the dimly lit cantina. Some rays of orange peaked through the windows as the two suns continued to set in the distance. If you had the time to sit back and admire the scenery you probably would have liked the colors, but you were too focused on getting this bounty in carbonite.

“Ah, but sir I do in fact have the right person.” You sneered as you continued.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which will it be?” You threatened closely to his ear, before awaiting his response. You pressed the dagger a little harder on his throat to edge him on. Looking at his friends tensing up even more with the sight of blood on their companions’ neck, you almost chuckled on how easily it was to read them. You could read people so easily. Having been on this job for so long it was so simple to read someone’s movement and interpret their next move, their face always gave it away.

“We don’t have all day.” You hissed starting to get eager, and your stomach rumbled along with your voice, so that was something to fight against. Your never-ending hunger.

Before you could register their answer, his friends all stood up from the table weapons in their hands now. Ready to defend their friend, how touching, you thought.

“Well, I guess I will have to take all of you down as well.” You made sure to quickly strap the Twi’lek beneath you in hand cuffs, igniting their magnetic qualities into the table before leaping over it. You intertwined your legs around the first man’s throat, twisting around and knocking them onto the hard ground with a thud. You must have knocked him out since there was no noise upon impact. You stood up quickly, grabbing your dagger and fought off the next man who ran at you. They had a small dagger in their hands and aimed for your side first which you quickly blocked. Taking one of your legs you hooked it around their left knee and pushed them backwards, then taking the dagger in your right hand you cut at their side, not killing them, but leaving them on the ground too weak to get up again. There was one remaining, but they had a blaster aimed at your head. You mentally checked yourself for the minor mistake, not being able to forgive yourself with the ruthless training you had to ever let another person have the upper hand.

“Don’t move! Or will blow your brains out! S-Stand up slowly!” The man boomed, causing you to smirk at his little stutter. Raising your hands in the air, and slowly trying to stand up, making it seem like you were giving in to their efforts.

“Alright, alright. Hang on, let me put my dagger down first. Then we can talk. Okay?” You stammered, slightly out of breath, as you lowered your dagger. However, you concealed your left hand under your cloak, gently wrapping your fingers around your blaster and the trigger. You slowly rose to your feet, hearing nothing as the cantina went quiet. You looked at the man holding the blaster with two hands and slightly shaking. Must be his first rodeo, you thought. You stood up to your full height and stared at him, looking deadly into his unforgiving black eyes.

“Show me your other hand, hunter.” He sneered causing you to chuckle. You quickly brought out your left hand and pulled the trigger before he could even sense something was wrong. It didn’t stop him from shooting his own blaster in shock. You hit him dead in the chest, while his blaster grazed your shoulder. You hissed and covered your shoulder with your hand, pulling it away you saw blood, but the pain was not horrible, so it was not of importance right now.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whispered knowing you were going to leave this planet with yet another scar. You shook it off and turned towards the Twi’lek man who was still trapped at the table with an unforgiving expression upon his face, making you almost forget the pain in your shoulder. It was funny, looking at his shocked expression. It was nothing concerning to you, you knew you could take all his friends and more to get the bounty. Looking around you didn’t cause as much damage as you thought, so you were happy about the low price to replace the table. The bartender, however, was not as pleased, as always.

“You’ll have to pay- “They started.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You snickered and tossed them a few credits before sitting down at the table with the Twi’lek. You felt the confusion rolling off of them in waves, obviously not knowing how to react to a bounty hunter sitting with them after a fight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the friends as well.” You added to the bartender, looking down at the passed out and dead companions of the Twi’lek in front of you. You rested back against the chair and ordered yourself a large soup. Your black clothing seemed to screech as you shuffled along the chair, getting comfortable before relaxing against the cool metal. You liked this part of the job, when everything was taken care of, and you could finally eat some kriffing food. You didn’t need to look to feel the Twi’lek male get impatient at the table.

“Are you kriffing kidding.” The Twi’lek snickered across from you causing you to stop eating momentarily to glare at him. You tilted your head and grinned. You knew how much you could affect people by a single glace, it was so fun seeing how their whole dimeter change in one single look from you, it made you feel possessive and absolutely powerful.

“I’m sorry.” You started, sounding like a sorry schoolgirl as you pouted, obviously a show for the Twi’lek.

“I was starving after waiting for you to leave this stupid cantina. You wouldn’t have to be waiting here if you would have just left this place.” You rolled your eyes and finished your soup before grabbing the cuffs and hauling the Twi’lek to their feet. You took care of his friends by tossing a man at the cantina some credits to take care of it for you. You then left and headed to your ship up and across the sand dunes, to keep yourself hidden from any possible Jawas who wanted to take your parts for themselves.

It was a small ship, but it got the job done. It mostly resembled that of a Razor Crest, slightly smaller but it was perfect for you. The only other person you could think of that had a ship like you was the no other famous Mandalorian…but you had yours first. It had a carbonite chamber, a fresher, a cockpit, and your own bunk. It really is only meant for one person so its tight, but it’s home.

You listened to the Twi’lek trying to persuade you to let him go by bribing you with money, a passage somewhere, a good time, boring boring boring. You’ve heard it all before with countless bounties. They all never wanted to suffer the consequences of their actions yet failed to think about it when they pursued their crime.

“You should have thought about that before you broke the law.” You said before pushing him into the carbonite chamber. You sighed of relief, now having the freedom to take care of your wound and to have some kriffing peace and quiet. You pulled out your med pack before applying a bacta strip to the wound, you instantly felt the cooling of the bacta and the wound healing once it was tightly wrapped. You relaxed and made your way up to the cockpit to set the destination for Nevaro. After piloting out of the atmosphere, you sat down comfortably and punched in the coordinates and took in the sight of lightspeed. It would be a few hours yet, so you dozed off to get a few hours of shut eye. Maker knows you deserved it at least.

…

“No! Please, please don’t take them!”

“Quiet girl, or we’ll shoot them all.”

“My Moon, please listen to them.”

Darkness. Always darkness.

A scream.

…

Bolting awake with a gasp and a hand over your chest, you panted before realizing that it was a dream. The stars in hyperspace still danced around you as you tried to understand what happened. Oh, how you wished that your fathers’ arms were around you to comfort you as you shivered from the nightmare. He always came to you when you needed help, especially with the force. Your other siblings did not know you had this ability, only him. Since he too, had this same ability. He taught you how to wield a sword, how to fight against your enemies, and how to wield the light side of the force. Even though you knew you were using it for the dark side. But you would never admit that to yourself. You knew you only used the force when you needed to. When you needed to choke someone, when you needed to defeat someone, when your emotions were the influencer of the act. You knew that was the dark side, but you did not know how to use the force any differently. Eventually, you accepted the fact that you neither were on the light or dark side of the force, and you were not a Jedi.

“A nightmare.” You muttered, realizing this was nothing new. You gained your bearings before sinking back down into your seat with a slight groan. You were sweating as you calmed down trying to get lost in the scene of hyperspace in front of you as you did before all of this happened. Soon your heartbeat went back to normal and you sighed, running a hand through your hair. These nightmares kept happening. The same one, repeatedly inside your head, you couldn’t remember the last time you had an actual dream, something that was at least comforting even if you didn’t dream at all, it would be nicer than whatever was being created in your mind. You turned to the control panel and read that Nevaro was only a few more minutes away. You decided to jump out of hyperspace and stare down at the grey planet. It was littered with red streaks from the red lava that seeped from it. The planet was semi comfortable. You didn’t feel necessarily safe on it, but it was better than Tatooine that’s for sure.

“Well, at least I slept.” You muttered while cracking your back. It might not have been the best sleep, but you felt a little more rested than before. Your mussels ached from attacking the quarry and his friends, but you didn’t mind the ache at all. The pain in your shoulder was almost down to a dull ache as well when you shifted, testing the waters as you rotated your arm. Afterwards, you guided your ship down into the planet before landing in front of the town Greef was to be in. You shook your head and anticipated the people you might see here. The Mandalorian was one of them, and you did not have the patience to meet with him today or have any kind of interaction whatsoever, you did not like him, or it. Whatever it was hiding under the beskar helmet.

Leaping down from the latter to the hull of your ship, you grabbed anything necessary, like your blaster, dagger, and double checking to make sure your lightsaber was still strapped behind your back before opening the hanger of the ship.

The awful smell of the planet flooded your nose and made you squint to adjust to it. You’ve been here multiple times, but the smell of lava always struck you like you were new here. Gods, you really hated every planet, didn’t you? You shook your head before heading down the ramp and towards the town.

It was bustling with life, like it always was. It was curious to you, since this town operated the most advanced hunter’s guild you’ve ever known, yet the townsfolk had yet to realize this. Heads turned as you strutted through the town. It was normal for you to get a few glances, but the last few times you have had many stares your way. Possibly envy, but you honestly did not mind one bit. Let them stare, you whispered in your mind. Feeling the jealously from every person through the force was almost intoxicating when you reached yet, another cantina. You slightly groaned.

“What is it with the guild and cantinas? I do not understand the importance of meeting here.” You snickered before adjusting your clothing and heading inside. It was like everyone you knew in the guild was present in this cantina at the same time. You scanned the room, trying to understand the significance of everyone’s presence, yet you always came to the same conclusion when the possibilities ran through your mind. They are here because of you.

“There she is!” Shouted Greef Karga from the booth you were to meet him at. You could feel the tension in the room on your shoulders it was almost suffocating. Walking over to the booth everyone watched you, glaring. Interesting, this never usually happens to this extent, you thought. Must be something important.

“Greef.” You responded, nodding once as you sat down across from him in the booth. Reaching for your pack you pulled out the fob. Placing it on the table in front of Karga, he grinned widely. If you didn’t know him, you would have taken that grin as unsettling. Maybe this time it was.

“Ha! That’s my girl! I always can count on you for difficult bounties. I’ll send my team to go get the carbonite from your ship now.” He praised while taking the fob, ushering to his men to take care of the bounty on your ship while placing a pack of credits for you on the table. Only taking a glance at it before stuffing it away, you looked around again when everyone seemed to snicker and go back to what they were previously doing. Frowning you looked back at him, a grin still plastered on his face.

“It actually wasn’t difficult at all. Are you sure you’re thinking of the right one?” You answered slightly confused. You didn’t think this was a hard bounty in the slightest, you’ve had plenty of past jobs that were more difficult than this one. Maybe it was the higher price? Was it supposed to be difficult? You tilted your head at him your eyebrow raising, after hearing Karga boom out a laugh.

“Of course! How could I forget my favorite bounty hunters’ job?” He added causing you to shift in your seat. Straightening your back to make yourself feel bigger than he was, trying to gain the upper hand in this conversation again. You didn’t like where this conversation was going. The feeling of it was just…off. He never praised you this much.

“Well- one of my favorites at least.” He added slowly, winking at you in the process. You snorted shaking your head. You knew who he was talking about, and he knew it got under your skin.

“What the Mandalorian? Please, I could take all of his bounties times ten.” You said rather harshly, feeling the anger boiling in your chest. You hated that the Mandalorian was as good as you, maybe a little better…slightly. It was the stupid beskar helmet he wore, you assured yourself. Karga only chuckled slightly, probably having felt your rising anger.

“Hey, I am not doubting your abilities as a hunter. I can have more than one friend in the guild, can’t I?” He said almost too calmly for your liking. Feeling his energy in waves, he was…excited for something. His excitement felt like that of a child getting a new toy.

“What is this? What is going on? And why is every single guild member in here?” You snapped back at him tilting slightly forward in your seat to intimidate Karga. He was a decent man, but he was not your friend, and you didn’t trust anyone. Not in this business. Karga sighed heavily as he sank back into his seat. He opened his mouth to speak but then suddenly the energy in the room shifted drastically, similar to how it was when you walked into the cantina.

Hearing the door slide open, you and everyone else in the cantina turned towards it. The light was blinding momentarily before the silhouette of the Mandalorian was as clear as day as he walked slowly, so slowly down the stairs into the cantina. The ring of his boots could be heard bouncing off the walls as he scanned the room, like a predator stalking their prey. You could feel the hotness of the cantina grow as everyone’s energy shifted and turned as he walked. He made your lungs burn with how easily he could change the atmosphere of the room. Your nostrils were flaring as he made his way to your booth. I should have known, you said to yourself as you turned back around. Not giving him the pleasure of your gaze as he stood at the table.

“Mando! How nice of you to join us finally. Please sit!” Karga started as he held his hand out to the Mandalorian. Which he did not take, only nodding once. Such a signature move, you scoffed in your head. His helmet slowly turned towards you, his dark visor felt like it was digging a hole in your head as you stubbornly did not look up at him.

“I would but it seems as though there is someone in my way.” His dark voice echoed through the still silent cantina. Your glare slowly racked up his slightly beat-up red armor to the black visor of his shiny beskar helmet. If you were going to be honest, the Mandalorian was built like a kriffing monument, he was something else. He was strong, and he knew it. It gave him this type of strut in his walk, that you were kind of digging and hating at the same time. Giving him a small smirk, you stood up slowly. Extending your arm out to the booth.

“You go ahead and sit on the inside. Since I was here first.” You sneered up at him his helmet tilted down to you, his body caging you in trying to intimidate you. You’re sure it would have worked on others; it did not scare you. You knew that bounty hunters rarely ever sat caged inside of a booth, it made you vulnerable. Which is why you didn’t hesitate to jump on the opportunity to get under his skin.

He knew you despised him, but it didn’t bother him as much since he was not too fond of you either. When you first joined the guild, he thought he would never see you again after the day Karga announced you as a new member. Slowly, you started to gain the upper hand in both the ranks and in respect amongst the guild members. The unspoken competition ever since then had been deafening to him, he had to be better than you of all people, a fierce woman. However, the Mandalorian knew you were strong. You held your own and he, liked it.

He slowly moved to the booth, making sure to keep his visor on you as he sat down and moved to the inside. Allowing you to sit down finally once he was settled. You let out the air you were holding into a sigh, trying not to make it a groan of annoyance, you did not want to give the Mandalorian that type of satisfaction. The air in the cantina slowly settled down and went back to its previous state, now that the two deadliest bounty hunters were sitting down. Karga looked between the two of you beaming. He has something up his sleeve, you could feel it, and you did not like it.

“Mando, you got here a little earlier than I expected. I was going to break the plan to both of you separately before. Nevertheless, I have a job, and I want both of you to work together to obtain it.” You and the Mandalorian stilled in your seat, snapping your heads over to him. Was he serious? The grin that was stapled to his face said everything you needed to hear, of course he was serious.

“What?!” You and the Mandalorian screamed simultaneously, sounding like a blaster shot bouncing off the walls. No absolutely not, you heard a voice echo through the force. You knew who it was.

“I would rather take a Hutt to work with over her.” Mando interjected. The force was screaming at you. You felt every wave of anger, confusion, tension…and something else from the Mandalorian you could not make out. But it was hurting your head. Groaning, you turned and squinted towards the visor, hoping you were making direct eye contact under the black abyss.

“Oh please, like you’re some prize to work with as well. I have to trust you without looking into your real eyes. Who knows, maybe you’re some stupid looking droid under that shiny beskar.” You stabbed back, causing him to stand up abruptly. You stood with him a hand immediately going for your dagger.

“My friends! My friends, please sit. I have yet to discuss the terms. And besides, this job is the most difficult and high rewarding I have ever gotten! That should be enough to get you through this.” He added to hopefully ease some of the tension. You waited for Mando to sit down first, wanting to have the final jab in your little conversation as you sank back down into your seat, never taking your eyes off of him until Karga broke the silence.

“It is a group of people. Not just one bounty, but a whole gang. They’ve been plundering towns and stealing women ever since the Empire fell.” You tensed at the last part looking down at the table. You knew all too well what happens to women when they get stolen like that, from their own homes. You felt your chest tighten slowly so you closed your eyes trying not to let your emotions seep through them. The Mandalorian would probably use that against you later if he saw you.

The Mandalorian turned to you once your head turned down towards the table. His eyebrows knitted together, wondering why you were so distressed. You’re a bounty hunter, killing people is your job. He blinked a few times before looking back at Karga, so you wouldn’t see him looking at you once your eyes looked back up. You would probably use that against him later if you caught him staring. Karga continued.

“I couldn’t send just one of you to obtain them. With you being a woman,” Karga tilted his head towards you, “and you having beskar,” he tilts towards the Mandalorian, “It would be too much of a risk. So, the solution is to send both of my best bounty hunters on the job to watch each other’s backs and split the high reward.” He concluded.

You hated that it made sense. You could feel the Mandalorian coming to that same conclusion. You were both silent not wanting to be the first one to speak up.

“The asking price on their heads are 200,000 credits for the whole gang.” He smirked. Your eyes widened and you saw the Mandalorians back straighten. That’s, that’s a lot of credits. Even splitting it between the Mandalorian, it was enough to buy fuel for at least six months. It would hold you over with rations for at least a full cycle, and maybe even enough left over to get some new updates to your ship. Maybe this wasn’t too terrible.

“Where is this job?” Mando spoke as you felt the deep baritone rumble across your chest.

“Their gang has been hiding out in the Outer Rim ever since the Empire fell. Their last known sighting was on the planet Voss.” Karga answers making you huff.

Voss was an interesting planet. You’ve only been there a few times, but it was always…well all you can really say is don’t get mixed up with the wrong people. There were only two cultures present on the rocky planet. The first type of people known as the Gormak people, who are highly xenophobic and violent to visitors. Unfortunately, they make up most of the planets’ population, hence why you lean with caution, you always got hung up with those type of people. The other, lesser-populated culture on the planet, were called The Voss, hence where the planet gets its name. The Voss people welcome visitors to their mountain city called Voss-Ka which is located on an isolated island to stray away from the rather violent Gormak people. You have yet to visit there, but you’ve heard its quite beautiful. However, you knew of a certain area on that planet called The Nightmare Lands, that even the Gormak people don’t dare to go to. Hopefully, your bounties won’t either. These people, The Voss, are highly ritualistic you’ve heard, and they have an unusual capability with the Force. You know of some lost Jedi and Sith temples that have been spotted scattered across the vast planet. You hope that visiting here with the Mandalorian won’t give anything away about your gift with the Force as well.

“Where was the gang last seen on Voss? I hope we don’t run into the Gormak people there; they suck.” You chimed in causing Karga to chuckle slightly. You caught a glimpse of the Mandalorians head tilt slightly towards your direction. You felt the curiosity roll off of him in waves. He wondered why you ever went to the Outer Rim to obtain bounties, usually those places are lost causes and too dangerous. He felt slightly jealous that you knew of the place Karga was talking about, giving you an advantage over him.

“They were last seen in the city of Voss-Ka, but they were traveling out of it. They most likely went to a small village on the mainland instead of the island where Voss-Ka is. They thrive off of these small towns, so I am guessing they’ll be somewhere in that area.” Karga claimed making you sigh shaking your head.

“Tracking fobs?” Mando piped in. Karga took out one tracking fob causing you to frown. Why is there only one if it’s a whole gang? You thought to yourself. Your eyes looked over to the Mandalorian. Gods, you wish you could see how he was reacting under that stupid helmet. Reading people was second nature to you, maybe that’s why you were always so frustrated with the Mandalorian all the time. Thanking the Maker that you had the Force, you felt the conflict around him though and the uneasiness of the whole situation. Whether that be because he had to work alongside you or just the fact that there was one tracking fob, and not much of a lead on their actual whereabouts.

“There is only one tracking fob. But this gang always stays together, so where one is, they all will be.” You nodded along to his words as you and the Mandalorian both reached for the fob at the same time.

“Excuse me, but I think I’ll hold onto this.” You claimed while snatching it from the table, but in a flash the Mandalorian gripped your wrist. The leather of his gloves made the skin along your wrist sting slightly causing you to suck a breath in.

“I think I was the one who asked for it.” He grumbled taking it from your hand and stuffed it into his pack not allowing room for a peep of protest from you. Groaning you pulled your wrist from his death grip and rolled your sleeve back over the exposed skin.

“This should be fun.” You mumbled under your breath.

“So, it’s settled then?” Karga announces grinning, obviously ecstatic over the whole ordeal. Rolling your eyes and hearing the Mandalorian sigh you nodded.

“Yes, I believe so.” You claimed as you stood up from the booth waiting for the Mandalorian to follow your lead. You didn’t want to stay with a rather excited Karga longer than you had to and you needed to get out of this stupid cantina. Mando eventually got up and out of the inside of the booth. You both glanced at each other momentarily before turning away again. The Mandalorian already started walking away thankfully so all you had to see was his back and not the darkness of his visor. You rolled your eyes again and walked after him when he said nothing.

“I will see you when you get back. Good luck!” Karga shouted when you and Mando got to the door. Both of you nodded at the same time before walking out of the cantina. The air was crisp and didn’t smell of liquor anymore, much to your liking. You wondered if Mando could smell anything under the helmet, or if it took out smells he didn’t like. You caught up to walk next to Mando and fell into step with him. He had such a large stride it felt like you were jogging next to him, you hoped you didn’t look like an idiot. Looking down at his belt you almost snatched the stupid tracking fob from it. You decided against it though. Seeing that you two were to be partners for this job, you might as well try to not get on his bad side. Even though it was really fun to do.

“We’re taking separate ships.” Mando said slowly as you two walked out of the town where both of your ships were parked.

“Perfect, I didn’t want to be stuck on your ship anyways. It probably stinks.” You chuckled to yourself seeing him shake his head and sigh. He turned towards you as you both got to your ships, stopping for a minute. He looked down at you for a moment then back at your face as if he were studying you.

“What happened to your arm?” He asked suddenly making you frown.

“What?”

“The cloth is missing from your shoulder.” He says rather coldly. You looked down at your shoulder and mentally slapped yourself for not putting on another shirt when you got here.

“Oh, a bounty shot me in the shoulder today. No big deal I shot him in the chest.” You say rather bluntly. You looked back up at his visor, waiting for a response that obviously was not going to come. He only nodded and turned towards his ship, the Razor Crest. It was a piece of junk. Whenever you had the chance to look at it there was always something wrong with it, and not to mention the chipped paint that he seemed to just never fully get rid of. You didn’t know how he could operate something that big, you preferred a small ship to maneuver around more easily.

“I’m guessing the trip to Voss will take a few hours, most likely a night’s trip. I’ll see you when you get there. I’ll send you my com link before we take off.” Mando spoke on the ramp of his ship. You nodded as you walked up to your ship, heading inside once the ramp was down for you. After closing your ramp, you headed up to the cockpit, waiting for the com link Mando was sending you. Mando put all of his guns back into his armory and made his way up the ladder to the cockpit. Sitting in the pilots seat he secured a communication line for the two of you to use. He hesitated to press the button and send it to you, he doesn’t know exactly why though, there were a few reasons. For some odd reason he trusted you more than anyone in the guild because he knew that you were an honest hunter. He shook himself out of his thoughts and flipped the switch to send you the com link. After hearing the familiar beep, you pressed it.

“I got it. I’ll keep it saved as a safe line but I’m going to stay on mute until we get there.” You said rather quickly into the com, you did not want to make small talk right now. All you wanted was to get to hyperspace and sleep for a little while. You didn’t wait for his response before pressing the mute button and sinking comfortably in your seat.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian story #mando x reader #mandalorian x jedi #mandalorian x hunter #din djarin #story #slow burn #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #lightsaber

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 4 years ago

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To never being parted - Part 2 Chap 4 - The Birthday Party

This is the Chapter 4 of the mini sequel to my flower cards inspired Kitty Fan Fic “Am I Forgotten?”

AO3 Link here.

****

As it turned out, Jace absolutely loved his surprise. He jumped in the pop-out cake to hug Kit, who pushed him away, and they ended up rolling and wrestling amidst the vanilla buttercream, with a crowd of onlookers cheering. The most enthusiastic was Mina, who shrieked with delight during the entire fight.

They both had to change after that, which was a relief. Tessa had to hastily recover Kit’s dress from Mina, who had undertaken to lick the fabric drenched in vanilla frosting.

The party was as decadent as any party organized by Magnus Bane could be. Dark blue velvet banners hung from the ceiling, stitched with the design of stars which seemed to shine, as if the guests were standing under the night sky. Candles glowed from every surface. Magnus had magicked up a small playground for the kids in one corner of the room, far from the chocolate fountains.

Kit carried Mina around on his shoulders for two solid hours before she finally asked him to put him down. When he did, she whispered in his ear. “When I am older, I am going to marry that tall and handsome Centurion bodyguard who has been following us everywhere… He takes such good care of my big brother.” Kit felt all the blood drain from his face.

****

The dinner table was covered with food from all around the world but Kit settled for a burger. He noticed that Julian had made the same choice although he saw him slip his lettuce to King Kieran, who had decided to make an appearance for Jace’s birthday party. He was seated between Mark and Cristina, and both were trying to get him to taste Mexican food. He shot Julian a grateful look.

“So, has Ty been sleeping in front of your bedroom, as he used to in Los Angeles? That was so cute!” Cristina asked Kit, in a cheerful voice.

“Of course not”, Kit replied. “He is absolutely welcome to my bed now.”

Everyone around the table froze before turning to look at him. Shit. Did he say that out loud?

Kit moved his gaze towards the only person whose opinion mattered in the case.

Ty, who was seated next to Dru and Jaime Rosales, was staring at him open-mouthed, his cheeks flushed. Oh well, thought Kit. I am not taking it back anyway. If I said I was joking, Ty would take it literally. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?

Kit shrugged and went back to eating his burger.

****

After dinner, there was a cluster of girls around Lily Chen, who was seated on a chair flaunting the Hot Shadowhunters calendar, as if it was the best book of the year.

She had decided to publish a first edition, as an experiment, in an attempt to boost the Clave’s revenues. Alec had been reluctant at first, but even he couldn’t deny the incredible success of the calendar after only a few weeks of sales. It had been sold to both Shadowhunters and Downworlders, entire stalls being dedicated to it in several Shadow Markets around the world.

King Kieran himself had bought several to add to his collection which included kitten and mundane firefighters calendars.

“So, of course we have Jace for the month of January. That one - and Mark Blackthorn’s - were the easiest pictures to obtain,” Lily explained as she enthralled her audience by flipping through the pages of the calendar.

On the front page, Jace was almost entirely naked, a well positioned sword covering his most intimate parts. Mark was just as barely dressed, poetically covered in roses and thorns.

“I had to negotiate with Magnus for Alec’s picture but as it turns out, I am quite happy with what he provided.” Magnus winked. In the picture, Alec was half naked, his muscles flexed as he was pulling an arrow to his bow. His skin was covered with black marks which stood in stark contrast with his white skin.

“Here we have Jem. Although he is officially retired from the Clave, we couldn’t do this without him. He is much too popular with the Shadow Markets’ crowd. He is only half naked of course, but compared to what people used to see of him when he was a Silent Brother, this looks like porn.” Most of the girls giggled.

“This is Simon, it was easy enough to obtain a picture of him. I just had to offer him a limited edition of a light-saver…”

“A lightsaber,” Isabelle corrected.

“Whatever. The most difficult one to obtain was Julian Blackthorn’s, of course,” Lily continued. “I had to hire a professional photographer…”

“You mean a paparazzi,” Emma interrupted.

“Emma almost broke his arm…”

“He was lurking behind a rock, taking pictures of Julian while he was surfing…”

“But apparently you both found an arrangement.”

Emma stared off into space. “He does have talent. He took amazing pictures of Julian on his surfboard… I made an album of them. He’s going to be our wedding’s photographer. Free of charge.”

“That’s my girl,” Julian said, raising his hand for a high five, though not moving his gaze from Tavvy.

Lily turned to Kit and Ty, then, pointing two fingers at her eyes and at them. “Now that you have come of age, I have got my eyes on you boys.”

Ty looked terrified but Kit only shrugged.

****

Kit danced with a lot of people. Mina, mostly, but also Clary, Isabelle, Emma, Dru, Aline and even Lily, who kept giving him a variety of nicknames. Mostly food-related. When he waltzed with Tessa, everyone stopped to observe their graceful twirls, and they were given a round of applause. Kit had to admit he was quite smug about it. Not a single dance with Ty though, who had mostly been hiding in a corner with his headphones on, his arms crossed, though a friend of Dru’s kept talking animatedly to him. He didn’t seem to notice.

After a dozen dances, Kit was exhausted and parched. As he moved towards the buffet to get something to drink, Emma and Cristina appeared out of nowhere to stand in his path, their faces alight with excitement. Kit had noticed that when Emma was not glued to Julian’s side, she was always running around with Cristina and Mark, like an iconic trio of besties.

“Welcome to the club,” they said in unison. Had they rehearsed that?

“What club?”

“The club of fearless warriors who decided to take the hazardous path of dating Blackthorn men,” Emma replied with an ominous voice.

“One word of advice,” Cristina said. “Get as much sleep as you can, while you can.”

“What?” Kit was puzzled.

“Hmmm, how to explain…” Emma put one finger on her mouth, her expression thoughtful. “Have you ever wondered why there are so many of them?”

“The Blackthorns you mean? Er- because they like kids?” Kit answered.

“True enough,” Emma replied, winking at him.

“What else is there?” Kit asked, as he had the feeling he was missing something.

Emma and Cristina burst into fits of laughter, clutching each other for support.

Kit shrugged and considered it as his cue to leave. Ty had already left the party an hour ago and Kit was wondering whether he should stop by his room to watch him sleep. Just a little peek. Ok, no, that was creepy.

As he was heading towards the door to leave the party inconspicuously, Kit was stopped mid-flight by a hand grasping his shoulder.

“Not so fast, Kit Herondale.”

Kit turned to meet Julian’s blue-green eyes. He was a different version of the Julian he had known.

The shape of his face was sharper, his features more chiseled and his luscious Blackthorn waves longer. There were no longer circles under his eyes and Kit had noticed that he had stopped biting his fingernails. He seemed happier, more rested. Almost… glowing.

Kit had to admit he was stunning. But I am already head over heels in love with his brother, Kit was reminded.

According to Jace, Julian had been a close and trusted advisor of Alec for the past few years, the Consul relying on him for war strategy and delicate political matters.

During the time he had spent in Los Angeles, Kit had witnessed how dangerous Julian’s sharp mind could be when he decided to use it. How deadly. And that was tired, restless Julian. Glowing Julian… their enemies would never know what had hit them.

Julian’s gaze moved to Kit’s chest, where the Blackthorn locket was resting.

“I see that Ty has given you his and Livvy’s pendant. I trust that you know what this means.”

His blue-green eyes were now boring into Kit’s, and Kit could not help but feel exposed, as if Julian was not looking into his eyes but straight into his head, accessing his mind.

“I do. This is it, for Ty. I am it . First and last. There won’t ever be anyone else for him.”

“What about you?” Julian’s gaze was still burning holes through Kit’s eyes.

Kit sighed. “You know what they say. Herondales love but once.”

“And you just realized that, where you are concerned, this is true?”

“No, Julian. I had already realized that three years ago.”

Kit turned to move, but Julian caught him by the arm.

“You already know what I am going to say next, don’t you?”

“Julian, I have witnessed what you were capable of in order to protect your family. I’d rather be facing the nine Princes of Hell.”

“Good,” was all Julian said, letting him go.

****

Tagging @darkkitai

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siennahrobek · 4 years ago

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Obi-Wan could smell it before he even thought of lowering his shields enough to feel it. It is the tangy and coppery smell of blood. The Temple is drenched in it and even though it no longer flows, he can nearly see it flowing down the columns and steps, once beautiful and magnificent. Once home. There is fire and blood, smoke that fills his lungs until he feels he can no longer breathe.

There are corpses everywhere he turns, he cannot escape the sight. The clones had not done anything with the bodies, they had just shot elderly, sick, teachers, children and younglings, in the back and moved on to shoot another and another and another. His stomach was rolling in continuous waves and his feelings are nothing but nauseous.

He has seen many battles, many fields strewn with bodies of both the enemy and the innocent. Has seen his own men across these fields, fighting to protect those who cared very little for them. Fighting and dying in defense of the innocence on the planet they happened to be on, shielding them from mortars and blaster fire. Countless shot, blasted, crushed, ripped apart, fallen. There are few horrors he has not seen and witnessed.

But it has been many years since he last witnessed a place so soaked with the demise of so many children. But this time, this time, there is no one left to keep on.

Obi-Wan is drifting. Drifting through the halls, an aimless and futile search for survivors. The clones are good at what they do, battle and war. They carry their orders well. They do not leave survivors. They never left a single droid unbroken and operational on the countless battles he has fought alongside them with. He does not understand. He thinks he never will.

It does not escape his eye, however, that some bodies did not sport the death wounds of blaster shots. Many had been beheaded or relieved of any number of limbs. The cauterized wounds a lightsaber makes.

Someone led the troopers into the Temple, someone they trust and someone the younglings thought they could trust.

A jedi.

There was yet, another traitor.

Obi-Wan travels deeper and deeper, letting his feelings guide him. There is nothing left, he finds, only the feelings of horror and betrayal lingering. The oppressing cold of the dark side. It screamed at him, a mournful wail. Perhaps it is suitable, he thinks, if he died here, if he wandered so deep, became so lost, he could not return. The thought it almost appealing, he thinks, because this must be what his destiny is. Something so lonely and terrible that only he would survive it, because, in the end, for some reason he cannot fathom, he is the one who continues to stand, continues to survive. He is nearly to his knees, leaning against a cold stone wall when he hears it and in the beginning, he is not entirely sure that it is not his brain playing tricks upon him. Because if the sound is true and real, nothing would be the same. A hushed sound brings him back to his senses and he reaches out, hesitantly, carefully. Something reaches back. That sound changes his life.

There are survivors. A gaggle of children huddling behind a clone with askew armor and a lightning scar over his head. A tiny horned head pops over the top of it, little hands gripping the armor and eyes wide with curiosity. The clone went to cover it but upon the younglings cry of joy at the sight of the jedi master, his shoulders roll and with the motion, so does the tension. He somehow expects a battle, an enemy. Obi-Wan can relate.

Firework, the trooper supplies. Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize him and the clone barely knows who Obi-Wan is either. As the younglings cry and try to grab hold of the jedi they know, Firework spill out. He does not understand what is happening. He knows about as much as Obi-Wan does. He does not understand why his brother have done something so awful, so cruel, so out of character.

He thinks something must be wrong. Obi-Wan isn’t sure he can think about it right now, so he does not. He just stares at what is left, down at the bodies that are wriggling to get close to his presence, as if he can offer them some amount of safety. He is uncertain what he is able to offer. Out of ten thousand, it is not much, but it is something. It is everything.

It is hope.

He leads them to the communications and information hub for answers, for something else. He contacts Bail Organa on the way, his only known ally, and requests for a bigger ship. They have more cargo to smuggle now. The senator seemed relieved at the prospect. Firewok glances at him, cautiously. He doesn’t know who to trust, especially when it comes to the government, to the senate. Obi-Wan can relate.

He relays a message to any surviving jedi to not return to the Temple.

The darkness and tyranny has risen, the Republic, fallen.

That time is gone and passed. A future that is uncertain, no longer safe.

There will be challenges, trust, faith, friendships.

There will be a new hope, he assures.

He really does not know who he is trying to convince. The children listen, quiet and attentive but once he is done, all of the questions bombard him. What is happening Master Kenobi? Where will we go? Why are our loved ones dead? Why are our loved ones killing us?

He does not have the answers for them.

Instead, he directs Firework to lead the children out of the Temple, sneakily and quietly and away, as Bail’s awaiting ship approaches to take them far from this place. He tells him there is something, one other thing, he must do, and he will catch up for certain. There are security tapes near everywhere and he has accessed them. He must know.

“It will only bring you pain,” a voice, a little Tholothian youngling, declares, her voice mournful and sympathetic, but it is too late. The recording plays and his heart twists, his chest lumps together and he can no longer breathe. Because, of course, he knows that face. He knows that face, but he does not recognize those eyes. Those yellow eyes.

Anakin.

He doesn’t refute it. Not with a youngling around. Not when she witnessed the horror. Who is he to question her trauma, just because he does not want to believe it? Perhaps, if she had not been there, he would have muttered denials. Because it seemed impossible. Anakin was capable of a great many things, but he never would have thought that he would slaughter children. Not this.

He doesn’t say anything else on the matter. He just stares as his beloved apprentice, his beloved brother, kneels at the feet of a Sith Lord, declaring himself and pledging himself to the Master. Anakin was always so concerned about becoming a slave to anything, Obi-Wan supposed the young one hadn’t realized he had just walked into it willingly. “You must go with the others,” he says instead, his voice cracking and somehow, it has become hoarse. Unusual, considering he has not been screaming or crying or even talking that much as of late.

“You must come with me,” she replies instead.

“There is someone I must warn,” he counters, the words coming out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. Somehow, he knows who he must warn but he wants nothing to do with it, not really. She will not believe him.

“You can call her,” she adds, patiently. He wonders if she knows who he is thinking of. She almost acts as though she does and perhaps it is true. They had never been one for subtly. Anyone could know rather easily. “There is no one else we can trust. Please.”

He nods but his mind is full. How can he not? “I apologize for my inadequate behavior,” he says in express regret, tone quiet and subdued. She takes his hand, curling her fingers around his larger one, and starts to lead him away from the recording, playing on a loop. It will stop automatically in a few minutes; he realizes but he cannot summon the strength to turn it off. He can hear a few sounds, but little else from it. “I do not know what I am thinking.”

“It is okay,” she assures, squeezing his hand, gently. The touch grounds him, brings him back to the present. He is tired, he knows, but not enough to cease action, not enough to stop moving forward. “But you survived. You are everyone’s best hope to survive too,” she points out, shuffling closer to his side. “Our only hope. Help us.”

“I have survived,” he agrees, although his voice is rather bland. He isn’t sure exactly what she is saying he has survived. It could be any number of things. Conflict, war, pain, death. He still wonders why him, out of all people, all beings, that keeps surviving these things. But then again, he does know, doesn’t he?

Infinite sadness, a nonexistent wind whispers.

Right, he thinks. He hadn’t lost everything yet. He has not yet become a near powerless, lonely old man in the desert.

Life had more to take.

Firework had been on the verge of absolute panic upon discovering the youngling’s absence when they got to the docked ship. All of them were aboard and he appeared ready to dive back into the horror scene that was once their home. Obi-Wan nearly could swear the clone nearly fainted in his relieved sigh when he saw the two of them, hand in hand, approach the ship. Bail had a rather large air craft waiting for them to rendezvous with. No one knew what would happen know and they looked to Obi-Wan for answers.

How could he tell them that he didn’t have any? Not one?

Obi-Wan, after getting the children to sleep, called Padme. It isn’t a pleasant conversation, and it drags out, no matter how many times he tries to excuse himself. She has questions. And once again, he does not have answers. He warns her of Anakin, of what he has done and what he could do. She does not believe him. But there is something there that she does know, he just can’t read it through the call. He lacks surprise at her disbelief, she is even more blind to Anakin’s faults than he is, apparently.

But Obi-Wan knows the truth. He just cannot convince her of it. He suggests she get help, a lot and fast, if she wants to survive her pregnancy – the jedi cannot help her now. This she is surprised by although Obi-Wan doesn’t know which part. Is she surprised that he knows about her pregnancy, or did she not believe the jedi would have helped her? It does very little to matter.

They are gone.

He musters all his sympathy.

But everything falls away when a little mirialan youngling comes to him for comfort. The child is scared and unsure and does not want to frighten anyone else with his own fear. He wants to be strong for them, to help Obi-Wan and Firework in what way he can. He tells Obi-Wan this, staring up at him with dark eyes, green skin flush but determined and steadfast. Obi-Wan just stares, his eyes and gaze softening; everything about him tempering. Because at this point, he has no lost everything, not as of yet. He still has something to hold onto, something to live for, to love and cherish and protect. And he will, the jedi vows.

Obi-Wan’s resolve strengthens to near nothing he has felt before. It is invigorating somehow. His arms lose the ache of use to hold the child to his chest with warmth coursing through the surface of his skin. His heart intensifies, beating in time with the youngling’s own. He feels it, so does the child. They stare. The soreness in his legs cease significantly, as the will to lift him up continues to rise. He no longer feels the need to collapse, his legs no longer feel like they will collapse underneath him, unable to support his weight. Because now, he can support the weight of them all. He will continue

He will continue until he has nothing left. Until his bones crack and shatter, until he can physically no longer stand or sit or go gone. Until his heart gives out and his mind can take no more. Until he can no longer see with his eyes, see with his senses, see at all. Until he can no longer smell or taste or touch. Until he can no longer sense, danger, the force, the love and care that they have for him, and he has for them. Until his memory is long gone, and he cannot remember even how to breathe. Until he can no longer teach and protect and love. And then he will continue, beyond, still.

None of it mattered because he will continue, always, consistently, never with falter. There will be no giving up. If only for them. His love is not finite, and they will know it, he vows.

Somehow, someway, they end up in the medical facilities on Polis Massa as if they are meant to be there. Perhaps it was the senator’s droids that contact them, maybe it was the will of the force guiding them, perhaps it was even just plain coincidence. He does not know. But standing over her, surrounded by jedi survivors, jedi children, trying to keep her from dying, while holding her two bundles of light, he does not remember how they got here. And of course, as it all comes to be, he does not care much either.

They are beautiful.

And his jedi children, his strong and incredible jedi survivors, were trying so hard to keep Padme alive. They pull and pull, no matter how much she tries to withdraw. Obi-Wan does not know what she saw or what happened when she went after Anakin and confronted him, in any capacity. He cannot imagine that it had been good or productive, especially considering the state she is in and her lover’s absence. But she could not be so selfish to give up her life because of him, because of one man that gave up everything else in hatred and power, not when she had two innocent babies that needed her. He would not let her. She may not have cared for the genocide and murder of his people and his children, but Luke and Leia are two that are hers.

In the end, they do keep her alive but do not know when she will awaken. The doctors say she is exhausted and weak and needs a lot of time to regain her strength, if she is even capable of it at all. Obi-Wan nearly wonders why, a little, because how can she be so exhausted and weak, so ready to give up when she knows, when she knows that she has children depending on her. But, in the end, he supposes, it does not matter. What is done is done.

He gathers up his gaggle of younglings in his arms and praises them for their good work. He tells them how good jedi they are, and he is infinitely proud. He will always be infinitely proud. They beam and love and he just wants to bask in their light forever. After everything they had been through, the intense horror of their people’s genocide, they are still so light, so strong and so remarkable.

They are amazing.

Bail himself eventually makes his way to them soon after. From then on, it is just them who does most of the planning. Bail seems to be the Jedi’s nearly only ally as of currently, at this point. The war had done a number on them, the propaganda, even more so. But it is the new emperor’s statements and rise that really seals the jedi’s fate once and for all, at least, for now. They believe him, somehow. They all believe that the jedi are traitors, that they are evil, power hungry monsters. That their children deserved to be slaughtered in their beds. Never before has Obi-Wan wanted to truly commit to a move of sai tok on a person.

Ideas are bounced off between the two of them, as they search, as they plan. One thing is for sure – the Empire cannot continue to stand. They talk about what is next for them, for Obi-Wan and the younglings. Bail offers to take Padme, to their healers and doctors so she can rest and heal. For now, he can hide her away until she awakens and can make a choice on what she would like to do next. He offers to take Luke and Leia to raise as their own until Padme can do it herself and Obi-Wan hesitates.

It is not that he does not trust Bail, he thinks, especially after this, Bail is one of the few that he continues to trust, continues to in a galaxy where everything and everyone is against him and his people. He has no doubt that Bail and his beautiful wife would do a magnificent job raising children, even ones such as them. He knows Bail well and he has come to know Breha as well. They are quite wonderful people that he will continue to care for. But Luke and Leia are highly force sensitive. One could be hidden perhaps, quite easily even, but the two of them were bound to feed off one another’s emotions as they grew, eventually. They are twin suns.

In the end, somehow, he relents. They negotiate and compromise and once more, perhaps it helps that Bail can and is willing to hide all of them away. It helps that he is willing to hide them in the mysterious and remote mountains of his home planet, a place to treacherous to travel, it would be likely that only a jedi could really find passage. It may be right under the emperor’s nose but Obi-Wan has a feeling that this can work.

He is right.

It helps that Bail makes it clear that he will continue to help them.

They leave the medical facility quickly, in fear of who may chase after them, but their talks continue. He plans to start work in the senate, in the government, in the galaxy, immediately. He, Padme, and several others had already started a movement before this had happened, that could be turned into something of a rebellion. It would be slow coming, but it will come.

Bail nearly has a heart attack at the sight of Firework when he and Obi-Wan go into the ship with the younglings. He was nearly killed by clones when he had stopped at the Temple the first time, in the midst of the genocide. He was saved by a padawan. But after a conversation, it is agreed – there is something horribly wrong with the clones. No one is certain that what has happened to them is their fault. Bail promises them, he promises Firework, holding his hand to secure his words and his vow, to look into the issue. Perhaps kidnap a few to test and understand what can compel them to turn on the jedi. A few out of millions would hardly be amiss, Bail says. Little does Obi-Wan know at that point, Bail is already scheming to steal the 212th Attack Battalion back for him.

Breha is as kind and beautiful and strong and amazing as always. She is more determined and steadfast as ever in her support of Obi-Wan and his people and somehow, someway, has already started searches out for any surviving Jedi, to find them and bring them to their new home. He presents her the twins of Luke and Leia, and she tries not to fall in love with them immediately. She probably does not succeed, as Obi-Wan had not succeeded either.

She promises to do all the things Obi-Wan recommends when it comes to rearing the children so sensitive to the Force and tells him he can visit whenever he wants or needs. She even tells him she will bring him to their new home and place when he would request. She is willing to do virtually anything for the betterment of these children, Obi-Wan realizes and even questions about keeping them together and not with others of their kind. He offers her a few reading materials and some tips. She gives him the most secure comm link that is around for the two of them.

The trip to their mountain hideout is as treacherous and dangerous as Bail had warned him, but in the end, being a jedi was nearly the only way to get there without getting themselves killed. And Obi-Wan was right, it was the perfect place to hide away from the Empire. Alderaan itself might be close and suspicious in the Empire’s purview but not only was this place, carved deep into a mountain so remote and difficult to find, it hid them away, physically and spiritually.

It would need some cleaning up, but it was mostly untouched for however long it had been since the ancients had left it or died out. It was beautiful and although everyone is a little hesitant, he thinks and they think, they can somehow, someway, eventually call it home.

They stand in the grand fall after the third entrance, where the walls swallow and the ceiling reach high up, held together by study columns. They are all holding one another. The littlest ones in the adult’s arms and tucked against their chests, the others holding hands tightly, as if they release one another, they will disappear forever.

And then, it is just a lone jedi master, a single clone, and a gaggle of children.

And until the Empire was dead and gone, until the people in power no longer thought of his people as traitors, monsters, and evil ones, they are forced to run and hide.

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