#and get away from the temple and all the memories the jedi are trying to give back to him

[tennessoui]

18) waking up with amnesia au pretty please! I was delighted with how many of the prompts you've already done, it was a really fun bingo!

Best friends sibling = band au

knocking on the wrong door = actually name of the fic

Nanny/single parent au = Nannykin

Etc etc etc!

hello hello this was sent january 10!! hope you still want some waking up with amnesia au! this just demonstrates how long i can hold onto a prompt i have every intention of completing

(from this prompt list) (& this is the waking up with amnesia au prompt fill i did a few years ago when i first reblogged that prompt list!)

(3.5k)

(warnings: angst but not incredibly sad. more like. here there lies some future manipulation/mind fuckery because of angst established in this ficlet but not resolved in this ficlet but would be in the future)

(also warning: vader)

It is somehow both the hardest and easiest part of the day, every time. 

It is easy to let his feet turn in the direction they beg to go during all his waking seconds. It is easy to allow them to lead the way. It feels as if a great and crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders the moment that he sees the pillars standing sentry at the entrance of the Halls of Healing. It is so easy to give into his body’s desire to allow it to find its other half.

It is almost harder to stay away, to pretend to be the respectful and poised Jedi master he masquerades as during those long moments of the day that he is not by Anakin’s side.

But what is infinitely harder than journeying there or keeping his distance is arriving. Is what waits for him within the Halls.

“How is he today?” he asks the moment he sees a healer—it does not matter which one these days. They must all know him by now, know the series of questions he demands answers to.

This time, the man he finds is healer Ramak, at least, one of the primary specialists on Anakin’s case. Rarely can Obi-Wan corner him. Ramak is incredibly busy both within the Temple and outside of it. He has numerous priorities. 

Obi-Wan really only has one priority. Often this puts them at odds. 

“Ah,” Ramak says, adjusting his robes. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan says. And then, “How is he today?” In case Ramak has missed his question.

“He is much the same, Master Kenobi,” Ramak replies. “As he was yesterday.”

Obi-Wan swallows. The words get stuck in his throat for a moment and he has to force them up past his teeth. “What does…what has he remembered?”

Healer Ramak’s face slides from reluctantly indulgent to pitying. It would grate against Obi-Wan’s rather impressive sense of pride if he did not already know exactly how pitiful he is. 

“Memories are not stored within the mind chronologically, Master Kenobi,” Ramak says carefully. Obi-Wan has heard this before. Obi-Wan could recite this speech. 

Obi-Wan listens to it silently anyway. Perhaps this time, Ramak will find the correct combination of words to explain his loss to him in terms he can understand. “Uncovering them again is not simply a matter of starting from the beginning of his life and moving forwards. We cannot simply recover and present him with all of his memories from age nine, from age thirteen, to now.”

Obi-Wan can feel a muscle tick in his jaw and he crosses his arms. Another healer crosses behind him, jostles him in their hurry to get to another patient. Differing priorities. 

But Obi-Wan only has one.

“It is like…” Ramak trails off, thinking. “Picture the rain. What do you think of?” It is much too transparent, what Obi-Wan thinks of when he thinks of the rain. He thinks of Anakin as a youngling. The ashes of Qui-Gon’s body had not fully cooled before the skies of Naboo had broken open in a torrential downpour, and the boy, padawan braid that was both his and Obi-Wan’s newly weighing on his shoulder, had escaped from the palace in Theed, ran outside with arms raised up in wonder.

“When you think of rain, you do not recall your memories chronologically,” Ramak says kindly, as if he understands where Obi-Wan’s mind has gone. “That is to say, you do not immediately think of the first time you experienced it. Our minds store memories based on their significance to us, the meanings they hold for us, which makes mind-healing to this degree incredibly difficult. Not to mention, not only was Knight Skywalker stripped of his memories, tortured, and indoctrinated, he was held for several months. Long enough for new neural pathways to form, new connotations and memories to take the place of the ones he lost.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan says. When he holds up his hand to forestall the other man’s words, it is shaking slightly. “Please just tell me.”

Will he recognize me? 

Will he hate me?

Will another day go by where he does not know me?

“He has a long way to go yet,” Ramak says finally, lifting his hand to stroke over his beard. “His time as Vader left scars—”

“His time captured,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He was a hostage.” Ramak looks at him. Anakin, kidnapped by the sith, without his memories, trained to be deadly and taught to Fall, was more than a hostage. They both know that. Everyone in the galaxy knows the dangers that Darth Vader represented to the Republic.

Very few know that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. It had been a terrible surprise. It had been the sweetest sort of relief too, to find him at all.

“Yes,” Ramak finally allows. “His time as a hostage left innumerable scars, Obi-Wan. Even after he regains all his memories, he will have a long journey ahead of him.”

“How is he?” Obi-Wan repeats, even though it is rather rude to cut the healer off. “How is he today?”

Ramak hesitates for a moment and then another, and his Force signature tenses as if at war with itself. “He requested to see you,” he finally says. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. The Jedi saved Anakin Skywalker from the Sith five weeks ago, and though Obi-Wan has spent each of those days trekking from his quarters to the Halls of Healing and back, accousting various healers and Council members alike, desperate for any information they can give him…he has not yet been able to sit beside Anakin. He has not been allowed to talk with him at all.

It is for the best. That is what he’s been told and that is what he must believe. It is for the best. Anakin does not remember him. He remembers the word master—he does not remember that he used to say the same word with respect. With affection. He does not remember Obi-Wan at all.

He remembers his master, Sidious. He remembers his master on Tatooine. He does not—Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why he cannot remember him. 

Anakin has never once asked to see him. 

“I want to see him,” Obi-Wan says immediately, turning towards the wing where they are keeping Anakin. 

“Master Kenobi, it is not a good idea,” Ramak says, but it does not matter what they think is a good idea. It is what Anakin wants and it has been so long since Obi-Wan has been something Anakin wants.

Something of what he’s feeling must flash across his face, because the healer sighs and rubs at his forehead as if he finds the whole ordeal incredibly trying. 

“I will not hurt him,” Obi-Wan says quickly, and Ramak shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“That is not the concern, Master,” he replies, but his shoulders have slumped. His forehead is wrinkled, but his Force signature has relaxed. He has given in. Obi-Wan has won. “I—”

But Obi-Wan has won. And so he has already stepped away, intent now on seeing his padawan. He leaves the healer behind where he stands, pushing through the doors of the wing and finally—finally to Anakin’s room.

He’d been so volatile at first, when he was still Vader. The Jedi rescuing him probably felt more like being captured. Without his memories of the Order, of the Temple, of Obi-Wan, he’d Fallen so quickly as far as anyone knows. Sidious had taken him and twisted him and when he was found again, he’d fully believed in the Sith doctrine. He’d killed two Jedi before he was subdued.

So when he’d been brought into the Temple, into the Halls of Healing, they’d outfitted him with Force suppression cuffs. Given him his own room in order to protect the other patients.

Obi-Wan knows he still wears the Force bracelets and collar, but there’s knowing and then there’s seeing.

The seeing part takes his breath away. It looks so wrong, Anakin, his Anakin, wearing the cuffs and the collar. 

Anakin, his Anakin, with yellow eyes watching him intently from the moment he enters the room.

“Anakin,” he murmurs, a reflex. The sounds are punched out of him.

He is thinner. His hair is greasy. There are dark shadows under his eyes. The skin around the collar is red, rubbed raw. He looks a thousand times older. Guant and hollowed out as if the captivity and the Darkness has leached away all of his youthful energy.

“Master,” Anakin says reproachfully. And it sounds—it sounds so much like him, like Obi-Wan’s Anakin, that he has the rather ridiculous urge to cry. Master, master.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asks, though it is a useless sort of question. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. What to do with his tongue. He suddenly cannot remember the last time he asked Anakin how he was feeling. It was never a phrase that was part of their lexicon—for so many years, they shared a training bond. Obi-Wan was able to ascertain his padawan’s emotions with a gentle Force touch across the planes of his mind. More often than not, he was telling Anakin to search his own feelings. He was not asking him to interpret them for Obi-Wan’s sake.

Now though, their bond is severed and Anakin does not recognize him as anything more than another Jedi, another man who he once called master, and Obi-Wan stands across the room from him and does not recognize him either, save for all the ways that he does.

“Surely they have been giving you updates,” Anakin murmurs. “I know you have visited every day.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says because he will not lie to Anakin. He doesn’t think he remembers how. It has been—so long. Since he has last seen him. It is all he can do to stay standing now. To keep a respectable distance between them. To not fall to his knees. To not stumble forward and take Anakin’s hand in his own.

“What have they told you?” Anakin asks, and he tilts his head slightly. His golden eyes are as disconcerting as they are beautiful. They’re his. They’re his eyes, set in his face, and Obi-Wan has missed that face for so long. For months. He’d thought he’d never see it again, and he is just now realizing that he has no defenses left against Anakin. None at all. The boy could ask him for anything and he would fight to the death to give it to him.

The Force is in flux in the air around them, bucking up, riled, in a way Obi-Wan usually interprets as danger. But the Force could be screaming a death knell and Obi-Wan, in this moment, would only be able to hear a sweet cry of wild joy.

Anakin, this is Anakin. This is his Anakin and he is here. Back—partially. Back, incompletely. But back. Obi-Wan…he’d stopped hoping he’d ever get him back.

Instead of answering his question, he presses the backs of his fingers against his mouth to try and stop their shaking. Every day he has walked here, accosted the healers, demanded to know the latest. And he has never once realized how incredibly difficult it would be to lay eyes on Anakin. How incredibly difficult it would be to maintain his composure, to hold himself in. 

Anakin’s eyes glow gold, but Obi-Wan’s eyes are that of a starving man. All he can see is honey.

“Come here, master,” Anakin says, reproachful. “Did you not miss me?”

The words move him forward where his own feet could not. “Of course I did, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. Hoarse, too hoarse. Too trembling and old, but it has been so many months. He had thought him lost forever. Dead and gone and one with the Force, and for the first time in his life, that had given him no comfort.

Anakin holds out his mechno hand, palm up, fingers slightly crooked. He’d built them that way on purpose, Obi-Wan remembers. At fourteen, he’d broken his index and middle finger in a duel, bones shattering under the blow of another padawan’s sabor. A lucky hit, an unlucky outcome. Though they’d healed near perfect due to bacta, they’d always remained slightly bent out of place. When he lost his arm to Dooku five years later, he’d fiddled with the replacement until the mech digits tilted the same familiar direction.

Obi-Wan stares at them, caught up in the tide of the memory.

Had Vader ever looked down at his mechno hand and wondered about the imperfection? Had he thought to fix it once he had the time? Had he spared a thought for the black spots in his memory, the cavernous gaps in his past?

His fingers fall to rest against the sensors of the mech tips. They’re sensitive enough that he can see Anakin shiver at the touch. 

“Did you not miss me, master?” Anakin asks again, and his hand closes around Obi-Wan’s tightly, pulling him forward another few steps.

Obi-Wan nods, then shakes his head. Yes, he missed him. No, missing—missing is not a vast enough word. 

“You asked for me,” he hears himself say. “Do you—what do you….”

Do you remember me?

You must. You call me master. And you want me close.

But they pulled the memories of the word master from your mind days ago, and you hated me then. You did not want me near you. What has changed? What have you remembered?

“I wonder if they would treat any patient like this,” Anakin says. He uses his hold on Obi-Wan to pull him even closer, til his thighs brush the edge of the bed. “If it is the war that makes me special, if it’s my own power. Or if it’s you.”

Obi-Wan tenses. Him? He doesn’t—

“They’ve tried everything they can think of to trigger my memories of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin says. When Obi-Wan tries to move back, take a step away, find the air in the room to breathe, Anakin tightens his hold and pulls him forward until the only option is to either topple over onto his padawan’s chest or sit on the bed at his hip.

He sits.

“They debated for many days, you know,” Anakin says. His mech thumb begins to sweep over the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “If they should trigger the connections my mind has made to the word master. It’s a weighted word for Anakin Skywalker. Surely you know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan says carefully. When he tries to breathe, he can only do so shallowly as if his entire chest has shrunk to half its capacity.

“He was enslaved before he was a padawan,” Anakin explains as though Obi-Wan has not spoken at all. Maybe he hasn’t. For the past several months he has not been able to speak to Anakin aloud, could only talk with him in his mind—could never hear a reply. Perhaps he has forgotten how. “They were worried that after ten years studying under you, after two years fighting side by side with you, my strongest connotations to the word master would still be to slavery.”

Anakin ducks his head slightly, tilts it to the side to give Obi-Wan a small, private grin, as if the healers’ concerns are so unfounded that they are amusing. As if the concept that something could outweigh Obi-Wan’s importance to Anakin is so foreign and preposterous that it’s funny.

His smile knocks into Obi-Wan’s chest like a punch to the solar plexus.

“But they decided to risk it,” Anakin says. His voice is light as a feather. Airy and unconcerned. “Perhaps they should have started with smaller things. A light saber. A braid. A pear. A planet. But they wanted to re-establish my firmest conneciton to the Light as quickly as possible. And they thought that was you.”

Obi-Wan holds his breath, eyes leaping from their connected hands to the yellow of Anakin’s eyes. He has still fallen. He has not been healed. He is still—he is still—

“So they gave me back my masters,” Anakin pitches his voice low. “All of them, though I suppose I remember Sidious well enough. But they gave me back the Toydarian. And they gave me you.”

“They said you did not want to see me,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Why, Anakin, if you remember, why would you—”

“Because I hate you,” his padawan says as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. “Because they could give me back Master Kenobi, but wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, it was not in your title. He hated your title.”

Obi-Wan flinches back so violently that his forearm slips from Anakin’s grasp. Before he can move from the bed completely though, his padawan’s hand lashes out and curls around the fabric of his tunics. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says because he must deny this—he cannot stand to hear it and not deny it. No, Anakin—there was love there, in the way he pronounced the word master. The way he looked at Obi-Wan: admiration shining in his eyes when he was younger, cooling off over the years into acceptance and affection. They had their arguments. They had their—misunderstandings, but Anakin did not resent him for his role in his life as his old teacher. His master. “You’re wrong.”

“He hated it more than he hated his actual slave master,” Anakin murmurs. Lightly, airily. As if his words are not landing devastating blows on all of Obi-Wan’s softest spots. “Do you know why?” “I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan whispers because he doesn’t because he can’t. Because he’d have known. Because this is Anakin, this is his Anakin, but there are still cavernous dark spots and gaps in his mind. This is not entirely his Anakin. He is still missing things. Thousands upon thousands of memories and moments and learned contexts and—

“I think you know why,” Anakin says as if he has not spoken. Funny, as Obi-Wan had thought he was screaming.

“I assure you I do not,” he snaps, spitting the words out as quickly as he can so that his voice cannot break between the syllables.

“Because Anakin Skywalker believed til the day he died that if you had not been his master, you would have allowed him to kiss you. To take you. To be taken by you. Don’t you remember, Master Kenobi?” Obi-Wan tears himself away from the bed, from the boy in it. Just a boy. Not a man. Not when he was seventeen and drunk for the first time, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pressing his face into his chest, whining and begging and pleading—and not when he was eighteen either, bold and staring at Obi-Wan's lips, not when he was nineteen, on the verge of his Knighting ceremony and demanding to be given into.

Just a boy, just his boy. But never—never anything else. 

“Like I said,” Anakin but not Anakin murmurs. Anakin, but Vader too. “Wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, they have not yet been able to find it in my mind. I can only assume he loved you at all.”

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes over the familiar face, the beloved face. The stranger’s face. If it were anyone else sitting before him, he’d have a retort already on his tongue. He’d have raised his shields, gone on the offensive. There are few people left in the galaxy that can land a blow on him, and many have tried.

But this is not anyone. This is Anakin. This is his Anakin and this is something for which he has no defenses prepared.

“How ashamed did you make him feel for loving you, master?” Vader asks, tilting his head in cruel curiosity. “That he compressed all of it into something so small that a whole Temple of healers have been unable to find it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps and this time he does not get the words off his tongue quick enough. His voice breaks in the middle of the demand, ribs cracking and parting to reveal the heart of him. “Not if—” not if you do not know what it means for him. For me. For us.

“Why not?” Vader says, and he raises his flesh hand to tuck a piece of greasy hair behind his head before allowing his fingers to fall to rest against his collarbone, ghosting against the Force suppression collar around his neck as if it’s a diamond encrusted necklace. “After all, am I not wearing your chains, master?”

[siempre-bucky]

what am i to you?

Qimir x Reader

Summary: You decide to leave Qimir, thinking your feelings are one-sided till an encounter with the Jedi Order proves otherwise.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: she/her pronouns, mentions of blood

A/N: I hope you like it Anon <3! Requests are still open for Qimir!

“What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him as you placed your hood over your head, your small bag placed at the side of you, “Whore? Helper? Companion? What other names do you use to describe me to your Acolytes?” 

“This is new for you, my dear,” he chuckled, amused as if you were a child trying to use big words. You were never the one to bite back, you would normally happily accept your role as his right hand. Not now, the years of trying to convince yourself he loved you had your patience growing thin.

“You don’t get to call me that, you seethed. “I’m leaving, Qimir. I can’t be here, knowing you don’t feel the same. I’ll never be more than whatever this is.” 

The Sith stayed silent after that, he merely watched as you accepted your defeat and picked up your things to disappear in the night. 

Tears fell as you walked through the forest, trying to expel memories of late night tangled in sheets and days of trips to the beaches of his favorite planet. He showed you all those wonderful things and touched you in a way you could only imagine, only for it to mean nothing. You wasted years on him. 

Something suddenly felt off, the hair on the back of your neck began to rise and the forest grew silent. Someone was there with you in the forest. A small smile tugged at your lips, he came back for you! You turned around and smiled at the figure that stood in the trees. About to tease him, the figure reached for his belt, a lightsaber igniting. Yellow? 

Before you had the chance to run, the Force knocked you to the ground roughtly. The figure grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. The man frowned “You’re the Force wielder?” he questioned. 

“N-no!” You cried, punching at his arm. 

“The Order keeps sending you to die,” a third voice entered the space, and you could recognize that distorted tone from anywhere. 

The Jedi swiftly turned the two of you to face the Sith standing a few feet away. Dressed in his helmet and cloak, Qimir watched as the Jedi released your hair and placed you in a chokehold with his free arm. The other turned off the saber and placed it on your temple, the heat of the metal making you cry out. 

This Jedi wasn’t like the rest of the ones the Order sent after Qimir, there was something in his eye that screamed rogue. “You either surrender,” the Jedi panted, tightening his grip on your throat and his saber pressing harder to your temple, “or I kill your… Acolyte? Is that what she is to you?” 

“Those are words of a Sith, Jedi, are you sure you’re not on the wrong side?” The Stranger spoke calmly, his voice distorted by his mask. He couldn’t see the fear in your eyes or how the Jedi was starting to bleed from you digging your nails into his forearms. 

You wish you could read him, be able to get inside his head, and know what he’s thinking one last time. Maybe he had some compassion for you because love was out of the question. He was here to kill you before you could get away. The Jedi pressed harder, the metal cutting into your skin. You screamed in pain and he laughed? Amused at what was going on. 

This was it. You heard his finger slide to the trigger. 

Qimir. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

If there’s an afterlife I wish for something kinder. 

You heard the ignition of a lightsaber, and in an instant the grip on your throat released. Then there was a thud, the crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs followed after. You fell to the floor and curled into a ball, heaving for air. Were you dead? Was this the afterlife you were just praying to the Maker for? “Get up,” the distorted voice commanded. You crawled a couple of inches and sat up, pushing your hair out of your face and looking behind you. 

Lying on the ground was the Jedi, a red lightsaber right through the center of his head. Your eyes widened and the last of the tears flowed from your eyes. You watched as Qimir called his saber back to his hand, a perfect circle left in its wake. He pulled you up by the shoulder and hurried you back towards the hideout. 

You walked hurriedly in silence, looking back at the deep forest every now and then to make sure you weren’t followed by anyone else. The Jedi Order had been desperate to capture him since the murder of that one Jedi on Udea. Qimir kept a tight grip on your wrist, you didn’t dare to pull away since he was the only thing keeping you alive. 

That silence remained when you got to the small cabin. He whipped off the mask and threw it violently into the corner. Your body stilled, wondering if you were in for a worse fate than with the Jedi. Qimir killed violently, he’d kill anyone. You were nothing special. Not to him.

He turned to you with fire raging in his eyes, they only softened slightly when he saw the blood trickling from your head, a few drops of crimson landing on your chest. He extended his hand, a small wooden box rushing towards him. He caught it effortlessly and sat on the makeshift bed. “Sit.” 

You did as you were told and took a seat by his side. He went to work bandaging your wound, but you noticed something. Why didn’t he just heal it using the Force? Why was he taking the time for something so futile for a Sith? You also noticed his fingers trembling as he picked up the small scissors among the supplies. He made it halfway to your head before he shakily dropped them into your lap, the fabric of your cloak delicately breaking the fall. Your hands connected as you both reached out to collect them. 

Qimir let go of the scissors and held your hand. “Are you ok?” he asked, all bite vacant in his tone.

“I think so,” you nodded. 

Silence filled the air, and you could feel his stare burn into your skin. He just went back to work, dabbing at the blood and cleaning your skin of dirt and blood. You nearly begged him to say something, anything to release you from the choking silence. 

After the job was done, Qimir stood and collected his supplies, putting everything away silently. Your gaze followed him, you had always wondered how he could act so calm in these situations, you almost admired it. Then he stood in the center of the room, his shoulders hunched and his gaze lingered on the ground, analyzing the cracks in the wood. 

“I didn’t know they we—”

“—I love you.” 

I love you. Those words sounded so foreign to him, he had spoken them once, before the Order and before they took him away. It had been so long—too long. He was embarrassed that it took that long to say to you. Qimir had learned his lesson.

You stood up, the wood creaking below you as you closed some distance between you. “Why tell me now? When I’m about to die at the hands of the Jedi.” 

“I should have told you a long time ago,” he jumped in, his hands flexing, “I heard your thoughts, your pleas. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your chin, “What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him the same question as earlier, this time you had no fight left. 

The Sith raised his hand and connected it to the side of your face, “I think they would have called it a soulmate?” He pulled you in closer, “I should have never let you feel differently.” 

“Never do that again,” you said bitterly, jabbing your finger into his chest. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting his eyes flutter closed, “Never.”

[padmesweetheart]

Shadows of Betrayal

Pairings: Master!Anakin Skywalker x Gn!Reader

Summary: Anakin overhears his own padawan, Tarek, disrespecting you while talking to another padawan. He already struggling with abandonment and loss, now faces disloyalty from someone he was supposed to guide. And as much as he wants to be the Jedi Master he once was, the anger inside him is getting harder to ignore.

Authors note: this C.AI gave me this idea and take place after Ahsoka had left the Jedi Order.

It was well past twilight in the quiet corridors of the Jedi Temple a time when the usual clamor had faded, leaving only whispers and the echo of solitary footsteps. Anakin had stayed behind, restless and haunted by a gnawing feeling he couldn’t shake. He’d been mulling over old wounds and new insecurities, feeling the ever present tug of conflict between duty and desire.

As he passed a dimly lit training hall, muted voices caught his attention. Hiding in the shadows, Anakin strained to listen. There, his trusted padawan, Tarek, was in an intense conversation with another padawan, Mira. Their voices, usually light and respectful, now carried a bitter, cutting edge. But it wasn’t their tone alone that pricked his ears it was the words.

“I don’t see why she’s so damn special,” Tarek sneered, his voice low enough to be meant only for Mira’s ears. “I mean, seriously, treating her like she’s some kind of idol just because she’s… well, because she’s with him.”

Mira’s laugh was brittle, lacking warmth. “It’s pathetic. He’s too blinded by his own ego to notice her worth. I can’t believe she lets him walk all over her.”

Every word felt like a searing blow to Anakin’s chest. His mind raced with memories moments of tenderness, shared smiles, and silent promises. His heart pounded in a mixture of anger and hurt, each pulse echoing the betrayal he’d never thought possible. His padawan, someone he’d mentored and trusted, was spewing venom about the one person who meant everything to him.

For a moment, time froze. The corridor’s quiet was shattered by the clamor of his inner storm. Anakin clenched his fists, the Force thrumming with raw emotion through him. He felt torn between the need to protect his love and the responsibility to guide his student. His eyes burned with unshed tears of frustration and sorrow a painful acknowledgment that even those he considered his own could falter.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, he stepped silently into the light, his presence sudden and foreboding. “Tarek,” he said, his voice rough with restrained anger, “we need to talk.”

The conversation halted abruptly. Tarek’s face went pale, and Mira’s eyes widened in alarm. For a long, heart-stopping moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the temple’s life support systems a stark reminder of the precious time slipping away.

Anakin’s gaze was unyielding as he continued, “I heard everything. You speak of her as if she’s nothing more than a pawn in your game, as if disrespecting her makes you seem stronger.” His voice was both an accusation and a plea—a call to remember honor, loyalty, and the unspoken code of the Jedi.

Tarek stammered, trying to backtrack, “Master, I—I didn’t mean—”

“Silence,” Anakin cut in, his tone icy. “You’ve undermined trust. Not just between me and her, but the very foundation of our teachings. The Force is not a tool for petty rivalries or idle gossip.”

Mira looked away, regret mingling with fear in her eyes. “We’re sorry, Master. It was just… words in the dark. We didn’t realize—”

“Realize what?” Anakin pressed, his inner turmoil barely contained. “That disrespect has consequences? That words can wound deeper than any lightsaber strike?”

In that dim corridor, the weight of his disappointment hung heavy. Anguish battled with duty within him, and every syllable he uttered dripped with the sting of betrayal. The once clear path of mentorship now lay obscured by doubt and regret. Yet even amid the storm, a single thought anchored him: his love, his partner, who deserved nothing less than unwavering respect.

Lowering his gaze, Anakin’s voice softened—achingly vulnerable. “I’ve dedicated my life to the Jedi way, to teaching you all honor and compassion. I never imagined I’d have to confront betrayal from those I trusted most.”

For a heartbeat, the silence stretched as Tarek and Mira absorbed his words. Then, in that moment of reckoning, Anakin turned away, his resolve hardening like tempered steel. He would confront this betrayal not with reckless fury, but with the heavy burden of a teacher’s sorrow a promise to protect the ones he loved and to forge a path back to the true essence of the Force.

The corridor swallowed his retreating figure, leaving behind a lingering chill and a lesson etched deep into the very walls of the temple a reminder that even in the pursuit of light, shadows of betrayal could creep in, and only the strength of one’s convictions could banish them.

[anakinsdove]

𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you and anakin arranged a date in your apartment tonight… yes like a normal couple.

c/w: fluff, (and a little bit angsty) ani is in love and so are you, dates dates dates, movie night.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 2,819

“So you’re free tonight right?” “Yes” Anakin confirms for the millionth time today… it’s not your fault tho, you just wanna make sure this evening goes exactly as planned, it’s not every night you can arrange a date with your boyfriend though it’s exactly what you and him want, but after all, you’re not a normal couple, he’s a Jedi and not to mention dating it’s forbidden for Jedis, he’s also very busy… you pull at his hair excitedly and he hisses a little. “Wait! What movie are we watching?” You ask, and he nuzzles his face in your chest “Not Bribery” “Is that the one about the alien that-” “Yes that one” “It’s a good movie though” “Of course it’s not” your eyes widen at his disrespect…

“I can’t believe you actually said that” “it’s true” you grumble quietly and he chuckles… his eyes remain closed when he suddenly hears his communicator beeping “Is that-” he groans and answers

“Anakin, you must’ve report to the temple immediately” it’s obi wan “Be right there master” there’s clearly annoyance in his voice, and his heart sinks at your disappointed expression written all over your pretty face… “Hey… the sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back okay?” You can only nod already accepting that the date night is already canceled, you think it’s really selfish wanting to keep him all to yourself, after all he’s a Jedi, he saves lives, he does it for the republic, he does it everyday, why can’t you have him for a couple of hours?

“Look love… don’t worry, you go and get yourself all dolled up, I promise the date isn’t cancelled okay?” You can only hope it’s true… you think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it

“I’ll be waiting” you say and kiss his cheek, he grins at this and closes the door and hear from the other side “I’ll be here at 9:00” you nod forgetting he can’t see you…

5:45 PM

There’s a lot left to do, but where to start? Is the real question, you decide to start with cleaning around a little bit, you move the couch only to find Anakin’s beanie you knitted for him Anakin you grumbled angrily “It’s in my drawer I’m sure” he said a while ago when you questioned him why he didn’t wear it anymore… a few minutes later everything is done and the next step is to start dolling yourself up, you want this to be special and none of your dresses seem to match your expectation… too pink, too red, too elegant, too informal, wrong print? too short? I don’t think that would bother Anakin at all but it bothers you for some reason, it’s like your first date all over again, the butterflies, the anxiety and the unbelievable excitement… it was a great date, considering his padawan braid got stuck in your necklace, you cringe at the memory.

After what feels like an eternity you pick a dress… it’s beautiful purple and it has the “right” length, deciding to ignore the complete disaster you made in your closet, buuuuut now… your nails don’t match the stupid dress! Trying to grab your pretty lilac nail polish a knocking the rest of your make up over, you gasp when you hear your eyeshadow palette breaking and see pigment on the ground “oh no” the sadness in your voice equals to a kicked puppy, you kneel on the ground to dust it away.. it was your favorite palette, the pretty and expensive one, whimpering when you throw it in the trash.

Now you’re painting your nails sad and not even doing it right, there’s nail polish all over your fingers… what the fuck? The shower will take care of it

7:09 PM

Fuck! Everything it’s taking longer than usual, you haven’t even showered yet!

You undress yourself and get in a little bit too quick, the water is still cold, it makes you wince, but there’s not enough time and Anakin said he would be here at 9:00… your makeup, take out, your outfit, the candles? It’s not that you can’t do anything right it’s just that the excitement bubble you feel in your stomach betrays you and turns into anxiety. He would be happy to spend an evening with you in the sand just to be by your side, Anakin wouldn’t notice the small details that make you pull your hair, or maybe he would and wouldn’t even care, or maybe he would care-

8:54 PM

The rest of your routine goes slightly more smoothly, everything is set and now you’re just waiting for Anakin to arrive, you sigh and pray that everything goes as planned from now on.

9:01

9:07

9:15

9:23

9:28

Since when is your couch so big? And why do you feel the clock is ticking too loud for your liking? Your dress feels so tight and then is inevitable… You feel the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes “You think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it”

But then there’s an urgent knocking on your door, one that you could’ve never mistake, the kind of knocking that wants to take the stupid door down and your practically jump from the couch and sprint towards the door, opening it with shaky hands… And there he is… he’s frowning and gripping the bouquet of flowers in his hands anxiously, already damaging the wrapper that holds it together. “Y/n” he says breathlessly and he immediately stops when he notices the tears in your eyes.

Your eyes switch to his face to his eyes lips then the bouquet, taking all of him so you can remember this later, his robes are muddy “Ani-" he places the flowers at a nearby table and instantly takes your face in his hands “What’s the matter doll?” He asks and wipes your tears away.. it actually makes you melt.

“I thought you weren’t coming” Your voice comes out small and you feel a little sad for not trusting him from the begging, he promised he would be here and here he is…. “I’m sorry for being so late Y/N I- the mission was- it’s not important” “Are you okay?” You ask, he gives you a small smile and nods “Everything is alright, everyone as well” you sigh in relief “That’s good my love, congrats” you hug him, he’s still sad at the sight of your dried tears on your cheeks, but at least your mascara is still intact.

“You sure that’s all?” Your grip around him tightens as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly your struggles from earlier don’t seem like a big deal after his own deal being a Jedi is responsibility aswell. “I almost messed up our date?” “Huh? And why’s that love?” And you finally look up at him “I dunno… it’s silly”

“It can’t be silly if it bothered you enough to make you cry” you want to argue and say It is but he might be right and you don’t know better “First I found out you did loose the scarf I made you-” “Where is it!?” He asks excitedly “Then I didn’t like any of my dresses… it took me forever, then my nails wouldn’t match my dress and I dropped my eyeshadow palette-“ “The pretty one with the pink tones?” “Yes, that one” “Aw, I’m sorry doll” “It’s okay… then I got in the shower and the water was freezing and then you wouldn’t show up!” Anakin cringes at the last part and you continue “I-I’m sorry, all of this sounds really stupid compared to any kind of problem you face daily as Jedi-” “Normal” “Huh?” “Your problems are… are normal… I like normal” “Oh… You do?” “Of course Y/N… after dealing with the war everyday and the council… this, this is exactly what I need” you chuckle “Well it’s always a pleasure to be ordinary enough for you” “I didn’t mean it like that-” “I know” you giggle… “I wish our life would be this domestic sometimes, can you imagine? You, me and two little mini you running around the house?” Children… he’s thinking about children, that gives you a reality check, any silly doubt you might have about your relationship is gone just like that because he’s actually dreaming about a life with you, and you wouldn’t prefer any different.

“I would love that” you say sincerely… “They would have your eyes and my hair…. Your eyebrows” He traces them delicately “And maybe my personality, one each” that makes you beam “I can’t wait” “Me neither” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly… it’s nice and delicate, he hums in the kiss and takes the chance to slide his tongue in his mouth, you suck at it softly and after a few seconds you pull away only to find the completely head over heels gaze he’s giving you.

“You’re all muddy” you say “I didn’t see the hole in the ground-” you shake your head in disbelief and take his hand in yours to guide him to your bathroom “It was Obi wan’s fault!” Now.. how could that possibly be Obi wan’s fault? But you let him ramble. “Undress” you say

“Oh you would’ve loved that wouldn’t you?” he teases and you punch him in the shoulder jokingly. He starts taking his robes off while you start filling the tub, the water is warm this time and you pour a little of your lavander soap in “Hey i thought you wanted a show” he says teasingly, because you made him undress and you didn’t even watch… that’s a shame honestly. “Get in baby” he can’t resist you or a warm bath when needed.

The water is instantly soothing for his aching muscles… he groans and tilts his head back, opening his eyes to find you looking at him adoringly “Thank you my love” he says and you lean in to kiss his cheek “You’re very welcome Ani” you throw him your old rubber duck in he laughs, he closes his eyes and sighs, he couldn’t ask for anything better in life… his eyes remain closed for a few seconds “C’mon Baby don’t pass out… you could’ve drown” “Mmm I know you wouldn’t let me” “Don’t be so sure” he opens his eyes wide and you cackled. “Close your eyes” you say “Make up your mind” he teases but does as you say, You take a small recipient with warm water and pour it over his head, gently soaking his curls, he tilts his head forward like a child, then you pour some of the apple shampoo on your hand, you figured out he liked the scent and you start gently massaging his scalp and smile when you see bubbles, his eyes peaked open to look at your loving and concentrating expression, he’s melting but when your nails escaped along his scalp he purrs… the night goes on and when you’re done washing his hair and his bubble bath is over he turns the shower on to wash his body… you wait for him with a fluffy bath towel, he smiles when he sees you and he wraps himself in it.

He follows you into your bedroom where he find a pair of his sweatpants he keeps in here, the sweater you knitted for him, a pair of your fluffy socks and clean boxers, he gives you a grateful smile… when he’s done he wraps his arms around you and you lean on him as he rubs your back “You’re a little tense hun” “Whaaat? No I’m” “Lay down” you look up at him with puppy eyes “Lay down on your stomach c’mon” And who are you to complain when Anakin Skywalker gives an order.

You lay down on the bed and he takes your heels off and kisses up your calf, and okay you weren’t completely lying, you’re still not completely sure you’re actually tense and that Anakin only wants an excuse to touch you, but his touch already feels amazing… “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier but you look absolutely beautiful, every single detail about you is perfect” that means a lot to you “Thank you… You’re So Perfect-” he starts kissing down you back covering your spine with kisses, his hands find the zip or your dress “Gonna unzip your dress okay? I’m gonna take it off” “Yeah” you say already agreeing with anything he says, he chuckles, his hand unzips your dress nice and slow while his eyes trace every detail of your back… moles, marks, tattoos, anything… wait that looks like a constellation… he takes the dress off leaving you only in your bra and panties “This too” he pulls at your bra and you roll your eyes not annoyed at all “alright” he instantly unclasps your bra and you lift yourself so he can take it off, his touch is gentle when he slides the straps down your shoulders… his gaze lingers on your chest and you giggle “My massage” “Oh! Right” He pushes your on your stomach again, his hands dig into your shoulder blades and you make a little sound when his metal hand touches your back, it’s cold and it feels good for some reason “There’s a knot here” he says and pushes deeper to massage your skin, you moan and his ears perk up at the sound but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head for your own sake and his “Ani… that feels really good” “I know” he says cockily and keeps working his magic, suddenly his hands grip your ass and you gasp “You’re tense here too” he massages the skin and you actually think you’re muscles are grateful… the feeling want to make your thighs squeeze Not now You think.

10 minutes later he’s done and you’re actually sleepy, he takes one of your sweaters out of your drawer and you try to put it on but he does it for you, unfortunately his hand tickles your ribs and you giggle, he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes… “Would you like to watch a movie” he kisses your neck and you close your eyes “Sure!” You beam, “Okay… I’ll make the pop corn” he keeps kissing you and you think he might never stop and make the damn pop corn, though you’re not sure you want him to stop you whimper and your breathing heaves “I’ll go now… promise” however he keeps kissing you and you take the chance to tickle his ribs, he cackles and takes the queue to leave.

You realize you still have makeup on your face and you curse at yourself, feeling lazy to take it off but going to the bathroom and washing your face no matter how much you wanna eat pop corn and get into his arms you want.. he comes back 5 minutes later with the bowl of pop corn and two drinks… you beam at the sight of snacks and he chuckles “Are you happy to see me or the popcorn?” “Both”

“We’re watching Bribery” you say simply “Whatever” he says clearly not happy with your choice but happier nonetheless to be here, he thinks it’s cute how much you like this shitty movie… you nuzzle into his arms and 40 minutes later you’re starting to fall asleep.

“It’s time to sleep love” “Nuh uh” you say with your eyes already closed “What why not?” He asks curiously, your body says otherwise

“You still haven’t fucked me, date night it’s not over” you say boldly and he cackles

“It’s alright love, I’ll promise I’ll fuck you in the morning”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

He stays up for a little after you fell asleep, admiring your features and tracing them gently with his knuckle, careful to not harm you, to not wake you up or disturb you in any way “I love you… more than anything in the entire universe…” something sparked inside him watching your sleep so vulnerable and with your guard completely down, trusting him completely.. “And I would never let something bad happen to you…” he kisses your forehead and stares at you with pure adoration in his eyes… he truly loves you… he tries to find a word bigger than that to state his love for you but the sleepiness is finally getting to him too…

“G’night” he mutters and lastly kisses your nose.

masterslist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers- @i92-93

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 1

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: slow burn(ish), fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

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A/N: In my unending quest to name all of my fics after The Amazing Devil songs, this one is taken from Elsa's Song. If you're reading this on Tumblr, you're getting a unique version of this author's note - hello there! I usually just link to my fics on Tumblr, but this time I've decided to post each chapter in full here!

Any and all comments are massively appreciated, and if I can format anything better for posting here please let me know. I'm aiming to have the next chapter up in 2-3 weeks :)

Huge thanks to my wonderful friend @whenyourfavouritedies (link to their AO3 here!) for beta reading.

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He’d had a good run, Cody thinks to himself as he faces down the adversary in front of him. Perhaps he could avoid the mortal embarrassment of defeat by defenestrating himself from the nearest window - at least then his death could be ruled as a bizarre, impulsive moment of pure lunacy rather than the alternative of being done in entirely by the man in front of him.

… The man in front of him who evidently seems to be expecting a response to his words. 

Cody, the Marshal Commander of the 212th who has spoken in front of the Council multiple times, who’s renowned throughout the GAR for his prowess at quick-thinking and strategy, desperately tries to muster something. Gingerly, he collects the shattered pieces of his brain from the floor, and attempts to produce something coherent with them.

“... Oh,” he manages, trying to not let his words come out as strangled as it feels like they could in this moment. “Right.”

As it turns out, those two words alone are insufficient, at least judging by Obi-Wan’s look of pure bewilderment. The Jedi tilts his head a little, studying the clone before him.

“Is everything alright, Cody?” he asks tentatively, before glancing back to the mission briefing on his datapad. Cody’s eyes remain glued to one word in particular, practically glaring at him from the harshly backlit screen of the tablet. 

He can feel a headache coming on. 

“If it’s too much, Anakin has offered to spare Rex, but to be perfectly honest–” 

Absolutely not. The only thing Cody can think of that would be worse than going on this mission at all would be someone else going in his place.

“-- I’d rather avoid a repeat of what happened on Corellia, if at all possible,” Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking a hand over his beard. He frowns slightly at the memory, and Cody files the subject away to ask about later, though for the moment he has far more pressing matters to address.

“Right,” Cody repeats, before finally remembering that he does, in fact, know how to string words into a sentence. His eyes snap up from the datapad, meeting his General’s gaze. Discomfort claws its way through his body, constricting his throat a little when he tries to gather himself. “Yes, sir. I’m just wondering, about the aliases-”

Obi-Wan huffs, clearly having his own strong opinion on whatever he thinks Cody is about to say. “Yes, well, I appreciate that the backstories aren’t as detailed as they could be. I did mention it, but the Council did what they could on such short notice.”

“Of course. I’m just wondering if we have to be–”

“Really, it’s a miracle that they even had anything planned, knowing them.”

“-- Married?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a long silence stretches between the two men. He studies Cody’s face again for a moment, before he looks back down at the datapad, his brow furrowed slightly as if he’s only just considering the implications of the mission for the first time. 

Cody stands, steady as ever, though behind his back his fingers twitch anxiously. From the Jedi's telling, it’s going to be a fairly quick undercover stint - a handful of days at most. They’ll be staying at a hotel-slash-resort out in a neutral system, where they’ve been tipped off that a handful of Separatists are meeting for a business deal that could debilitate the Republic if it goes off smoothly.

A tad dramatic, perhaps, but when intel like that is received, the Jedi have to ensure that the call to action is answered. And who better to answer it with than one of their best? 

Unfortunately for Cody, the Jedi’s best has a penchant for dragging him along, too.

This type of mission might be incredibly rote for the General, but for Cody, it’s… An intimidating prospect. He’s a soldier, a strategist - a damned good one at that, there’s a reason he’s been given the position of Commander - if there’s one thing he is decidedly not, however, it's an actor.

It’s likely that the more experienced man hadn’t even given Cody’s involvement a second thought - they’re by each other’s side on most battlefields, after all… This arena, though, is an untrodden one. After some consideration, Obi-Wan quirks a brow and looks back up at his Commander.

“You’re aware that we wouldn’t actually be signing any legal documents for the sake of the mission?” he queries, as if that were at all the issue Cody is having here. Stars, but does this man like to play dense sometimes.

“... That’s not the point, sir.”

“Then what is? Do you not think I would make a fine husband? My dear Commander, you wound me.”

Cody has the quiet suspicion that if anyone had the fortune to wed his General (not that the Jedi were even allowed such things), they would find themselves spending a considerable portion of the rest of their lives having to put up with his unfortunate sense of humour. 

As it happens, Cody is the one who’s taking the burden for that responsibility at current. It’s been slowly driving him up the wall for the better part of the war effort.

“I’m sure you would make a good–” no, that’s not appropriate, “a fine–” he stops short, glowering at the amused smirk that has plastered itself on his General’s face. Obi-Wan seems to be garnering a little too much delight in causing him to stammer like a schoolchild, the victorious glint in his eye evident. Cody shakes his head, persisting despite the flush that he’s sure has appeared on his cheeks. “... You know what I mean.”

Much to Cody’s relief, Obi-Wan takes mercy on him and drops the subject. He glances back down to the datapad with a thoughtful hum, his expression returning to something a little more dignified.

“It was ultimately a logistical choice. We would be sharing a room in the hotel, regardless, and the cover makes it considerably less likely that people would raise questions.” A pause, and then the Jedi’s voice turns a little more gentle. “If it would truly make you uncomfortable, Cody, then we can come up with an alternative.”  

Cody finds himself shaking his head before he even has time to think it through properly. It’s… Fine. He’s fine. The thought of pretending to be Obi-Wan’s… husband, makes something strange curl in his gut, a sense of tightness and discomfort that he can’t quite identify. 

He pushes the feeling away, telling himself that all it is is feeling unsure about going undercover in general - it will be, after all, his first time doing so for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s bluffed to get past guards and to stall enemies, they all have, but he’s practically a shiny in this territory. It makes sense that he’d have some nerves.

“No, I… I’ll take the mission, General. I was just…” he hesitates. He was just what exactly? Cody isn’t entirely certain. “I’ll just need some time to look over the aliases, to prepare. Being undercover is… Not my usual wheelhouse.”

That’s putting it lightly.

“If you’re certain?”

Cody holds the Jedi’s earnest gaze for as long as he can muster with this odd sensation sloshing around in his stomach. He manages a nod, moving to take the datapad from the other man as they prepare to move onto other matters for the morning.

“Yes, sir.”

______________________________

The night before the mission rolls around, Cody finds himself still awake far too late into the night. He’s at his desk, poring over multiple tabs of research, and Stars, there’s still so much to cover before they’re set to leave.

He’s… what is it that an actor would call it? ‘Studying’ the fictional man that is Vidarr Emerin, a wealthy investor who’s gained a frankly ridiculous amount of credits from backing a series of Spice mining projects on Kessel. Vidarr isn’t actually involved in the day to day operations of the creation of the drug directly (and thank the Force for that, because Cody couldn’t realistically describe the process if there was a blaster to his head), though he has his fingers in many metaphorical pies of Kessel’s ‘industry’, if one can call it that. 

Vidarr is ruthlessly efficient, cutthroat, and has more money invested in the black market than Cody has ever seen in his entire life.

His favourite colour, the document notes, is brown.

They’re hoping that, due to the planet they’re travelling to not having seen hide nor hair of the war as of yet, Cody can blend in as a regular human without issue. If he were to be clocked as a clone however, he and Obi-Wan have come up with a story that fits. A benefit of their cover is that if any clone were to defect from the GAR, Kessel would likely be a decent option for them to run to, due to its relative distance from the war and the objective difficulty in getting to the planet. It would be easier if he didn’t have to out himself, but it never hurts to be prepared.

The Commander is about three cafs into his nighttime research, and is showing no sign of slowing, currently skimming through a holonet article about Kessel’s southern equator. He’s trying to take notes on as many details as possible about the habitable section of the planet: the names of local wildlife, parks, various points of interest… It’s unlikely that anyone would want to talk to him about the geography of the local rivers, admittedly, but what if he’s caught out unexpectedly? 

No, Cody reasons to himself, taking another gulp of caf. Not worth the risk. He’ll just have to memorise the relative locations of every tributary and estuary in the local area that Vidarr is from. It’s the only way he can walk into this prepared.

It’s even later when his chrono beeps at him for attention. His eyes have been struggling to focus on the various screens for too long to ignore, and Cody’s attention turns to the empty notepad page to his right. The one that’s been staring him down all evening.

He narrows his eyes at it, sizing the offending object up. One moment passes, then another. The man groans, running a tired hand over his face and silencing his alarm. He may as well get this over with.

He returns his datapad to the page about their aliases, scrolling until he hits the ‘marriage and relationship’ section. Cody pulls the notepad over, reluctantly beginning to scribble down some bullet points. 

Renne Emerin, née Cardall, met Vidarr at a soiree attended by a handful of various small-time investors for the Pyke Syndicate, and the two began courting not long after. Three years into their relationship, they got engaged. A further year, and the two were married. This little trip together is a celebration for their second wedding anniversary.

They have a bonded pair of tookas. They’re considering adopting a child. They’re a regular, normal couple in love.

Cody turns off the datapad, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

For the life of him, he doesn’t know why he feels such a mental block in regards to… all of this. Obi-Wan had been incredibly accommodating - between them, they’d laid out expectations, negotiated how they were going to approach this, and the Jedi had promised to not push too hard in the name of making a good cover (though Cody had insisted he not hold back on his account - he’d be damned if his own incompetence compromised a mission).

And yet… The anxious feeling persists. It’s subtler now at least, having spent the last week preparing and researching, but it remains under his skin, simmering away. 

It worsens when he thinks of the marriage they’ll have to upkeep.

His chrono beeps a second time, a harsh, needy trill that tells him he really ought to be getting to bed now. Cody grumbles to himself, turning the blasted alarm off again, before finally flopping down in his bed and flicking off the light to his room.

It’ll be fine, he thinks wearily, forcing himself to take a deep breath and settle his mind. 

If there’s one thing he trusts implicitly in this Galaxy, it’s that Obi-Wan will have his back. Discomfort be damned, they’ll get through this in one piece. Soon enough, this’ll just be a funny story to tell when sufficiently drunk.

Clinging onto that thought like it holds the last vestiges of his sanity, Cody drifts into a fitful but desperately needed sleep. 

______________________________

The Commander wakes early, exactly as he was trained. A fast shower, an efficient shave, and his bed made neatly behind him as he dresses.

At 0600 hours exactly, he leaves his quarters, fully clad in his newly issued armour - shiny, pristine, bright white plastoid that catches in the harsh, fluorescent lighting lining the hallways of the Venator. He is precisely as he should be: the perfect example of what the Kaminoans created.

When he reaches the briefing room, he raps his gloved knuckles against the door once, twice. Cody feels confident as he waits - every single choice he makes matters today, and a good first impression is vital. Yes, he thinks, mulling it over in his mind: a single knock would have been insufficient, and three would be bordering on informal. Two was the right answer, Commander. Good work.

It takes precisely six seconds for the door to slide open, revealing the Jedi he had met briefly before in holocalls, though never face to face. The Jedi he’s going to dedicate his life to. 

Auburn hair catches the light, and clean, cream coloured robes settle tidily about his form. Curious eyes settle on him, inspecting the clone likely as much as the clone is analysing the Jedi. Cody is quietly grateful for his helmet giving him the tactical upper hand in this endeavour.

The blue of the Jedi’s eyes reminds him of the Kaminoan ocean, though he’s unsure whether or not that association is a good or a bad one. The man in front of him looks methodically put together, neat and organised, as a member of the famed Jetii should be… Perhaps a little tired, though, as the faint bags under his eyes might indicate.

Cody decides it doesn’t matter. It’s surely just a sign of his new General’s commitment to his work ethic that he would stay up late to prepare for today. Something they’ll have in common, then.

The Commander’s back is, naturally, ramrod-straight as he salutes sharply, his voice strong and even as he speaks.

“CC-2224, sir. Ready for our briefing.” He knows the Jedi should have remembered his designation number from their fleeting introductions over holocall, but it never hurts to be cautious. The man has a lot to familiarise himself with over the coming days, after all. It wouldn’t be a slight if it took him a while to remember something so small.

General Kenobi pauses at that, before offering a small, if hesitant smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course.” He steps aside, allowing the clone entry into the meeting room. It’s a tidy, organised space, yet something about it is almost eerie in its quietude. Cody’s eyes sweep over neat stacks of datapads and consoles with no fingerprints yet on their keyboards, no dust yet accumulated on the cables filling the room. A tactical space, ready to handle and catalogue so much violence and death - years of it, more. 

And yet it is, at present, still and empty. Lying in eager wait for the blood to start spilling, to see the use it has been designed for. Today, the Commander supposes, is the day. 

The General sweeps through the room, posture so exact that it almost makes him look as if he’s gliding rather than walking. He sets up the holotable at the centre of the room, watching as the agenda for the day flickers into being, a list nearly a mile long. General Kenobi scans over the file with a quiet sigh, before he glances over to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Would you care for a cup of caf? I quite find I struggle to focus so early on in the day.”

The Jedi’s voice is gentle, softened at the edges with tiredness - not at all the tone the soldier is used to from authority. Cody frowns to himself. And he’s… Offering him caf. Not an order or command. An unexpected start to their working relationship.

Part of him can’t help but think it could be a trap. A test of how much he’d be willing to take from him, perhaps. A measure of his discipline?

Kenobi looks progressively more awkward as time presses on. He speaks up again, evidently trying to search for any hint of emotion in the clone’s expressionless helmet and drawing a blank.

“Or… Tea?” he tries, tilting his head a little. “I can make tea instead, if that’s more to your liking.”

The Commander hesitates, trying to figure out the right answer to this puzzle in front of him. Would it offend the General if he said no? Could he say no, if he wanted to? How much of a choice does he get here?

Regardless, he can tell his prolonged silence is unnerving his new General, and the last thing he wants is to make a bad impression.

“Caf… Caf is fine, sir. Thank you.” 

That, at least, seems to placate the Jedi. He smiles, a little more sincerely this time, before disappearing off to the corner of the room and busying himself with making some drinks.

Cody takes the opportunity to get a headstart on the agenda for their first day, looking over the list at the holotable with a critical eye. There’s much to do, and he’s anxious to get to it and prove himself.

“Right,” Kenobi begins as he returns, passing a steaming mug to Cody before sipping at his own. “Let us get started, hm?”

The briefing is quick, and efficient. They move through all the matters of the day - introductory training with the men, preparations to oversee supply requisitioning, and early drafts of strategy for the 212th’s first upcoming mission in the field together.

The caf is nicer than he expected.

“Before we go, Commander,” Kenobi says as the two turn to leave for the first training, his tone thoughtful. He looks to the clone in front of him, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “I was wondering if I could have your name.”

… What? 

“My… Designation number, sir?” He asks, with a little uncertainty. The Jedi’s mouth twitches - not quite a frown, but something close to it. He attempts to disguise it by passing a hand over his beard. Cody tenses instinctively.

“No, you greeted me with that when you first came in,” he reminds him, voice gentle. “I meant your name. Your actual one.”

CC-2224 glitches. 

He’s not sure how long he just stares at the General, but it’s long enough to prompt Kenobi to speak again.

“... If that would be alright?”

No, no it would be decidedly not alright. This is against everything the Commander was expecting, everything he’s spent his whole life preparing for. He’s almost indignant at the impropriety. As he continues to hesitate, a flash of something like worry flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by a sheepishness unbefitting of someone of his station.

He raises his hand, cutting off Cody as he finally opens his mouth to answer.

“No, no, I apologise, Commander,” he says quickly, sounding a little ashamed. “Names are… important to your brothers, aren’t they?”

At Cody’s stupefied nod, he continues on.

“I should not have asked something so personal of you,” the Jedi murmurs, bowing his head briefly in apology. “Forgive me.”

The Commander doesn’t quite know what to do with that. A brief mumble of ‘it’s alright, sir’, and an evening spent puzzling out who, exactly, his new General is, will have to do.

That night, Cody finds himself staring up at the ceiling as he tries to find sleep.

Perhaps the Kaminoans were wrong about the Jetii. About what would be expected of them. But then, if that’s true, then what else were they wrong about? 

It’s an unnerving thought, and it’s one that plagues him for the coming weeks.

______________________________

In the half-light of the ship’s artificial morning, Cody stares down his reflection in the mirror, wrinkling his nose slightly as he tugs a battle-worn comb through his hair, gently teasing the curls apart. He glances back down to the holonet vid he found, the projector balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. Making a swiping gesture in the air with his free hand, he winds back the video yet another time. The helpful, yet slightly too-fast-speaking Kiffar woman in the vid enthusiastically explains how to loosen one’s curl pattern, and Cody repeats the actions she demonstrates, his brow knitting together unconsciously as he focuses. 

The 212th doesn’t exactly have access to the myriad of supplies the vid-blogger eagerly shows the camera, but Cody’s scoured the supply shipments to source some decent enough conditioner - combined with the comb with a handful of missing teeth that he’d uncovered earlier in his room, they’ll have to do. The steam from the shower he’d taken minutes earlier permeates the room, and Cody has to pause in his delicate work every few minutes to wipe down the mirror.

He continues working methodically from the ends of the strands up to his scalp, becoming progressively less clumsy with the action as he goes. It’s strangely meditative, though it helps that his attention on this is effectively holding off the nervousness that the mission ahead of him today brings. 

By the time he finishes up, the Commander just… stares at himself for a long moment, noting the unfamiliar sensation of his still-damp hair falling a short way across his face. It’ll need to be slicked back, certainly, but it looks… Fine. Not like him, though. Not at all. 

It’s a funny thing, that sensation that other sentients would refer to as not recognising yourself in the mirror. When your face is the same as millions of others, it’s more like seeing another one of the vode. One with that same scar across the temple and with considerably less sternness about adhering to the GAR’s hair-length regs, clearly.

Cody sighs, gesturing to power down the holoprojector, finishing towelling himself off and finally heading out of the ‘fresher to get ready for the day. Regardless of his feelings on the subject, it’ll help him blend in better as a deserter, so longer hair it is.

Longer hair and an almost merc-like uniform, according to the tailored cloak and boots that wait for him in his room. Cody grimaces.

He just hopes that if Waxer or Boil see him, they’ll keep their mouths shut.

By some mercy of the fates, he’s able to steal through the Venator and make it up to the docking bays without catching the eye of any of his men (mostly, at least; he’d brushed past Helix outside the medbay but the medic hadn’t even looked up from his work). 

He jogs up the ramp to the ship to join his Jedi - already waiting for him and re-reading today’s mission details with a mug in hand, of course.

Cody spots the second mug of caf that Obi-Wan had prepared sitting over on one of the consoles and beelines for it, already knowing he’ll be needing all the stimulants he can get his hands on to feel at all ready for today.

“Ah, Commander, I was wondering when you were going to–” Obi-Wan starts, but the comment dies on his tongue. Cody glances over to see his normally so eloquent General taking a moment before finishing his sentence, his friend’s gaze flicking briefly over his appearance. The Commander raises a questioning brow, and Obi-Wan clears his throat quietly, before offering Cody a slightly short nod.

“... When you were going to arrive.” His eyes linger for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, before he turns away, busying himself by inputting the coordinates into the console. “The hair suits you, by the way.”

Cody feels strangely warm at the compliment, self-consciously reaching up to push back some of the strands.

“I’ve written up some of the boys for shorter,” he comments dryly, stepping up alongside the Jedi and taking a sip of his caf. Obi-Wan snorts in quiet amusement, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’m sure.”

A calm silence briefly blankets them as the ship’s autopilot gets them away from the Venator and into the familiar black ocean of space, and Cody feels some of his tension ease. Of course it feels normal. He was a fool to think that this would feel any different to their usual missions. 

His eyes idly track the various indicators that display the wellbeing of the ship as he exhales slowly, lips curling up into something more reminiscent of a grimace than a smile - but nonetheless, he tries.

“You feeling ready for this?” he asks, feeling selfishly a little comforted by the thoughtful hum he gets in response. That’s a ‘not quite’ from the Jedi, and it at least means they’ll be walking into this together with some uncertainty. Cody hates feeling like he’s on the back foot.

“You can never be too ready for an undercover mission,” Obi-Wan says evenly, staring out ahead of them as the ship prepares to enter hyperspace. His fingers tap idly against his mug. “It always comes down to improvisation. A slip of the tongue here, an unexpected question there,” he murmurs. Catching Cody’s eye, the ghost of a smirk flits across his features. “... Not to worry you, of course.”

“Mm, right. You’d never do anything to cause me worry,” Cody quips, settling down into the pilot chair and buckling himself in. Obi-Wan follows suit, nodding serenely.

“It definitely hasn’t happened before, no.”

The trip through hyperspace is largely uneventful, the two falling into a companionable silence. As his thoughts stray to the mission ahead a little way into the flight, Cody realises his mind must feel a little frayed through the Force, because Obi-Wan turns to give him the look.

‘The Look’ is something scrutinising that happens whenever the Commander hasn’t quite managed to maintain his mental shields enough to conceal his emotions in a time of stress - the Jedi Order had, en masse, taught the vode how to do it in the early days of their partnership, in the interest of maintaining privacy for the troops, and as a gesture of goodwill. Cody does it well, for the most part, though it’s harder for him with Obi-Wan than with others, he finds. The man always seems to be able to see right through him.

“You’re still anxious.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Cody wishes, not for the first time, that the General wouldn’t draw attention to his vulnerability like this. He levels Obi-Wan with a frustrated look of his own, brows knitting into a frown.

“It’s fine,” he insists. Obi-Wan looks at him flatly. Cody relents immediately, knowing that it’s useless trying to lie to any Jedi, but especially this one in particular.

He course corrects.

“It’ll be fine once we’re actually in the thick of it. It’s…” he grimaces, shaking his head slightly. “It’s the unknown of it all. At least if it’s a firefight, you can face down the enemy with a rifle.”

Obi-Wan reaches out to gently squeeze his Commander’s shoulder. The action soothes, the familiar warmth of his hand providing an anchor point of calm. “You’ll be wonderful. If I didn’t have full faith in you, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me,” he says, sincerely.

“Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, a playful glint in his eye, “if it all goes sideways, then you can happily be in your comfort zone while we blast our way out.”

A huff of amusement escapes Cody as he rolls his eyes, reaching up to cover the hand that remains on his shoulder.

“My comfort zone of keeping you from getting yourself impaled or shot? Yes, I’m unfortunately very familiar,” he mutters, exasperated yet fond.

Obi-Wan tips his head back and laughs.

______________________________

The first time he hears Obi-Wan laugh - properly laugh, not that wry chuckle he occasionally hears during briefings - it’s also the first time they’ve stayed up late together to finish up on  paperwork in his quarters. Cody has been regaling him with a tale from his youth on Kamino, relating to a particularly memorable incident involving Wooley, Boil, and a few mouse droids, and Obi-Wan laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and shoulders shaking with mirth.

At this time, it’s been about six weeks since the battalion’s first deployment in the war. The group is beginning to feel less like a random selection of soldiers and more like many parts of a functioning whole. Most notably, a handful of the men have recently started on their armour decoration. After much debate back and forth about the colour they should choose to accurately represent the battalion, Crys organised a (debatably) official vote in the mess hall with swatches of the strongest contenders.

The General had politely abstained over lunch, telling the vode that it wasn’t his place to influence their choices on such matters. Waxer indignantly declared such a position as ‘fence-sitting’, and Cody had sharply warned the young trooper that if he were to accuse High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi of centrist tendencies again, it would be KP duty for a month.

The vote had come out strongly in favour of a colour they’d henceforth started referring to as ‘212th gold’ - a handsome shade that glowed like the sun when caught by natural light. As his duty dictates him to show the way for his men, the Commander was among the first to adopt it, beginning with the sunburst on his chestplate. It felt right, even with those first brushstrokes, to be able to claim something as truly theirs. Cody hopes that one day, 212th gold will represent a spark of hope across the Galaxy. A mark made entirely in their name.

A little romantic of a thought, perhaps, but it brings him a spark of pride whenever he sees the newest shinies brought in, eager to earn the paint stripes they see displayed by those in command.  

In these last six weeks, a considerable amount has changed for the men, and it’s been a lot of adjustment. Both Obi-Wan and the vode serving under him have had to figure out how to adapt, to work alongside each other effectively. The General is kinder, more human than the Kaminoans had warned he’d be - he watches out for them on battlefields, mourns alongside them when their brothers are lost… in turn, the vode are beginning to slowly open up, too, starting to share parts of their culture with the Jedi.

He’s even been learning to speak Mando’a, though Cody is privately grateful that he’s been able to warn the boys ahead of time to watch their tongues when the General is floating around. They mean well, but he knows what they can be like if they think no one can understand them… The last thing he wants is to have to deal with writing up half of his troops for discussing too liberally what happened during their most recent trip to 79’s.

Once Obi-Wan gathers himself again, he looks over at Cody with a thoughtful glance, his expression softened with a grin. 

“It doesn’t sound altogether too dissimilar to the way we were raised in the temple, you know,” he says, “... mischief and all.” 

Cody watches him from his position sat on the edge of his bed. He thinks the relaxed, genuine smile suits the other man greatly. He privately hopes he’ll get to see it again after tonight. 

The Jedi hums to himself, before adopting a fond, faraway look. “All younglings can be particularly trying in large numbers, regardless of origin,” he continues, “I do not envy the crechèmasters for the duty they have to perform.”

Cody’s interest is piqued at that. The datapad in his hand is ignored for a moment, attention turned fully to the man sitting at his desk.

“You were raised communally?”

Obi-Wan nods, pausing briefly to make an amendment to the report in front of him, slender fingers moving quickly across the screen. Stars, Cody thinks to himself with a little annoyance, the man can even make paperwork look elegant.

“Yes. Well, from a certain age at least. I was brought to the Temple around age 4,” he explains. His eyes are still a little distant, lost in the memory of a happier time. “I still have a deep fondness for my crèchemates, despite… Differing opinions with a handful of them.”

Cody nods slowly, studying the Jedi for a beat.

“I get that, General,” he says, returning his attention to his datapad. “I’m the same with my batchmates. I just… Might have had more of them than you.” 

“An understatement I’m sure, Commander,” Obi-Wan chuckles, before his tone turns softer, more sincere. He glances over at Cody, choosing his next words carefully. 

“It seems like… A wonderful thing, the family you and the rest of the vode share.” He gives Cody a small smile, though there’s something else to it, a heaviness that settles behind his expression. “... It’s a shame that such a thing was created for the unworthy purpose of war. I can only hope that once the fighting is done, you’ll be able to thrive as all other sentients do.”

The two lapse into silence for a little while, the only sound filling the room the soft tapping of keys. Obi-Wan has spoken a little about his feelings on the war over the last handful of weeks, and to be truthful, it’s not a subject that Cody trusts himself to speak about. Neither the 212th, nor Cody himself for that matter, have been deployed for very long, and the clone doesn’t quite understand all of the weight behind his General’s words. Perhaps he will come to, in time… for better or worse.

Cody has reckoned with his own adjustments in the past few weeks. He’s found himself relaxing considerably around Obi-Wan, no longer feeling the burning need to watch himself as if his General is considering decommissioning him if he puts a foot wrong. He didn’t particularly know her, but from what the other vode say, Shaak Ti was similar back on Kamino.

It took a week and one mission in the field before Cody decided that the Jetii were not the dictators they’d expected. A further week and he was convinced they had no choice in this whole matter either, and were evidently suffering for it. Like a good Commander, he'd kept those observations to himself.

As soon as he’d allowed himself to be… Well, human, around the Jedi, he and Obi-Wan had started to become closer. Cody isn’t particularly adept at it yet, but if he finds himself arriving early to their morning briefings, he’s started making the General his tea in the way he likes it. It’s something small, but judging by the way Obi-Wan’s eyes had widened the first time he’d done it, a pleased smile crossing his face, it’s something that seemed to mean a lot to him.

They’ve become… Friends, or something approaching that, at least. It’s a thought that has him steeling himself to speak now, clearing his throat in the quiet space.

“... Cody,” he says, forcing the word to come out casually. Obi-Wan glances up again with a raised brow, a questioning look in his eyes. Cody finds it in himself to meet his General’s gaze, offering an affirmative nod. “You, uh… asked me for my chosen name, when we first met,” he explains quietly, ignoring the way his stomach wants to twist as he holds out this olive branch of trust, “it’s Cody.”

Obi-Wan’s expression goes from confusion, to surprise, to something incredibly warm.

“Cody,” he repeats softly, as if testing out the sound of it on his tongue, before giving an approving nod. A smile remains on his face even as he returns to his work. “Thank you, Cody,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the datapad at his desk. The Commander is grateful for it - he feels as if the vulnerability of further eye contact might make him combust right now.  “It’s a fine name. I’m honoured to know it.”

If Cody feels his heart react to the softness of his Jedi’s tone in that moment, he doesn’t mention it.

______________________________

“Mister and Mister Emerin?”

Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance at the call across the docking bays. They’ve barely been parked for a minute, and they’re already out of time. 

“I suppose that’s us,” Cody says with a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders slightly. He looks at Obi-Wan, tilting his head with a silent question of ‘ready?’ and the Jedi nods, bringing the last of the bags with him down the gangway of the ship.

A tall, pale Nautolan woman with a checklist in hand approaches, teeth flashing a perfect, artificially white smile as Obi-Wan steps forwards to shake her hand. 

“Charmed,” he drawls in a smooth, Outer Rim accent, his voice low with lazily drawn out syllables - a stark contrast to the sharp, crisp Coruscanti voice that Cody’s used to hearing. Beside the Jedi, he forces on a smile.

“You’re here to check us in?” he says, hoping that his voice comes across not nearly as unsure and out of place as he feels. The Nautolan nods, making a scribble on the flimsi paper she’s carrying, pocketing it and taking the bags from the two of them without asking.

“Here, I’ll get these for you and show you to the main building. Is this your first time staying with us?”

The woman chatters away to them as they make the walk from the docking bays to the resort itself. Obi-Wan is as content to make conversation as Cody is to let him. The clone hangs back a little, taking in the planet around him. Brilliant light beams down on the building ahead, even as it nears the start of sundown, making him squint a little. It’s…

Excessive is the primary word that comes to mind.

The docking bays themselves are massive, on an elevated platform above a calm looking ocean of tropical blue. The bridge they’re now on connects to a few perfectly sculpted beaches that are teeming with people even at this hour, and more pressingly, a building the size of the damn Senate. Cody’s far from an expert on architecture, but it’s clearly a recent build - large windows and extravagant relief work carved into the stone of the imposing structure, of various people or mythological beings that Cody imagines he probably should recognise but doesn’t.

It all seems to be purpose-built with the intention of making the space feel welcoming to those in a certain tax bracket. 

Cody is undeniably not part of that tax bracket.

This area of the planet itself has almost definitely gone through some extensive terraforming by the looks of things, and he feels a little dizzy as he imagines the cost - coming from a corporation, no less. Part of the background provided for this mission detailed that Miphena, the planet they’re standing on, is essentially owned by the resort managers with no government to speak of. To call it ‘bleak’ would be underselling it.

They’re ushered inside by the woman with the increasingly grating customer service voice, brought through a pristine foyer tiled with marble underfoot. Cody is sure to make a mental note of that - that’s very slippery when covered in blood, so if they’re having to fight their way out, they should find another point of exit than this one.

He continues to sweep the rest of the room with an analytical eye. The main desk could be used as cover in a pinch, though it’s not in a particularly tactical location - the presence of stairs, an elevator, and double-doors through to the main events hall makes this an undesirable position to have to defend with too many points of ambush.

… Granted, it’s exceedingly unlikely they’ll be forced to stage a firefight here, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.

The receptionist leads them up to the seventh floor (with a lot of small-talk in the elevator that feels entirely unnecessary), hands them their keys for the room, drops their bags off and thanks the two profusely for their custom before leaving them alone once more. Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance, and the former smirks. 

“After you, darling husband,” Obi-Wan says easily with a flourishing bow, still holding onto the accent despite the fact it’s just the two of them. The amused gleam in the Jedi’s eye only gets stronger as Cody rolls his eyes, pushing past him to enter into the room. 

Much like the exterior of the hotel, it’s certainly extravagant. A large bed takes up most of the space, crisp white sheets with elaborate gold embroidery detailing the edges, and a plush red carpet beneath it. Every surface has some form of decoration, a vase of fake flowers here, a small metal sculpture there. A fairly incomprehensible piece of abstract art hangs above the bed, though what it’s intended to represent is entirely lost on Cody.

The two share another glance, silently communicating with one another, and get to work searching the room for any listening devices. 

Cody heads directly for the mirror, carefully unhooking it from the wall to see if the garish item is the result of the need to obscure a bug of some kind, or if it’s just the result of terrible taste.

Hm. Terrible taste it is.

Once they both signal the all-clear, Obi-Wan relaxes a little, setting both of their bags down on the bed.

“Well,” he says mildly, glancing around with a disapproving gaze. “It’s certainly expensive.”

Cody snorts, following his eyeline. “Just how much did the Republic spend to send us here?”

Obi-Wan peers closely at the strange painting, letting out a soft hum. “I shudder to think.” He pauses as Cody wanders over to check out the balcony. “This surely can’t be an original work,” he mutters to himself, passing a hand over his beard and frowning in thought. 

Cody can’t help but glance back with a raised brow. 

“... Sir,” he says, and the Jedi interrupts him with a wave of his hand, still narrowing his eyes at the artwork.

“It’s Obi-Wan when we’re alone, Cody, you know that.”

“Obi-Wan,” he starts again, amused. “Please tell me you’re not critiquing the art–”

“If it’s there, it should be there with purpose. This is soulless. It’s nothing-”

“In a resort, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi lets out a rather contemptuous scoff, before drawing back to meet Cody’s gaze. He folds his arms, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “If you’re not the type to appreciate a critique of art, my dear, then whyever did I marry you in the first place?”

Cody lets out a long suffering sigh, not missing a beat. “I ask myself the same thing every day, darling, believe me.”

That draws a laugh from his Jedi. Cody steps out to the balcony proper as Obi-Wan begins to unpack his bag. 

The sun is drawing lower on the horizon now, painting the sky in picturesque golds and oranges as people slowly move in from the beach - a steady stream of holiday-goers and families making their way back to the hotel for the evening. Cody idly watches them, leaning out over the railing as he takes in the myriad of species, genders, and ages of the people who’ve come here for an escape. One thing seems to bind them all together despite the differences - that distinct aura of wealth that seems to permeate the very air here.

He can’t really put his finger on what it is. The way they carry themselves, maybe? The sea of perfect skin and hair, the precision in which they choose to dress… It’s all fairly alien to the Commander. None of it really feels real in the way that people tend to be. Give him the flawed mess of the Lower Levels any day.

“I’m going to go for a little wander,” Obi-Wan calls through from the bedroom. “Get the lay of the land, so to speak.” 

Cody turns, stepping back into the lavish room and stretching slightly. He sighs as he feels a pleasant ache in his muscles.

“I’ll probably stay in,” he yawns, “get an early night. Didn’t sleep well last rotation, and I’d prefer to feel rested for tomorrow.”

Even though he technically hasn’t been awake for all that long, Cody figures it’d be best to get started on adjusting to local time as quickly as possible. They’ll need to be up at dawn, regardless of if they’re ready for it. The Jedi hums in response, slipping on his cloak and heading to the door.

“That sounds wise. I’ll try not to return too late - if you’re already asleep, I shall endeavour to join you as quietly as possible.” His gaze falls to where Cody stands, offering a small smile. “Feel free to claim either side of the bed. Comms are on, I’ll see you in a little while.”

With that, he’s disappeared off into the night, leaving Cody with the question of whether or not he should take the floor tonight dying on his tongue. 

He blinks, a little stupidly, after the now closed door. It’s as if there wasn’t even a question of whether they would be sharing the bed in the Jedi’s mind. Which… Cody supposes there shouldn’t be, really. 

He and Obi-Wan have shared tents before in the field countless times, slept closely on the ground when there hasn’t been space in various quarters they’ve been given. Hells, during a mission on Mygeeto two months ago, he’d had no qualms with combining their bedrolls together for warmth.

A real bed just… feels different. Cody isn’t quite sure why.

He gives a wary sidelong glance to the offending furniture, as if expecting it to bite him. The bed, for its part, stares back at him unblinkingly, its exorbitant number of pillows providing more fuel for Cody’s growing resentment of the damn thing.

The Commander shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. With a sigh and a mental slap upside the head, he unpacks his own bag, glancing out every now and again to the progressing sunset as he changes into his sleepclothes.

He’s almost loath to admit it, but the view is gorgeous. The twin moons slowly rise into the sky, basking the ocean in an ethereal glow. If it weren’t for the fact that he can still hear tourists partying outside, he could be tricked into actually enjoying this.

Cody sets aside the outfits he’ll need for tomorrow - something casual for the day, and something more formal for a party that’ll be occurring in the evening - before putting his suitcase down on top of Obi-Wan’s, near the door.

Sinking down into bed, he’s further frustrated to find out how comfortable it feels, reluctantly admitting to himself that perhaps the richest of the rich in the galaxy do get some things right every now and again. Rarely.

He lets out a deep exhale, pleased to find that his mind feels considerably more settled now that they’re actually here at the mission location, a little more peaceful.

It’s a relief, to be certain - Cody doesn’t really know who he is if not for the calm, collected strategist that always has an answer. His lack of certainty as of late has been… Disquieting, to say the least.

He grasps the feeling of quietude with both hands, allowing it to pull him into the alluring drift of near-sleep.

He stirs a little when he hears Obi-Wan return, the door clicking closed ever so gently. The Jedi seems to be true to his word in keeping his movements as soundless as possible- 

Well, that is at least until he takes a step further into the dark room and walks directly into the suitcases in front of him, letting out a hiss of pain. 

Cody can’t quite conceal his ensuing huff of amusement. Obi-Wan seems decidedly less pleased, grumbling something under his breath. 

The other man pads over to the other side of the bed, and Cody hears the distinctive rustle of clothes being removed. He lets out a slow breath, ensuring to stay stock still, facing the other way. Not that he could really see what was going on even if he did roll over, but…

“Sorry. I tried.” Obi-Wan’s whisper cuts through the darkness, genuine regret in his tone. 

“You’re fine. Is your foot alright?”

The Jedi huffs. “Mortally wounded, I’m afraid. Amputation likely.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

The bed dips gently behind him as Obi-Wan gets in. Cody is suddenly very grateful that everything in this hotel is oversized - it at least means they can do this without threat of the two being close enough to touch. For one long moment, he’s hyper-aware of every shift, every slight movement from his Jedi, before he forces his eyes to close.

It all falls quiet after that, apart from the gentle sound of even breaths behind him. Cody unconsciously finds himself matching them, slow inhales and exhales that serve to soothe his suddenly racing heart. He tries not to think too hard about why his heart might be racing.

Cody swallows. Thank the stars he knows how to shield, because he has no idea what Obi-Wan would say if he could sense this… Whatever it is that’s gotten into him.

With a long exhale, he uses what his General had once taught him of meditation technique to forcibly quieten his mind. He’s not allowing himself to do this. Not again.

To his immense gratitude, with a little effort (and time spent visualising the movement of the ocean outside), the calm of earlier finds its way to him once again, soothing his mind and slowing his breaths to match that of the lapping water.

As he finds himself on the precipice of sleep once more, he hears a quiet murmur from the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

Cody pulls the covers up a little tighter to himself, yawning as he does so. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, it’s uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Sleep well, Obi-Wan.”

(chapter 2)

[muxshwriting]

empire now

Ben Solo x reader

summary: you’ve spent every day since the temple attack searching for Ben Solo. he disappeared that night, no body found, no trace. you just didn’t expect to find him as the leader of the oppressors || warnings: torture, capture, wounds, pregnancy, family issues, past trauma, poor boy is TRAUMATISED || word count: 1931 || masterlist

As the world came back into focus, all you could feel was pain. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing here.

Except, this was the First Order. You were captured by them and now you had to face the consequences of that. The stormtroopers had clearly gotten to you first, judging by the cuts and bruises that ached every time you shifted slightly. You also noticed the restraints that held you upright in a chair. They scraped your skin as you tried to move around and get (slightly) comfortable.

The door whooshed open behind you and you turned your head to try and see who was behind you. A figure shrouded in black appeared in your vision and you realised this was Kylo Ren, the Kylo Ren who was known for torturing and then killing Resistance fighters. This was the end for you.

“Where’s Luke Skywalker?”

Now that was a question you weren’t expecting. Maybe ‘where’s the resistance base’ or ‘what will the resistance target next’ definitely not ‘where is Luke Skywalker.’ No one had seen that senile old man in decades.

You could still remember that night where the whole universe was changed, the final downfall of the Jedi. It was raining, dark and gloomy. You had woken to the sound of crumbling buildings and clashing lightsabers. Staggering out of your hut, blindly reaching for your own lightsaber, you watched the scene in front of you. A man shrouded in a dark cloak, either black or soaked with rain, as he drove his blue lightsaber through the chests of your fellow students. Some tried to fight but none succeeded. Luke went running towards him, yelling something about destiny but you could barely hear him over the rain.

In a panic, you dove back into your hut and threw everything your owned into a rucksack, tossed it over shoulder and ran for your life. Neither noticed you slipping away through the rain and you were even luckier for it. You hadn’t looked back since. You still carried that old and tattered rucksack you had that night. In the bottom, you had sewn a secret pocket where your lightsaber sat. It hadn’t been lit since that day and you never wanted to but you didn’t have the heart to throw it away or destroy it. It weighed you down, reminding you of who you were as you fought and ran from the First Order.

Luke Skywalker. Your old master. He hadn’t crossed your mind lately and you were annoyed to be reminded of him.

“I don’t know anything about Luke Skywalker.”

If a mask could have expressions, it would be looking at you with a smirk.

“The Resistance is looking for a map to Luke Skywalker. You were meeting with San Tekka, he gave you the map.”

You frown. “I wasn’t meeting with San Tekka, you have the wrong person. I was on Jakku searching for an old friend.” You didn’t elaborate beyond that, you didn’t want to. Everyone always said you were chasing ghosts. But Ben’s body hadn’t been buried after that night. You had snuck back and watched as the devastation was cleared up and fixed like it had never happened. There was a chance, no matter how small, that he had snuck away like you had, that he was still alive and out there somewhere.

“What do you know about Luke Skywalker?”

“He’s an old man.”

The mask scoffed. You hated that mask, who would be so afraid to show their own face, resorting to hiding themselves like a coward. Ren raised a hand to your head and you felt the familiar push in your mind.

You screwed your eyes shut, focused on keeping him away from your memories. He was obviously stronger than you, pushing past your boundaries and diving into your thoughts. The stabbing pain that accompanied mind reading always took you by surprise. A groan fell from your lips as you held yourself back from screaming. Your whole body tenses, aggravating your other injuries, sending a stinging pain down your whole body.

The pain stopped and your body sags, only held up by the restraints.

“…Y/N.” Ren’s voice is a whisper and for a moment it’s not Ren’s voice, it’s Ben’s. Your eyes stay shut, basking in the sound of a voice you had almost forgotten. Your name is uttered again and it brings you back down to reality. It’s Kylo Ren standing in front of you, not Ben Solo. It’s Kylo Ren.

It’s Kylo Ren without his mask. It’s Ben Solo. It’s Kylo Ren wearing the same face as Ben Solo. It’s Ben Solo wearing Kylo Ren’s clothes.

Kylo Ren is Ben Solo.

“No.”

He frowns, looking more like the young boy you knew and less like a Sith every second. “No?” It’s an honest question, he’s confused as to why you’re getting upset. What the hell gives him the right to be confused after all he’s done?

“No! You’re making me see things, get out of my head.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop saying my name.”

“Please, it’s me. I didn’t recognise you at first, but I knew your beautiful mind as soon as I entered it.”

“Get out of my head.” You say louder. “Get away from me.”

If this was an interrogation tactic, this was cruel. If this was real, it was even crueler.

“I don’t know anything about Luke Skywalker, I don’t know what you want, I don’t have anything that I can tell you.” The tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes now fell. Your breathing was laboured, simply trying to force the air in and out.

“I’m Ben.” It’s not what he says, but what he does. He waves his hand, releasing your arms from your restraints and lifts your hand in his. He lets you touch his face, running your fingers over the flawless skin that you’d only dreamed of for years.

“What happened to you?”

You suppose your question catches him off guard, but there’s no malice or hatred behind your words. He takes a step back regardless, diverting his eyes to the ground. “I did what I thought was right.”

You go to interrupt but he continues.

“I was a fool. You were right all along, I should have listened but Snoke was so convincing. I thought the whole galaxy would be enough, but I never needed the galaxy. I just needed you.”

He helps you out of the chair, supporting your shaky legs and holding you tight. You meet his eyes, soft and warm like they always had been. Your Ben was here, you knew that. He would never hurt you.

“What do we do?”

“You need to go to the medics.”

“But Snoke-“

“Snoke is three systems away from here. He won’t know.” He says it with such conviction that you have no choice but to believe him.

“But-“

“We’ll get you looked after, then I’ll charter a ship to wherever we want. We’ll leave it all behind, the First Order, the Resistance, the Sith and the Jedi.”

“Okay.” You pause. “What about Leia?”

He freezes in place but he doesn’t say anything. A medical droid floats into the room, presumably Ben called for one. He’s not meeting your eyes and refusing to answer your question. You both sit in silence as the droid sprays your minor wound with bacta and sews the skin back together on the major cuts. You know you’ll be sore for a week or so but it’ll be fine in the end.

You and Ben steal away from the First Order in the dead of night, avoiding everyone else on the ship and simply revelling in your reunion. It works. All is good. You watch from a peaceful planet as the galaxy scrambles to destroy the failing first order. After their leader suddenly disappeared, the power vacuum swallowed many of the most competent generals and leaders, leaving the worst to take charge. It crumbled and the Resistance flourished.

A new government was set up, mirroring the style of the original Galactic Senate, intent on true law and order. Each planet could rule itself as long as it followed the major guidelines.

Normalcy was returned and you and Ben had settled into a comfy life where you didn’t need to worry. But then came the question of returning to his parents. It was a touchy topic for him but you kept asking. His mother loved him, you knew that and he knew that too. But he wasn’t pushed over the edge until he realised you were growing life inside you.

At the discovery of your pregnancy, Ben had been overwhelmed with love for a child he hadn’t even met yet. And he knew that he had to try and reconnect with his parents. He had to try for you and your child.

So now he stood on Chandrila, his brith planet and the planet his mother had once again retired to. His mother and father had reunited after the chaos and decided to try things again, putting their past arguments aside. You were a few steps behind him, always there but not wanting to pressure him. The front door of his mother’s house loomed in front of him and he had to take a deep breath before knocking. A shuffling could be heard inside before the door opened and an older Leia Organa stood there.

She stared at him, not believing that her son was truly there. Han rounded a corner behind her, wondering why his wife was taking so long to answer the door.

“Ben?”

He smiled, a little watery as tears welled. “Hey Mom, hey Dad.”

Leia practically tackled her son into a hug, holding him so tight, afraid he would disappear again. She met your gaze, eyes widening slightly as she recognised you from your childhood. Silently she mouth a thank you. You simply smiled at her.

“We thought you were dead…” Han said stunned. “When the First Order fell, we thought you had been killed.”

“I left.” Ben revealed. “I suddenly realised that everything I had done was for nothing.” He glanced back at you. “Y/N brought me back and I realised that no galaxy would ever compare to her.”

Han remained stunned. “Y/N? From all those years back at the Temple with Luke?”

“The very same.” You say quietly.

Leia embraced you next, smiling knowingly as she pressed a soft hand to your stomach. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

Once settled inside, Ben began your tale. Han had plenty of questions for you both, wondering where you had been and why our hadn’t returned sooner.

“We were building a home Dad.” Ben was dodging the real question. “… I was scared. I thought you might hate me or worse.”

“You’re our son Ben, nothing would make us hate you.”

“I know.” He replied. “I understand that feeling now. That’s why we’re here, because I realised how you would always care. Because I’ll always care for-“ He had to stop talking before he became a puddle of emotions. You grasp his hand tightly.

“What Ben’s trying to say is, we’re starting our own family and Ben knows he’ll always love our child, no matter what. He was too afraid before, but he understands better now.”

The Solo family shared soft smiles, slowly catching up on the years that had been missed. You sat back and watched Ben relax more and more, falling back into the easy conversation and jokes that he’d been missing out on. All was good. Ben was good.

Honestly, the longest fic I’ve ever written for tumblr (almost 2k words) and I wrote this in two hours in a caffeine induced dissociation, hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[obiwansito]

the night i nearly lost you

the great war chapter four

playlist 𐐒𐐚 taglist ʚĭɞ fic masterlist

pairing- obi wan x f!reader

word count- 5.5k

summary- grab your tissues, order 66 is here.

tags & warnings for this chapter- this is pure angst. heavy, gut-wrenching angst. graphic descriptions of violence, death, more angst. also, very brief reader physical description (blink and you miss it). child death, torture, emotional distress, betrayal.

a/n- i need therapy after writing this, that's all i'm gonna say.

"The clones? How- they would not do this."

Sammi's desperate voice enveloped your ears, which buzzed loudly as panic took over your body.

You thought of Forge. Rex, Cody - would they have betrayed you too? Or was it just the clones on Coruscant?

No, it was impossible. They had fought with you for so long, they were loyal, much more than just soldiers. They were your friends.

A nearby blaster snapped you out of your thoughts, the screams of who you thought was the knight who lived across the hall from your quarters making you shiver.

Your chest rose and fell uncontrollably, and you used all your inner strength to control your body and pull yourself away from the door.

The screams died down too quickly. In the air, you could feel hundreds of Force marks fading away. Not just in the temple, all around the galaxy.

You wanted to breathe deeply, to think clearly. But when you tried to tap into the Force, you sensed a vast darkness surrounding it.

"What will we do?" Sammi's voice trembled.

You looked around, trying to find a way out. You couldn't stay there. It was too dangerous.

The window? It was too high.

Go straight out the door? Surely there were too many clones and you would easily be outnumbered.

You sighed, making a decision.

"We can't get out of here. Not yet." You grabbed your belt with your lightsabers.

"So what do we do?" Sammi stood up.

You grabbed her hand, dragging her into your closet. You both hid in the small, dark place, the tiny space in between the two doors your only source of light.

“They will most likely come in here. If they do, we'll be ready. If not, as soon as it's all clear we'll come out.” You whispered. Your voice was weak, but you weren't going to let fear cloud your senses.

Sammi nodded, but her Force mark reflected her nerves. You couldn't blame her, you were the same way.

You were about to reply when you felt a change in the Force. It was just a sensation, as if something you'd had for a long time had been taken away from you. Your vision blurred as you tried to detect what was missing, what was it that was destroying your heart inside.

Just then, you realized what it was. That thing that had broken, that was slowly disappearing without a trace.

No.

No, no, no.

You blinked, and were no longer in the Jedi Temple. You were smaller, just a child of almost three years old.

You looked around you. A familiar planet that before, when you were not yet conscious enough, was your home.

You were on Naboo.

Beside you, was a woman. So beautiful, yet her face was lost in the sea of memories hidden deep in the depths of your mind. Kept to prevent the bonds that your Order prohibited so much.

And when you looked ahead, you found the person you could call family. The man who had taught you everything you knew, who had cared for you as if you were his own daughter.

“If she approves, she will be taken to the Jedi Temple for training. I can sense that she is powerful in the Force, I will take care of her myself.”

The familiar voice of your master became a blur, as hundreds of memories with him flashed through your mind.

When he took you in as a Padawan.

Your first mission together.

The last hug you gave each other and the last time you talked, his advice causing your eyes to sting with tears.

You fell to your knees as you felt that part of you, that soft warmth in your chest that you knew was the bond you shared, simply vanishing without a trace.

Sammi was trying to talk to you, tugging at you desperately. But you couldn't hear her.

Not when your master was dead. Plo Koon was gone, and along with him, so a part of you was too.

The air started to go out of your lungs, the small space where you were hiding quickly suffocating you. Your master's face was beginning to plague your mind, his last words to you stabbing into your chest like hundreds of daggers.

“Hey, what's wrong, are you okay?” Sammi's startled whispers sounded blurry through your tears, which you didn't even know you were shedding. Until-

“Look for all Jedi traitors! Leave nothing in the room unchecked!”

The door to your quarters opened, and footsteps could be heard coming in. Surely they had destroyed the lock. You immediately quieted your sobs, looking at Sammi. Her eyes were wide.

You put a finger to your lips, warning her not to make a sound. The two of you held hands, trying to calm your racing breaths.

From the footsteps, you could tell it was two or three troopers. They were making a mess of the room, searching everywhere. The sound of their boots against the floor made you shiver, afraid they were coming towards you.

“Check everything!” That familiar voice was breaking your heart. The voice of your best men, now turned into a threat to everything you considered home.

You had one of your blades ready, in case they opened the door. “There's nothing here! Let's go, there's plenty out there.”

You heard the troopers moving away, and you almost sighed from relief, but....

“Wait! There's still another place left.” There was only one trooper left , and you tried to locate his footsteps, but your breath quickened as you felt him getting closer and closer to you. You could see him through the small space between the two doors, covered in blood. And you and Sammi were next.

The sudden sound of blasters and lightsabers outside the quarters snapped you out of your distraught state. The clone immediately ran off, leaving you alone.

You both held your breath for a few more minutes, when the blasters had stopped firing and you knew the clones had gotten far enough away.

Slowly you opened the door, checking that everything was clear before leaving. Sammi followed you cautiously, her bloodshot eyes scanning the place. Your rooms, once a direct reflection of your personality, were now in shambles. The furniture overturned, the bed unmade, your few belongings thrown everywhere.

You approached one of your drawers, which was completely turned upside down. In the middle of crumpled sheets and towels, there were two hidden images; which you should not have, since attachments in the order were forbidden. But because of your big heart and infinite love for your loved ones, you had not been able to avoid treasuring those lovely memories captured forever.

Your hands trembled as you picked them up, recalling a life that would never be the same. The first one was from almost a year ago, after a battle that had left you exhausted and full of dirt. Anakin and Ahsoka were lying on the ground, resting. And off to the side, sitting by the fire, were Obi-wan and you. Forge had taken it, and though he didn't mention anything, it was almost impossible for him not to have noticed the way you were looking at each other. As if there was no one else around.

You felt your heart shrink with the second one. It was old, the margins were slightly wrinkled. But the image was very clear. A smiling girl, a Padawan braid in her long hair. And beside her, a Keldor was looking at her lovingly, a hand on her shoulder. It was you and your master.

You wiped away a tear that threatened to fall on your cheek, inhaling softly as you laid the pictures on your chest. Plo Koon was gone. Never again would you feel his presence in the Force, or hug him, or hear his voice.

Sammi, who had been silent until now, rested a hand on your shoulder. “What happened in there?” her voice was soft, and full of caution. She could feel your pain in the force.

You turned to her, a lump in your throat. “My master... he's dead.” You were trembling slightly, your mind couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. It was impossible, but you knew it was true.

Your friend stepped back slightly, holding a hand to her mouth in horror. “No... How do you know?”

“I felt it.” It was almost a whisper.

She asked no more questions, for she understood what you meant. Her face contracted in sadness, giving you a small hug. “I'm so sorry.”

You gave her a sad smile with tight lips. There was no time to suffer, you had to find a way out of there.

You placed the photos on your belt, putting on your robe. “We have to go.” You closed your eyes, thinking of a plan. You could outnumber some clones, but if there were too many, then you would be easily outnumbered.

“We have to find the younglings. We can't just leave them here.”

Your stomach turned at the thought of the little ones all alone in this dangerous situation. You quickly nodded. “Let's try to save everyone we find. The larger our group is, the better chance we have of survival.”

Sammi nodded. “There's a hidden hangar near the medical wing. We can get out that way, grab a small ship and get off the planet.”

Since the temple was such a huge place, there were passages and exits that very few Jedi knew about, used in ancient times in cases of emergency. You just prayed they were still a viable option.

“Alright.” You muttered, walking discreetly to the door and peeking out. The hallway was empty and silent, a completely cold force mark. A place that was once full of life, now lay with no warmth at all. You felt your body shudder. You didn't want to imagine the horrible scenes that lurked between these rooms.

You turned to Sammi, indicating to her that all was clear. Together you left in silence, moving through the corridors of the Temple. Aside from the echo of distant footsteps and lightsabers, you had not run into anyone yet.

But every room, every corner of the place you called home... It was unrecognizable. Horror invaded your body as you found blood stains on the walls and floors. When you opened a door, your blades trembling in your hands, you found torn robes and bodies lying around.

Hundreds of Jedi, your partners that you had seen throughout your life. They were all dead. Mercilessly murdered by the people who had fought by your side for so long. What had caused this betrayal? Had they been faking it all along? Preparing to attack you at the right time?

Synchronized footsteps brought you out of your thoughts. You pulled Sammi behind a wall and took a deep breath. She was terrified, her eyes locked on you as she trembled.

“How many are there?” she whispered with ragged breaths.

You closed your eyes, connecting with the force. You tried to ignore the darkness you felt stalking your being. “Four. Are you ready?”

But there was no time for her to respond, as the clones rounded the corner. For a second they froze, until you ignited your blades and lunged towards the first one. When the second one opened fire, your body reacted before your mind.

It was a quick duel, you had no time to think or regret. At this moment the priority was to survive. It didn't matter if you were hurt by his betrayal or felt tired. You put emotions aside to concentrate.

When the last clone fell, you lowered your blades, your chest rising and falling uncontrollably.

And as you turned around, you saw Sammi. She had frozen, her hand clenched tightly around her lit lightsaber. She hadn't even made an attack, she simply hadn't moved.

You half-opened your lips, but she stepped forward. “Forgive me. I couldn't...”

You interrupted her by taking her hand. Her eyes glistened with tears and your chest sank. She didn't deserve this. To regret not being able to attack, when you as Jedi had been created to bring peace and not violence. “It's okay, don't worry.”

You shut off her blade for her, taking a deep breath. “Come on, we can't stop now.”

As you went through the temple, you were encountering a few small groups of clones. Your blades were moving almost by instinct, leaving you to the force to continue moving forward quickly.

Sammi was trying to help you, deflecting shots at first. But when the last clone of a medium-sized group fell, you saw that she was panting, her force mark full of determination. Slowly she was loosening up.

You squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue. The deeper you went into the temple, the more impossible to bear the feeling of emptiness became. So many force marks and broken bonds, the air felt heavy from so many lost ones. You just hoped you weren't too late to reach the younglings.

“No.” Sammi's gasp made you stop walking. You turned in her direction, she had gone to a large column. You approached slowly, feeling a bad taste in your mouth and your ears vibrating.

The scene in front of you was heartbreaking. Sammi was holding a boy in her arms, about your age. You recognized him instantly, he had been in your same class, but you weren't that close.

Your friend was kneeling on the floor, one hand on his cheek, the pink of her skin contrasting terribly with the boy's pale one. They were friends, you remembered it well.

“No, no, no... Please. Bry, look at me. Don't leave me.” Her voice trembled as she caressed his face. His body was stained with blood, his eyes wide in shock, as if he hadn't expected the fate that met him.

You knelt beside her, hugging her as she sobbed. Seeing your friend suffering hurt your soul. You thought of all the people who had met the same fate. Had it been a quick death? You hoped with all your heart that it had. That he had not suffered, and that the force would always be with him.

In the midst of your thoughts, you realized something. “What the...”

Sammi noticed it too, for she fell silent. She gently laid the body on the ground, and stood up hurriedly, throwing up into a vase.

With trembling hands, you approached the corpse. And in that moment, your worst fear came true.

A clone had not killed him. That burn was too big for a blaster.

It was a lightsaber mark.

Bry had been killed by a Jedi.

You stood up in horror, your mind racing a mile a second. Who could have been able to do this?

But there was no time to think, you heard footsteps approaching. Too many for your liking. Sammi, who was in a trance, didn't move. Her eyes were full of tears. She whispered that you couldn't leave him, that you had to give him a proper end.

But that was not going to be possible. The clones were getting closer and closer, barely within sight of discovering the two of you. So, with a whimper you grabbed Sammi's arm, forcing her to run with you.

You simply moved forward, without thinking about where or how much noise you were making. You ran together without stopping, even though your legs ached and your whole body begged you for a break.

You stumbled a little, fatigue taking over your body. You apologized in your mind to your baby, who was surely suffering the consequences of all your stress. But you couldn't stop, your lives depended on this.

You exhaled as the door to the Council Chamber materialized in the distance.

There you could hide, regain your strength, and organize your escape route.

You rushed inside, closing the door instantly. Your body wouldn't stop shaking, full of adrenaline. At least now you were safe, no one would find you there. You were almost relieved.

But when you turned around, you found the worst scene of your life.

You felt bile rising in your throat as your eyes fell on the little ones lying in the center of the room. All brutally murdered.

You were late.

You brought a hand to your mouth, feeling breathless. Beside you, Sammi let out a choked scream. You felt her running towards them, but you couldn't move. You were paralyzed, your body refusing to react.

It was something no vision, no nightmare could have prevented you from seeing. The force echoed in your being, showing you the pain and fear the poor younglings had gone through.

And she was there.

Your body moved forward on its own, falling to its knees beside the little togruta. The little girl who brightened your saddest days, the one you had sworn to protect. But you had failed her.

You didn't know at what moment you had started to cry, you found out when your sobs reached your ears and tears were felt on your cheeks. You took her in your arms, so small and delicate, and hugged her. You asked her forgiveness over and over in whispers, as if she could hear you.

“My little Kyla...” You heard yourself say. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Sammi sat next to you, her eyes red. She stroked the little girl's montrals, with infinite gentleness.

“They were just children.” Her voice was hoarse. “They didn't deserve any of this.”

You nodded, your vision blurred by tears. Your heart ached so much it felt like it would burst out of your chest at any moment. You clung to the small body, as if having her there was going to bring her back.

You were silent, only your sobs echoing in the room. You don't know how long you just laid there, mourning for all that you had lost that day.

And you realized it was time. You had held on so tightly to this secret, but if you had said it earlier, maybe everything would have changed. You looked at Sammi, who had a blank stare.

“I'm pregnant.” Your voice was something less than a whisper, but she heard it. She turned abruptly to you, her eyes wide.

She blinked, as if she hadn't understood what you had just said. But when she saw your tear-filled eyes, she understood.

“What?”

"I've known for a few days now. Obi-wan..." Your voice cracked at the thought of him. You didn't even know if he was alive. "I haven't told him. I thought I had time. I thought everything would get better. I was a fool."

The next thing you felt was Sammi's arms around you tightly, your breath shaking. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, letting out a little whimper, trying not to cry again.

She didn't ask anything, just held you while you cried quietly. For what you had lost, for what you had lived through, and for the uncertain future of your child.

After a few minutes, she stroked your hair gently. “We have to go.”

You nodded, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You couldn't afford to grieve. You had to survive now. And for the life of your baby, you were going to get out of there. Whatever it took.

You struggled to your feet, your hand going to your belly intuitively. You were tired, but you were going to fight.

Before you closed the door behind you, you took one last look at the little ones. Your chest ached remembering all the moments you had spent together. You would never forget them. None of them.

Sammi looked at you, taking your hand to move forward together. You could hear footsteps in the distance, but you went with confidence, you were prepared.

The path was indeed full of different groups of clones. You let yourself be guided by the force, your body acting instinctively to face them. Next to you, Sammi moved with more agility. She was no longer the same girl paralyzed with fear - now she covered you, defended you and even launched offensive attacks.

You crossed through the training rooms, down a maintenance passageway. In the distance, the medical wing materialized. You were so close, you would soon reach the hangar.

But your luck had to run out at some point.

As you rounded the corner, a whole squadron of clones cornered you. As you turned, more came from behind. You were surrounded.

You inhaled deeply, sharing a look with Sammi. You could do this.

You ignited your sabers, the purple light from both of them glowing on the shining floors of the temple. Sammi followed you, determined.

When the shots started, you immediately focused on dodging them all, taking out a few clones as the blasters bounced towards them.

Although your body was exhausted, you relied on the force, defending yourself with agility.

Sammi was fighting by your side, her movements were much more confident and that made you proud. Yes, the clones were many. But maybe you did have a chance.

There were fewer and fewer of them left. You jumped to dodge a shot, falling behind the clone and taking him out with your saber. Your body was shaking with adrenaline as you defended yourself.

But then, the world stopped.

You watched in slow motion as Sammi was surrounded. She was dodging the blasters of one clone, and hadn't realized that behind her another was approaching. Your scream wasn't fast enough to alert her.

With a hole in your chest, you threw the clone with the force, smashing him into a wall and knocking him unconscious. You dropped your sabers, rushing to your friend in a hurry.

You held her in your arms, her trembling hand taking yours. She looked up at you, her eyes shining as she gasped from the pain.

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, and it broke your heart.

“Don't.” Your voice trembled. “Don't leave me, please.”

“You must go.” She gasped from the pain. Her eyes, always cheerful, were now losing their sparkle.

“I'm not leaving you, Sams.”

She squeezed your hand weakly. "Do it. You must protect your baby."

A tear fell down your cheek. “Please.”

She smiled at you, and you remembered the same smile from when you were little girls, playing around the temple. Now her life was ending as she lay in your arms. “Thank you for being my friend.”

And before you could beg her to stay, Sammi was gone. You felt her force mark fading, leaving an emptiness behind her.

You held back a sob, resting her cold hand against your chest. You closed your eyes, feeling the loneliness hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You kissed her forehead, shakily rising to your feet. You looked at your friend one last time, wiping away a tear with the back of your hand. Her sacrifice would not be in vain.

You grabbed your sabers, wrapping your cloak around you and moving towards the hangar. There was no time to stop now, you were so close.

You stumbled, exhaustion taking over your body. There was so little left, you motivated yourself not to fall to the ground.

You knew there were bodies beside you. You felt them in the Force, cold and empty. Corpses of masters and knights and padawans. Of children. All brutally murdered. You closed your eyes, not daring to look. If you did, you feared you would fall and never get up again.

The hangar door opened and you felt the icy night wind fall on your face. You shivered, thinking of an escape route. You could grab a ship and try to call someone. Obi-Wan. Your heart ached at the thought of him.

You stopped abruptly when you saw a figure standing in the middle of the place. It was a Jedi, covered by his cloak. You gasped, it was-

“Anakin.” Your voice cracked from relief. You felt tears forming in your eyes. At last a familiar face. Ani was alive, together you would get out of there and find Obi-Wan and...

When your friend turned around, you felt your stomach churn. The dark force around him was almost unbearable, it made you feel sick. And his eyes were yellow, lacking the brightness that once characterized them.

And you knew it.

In your mind, almost like a memory, you saw him. His fall, how he had brutally murdered everyone. The younglings.

You took a step backward, your eyes injected with tears. “No.”

“I knew you were very strong.” He had a cocky grin. “After all, we trained together.”

You looked at him in horror. “What did you do, Anakin?” it was a whisper, you didn't want to believe what your whole body and mind was telling you.

"What I had to do. To save her."

"You killed innocents. Good people who didn't deserve the fate that fell to them."

“They were all traitors!” you jumped when he raised his voice. "They all abandoned me. You abandoned me."

“I didn't abandon you.” Though you were on the verge of tears, your voice was steady. "I was always there for you, ever since we were children. I was the first one to talk to you, when everyone whispered about you." You took a deep breath, trying not to cry. "Those younglings you killed? They were the future. They were good, they were smart- you took everything from them!"

Kyla's face came to your mind. Powerful, confident, intelligent. Then you remembered her murdered body and felt bile in your throat.

“You're right.” He nodded. "You were always my best friend. That doesn't have to change." The mixture of fondness and darkness in his words turned your stomach.

He held out his hand toward you. "I know you're feeling anger and pain right now. Those emotions will only make you stronger. Join me and we will be unstoppable."

That darkness that surrounded him was beginning to lurk towards you, wanting to envelop you. It wanted you to give in to temptation and fall for it.

But then you remembered the younglings. Sammi, always excited to see you and talk to you. Padmé, her kind smile being an unconditional support for you. And Obi-Wan. His force mark, his love for you. His warmth when he hugged you and held you in his arms.

You stared at Anakin. “I would rather die than join you.”

His eyes darkened. “As you wish.”

The rest happened so quickly. He ignited his lightsaber and lunged at you wildly. You barely managed to ignite your sabers and deflect his attack, staggering under the brutal force of his onslaught.

You were used to dueling with Anakin, you had trained that way. Countless times your sabers had clashed, competing against each other to see who was the best.

But this was not the Ani you knew. Your best friend, the one you jokingly competed with and knew would never hurt you. This Anakin was attacking you aggressively, with force. To kill you.

His attacks were full of rage, with a precision that was frightening. You felt your heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to react, to dodge and block, even though your whole body was begging you for a simple rest.

Your senses were in automatic mode, your purple sabers clashing against his with a sound that threatened to deafen you. Another time, you might have given Anakin a fight. But your body was exhausted, and you knew that in this condition you would be no match for him. Still, you would keep trying. You were not going to give up so easily.

In one brutal move, Anakin swung his saber at you with deadly speed. You managed to block it, but his force sent one of your sabers flying into the hangar.

He laughed derisively. “You are weak.” His eyes burned with cruelty as he attacked you again.

You fought back as best you could, the blue and purple colors illuminating the dark hangar. Your mind begged for a breath, but your survival instinct was stronger.

And you were trying, you really were.

But you screamed when his saber grazed your arm, leaving a deep, smoking cut. You staggered, pressing down on the wound with a groan of pain.

Though the ache blurred your vision, you clenched the saber with your other hand. You repositioned yourself, though you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

You were going to fight for your baby and for all the fallen victims tonight. For all the lives that had been lost, and those that still had hope.

But when you raised your saber, your arm trembling, your body could stand no more.

You fell to the ground with a choked groan, your saber rolling close. Your vision filled with tears as you saw Anakin approaching, the blue light illuminating his terrifying face.

Then this would be the end.

And as he was raising his saber, ready to strike the blow that would determine your death, you decided something. You were not going to die a coward.

You raised your head, looking him straight in the eye. “What's going to happen when Padmé finds out?” You spat, his eyes going wide and instantly freezing. “Do you think she's going to love you when she discovers what you did?”

You saw his façade crack, his eyes full of doubt as he turned off his saber. But you weren't going to stop.

"You're a murderer, Anakin. She's not going to run into your arms to thank you when she finds out everything you've done." Your voice trembled. “You're a monster.”

Your words froze in your throat as he roared, and you felt the Force wrap around you brutally, something invisible closing tightly around your neck.

You gasped as you rose from the ground, your feet kicking and your hands on your throat, trying uselessly to free yourself.

Anakin's eyes glowed with pure hatred. “You don't understand anything!”

The lack of air clouded your mind, tears pooling in your eyes. Your belly ached, as if your baby sensed your despair.

You moaned in pain. You couldn't die. You wouldn't let him die with you.

So, you gathered your courage, and with what little strength you had left, you pleaded. "Wait- Wait. I'm... I'm pr-"

And he knew. Maybe in the force, he felt that little child fighting for their life. Your desperation to stay alive, just for your baby.

His eyes widened slightly, his hand trembled. And it only took a second of hesitation from him for you to fall, coughing and gasping for air.

From where you lay on the floor, you could see his figure wobble. And for a small moment, your Anakin's blue eyes came back. Staring vulnerably at you as they did thirteen years ago, when you were just children who had just met.

And perhaps in memory of the little innocents you once were, he murmured. “Run.”

You whimpered, struggling to your feet and picking up your saber. He didn't have to repeat it to you twice.

You climbed into a ship quickly, your whole body shaking. Your arm ached and you were still panting for breath, but you ignored everything to turn on the takeoff commands.

The ship powered up with a familiar hum, and for a second you felt relieved. But this was no time to relax, you had to go.

As you were about to take off, you heard familiar footsteps entering the hangar. A whole squadron of clones. You swallowed saliva, your hands shaking as you pushed buttons to speed up the ship.

“Get her.” Anakin ordered, his icy voice chilling you to the bone. You panted, your body tensing as you managed to get the ship in the air. Just a little more and you would be off the planet.

You heard ships powering up behind you, the clones preparing to follow you. And the ones that didn't were positioning themselves to shoot at you.

“Shit.” You sped up, trying to dodge the shots that were headed straight for you. At the same time, with trembling hands, you wrote down Obi-wan's personal number, the one he used only to communicate with you. You waited while it rang, begging the force to be able to talk to him. Just to know if he was alright.

Come on, my love. Answer me.

Nothing. You held back a sob, your mind overwhelmed. It was all happening too fast.

You entered the aerial streets of Coruscant, aiming to lose the clones following you. But there were too many of them.

The first shot landed on the right wing, destabilizing you. The system beeped in emergency, your attempts to deflect the attacks were in vain.

You covered your belly with your arms, preparing for the fall. You closed your eyes and concentrated to at least try to protect yourself with the Force. You prayed that this would not be the end of you.

The unbearable ringing in your ears woke you up. You raised your head, smoke covering your sight. Your forehead felt wet, surely you had hit your head and now were bleeding. You opened the hatch of the ship, the icy night air of Coruscant surrounding you.

You were dizzy, and when you tried to get up, you let out a groan of pain. The wound on your arm hurt like hell, and if you didn't clean it soon it would get infected.

In the distance, you heard clones shouting. “There's the ship!” “”Find her!"

You froze in your stall. “Kriff, kriff, kriff.”

As best you could, you got up and left the ship. You analyzed your surroundings, you knew this level of the city. But now you just had to hide.

You limped to behind a wall, where you knew the clones wouldn't see you. You spied them approaching what was left of the ship. “She's not here! Bring her!”

You held your breath until they were gone, falling to your knees in relief. Finally, perhaps you were no longer in danger.

You rose shakily to your feet, exhaustion taking almost complete hold of your being. But you had to make one last effort, until you found a safe place.

You walked slowly, your senses still alert. You had one hand on your belly, the other holding your wound. The pain and exhaustion were suffocating and made it very difficult to move forward. But at least now you knew where to go.

In the distance, an apartment building materialized. It wasn't the most luxurious, but it wasn't on one of the lower levels either. You sighed in relief, stepping inside.

You reached the fifth floor, knocking on a door decorated with flowers and artificial plants. When it opened, it revealed a pantoran with large, curious eyes. It was Shen, lady-in-waiting to Senator Riyo Chuchi and Forge's secret lover. Your heart ached at the thought of your commander. Of the clones.

But she gave you a worried look. "General? I was so scared for you."

Her sweet voice reached your ears. You understood why Forge had fallen in love with her, she was his polar opposite.

"The temple is on fire. I've been calling F- I mean, the Commander, and..." Her smitten voice and sparkling eyes reminded you of Obi-wan. The last time you saw him, the last hug you gave each other, his kiss on your forehead. You missed him so much. “General? Are you alright?”

You looked at her, but your lips came to nothing. You had used your last bit of energy, and now your body was finally ready to rest safely.

The memory of Obi-wan's smile was the last thing you saw before you fell to the floor.

next chapter 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ⭑

taglist: @whisperofwild @ladywraith

© obiwansito, 2025. reposts, copies and translations are not allowed. my work cannot be used for training AI.

[jo-harrington]

Luminous Beings - Episode 8: Strange Dreams, Stranger Deceptions

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: Eddie embarks on one of the most important steps of his journey. An absolute dream...or is it?

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Alcohol and Substance Use, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Galactic Politics, Mention of Death, Vague References to Order 66 and the Jedi Purge, Discussion of the Force, Use of Force Abilities, Abstract Spirituality, Light and Dark Sides of the Force, Canon Typical Violence and Injury

Note: Ahhh here we are. Sort of. Second to last chapter. I'm so nervous, so excited for this and what happens in the end. It's been a huge adventure writing this, and these next two chapters in particular. It's always a little emotional when you get near the end. I do have a bit of a deleted scene, not sure if I wanted to share it...maybe over the weekend. It doesn't really add anything but if you ARE a Star Wars person, you might like it.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Hyperspace, 10BBY

Historically, the crew of the Dragonborn and rules never got along. Unfortunately, they were about to embark on an excursion chock full of rules and customs.

"When we get to the temple, don't touch anything," Thalia explained to everyone as they stuffed supplies into their packs. While the others all nodded intently, Eddie simply had to open his big mouth.

"You sound like my uncle," he complained, earning a scathing glare. "When I was a kid, I used to...never mind, fine."

"And steer clear of any troopers," she continued.

"Got it."

"Because there are a lot of them."

"I said I got it."

"Don't look anyone in the eye."

"Okay."

"And keep your blaster visible at all times." 

Everyone looked at her like she'd suddenly grown a second head. 

"What?" Eddie scoffed. “You're telling us that we need to be armed on a planet where we might get into trouble if we breathe the wrong way."

"You'd look even more suspicious if you didn't have a blaster," she explained.

"But you never have one," Dayv pointed out.

"I'll be armed another way."

From the depths of her bag, she revealed her lightsaber, causing the guys to scramble to get a glimpse of it. Eddie, of course, had seen glimpses of it in memories through the Force, but he was eager to see it up close. He batted his friends away as all four fought to get to it first.

She passed it around with an eye roll and a laugh before explaining that she made it when she was a youngling. Indeed, it looked like something a child would make, full of the whimsy that only came with a youthful imagination. Concentric and intersecting circles and swirls were etched into the metal of the hilt. But it was patina'd with a mix of rich copper and green from use; beauty that could only be attained by age. It was evidence that the weapon had lived alongside its owner.

They awed over it and held it reverently as it was passed amongst them.

"This is so wizard," Dayv laughed. Eddie sensed a lewd thought going through the younger man's mind and sent a scathing glare his way. Sure, dick jokes were funny, but he doubted Thalia would take kindly to him doing that with her lightsaber.

"It's heavy," G'areth added as it was passed to him. He was clumsy with it, nearly dropping it when he attempted to wave it around. Thalia conspicuously backed away with her hands held out defensively as he carelessly mishandled the weapon.

"It’s not that simple," Thalia explained. "Anyone can have a lightsaber, sure. But using it is another story. It’s heavy in your hand, but when you ignite it, your heart holds all of the strength you need to wield it. It’s not a traditional weapon, which makes it a perfect match for someone attuned to the force."

"Try it Ed," Jeff whispered as he handed the weapon to their fearless leader.

Eddie felt the weight of anticipation fall onto his shoulders as he fully grasped it. For a moment, his self doubt returned, and he hesitated to ignite the weapon. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he didn’t have the strength that Thalia implied?

Not to mention, this lightsaber didn't feel right...it didn’t belong to him.

And that was the reason for this trip, after all.

Thankfully, Benny was the one to put a stop to the turmoil as he shouted from the cockpit.

"Hey!" Everyone jumped at the sound. "We have a rule aboard the Mantis. No lightsabers. Thanks to Miss Not-a-Jedi here. She nearly took one of my arms off in those early days."

"Sorry, Ben," Thalia called back bashfully, trying to hide from the amused stares of the guys. Especially Eddie. "How many times do I have to apologize? I was rusty."

"Rusty, schmusty," Benny scoffed. "You almost took your own eye out! Hey, you guys! Why do you think Thali’s hair is that short? She turned that saber on and a whole hunk  of it got shorn off."

Thalia's cheeks glowed with embarrassment as the others laughed at her expense. And Eddie might've pulled her in to press a sympathetic kiss to the side of her head, but he was glad that he was not on the receiving end of a joke like that for once.

“Wait a minute!” G’areth furrowed his brow. “If the empire is hunting Jedi, why are you going to have your lightsaber out all willy nilly. You just said there are gonna be troopers everywhere, right?”

“It's a special planet,” Thalia explained. She took her saber back from Eddie and clipped it to her belt. “The imps have some trouble with the locals, which makes looking for force users a little sticky.”

“This just feels like a trap.”

“What did I say before?” she asked. “About existing right under the empire’s nose?”

“Look how well that worked for us on Coruscant,” Dayv grumbled.

“Everything will be fine,” Thalia insisted. “The Empire would sooner destroy the planet than attempt to get along with the locals. They don’t want an uprising on their hands either, so they’ll intimidate and maybe arrest someone every now and again. But they generally leave everyone alone. That’ll make it easy for us to get by. Get in, get out, like we weren’t there at all. Any questions?”

Her hands were planted firmly on her hips as she glared at the guys.

D5-TN piped up from the charging pad where he and BD-1 sat, and asked if he could hold the lightsaber for Thalia. He suggested hiding her lightsaber in his dome, to be ejected right into her hand if and when she needed it to defend herself. Or attack. BD thought it was ridiculous. The two droids argued, whistling and chirping insults back and forth. 

“There will be no…ejecting of lightsabers into the air!” Thalia laughed, putting an end to their argument. When they tried to suggest that she was no fun, she simply rolled her eyes and stalked towards the cockpit.

“That’s a really cool idea, though,” Eddie complimented, earning both enthusiastic and disappointed beeps from the droids. Then, he turned and followed after Thalia.

"Brace yourselves," Benny announced as he got to the cockpit. "We're about to exit hyperspace."

Eddie was not prepared for the veritable blockade that appeared when they dropped out of light speed and the wash of stars pulled away. TIE Fighters and Star Destroyers as far as the eye could see. Shuttles and cargo ships flitted about, both entering and exiting the planet’s atmosphere at regular intervals. It looked like the traffic around a space station, not a planet. Soon enough, they were in the thick of it, joining a long line of ships waiting for their turn to land.

Bob clicked away at his terminal, headset pressed to his ear with one hand as he read off lines of code and explained their reason for being there: a religious pilgrimage and a visit to family that lived in the old market square. Clearance codes were given, credits were transferred from a bogus account with the banking clan, and before long, it was their turn to begin their descent.

The void of the desert was eventually the only thing they knew. Endless stretches of sand, endless stretches of nothing; dry and lifeless. Hopeless and lonely. Logically, they knew civilization was down there, somewhere. It had to be. But the stark contrast between the wall of Imperial interference and complete lack of life was jarring.

The Empire’s message was clear: if you dared come to this planet, there would be no welcome or salvation for you.

"I don't know how you idiots got clearance codes to Jedha of all planets," Bob huffed as he closed comms and looked at them. “But I’m glad it worked.”

Thalia glared at Eddie. "Something tells me we don't want to know.” It had been his contact that had gotten them the codes. "Did you promise priceless tchotchkes to some senator again?"

Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and answered, "Like you said, you don't wanna know."

Jedha, 10BBY

“Why aren't there any red crystals?”

“Because red isn’t a natural color.”

“Your friend Steev had red.”

“That’s…that's different,” Thalia sighed.

"How is it different?" Eddie demanded as he folded his arms across his chest. “Explain it to me.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering something about "not having time for this right now" under her breath.

And they truly did not have time.

They definitely pressed their luck to get into the Temple of the Whills. It was an ancient Jedi temple that sat above tunnels full of kyber crystals, the object which powered a lightsaber. It was also heavily guarded by stormtroopers. But the Force seemed to be on their side, offering them just the right opportunity for Eddie and Thalia to sneak in. With a convenient distraction orchestrated by their friends.

Now that they were in the depths below the temple, though, Eddie was practically buzzing with energy. Because it was real. It was happening. He was finally getting a lightsaber. A momentous occasion for any Jedi, let alone a wayward, unconventional force-user like him.

He'd been working towards this moment for so long now, but it was still surreal to find himself at the precipice of what could've otherwise only been a dream.

"Red happens to be my favorite color," Eddie protested to Thalia as they continued through the tunnels. "My ship was red, my guitar is red...once all the blue grows out, I was gonna ask if you'd be interested in dying your hair re—ow!"

He stopped in his tracks as she slapped the back of her hand against his chest. He muttered an apology at the annoyed gaze she sent his way.

She unclipped the lightsaber from her belt and with a few twists of the hilt, she revealed a blue kyber crystal inside. Much like the crystals embedded into the stone of the caves around them, it emitted a faint light from within its matrices. As Eddie leaned closer, he felt the faint hum of energy coming from it, much like the ones surrounding them. Its frequency felt distinctly akin to its owner's signature in the Force. 

Like it was a part of her.

He hadn't felt it when he held the saber earlier, but with the crystal now revealed, it was clear as day. It was familiar and powerful, it was calm and bright, and it was beginning to feel like home. Just as much a home as his friends were, as Wane was. She was beginning to feel like home, as integral to his existence as the rest of his family.

He couldn't help himself as he erased the short distance between them and kissed her, both of them smiling against each other's lips. It felt a little inappropriate to kiss in a place like this, but he figured that the kyber crystals, if sentient, could overlook the slight disrespect due to the overwhelming crest of emotion he felt.

No wonder the Jedi took a vow to be unfeeling, unattached; it was distracting to feel everything this acutely all the time.

Thalia cleared her throat as Eddie broke away, then gestured to the cave around them. She spoke with a distinct purpose, but Eddie was open to the possibility of her hiding how flustered she’d become. “It doesn’t matter what color you prefer. You'll find the crystal you resonate with the most.”

Eddie hummed with some dismay as she sealed the hilt of her saber and returned it to her belt, but recentered his focus regardless.

Onwards they went deeper into the tunnels.

Thalia had said, as they'd cleared the imperial blockade and made it down to the surface of the planet, that the tunnels were countless and no one, save for the Temple Guardians themselves, knew how deep they truly went.

"It's been hundreds of years since the Jedi regularly visited," she explained. "And it’s been even longer since someone has taken a crystal from these caves."

Of course, she had been wrong. Sort of. They'd encountered Imperial mining equipment earlier in their trek. To Thalia, though, it didn't count; whatever plan the empire had for the crystals was a bastardization of what they were truly meant for.

"What you're about to do, Eddie," she told him as they passed the carelessly-kept mining sites and ventured further into the caves. "Picking your kyber crystal is a sacred ritual. It’s special. You are special."

As nice as it was to be told he was special, he felt the weight of expectation fall on his shoulders. Because Eddie Moonsun was an impatient son-of-a-bantha and wasn't too keen on someone telling him what he should or shouldn't do. He would sooner choose the first crystal that called out to him a little, than wait for the right one just because he was supposed to.

There was a sense of yearning that suddenly filled him as they walked. Not only yearning, but impending fulfillment. This journey, however unexpected, had led him to find a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. For the millionth time in his life, he found himself cursing the universe, the galaxy, the republic, the empire, for denying him this for so long. He loved his uncle and his friends, he loved the life he lived, but this was something profound. He was part of a bigger whole.

Thalia was right. Maybe it was fate and the will of the Force that made him find it at this point in his life. He appreciated it more. Could cherish and savor it more. It meant something special; he was special.

At that moment, as he truly let the belief sink deep into his heart...he felt it.

It wasn't earth-shattering or life-changing. Actually, in a way, it was. It felt like the slow, burning movement of the molten core of a planet; the endless majesty and purpose, power and grit and emotion. It was grounding and direct, like a sense of purpose and destiny and the will to persevere. He could practically hear the electric strum of guitar strings shredding in his ears, a phantom melody playing just for him.

It felt right.

He wondered, as he sought out the source, if that's what he felt like to those around him. If his friends felt that when he spoke to them, if Thalia felt that in the same way he felt the calm, serene brightness that came from her. If a kyber crystal held the same resonance in the force as their owner. But, he was suddenly at a loss for words.

How could you describe what it was like to suddenly know yourself so utterly and intrinsically? It was impossible.

Eddie took several steps forward, squeezing and shouldering past the few stalagmites that stood in his way, past an assortment of bright and beautiful crystals that begged to be noticed, to a glowing green crystal that sat hidden behind the rest. It was large and multifaceted, jutting proudly and purposefully from the unassuming stone around it. It was beautiful and powerful, and as soon as his eyes glanced upon it, he was sure.

He reached out hesitantly and gently pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't even need to yank it from the stone, it released almost instantly, as though it was more at home in his possession than the rock from which it was hewn.

And Eddie laughed as he closed his fist around the small crystal, feeling lighter in that moment than he might've felt his entire life.

It belonged to him. He belonged to it.

They belonged.

Bogano, 10BBY

He'd been uncharacteristically silent on the trip back through the tunnels, to the Mantis, and then back to Bogano. Thalia had told the others to give him his space; D5-TN and BD-1 were the only ones who dared interrupt the time he had to meditate with his kyber crystal.

If you could call it meditation.

It was a time of self-reflection and self-awareness that left him feeling more comfortable in his skin than he had his entire life.

It was both strange and empowering.

However, as soon as they touched back down on Bogano, he couldn't stand the seclusion anymore.

"You need to do this alone," Thalia had insisted as she directed him past the edge of camp. They were headed to the small workshop that Master Cordova kept during his time on the planet.

But Eddie knew he couldn't walk this part of his path alone.

"So, is it going to be our lightsaber?" G'areth had snickered when Eddie invited the rest of the guys along.

Dayv scoffed and punched the younger man's shoulder. "Laugh it up, moof head."

"We'd be honored to come," Jeff spoke for them all, with an added whistle of agreement from D5-TN.

Although G'areth had joked about the weapon belonging to all of them, all of Eddie's friends had surprised him by bringing little pieces that belonged to each of them, sacrificed to create his saber.

The little shits had all gone behind his back and asked Thalia what it was they could do to help. Eddie was both annoyed and honored; she hadn't even told him what went into making a lightsaber, just that he'd find what he needed at Cordova's workshop. Which means she also knew he wasn't gonna listen when she insisted he had to do this alone.

The controls came from D5-TN—Dustin made a joke about not needing any controls himself, the traditional buttons and ports all but useless to his organic friends. They couldn't control him even if they wanted to. Everyone sniggered at the joke, even if they knew he was right.

The pommel cap and emitter were from Dayv. Sharpshooter that he was, he sacrificed one of his prized blasters for the parts.

"If I'm as good as I think I am," he said as he laid the pieces on the workbench, "I should be able to shoot with any blaster. Not just my lucky Geddy." Eddie clapped him on the shoulder in thanks.

Next was the focusing ring from G'areth. This one was tricky, and he admitted that he and Jeff had asked Hoppor for help with their contributions. A cymbal from his drum kit had been melted and reforged into the part.

"Just like Dayvie said, I can always get another one," G'areth shrugged. "You've helped us chase after our destinies time and again; of course we're here for yours."

The energy core came from Jeff, who had kept an old spare piece from the Dragonborn's hyperdrive generator amongst his things.

"Never hurt to be prepared," he admitted sheepishly. "So...this is twofold. From me, and from our old girl."

Eddie felt the tears in his eyes as he held the piece reverently. His ship. Their ship. Still with them onto the next adventure. It practically hummed as he set his kyber crystal into it.

Finally, a gift from all of them.

"Don't kill us," Jeff began as he reached into his jacket.

"Well that doesn't bode well," Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms expectantly. "What did you do? Have Hop melt down my guitar to make the last piece of this damn saber?"

It was a joke...but they all suddenly looked guilty, even Dustin—as guilty as a droid could look.

"Are you...you're kriffing kidding me..." Eddie stared at them incredulously. "You...you destroyed my guitar?"

He was about to blow his top—so much for serenity in the force—when Jeff presented the final piece to him.

They hadn't destroyed his guitar...but they'd definitely done something to it. Because the pieces that would make up the main hilt of the saber had the same mottled, crackled red and black texture that his guitar, his sweetheart, had. Like they were made from the same skin.

"We took it from the back," G'areth explained. "She'll still play like a dream. But we figured...well, that guitar is just as much a part of you as we are, as the Dragonborn was...she needed to be here too."

He couldn’t help the hot tears that dripped down his cheeks. He pulled his friends into the biggest hug he could manage and whispered incoherent words of love and friendship and appreciation to all of them.

Then came the big event.

With all of the pieces laid out on Cordova's workbench, armed with a welding tool and the Force, Eddie got to work.

His friends all helped where they could, offering words of encouragement or handing him parts as he needed; they ooh'd and ah'd over his improved skills with the force as things floated in mid-air and moved at the twitch of his fingers. Dayv offered a rag to wipe away the sweat that came from the heat of the welding tool, and Dustin chirped enthusiastically the closer and closer he got to completing the saber.

Until, finally, it was done.

"It..." He stared at it, held reverently in his hands. He choked out a laugh. "It kind of looks like shit."

And it did; all of the parts, made of different objects, clashed and weren't the most appealing. But it still...it looked like him. Looked like them.

A misfit lightsaber for a misfit force user with misfit friends on a misfit planet.

"Well," Jeff said, voice heavy with anticipation once the laughter subsided. "Aren't you gonna turn it on?"

Eddie held his breath as his thumb hovered over the control switch. "What...what if it doesn't work? What if I did something wrong?"

D5-TN beeped encouragingly; the Force was with him, how wrong could he be?

Jeff was the first to put a hand on Eddie's shoulder. Then Dayv on the other. G'areth grasped his wrist. And D5-TN's gripper arm latched onto the hem of his vest. Eddie looked to them all for one last look of gratitude, and courage, then flicked the switch.

And they all whooped in celebration as they were bathed in glowing green light.

Thalia's quarters were...well, she hadn't been kidding when she said that the tent he shared with his friends was bigger and nicer than where she was bunking.

Her little supply-closet-turned-bedroom held a hammock for a bed, several durasteel crates stacked upon one another for a dresser, and a chair where she laid out her clothes for the following day. The first time Eddie had visited, he had been astounded before realizing that she was practically in the lap of luxury in the spacious medbay aboard the Dragonborn.

One leg up she had, though, was that she had the place all to herself.

She was lounging in her hammock and scrolling on her datapad when Eddie burst in, talking a parsec-a-minute.

"I did it! I can't believe it...and it's here!" He held the lightsaber hilt out to her and then ran both hands through his hair as best he could. "I have one and it's real. I'm not...I'm dreaming. It's a dream. I'm gonna wake up tomorrow, back on Bracca, whacking sticks together with Jeff, making whoosh-goosh noises with our mouths. It can't be real."

She laughed as he grabbed her by the hand and hauled her to her feet. He twirled her, and pulled her to his side.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, sweetheart," he whispered desperately.

Thalia looked down at the lightsaber held before her, and then back up at him.

"You're not dreaming, Eddie," she said resolutely with a nod. "You're not gonna wake up on Bracca; you did it. This is real."

They both beamed at each other before Eddie released his grip on her. He backed up and held the lightsaber before igniting the blade and shifting into a ready stance.

"So." He lifted a brow. "Do you think we could give it a test?"

Thalia hummed for a second, then said, “You know, Master Yoda used to say that lightsabers required a special skill. Not just knowing when to use it, but when not to. When to move, and when to stay still.”

Eddie groaned and threw his head back petulantly.

“Come on! You didn’t just wine and dine and fly me across the galaxy to make a lightsaber just to tell me I couldn’t use it.”

Thalia let him suffer for a few more moments before she held a hand out, calling her own lightsaber into her grasp. She did not ignite it, and instead gestured back towards the door.

"Wait.” He hesitated. "Seriously? You're entertaining this?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "But Ben had a point when he said no lightsaber duels inside. I'd rather not let you destroy what little I own just so you can get your jitters out."

"Jitters? Sweetheart, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

Thalia threw her head back in an obnoxious laugh, then practically pushed him out of her bunk.

"Alright Mr. Whoosh-Goosh. I'm sure you're an expert at the art of the blade."

"Is that what the Jedi call it?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm not a Jedi.”

For not-a-jedi, though, Thalia took a pretty thorough approach to his education.

It was slow at first, as Eddie got used to the difference in the weight and weightlessness of the lightsaber. She had been right, when she had said that a lightsaber was special, different. And it certainly wasn't like swinging a stick. He could barely feel the momentum while swinging it back and forth. It was simply an extension of him.

She instructed him on basic stances and got him used to the feeling of the glowing plasma blades clashing against one another. Once he felt comfortable, she even took his blaster and fired a few bolts so he could practice deflecting them.

"It'll be easier if you close your eyes," she told him.

"You know, I didn't get the chance to make a joke before, but...if I had a credit for every time a beautiful woman told me that..." he trailed off with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "You know, maybe that's why the Jedi Order fell. They should've added 'extraordinary skills in bed' to the keystones of Knighthood."

They practiced well into the evening, even getting as far as some light sparring, before Benny called them all to dinner.

It was exhausting, to be honest. He was sweating and out-of-breath by the time they called it quits, practically passing out into his bowl of stew.

G'areth laughed as they hauled him to his feet at the end of the night. "I've never seen him so tired."

"Last time we had to carry him like this, he bet the ship in a drinking game against a Rodian bounty hunter," Jeff added. D5-TN even shouldered some of Eddie’s weight as they dragged him back to their tent.

And he wasn't sure, but Eddie thought Thalia was there when he was unceremoniously dropped into his bed. Of course, it could've all been his imagination. Or a hallucination. The weight of one of her hands in his, and the other hand running over his forehead and carding through his hair as she whispered words of encouragement and pride at this milestone. It could’ve been one of his friends…or even Benny.

Regardless, it put a smile on his lips as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Bracca, 10BBY

He stood in one of the rail transport cars, hanging onto the bar overhead as his uncle sat, weary, in the seat before him.

There were plenty of others who would take a seat for themselves, but Wane always emphasized respect. Eddie would always give the older scrappers a seat before taking one for himself.

There was a din of chatter around them and although Eddie couldn't make out what his uncle was saying amongst the other voices, he still found himself chuckling at the anecdote. He thought it was strange, thought that there was something he was missing here, but he was probably just tired. He could probably catch a quick snooze when they took a break, or once they were back home at the end of their shift.

He overdid it with the guys the night before; that had to be it.

The train came to a screeching halt, and everyone started filing out. Wane pushed himself to his feet with a groan and led them both out onto the platform so they could punch in for their shift.

'"Heard they hauled in another decommissioned destroyer today," Wane muttered. "From Jedha."'

"Jedha?" Eddie whistled. "That's a long way away from here. Why did they haul it all this way?"

"You know you shouldn't ask questions, kid," Wane clapped him on the shoulder and led him forward. "A simple life and a cup of caf; ke—"

"I know, old man..." Eddie cut him off. "Keys to happiness. Yeah, yeah."

Their coworkers were all congregated in a huddled group up ahead. Someone at the front of the group called for them not to push each other crowd around; they'd be off to work soon if they all behaved. Wane grumbled something about hoping they had caf and pastries waiting for them...or lottery tickets.

"I wonder if Prauf'll let us in at the front to get first dibs then," Eddie laughed as he spotted a familiar head towering over the others. He pulled Wane behind him as he shouldered through the group to get to the Abednedo scrapper.

But there wasn't food or lottery tickets waiting at the front of the group.

There were troopers with blaster rifles, clad head to toe in black armor, and two figures with red-visored helmets.

Eddie's heart seized in his chest as one of the figures turned and he saw the fissure in the helmet that revealed a stern, human face inside.

The Inquisitor locked eyes with Eddie for a moment, then let his gaze slide over the other scrappers, almost boredly.

"We're looking for information," the other Inquisitor spoke, a smooth Coruscanti accent echoing over the platform. "We're searching for fugitives...enemies of the Empire."

"You're not gonna find any fugitives here," one of the other scrappers announced bravely. They shrunk as all eyes and blasters were suddenly pointed their way. "Er...what I mean is that we've all been in the guild for a while. We can't be fugitives."

"That's why we're looking for information on this scrap heap of a planet," the Inquisitor with the cracked helmet spoke snidely, practically spitting the words. "And not the fugitives."

Steev...his name was Steev.

Eddie frowned at the thought, but shook his head and continued to listen to what the imps had to say. On and on, they droned. They'd tracked a fugitive from an old Republic outpost, to Coruscant, where the trail went cold.

It sounded...familiar to Eddie, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Their ship was destroyed," the Inquisitor with the cracked helmet announced, and Eddie felt his heart drop into his stomach. "But we were able to track the origin of parts in the wreckage here. To Bracca. To one of your former colleagues."

The crowd started shifting and chattering, staring at one another in question. No one got off Bracca. No one.

Wane's posture stiffened, and Eddie shot him a questioning glance. However, his uncle refused to look at him.

Eddie wasn't the only one to notice the change in Wane's posture, though. Cracked Helmet turned, and his hazel eye locked onto the older man. Eddie was quick to try and take a step in front of Wane, to try and distract the Inquisitors.

"I know something!" he announced, earning shocked stares from the other scrappers. Wane reached out and tried to grab Eddie's arm but Eddie took a step forward to keep the attention off Wane. "I know that we've kept our heads down, kept our loyalty to the Emperor for years. Even before the Clone Wars. Whatever was asked of us, we've delivered. Engineers became scrappers, hard work we could be proud of became back-breaking labor that barely earned enough credits to survive. And we don't complain."

"Should we not take this as a formal complaint then?" Steev grinned sardonically. "You don't have to try so hard to hide something, my friend. Whatever we're looking for, we'll find it."

"Whatever," the other inquisitor's voice was suddenly behind Eddie, right in his ear. There was a searing hot pain in his chest, a flash of red light, and suddenly he was choking on the air. "Or whoever."

The lightsaber blade retracted, burning back through him as it went, and he fell to the ground as other scrappers shouted a name that didn’t belong to him.

He watched as he lay dying, as the crowd of scrappers dissolved into chaos, as troopers grabbed Wane by his arms, and the Inquisitors approached menacingly.

Eddie's eyes slipped shut as their lightsabers ignited and were held against Wane's throat.

"Wane Moonsun?" Steev questioned with a menacing, authoritative tone. "We have questions about the whereabouts of your nephew, Eddric."

Bogano, 10BBY

Eddie screamed Wane's name as he bolted upright in bed, effectively shocking his friends out of their deep sleeps.

He scrambled to free himself of the blankets so he could press his hands to the phantom lightsaber wound that still throbbed at the center of his chest.

He heaved great, sobbing breaths and responded loudly and incoherently as his friends crowded his bed and shook him and asked question after question.

As the rest of their encampment woke to his shrieking cries, they also ventured to see what the commotion was all about. Hoppor even had a blaster rifle in hand as he peeked into the tent and held El safely behind him.

"They have him," Eddie repeated over and over. "They have him."

"Have who?" Jeff tried to calm him down, tried every trick he knew to ease his friend from a nightmare. "Ed, take some deep breaths. Come on, it was just a dream."

"It wasn't," he shook his head. "It wasn't a dream. I was there."

"It was a vision," Thalia's groggy voice came from the opening of the tent. She passed the others, urging them to head back to bed before crouching before Eddie's shaken, despondent form. "A vision in the force."

She answered the mens’ questions as Eddie finally came back to himself, as his consciousness settled back into his body and he was able to discern what was part of the vision and what was reality. Fingers, toes, lungs. Breathing. Feeling. He wasn't on the ground, he was in bed. He wasn't on Bracca, dying. He was on Bogano.

And Wane was in trouble.

He never remembered his dreams ever being that troublesome before, enough to literally throw him across the galaxy like that. He hadn't even been sure that his dreams were prophetic, even though Thalia seemed to insist on it.

Once the ringing in his ears dissipated, he blinked and looked around at the concerned faces of his friends.

He took a few more breaths until his heartbeat evened out.

"They're looking for us," Eddie muttered to them all. "They're looking for me. The Inquisitors." He turned to Thalia. "Which means they're really looking for you."

Her jaw clenched, but her eyes were soft, remorseful. "I'm sure they are."

"And they...they're trying to use my uncle to get to me," he continued. "To get to you."

Dayv, Jeff, G'areth, and D5-TN all started talking over one another, questions about Wane and what his dream, vision, was and what they were going to do.

But Eddie didn't answer them.

His solemn gaze was firmly locked with Thalia's as they shared an unspoken discussion.

He wouldn't let them hurt his uncle to get to him. Wane was the only family that he had.

She wasn't going to let him walk right into a death trap; she had put him in this position in the first place.

If she hadn't gotten him into a mess like this, he definitely would've done it himself. He would figure this out on his own.

Over her dead body.

He's pretty sure the Inquisitors would like that.

She could take care of herself.

Wane was his uncle.

And Eddie was her...her friend...her pupil...her partner.

"Uh..." G'areth finally piped up, interrupting them. "Are you guys ok? Can Jedi read each other's minds?"

"We're not Jedi," Eddie and Thalia responded in tandem.

The tense moment broke, and they all dissolved into laughter.

"You don't need to do this alone," Thalia told Eddie as the levity subsided.

"I can't ask anyone else to risk themselves. Especially when this is obviously a trap," Eddie explained. "I've gotten myself out of tougher situations than this. You need to stay here...keep the kids safe."

"Well it's a good thing you aren't asking me," she objected. "I'm offering. Actually, I'm asking for your help. Again. This whole mess is my responsibility more than it is yours. Steev is trying to find you, so he can find me. And your uncle got caught in the crosshairs.

"But I'll save him. We can save him. Together. Put an end to the Inquisitors hunt...of us at least. Keep those kids safe, keep the light safe." 

She raised her brows expectantly at her conclusion, waiting for his answer.

He felt his stomach turn in uncertainty, even though he knew she was right.

Wane was his uncle, his responsibility, but if there was anything that he learned in this whole thing, it was that he wasn't alone. They weren't alone—him, his uncle, his friends, the kids, their parents and siblings, Thalia. They were all sparks of light, sparks of hope in this ever-dimming world. They all had each other.

“You know what?” he asked softly and set his hand down onto hers, fingers gently caressing her skin. “We’ve come a long way.” He nodded over to his friends who all straightened under their friend’s, their captain’s gaze. “We’re not the same people we were just a few months ago. The Eddie back on Nar Shaddaa? He would’ve gone on some suicide mission to save his uncle. Shit, it still might be one. But I’ve learned so much, I’ve changed. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Thalia smiled at him.

“Because of that, though,” he continued, and her smile fell again. “I only have one thing to say. One request.”

She nodded. “Anything.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he’d learned, like she had taught him. He saw, felt, the light. Inside of her. Inside his friends. Inside himself. And even though his uncle was half a galaxy away, he could see the light within Wane too, like it was right there beside him. Maybe because it didn’t matter how distant they were from each other, they were always there with one another. His dream had been proof enough.

Eddie opened his eyes again, and then turned Thalia’s hand over and slipped his palm against hers, and let his fingers tighten around her hand.

"Help me, Thalia Trieste. You're my only hope."

Thalia beamed at him and gripped his hand tightly in return, her other hand coming to clasp over top of his.

Next Chapter: Episode 9 - Inner Starlight

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[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 33)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 32

Warnings: grief!! depression!!! tread lightly!! things will get better, our girl will heal, but please engage with this only if you feel good/healthy yourself! also, drama/angst, but that's what you get from me

Summary: Anakin comforts you after the death of your Master; you wrestle with some difficult truths, and agree to train with someone new

Word Count: 2.7k

It was heavy. There was no other way to explain it. Your grief was a heavy pillow, suffocating you as you lay in your bed. You felt like the sheets might swallow whole you under the weight. The feel of Anakin's arms around you faded in the face of the soft, quiet, heavy feeling pressing on you. It was like being underwater. It was like trying to fight wind stronger than a hurricane. It pushed you down, and you felt like you had no strength to fight against it.

You'd awoken after Felucia in the Temple's medical chamber, Anakin at your side. You had no memory of anything that had happened after Yuma had been killed, and you didn't understand why Anakin looked so full of relief, why he had tears in his eyes at the sight of you. Obi-Wan had simply explained that you had lost consciousness, similar to the way you had when encountering Dooku's presence. Something in Anakin's face told you that it wasn't quite that simple.

Still, you couldn't find it in yourself to care, much, about what had happened after your Master had been taken from you. You couldn't find it in yourself to care about anything at all, other than the arms that remained around you, other than having Anakin by your side. You found that there were times when even that desire started to fade; when you felt the heaviness pressing in and lost any feeling at all.

"Y/N," Anakin whispered, shaking your arm a little, reaching over to run his fingers gently through your thick hair, pushing it away from your face. Every so often he would say something like this, something soft and gentle, like he were trying to make sure you could still hear him.

"I'm here," you replied, not looking at him, but reaching out and gripping his sleeve. Anakin brushed away the tears that fell softly and steadily out of your eyes and onto the sheets of the big bed in your Jedi apartment, situated in the Knight's Billet in the Temple. This is where you had remained for days, barely moving, barely sleeping or eating, struggling to fight the weight in order to keep breathing.

After you had left the medical chambers, you had recounted to the Council how Vyra had lured you into that cave, how she had manipulated the severity of the battle on Felucia and used the Sith dwelling to call to you in order to trap you and 'torture' you. You had told them what she had said of her reason for doing so, her grudge that she had held since you had been assigned your mission on Serenno. You had explained what she had recounted about Dooku and his mysterious "Master"; you'd noticed that Yoda and Windu had shared a look at that information. You couldn't bring yourself to care, at the moment, what that meant. You had struggled for breath, standing in the center of that circle of Jedi atop the tall tower, as you had recounted the last moments of Yuma's life: how she had been in the throes of a horrible vision, caused by the poison that made her live through her worst fears. You could barely get the words out when you described Vyra killing your Master, and taking her lightsaber. Obi-Wan had stood up to walk you out, his hand on your back the whole way back to your apartment, his face grim. You hadn't emerged since.

"Y/N," Anakin said again, stroking your face, your arm. "You need to eat something." You shook your head. The thought of moving at all, let alone eating, drinking, sounded too hard. You felt the heaviness pressing in on you.

"I love you," Anakin said again, and the agony in his presence was like a spark, a stabbing pain that brought you out of the heavy feeling, if only for a moment. Your eyes filled, again, with tears.

"I know," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I'll be here with you," Anakin said, reaching forward to kiss your eyelids, brushing the tears away with the gentle press of his lips. "I won't let them make me leave."

"You can't stay forever, Ani," you sighed, curling into him, wishing your words weren't true.

"I won't—"

Anakin cut off his words, feeling the same disturbance in the Force that made your senses heighten. Someone was coming.

A soft knock sounded on the door of the apartment. You and Anakin both looked at each other, sensing the presence that stood outside.

"Maybe he'll leave," you breathed into Anakin's ear, not moving. Anakin remained still, listening. You waited, holding your breath.

"Y/N," you heard, Obi-Wan's soft voice calling through the door as he knocked again. If he came into the apartment, it would only take a few steps past the kitchen for him to see through the open bedroom door, where he would find you and Anakin in bed together—

"What do we do?" you whispered, panicked, your eyes widening. Numb with grief you may be; but if you and Anakin were caught, it could risk your position in the Order. Anakin's eyes darted around, and landed on the tiny wardrobe built into the wall. Jedi Knights were granted little storage space, as they were not to keep possessions of their own.

"Anakin, he'll sense you!" you whispered frantically, but Anakin was already up and running in his boxers to the wardrobe. He sucked in his gut and used the force to close the wardrobe's doors as you heard Obi-Wan's voice sound again from outside the door.

"Y/N, I'm coming in," Obi-Wan said, his voice gentle and suppliant. You pulled yourself up in your bed, fighting against the heaviness in your limbs as you used the Force to summon your robe, hastily throwing it on over your nightgown as the door to your apartment opened and Obi-Wan stepped inside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Obi-Wan said as he walked forward to stand in the open door of your bedroom. You knew you probably looked like Moraband; you hadn't visited the refresher in days, and your hair was a tangled mess on your head. You felt Obi-Wan's thoughts linger on the dark circles under your eyes.

"That's all right, Master," you replied, your voice hoarse. Obi-Wan walked forward and pulled the chair near the window around so that it was facing you. You gulped as he turned, looking back to you as if to ask, may I ? You nodded, gesturing that he should sit. Obi-Wan had never been inside your apartment before—his presence startled you enough that you felt the heavy numbness backing away from you.

"I came to bring you this," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward in the chair and pulling something from the pocket of his robes. As he reached out to hand it to you, you sighed in amazement.

"How...?" you asked, leaning forward to take your lightsaber from him and gripping it. You felt each familiar divot of the hilt like you had found an old friend lost to time; you felt the ghosts of tears prickle behind your eyes, and you willed them away.

"I recovered it for you, on Felucia," Obi-Wan responded quietly. "When you were found, in that cave." His tone was careful, quiet, and solemn. "I wanted to return it to you before, but...it seemed a difficult enough moment." You thought back to facing the Council, to the whirlwind of emotions you'd faced upon waking up here, in the Temple, without your Master, for the first time in your life.

"Thank you," you managed to get out, looking back up at him and keeping your tears at bay. He simply nodded. You looked around, feeling awkward, working to keep your gaze anywhere but on the wardrobe behind Obi-Wan's back.

"I also..." Obi-Wan started, and you met his gaze, his face lit by the rays of sun streaming in through the partially closed blinds. "I am also here because I wanted to make a proposition to you."

You squinted, gripping your robe around yourself, inclining your head to indicate that he should continue.

"You are, of course, under no obligation to do so..." Obi-Wan started, rubbing his hands over his mustache and through his beard. "But...I know how important it was to Yuma that you work on your ability, to block out the presences of the Sith." At these words, your heart dropped. The weight came back in full force, pushing you down. It was an effort to keep yourself seated, to not lay back into the sheets and give in to the heaviness that pressed into you. You swallowed, nodding. "I would like to continue your training, in that regard," Obi-Wan said, watching you intently, his voice soft. "Not to pick up where Yuma left off, necessarily. But to work to make sure you are fully in control of your abilities...so that, when the time comes that you must protect yourself, you are as prepared as you can be. I would like to do everything in my power to help you."

You struggled to breathe evenly, working the air in and out of your lungs. You knew that Obi-Wan meant well—that he was trying to show care for you, and for Yuma, by offering to help. And you knew you needed the help, knew now that your susceptibility to the dark side of the Force was a liability. So you couldn't help but hear the unspoken truth behind Obi-Wan's words—that it was your fault, what had happened on Felucia. That if you had made more progress in your lessons with Yuma, she would still...

Be here, you finished in your head, your eyes welling up against your will. You didn't need Obi-Wan to tell you. You knew the truth. You knew who was responsible for Yuma's death.

"Y/N," Obi-Wan started, leaning forward like he wanted to do something to comfort you, but you shook your head, letting the tears fall.

"I'll do it," you said, pushing against the heaviness. "I'll train with you." It was all you could manage. Obi-Wan paused, as if debating, then leaned back in his chair, putting his hand down.

"Good," Obi-Wan replied, his voice contemplative. "I'd like to start right away, given that the war has made it so my time at the Temple is limited. Tomorrow?" You nodded, looking away from him, your face flushed at your embarrassment. You'd never cried in front of Obi-Wan, and you didn't like it—you didn't want to feel weak around him, the Jedi who was always so very much in control. Until recently, you'd thought of yourself and Obi-Wan as similar souls, similar warriors who kept their emotions in check. You now realized that you were useless in more ways than one, that people like Obi-Wan would always surpass you. You wanted to go back to sleep.

"The last thing..." Obi-Wan continued, his voice unnervingly gentle. "I wanted to tell you," he said, leaning forward in his chair, waiting until you looked up to meet his gaze, "that you aren't alone. Though I know that no one and nothing could ever replace what Yuma was to you—to all of us—I want you to know that you still have family, here. That you still have a mentor that cares for you deeply." You blinked, the brazen affection in this statement disarming you.

 "And that if you ever need to discuss anything," Obi-Wan continued, "anything, even things that you wouldn't bring to others in the Order, you can come to me. Whenever you need." You could have sworn Obi-Wan glanced infinitesimally toward the wardrobe, but it was so fast, you must have been imagining it.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," you said, your voice small, your gratitude sincere. You felt so much affection and adoration for the Jedi Master sitting in front of you. You wished only that his faith in you wasn't so displaced. You felt your body shaking, the effort of pushing off the weight beginning to wear on you.

"That's all," Obi-Wan said, smiling at you as he stood, walking toward the door. "I'll expect you in the meditation chambers tomorrow." You nodded, feeling drained. "Don't—don't be unkind to yourself," Obi-Wan added, pausing in the bedroom doorway to turn back to you. "All of this is hard enough as it is." You nodded again, wondering how he could sense what you were thinking so accurately. Obi-Wan turned away, striding for the door to the apartment.

You listened as the front door slid shut, waiting, your heart beating. He didn't return. You sank back into your pillows, pulling the robe around you in a cocoon as you heard the wardrobe door slide open.

Anakin didn't say anything as he lay down next to you, pulling your whole body and cradling it in his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"Training might be a good thing," Anakin whispered, in a tone like he was trying to sound optimistic. You pulled yourself closer to him, your body quivering as if you were cold. You felt the tears at the edge of your eyes again, felt the quivers turn into quiet sobs.

"I'm here," Anakin said, kissing your head and stroking your back. "I'm here." What else could he say? Everything certainly wasn't okay. You tried in vain to calm the sobs, but they continued. Whenever you fought the numbness enough to stave it off, this was what happened. It was, in some ways, worse to feel.

"I should have been there," Anakin said vengefully, his voice shaky, "I shouldn't have left you." You inhaled, quickly, another sob breaking out of you.

"Are you saying—are you saying that you could have prevented it?" You pulled back in Anakin's arms, looking him in the face, your eyes wide. "That it's my fault, that she's...that she's...?" you felt your body continue to shake. Unfamiliar anger pulsed through you, the bitter anger that was only self-directed. You needed somewhere to put it. Nothing made sense, anymore. Your brain turned to fire.

"No, of course—no, Y/N, of course that's not—" Anakin started, alarmed, gripping your arms as you pulled farther away from him.

"You don’t have to say that, because I already know!" you replied, shouting now, as you pulled yourself out of the bed, standing before him. Anakin was on his feet immediately, his arms outstretched for you, but you backed away. "I know what happened is my fault entirely!! If I hadn’t—choked—if I had just listened—"

"Y/N, no, no, that's not it, no, listen to me, that's not..."

"You heard Obi-Wan," you continued, sobbing again. "And you said it yourself. Yuma was right. I was a liability, and because of me, my Master is dead."

"Y/N!" Anakin was shouting now, reaching out for you again, but you pushed him away, backing into the corner of your bedroom and sinking to the floor.

"Just leave," you choked, closing your eyes, feeling the world around you start to sway. "Just go." The world was starting to fade.

"Y/N," Anakin said gently, moving toward you slowly, his arms outstretched like he was approaching a loose rancor. "Y/N, it isn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I didn't think that for one second, and neither does Obi-Wan."

"Just leave," you repeated, softly, your sobs coming freely now. You didn't deserve to be comforted. You wanted to descend into oblivion. You were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, in your arms. You looked around, but saw that your vision was blurring over.

"I can't do that," Anakin murmured softly, and you felt his hands prying at your arms. You hadn't realized you'd been gripping your knees so tightly. You started to breathe quickly. "Look at me, Y/N," Anakin whispered, and you looked around, frantic now, your eyes clouded, unable to see. "Come back to me," Anakin breathed into your ear, and you blinked, his face swimming into view.

"I can't ever leave you," Anakin said, pulling you into his arms right there on the floor. You wanted to reply. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't ever leave him, either. You wanted to promise that the two of you would be together forever. But the world had changed, when Yuma had been taken from you. Or, you had changed. You now knew that everyone, no matter how much you loved them, would someday vanish. You didn't understand it—how one day, someone could be so very real, and the next, they could be gone. And Anakin would vanish, someday, too. You leaned into him, feeling how very real and alive he felt, with his arms around you. You felt the heaviness descend as you wept.

************************************************************************

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!!!

just imagine this Obi-Wan comforting you after reading this angst 😂🤓

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist pt 1: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 14 - Voyeurism + Pillow Humping

For @comebackali ~ 👀

Freely Given - 1,926 Rating: E Content: Established Relationship / Explicit Sexual Content / Voyeurism / Accidental Voyeurism / pillow humping / Dry Humping / Masturbation / getting caught

---

‘You… hump your pillow?’

‘Yeah. You sound surprised.’

‘I just can’t see how that would be at all pleasurable, Anakin. Doesn’t it chafe?”

‘Maybe if you don’t have enough precome, I don’t know. But it doesn’t chafe and it does feel good. Really good, actually.’

‘You’re a strange one, darling.’

‘You should try it before you start calling me strange, Master.’

Obi-Wan rarely followed Anakin’s advice. In fact, Anakin was fairly certain that Obi-Wan was outright allergic to it. He’d listen, of course, and hum and stroke his beard, maybe furrow his brow while Anakin helpfully suggested something. But as soon as he was done giving said advice, Obi-Wan would walk the other way and do whatever it was he thought ‘was best.’

But sometimes, Obi-Wan listened.

And sometimes, Obi-Wan applied the advice.

Like right now.

Anakin had come back from an intense training session with Rex, his limbs weak and mind pleasantly buzzing with the memory of how well Rex had performed against the speed and agility of a Jedi Knight. A few more months of war and Anakin figured he’d have the best equipped legion in the entire Republican army. It was with this unregulated pride coursing through him that Anakin stepped into his shared living quarters with Obi-Wan to feel something in their bond.

It was muffled but still present, like an itch just beneath the skin that hummed both pleasantly and insistently against the back of Anakin’s spine. He’d felt it before when he was spread out on his bed, Obi-Wan’s weight heavy on top as he mumbled words of adoration against Anakin’s neck. Or when Anakin was leaned against a wall, breath stuttered as it billowed out from beneath his hand as he tried to quiet himself, the wet suction of Obi-Wan’s mouth around his cock as he pulled every last trickle of come from him in a desperate bid to push back the pressures of war.

Obi-Wan was turned on.

Obi-Wan was getting off.

Grinning, Anakin slunk toward Obi-Wan’s bedroom door and opened it just a small crack, jamming the circuitry so it wouldn’t open all the way. Peeking through the crack in the door Anakin came upon an incredible sight.

Obi-Wan knelt on his bed parallel to the door, his entire body in view. He was naked, skin slick with sweat, the pale parts of his shoulders and thighs pink with exertion and delight. Sweat beaded up and slid down his temples and the back of his neck, some of it slick in his chest hair as he pressed his pecs tight together with the push of his arms. His head was ducked but Anakin could still make out his face, features drawn tight in sheer ecstasy, little gasps spilling forth from his lips as he continued to move at an achingly slow pace.

And between his legs, tucked in tight and hiding away his cock, was a pillow.

Anakin’s pillow.

Slamming his hand against his mouth, Anakin bit into the leather of his glove in a bid to stave off a loud moan. Bracing himself against the door, he evened out his breathing best he could and continued to marvel at the sight.

Obi-Wan had gone and done it. He’d taken Anakin’s advice.

And was using Anakin’s pillow to do it.

Anakin thought he might pass out, all the blood immediately rushing to his cock, but he held back his own needs in order to watch as Obi-Wan experienced the hedonism of self-indulgence. Anakin knew Obi-Wan touched himself - had heard it before and seen it a few times, caught in the corner of his eye when they were on a week’s long mission and had no privacy or time to deal with bodily needs. The first few times Obi-Wan had been quick and quiet about it, his hand between his legs as he grunted out his release in a stifled moan. He became a little more relaxed once he knew Anakin liked to see his Master touch himself, hand no longer flying like a speeder across his length but rather lazy and soft, fingers playing with the sticky, spongy head before swiping back down.

But he never did anything exciting - never played with his hole or tugged at his balls, didn’t eat his own come, and he certainly didn’t hump pillows.

And yet here he was, undressed completely, hips rocking in slow movements, red cock-head peeking out from the plush fabric now and again before disappearing away as he indulged in his body and his desires for just a moment.

Anakin was oddly proud.

And very, very turned on.

Leaning against the frame, Anakin kept his gaze on Obi-Wan as he pushed his pants down to his knees, exposing his hardening cock to the cool air. Pushing up his shirt, he wrapped his flesh hand around his length and started stroking himself in the rhythm that Obi-Wan had set with his thrusts, biting back a whimper as pleasure fanned out across his groin and into the tight heat of his belly.

Obi-Wan remained consistent, his head rolling back as he continued to rut up against the pillow, his toes curling slightly as he stuttered a moment before continuing with the motion. He was moaning softly, the sound of it digging into Anakin’s core and hollowing him out with each desperate little grunt and groan. He’d been going at it for some time, Anakin could see it in his body and feel it in their bond, the little hum tight like a string on an instrument.

A part of him wished he could have seen the whole process - of Obi-Wan undressing, broad hands smooth across his body as he exposed every piece of himself to the quiet room. And then the hesitation as he placed the pillow between his legs, the first few stilted thrusts, and then the potent realization that this felt good before he gave in all the way and started fucking Anakin’s pillow.

The fact that it was his pillow that Obi-Wan was using made Anakin’s cock weep even more, thick strands of precome spilling out onto the floor as he continued to stroke himself to Obi-Wan’s pace. Did he want Anakin to find out? Lie down in his bed and smell his cock and seed thick in his throat? Or had he planned on washing away his deed, trying to hide away just how nasty he could be even though Anakin knew what Obi-Wan craved.

Obi-Wan stopped for a moment and sat back on his haunches, breath heavy as he closed his eyes and brushed a bang across his brow. His nipples were pink and hard, Anakin knowing he’d been playing with them earlier. He liked when Anakin sucked on them as they fooled around, his body jerking up into Anakin’s embrace as he laved the skin and the hardened nubs with careful, dutiful attention.

A part of Anakin wanted to throw himself through the door and do just that - suck on his pecs while Obi-Wan continued to fuck his pillow, making a mess of them both as they gave into the desires Obi-Wan knew he should refrain from, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to fall into.

Instead he squeezed down on his length and pulled at his balls, tugging them away from his body as he held off on his own release, taking a break with Obi-Wan.

Eventually Obi-Wan went back to work. He repositioned the pillow, strong hands pushing it up against his long, thick length, Anakin catching sight of sticky seed spread out across the fabric of the pillow case.

There was no way he’d let Obi-Wan wash it. He needed it. Preferably in his mouth, but he’d take just to sniffing it if that was all he could get.

As if on cue or perhaps subconsciously sensing Anakin’s memories, Obi-Wan started playing with one of his nipples again, a strangled little moan slipping past his lips as he pinched and rubbed the already sensitive bud. Anakin started stroking himself again, breath hot against the frame of the door as he leaned in further, trying to get all the experience he could; from the sights to the sounds, to the scent of Obi-Wan’s sex, thick like come in his throat as he breathed in the muggy air.

Dropping his hand, Obi-Wan’s pace increased, his mouth hanging open as he started thrusting faster and more eager. The skittering in their bond turned into a full-on buzzing, Anakin’s pleasures becoming Obi-Wan’s and visa-versa. He could almost feel the soft and slick sensation of the pillow around his own cock, familiar and so achingly good as he thrust into his hand, balls swinging freely between his legs.

With a cry Obi-Wan fell forward, face pressed into the mattress as he humped Anakin’s pillow like a wild beast, hips pushing up before snapping back down, the muscles of his ass flexing as he chased his release. Anakin could barely hold on as he watched the sight of Obi-Wan losing himself to his pleasures, the bed creaking with his exertion, guttural moans slipping past his lips as he turned his head to look at Anakin through the crack in the door.

Anakin came first, spilling out onto the floor and the door, hand a flurry along his length as he humped into his hand. Pleasure shot through him, his body aching with the release as he stood up on the tips of his toes, desperate for more even as he was given it all. As he released he kept his eyes locked with Obi-Wan, watching the pleasure flicker across his eyes that were mostly hidden by strands of copper, hazy with lust and embarrassment as he hurled down into the abyss with Anakin.

Obi-Wan let out a strangled groan, his hips twitching as he pushed the pillow up against himself, hands firm along the plush material as he ground down into it, sullying it with his need. Anakin almost came again at the sight, overwhelmed by the vision of Obi-Wan completely naked, ass up in the air, pillow pushed between his spread legs, beard coated in his own spit, skin flush with delight.

Collapsing against the bed when he was done, Obi-Wan rolled on to his back and stared at Anakin. Trembling, Anakin straightened up and opened the door as he kicked his boots and pants off all the way. Approaching the bed, he looked down at Obi-Wan and the mess he’d made. His stomach and chest were smeared with come, most of it still stuck to Anakin’s pillow. With a steady hand he reached down and picked up the pillow and locked eyes with Obi-Wan as he licked up some of the come from the fabric.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan said softly, voice still thick with arousal.

Anakin sucked down on the fabric, moaning as the taste of Obi-Wan flooded his tongue. His cock twitched again with interest. Dropping the pillow down next to Obi-Wan, Anakin straddled his waist, sighing when Obi-Wan’s heat filled the space between his thighs. Obi-Wan sucked back a greedy breath of the humid air, body still humming beneath Anakin.

Leaning down he brushed his fingers along Obi-Wan’s brow and tilted his head to the side. “Told you so…”

[stardustandash]

For Febuwhump, how about "Emergency surgery" for J:FO

Excellent choice!!! This was a lot of fun to write, hope you enjoy <3

Dont Let it Eat Me

Fandom: Jedi Fallen Order Words: 1486

He struggles against them, even as the movement pulls at his side. He’s broken out of worse places, he just needs to get away, get out of wherever here is, and he’ll be okay. The hands are too strong though. Or maybe he’s too weak. Trying to retrieve an Old Republic relic on a lush jungle planet goes awry. Febuwhump Day 6: Alt Prompt - Emergency Surgery

Ao3 Link

“Hold him down.”

The words cut through the haze of pain Cal is living in with icy cold clarity. He does not want to be held down, thank you very much. In fact, he would like to not be touched at all. His skin feels far too sensitive already. He can feel every fiber in the fabric of his clothes and whatever surface he’s lying on. Pain pulses up from his side from a point just beneath his ribs. He knows that anyone touching him is going to make it worse. Much worse.

Unfortunately for Cal, hands press into him anyway. They burn where they touch, branding his skin. He struggles against them, even as the movement pulls at his side. He’s broken out of worse places, he just needs to get away, get out of wherever here is, and he’ll be okay. The hands are too strong though. Or maybe he’s too weak. The hands are firm against his shoulders and knees, though he can flop his head ineffectively from side to side.

Though his eyes are open Cal can’t see much more than a blur of shapes above him outlined by artificial light. There’s a high, shrieking kind of sound. It brings back a memory of Master Tapal’s rooms in the Temple and making tea. The shriek of a kettle at full boil. But it’s not a kettle. It’s too low for that, too broken. It takes Cal a moment to realize the sound is coming from him, torn out of his throat without his permission. It’s high and keening and he can’t make it stop.

Another hand runs through his hair, fingers leaving burning trails across his scalp. Cal wants to cry but he doesn’t know how. All he knows is the pain. There are words spoken over him but his brain can’t translate them. They blend into the gathering darkness at the edges of his vision. Though it goes against every fiber of his being, Cal looks at that darkness and gives in.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Something routine in their new normal after the holocron adventure. Cere supposes that’s where everything went wrong. For them nothing is ever easy or routine. The first sign of trouble had been the comms going down. According to Greez it wasn’t unheard of for the planet’s mountains to disrupt signal, but that didn’t stop Cere from worrying, especially when the plan already had Cal and Merrin approaching the target from separate points. Merrin was taking the mountain route and Cal was on a path through a thick patch of jungle below.

The second had been when Merrin returned with the target, an Old Republic datadisc, alone and bruised. She told them how there were droids inside the crumbling outpost and how Cal had led them off into the jungle.

So when Cal finally stumbles out of the jungle towards the ship, Cere is ready and waiting at the bottom of the ramp and Greez has the medkit waiting on the table in the lounge. If they’re lucky Cal will be fine and tease them for worrying. If not, they’re ready. It only takes Cere a second to realize they’re in the latter category. Cal is lurching towards her in a shuffling gait and she can hear BD-1 screaming at him in binary from across the clearing.

Cere runs to his side, noting the vacant expression in Cal’s eyes and the odd lump on his side. She doesn’t hesitate as she slings one of his arms around her neck with one hand and grabs at his belt with the other and drags him as fast as she can towards the ship. BD-1 dances around her feet screeching out his story but she can’t pay it any attention now. She has to help Cal first.

“Greez!” calls Cere as she practically carries Cal towards the ramp. “You might want to put a sheet down on the couch!”

There’s a burst of expletives that drifts out of the ship but Cere has to concentrate on making sure Cal doesn’t faceplant as he walks up the ramp. As they enter Greez is just finishing tucking in the edges of a clean but stained drop sheet on top of his precious couch and Merrin is hovering over the medkit with bacta patches in her hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” Greez asks, two hands worrying at each other as Cere finally deposits Cal onto the waiting couch.

“Not sure. Help me get his shirt off,” says Cere.

They manage to wrestle his poncho and shirt off without jostling Cal too much, and what it reveals is not good. The lump Cere had noticed earlier resolves into something much worse than she was expecting. There’s something burrowed into Cal’s side just below his ribs with a still wriggling tail sticking out. It’s about the size of a lightsaber hilt in diameter, which is far too big for anything stuck in someone’s skin.

“What is that?” asks Merrin in a shaky voice.

“Nothing good,” says Cere.

It’s a Virilian swamp leech, says BD-1 from where he’s hopped up on the table next to the medkit. It’s trying to eat his organs. They’re venomous too, that’s why he’s so out of it.

That isn’t comforting in the slightest. Cere keeps BD-1’s revelations to herself as Greez is pale enough that any further disturbing information might send him into a panic and she needs him steady. They can’t leave the leech in Cal to eat away at him before they can find a medcentre. They have to do this themselves.

“Hold him down,” says Cere in her command voice.

It works, as Merrin shifts to the couch so she can sit on his ankles and hold his legs down just above his knees. Greez pins Cal’s arms down with two of his own and looks up at Cere with pleading eyes as Cal begins to struggle weakly against their hold. He opens his mouth and a high, keening sort of sound breaks out of him as he fights. It pulls at every instinct Cere has to wrap him up in her arms and promise him safety, but she can’t do that until the leech is out of him and he’s stable. Through her tenuous connection to the Force she can feel Cal’s shields failing as he projects confusion and pain into the space around the ship.

“You can do this, right Cere?” asks Greez. He’s gotten impossibly paler underneath his mutton chops. He runs a hand through Cal’s hair to soothe him though it has little effect.

“I have to.”

“Well, you must do something soon. He is fading,” adds Merrin.

“We are. Both of you get ready,” says Cere.

The warning doesn’t matter as even before Cere reaches for the scalpel from the medkit Cal’s eyes flutter closed and he goes limp under Greez and Merrin’s hands. It’s probably for the best. With her small connection to the Force she presses gentle sleep towards him, hoping that it will keep him soothed and unconscious through what has to be done.

With a deep, steadying breath and a prayer to the universe, Cere leans in and begins her work.

It starts with small incisions around the leech to be able to grasp it firmly, then its working her way up its body with her fingers to break its hold on Cal’s flesh. Blood wells up between her fingers, hot and slippery, but she manages it. A part of her wants to gag like Greez is. Or to scream. But she can’t. Not yet. Cal is relying on her to save him, so that is what she is going to do. It’s slow going but eventually Cere manages to remove the leech, tossing it across the deck behind her towards the door. Greez lets out a little shriek as it spatters blood across the decking behind it, and BD-1 launches off the table to shock it vindictively then kick it down the ramp and off the ship.

Then comes the hard part. Cal’s side is so bloody that it’s hard to see enough to try and stitch up what the leech has torn through in his side, let alone get a few drops of their precious internal bacta inside without it washing back out. When at last Cere tapes his wound closed as best she can and slapped a bacta patch on top of everything she is exhausted and covered in Cal’s blood up to her elbows.

All three of them slump down as Cal slumbers on unaware of the new grey hairs he’s caused all of them. Cere needs to wash off the blood, needs to make tea and check in with the others, but for a moment she lets herself sit and watch the steady rise and fall of Cal’s chest and reassure herself that he is still with them.

[sammys-magical-au]

New imagine/headcanon that I have to write down bc it’s giving me Emotions™️ 😖

So. It’s Anakin’s first Life Day away from his mother and Tatooine, and he’s obviously very lonely and homesick. He tries to confide in Obi-Wan, but the combination of missing Qui-Gon, cracking under the pressure of the expectations of the Council, not knowing what the hell he’s doing with Anakin as his Padawan, and just general repressiveness of his own feelings means he unfortunately wasn’t much help at all (in fact he probably made the situation worse and ended up meditating while trying not to cry in his room because he felt bad), so Anakin turned to Lionel instead (who was probably very grumpy about Obi-Wan’s response).

Anakin ends up telling Nel that the thing he misses the most (besides his mom and just being home in general) is the food. Shmi used to make special ahrisa and pika cakes during the holiday, and that kind of sweet, spicy food couldn’t be found anywhere in the Jedi Temple.

Then Lionel, having listened to their best friend’s woes and determined to do whatever it took to make him happy this Life Day, even while being so far from home, took it upon themself to give Anakin the gift of comfort food. They mustered all the tenacity a twelve year old can hold and started making a plan to secretly round up the ingredients, find recipes on the holonet, and bake some treats for Anakin.

(Little side note - Lionel has liked baking since a very young age, seeing as they were the oldest of their siblings, they always ended up helping their parents in the kitchen, so they had a knack for food preparation to begin with and already enjoyed trying out new recipes, so this was going to be fun for them as well as fulfilling to make Anakin’s Life Day a little brighter)

It might’ve been easier if they’d asked their parents for help from the beginning (they had absolutely no idea why Nel was spending so much time at the market and sneaking into the kitchen until they were pretty far into their little scheme), and some of the ingredients were definitely stolen, but in the end, Lionel managed to bring a taste (pun fully intended) of Tatooinian Life Day to Coruscant for Anakin. They invited him down to their house to hang out, and he ended up crying in their arms while eating a slice of pika cake (Lionel’s mom took pictures 🤗), that somehow managed to taste just as good as it did back home.

It was the perfect gift, and Anakin never forgot it.

Bonus: the first Life Day after the Clone Wars ended, Anakin decides to embarrass Nel by telling this story to Padmé, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and the few Clones who are over to visit, and Nel is immediately showered with adoration (especially from Padmé, Ahsoka, and Rex) over how fucking cute that is. Lionel is grumbling and trying to hide how red their face is getting (and the fact that they’re getting a little weepy thinking about that memory), when Obi-Wan suddenly joins in on the affection by shyly putting his arms around Nel’s waist and pulling them closer to kiss them (which he had a few reservations about doing in front of everyone, but the love he felt in that moment was so strong he couldn’t help himself) before softly murmuring that he’s so glad they were there for Anakin and gave him a good Life Day, because at the time he’d been afraid that he’d completely ruined what little happiness Anakin had had left for the holiday with his reaction to Anakin’s homesickness. Now, Lionel bakes ahrisa and pika cake every Life Day, for everyone, and even though they never knew Shmi, they feel like it brings them that much closer to their best friend’s mother.

[itsmewillful]

Request #2

Main Masterlist:

Character Masterlist:

Requested by: @nev20

OMG I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. I got held up with school and other personal matters 🤧

I turned your idea into an x reader story, I hope you don't mind!

Anyway, here is your request, and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2,567 words. (it's kinda long)

Warning(s): Fluffy fluff, some angst, mentions of Order 66 and death, Leia running away, not proof read, lot’s of uncanon stuff (becuz its better that way)

Reader is GN, or at least I tried to keep it that way. Let me know if I missed anything.

Outline: After Anakin defeats Darth Sidious in a gruesome fight, he leaves the Jedi Order to settle down with you. Fourteen years later, you are both blessed with a daughter and son: Luke and Leia. However, because Anakin Skywalker was a famous Jedi, the descendants of him are worth a lot of money to bounty hunters, so you and Anakin live in constant worry of your beloved children being whisked away, far from your reach.

Our Intentions Were Good, I promise

“Anakin!” You yelled with a hoarse voice over all the chaos that was going on in the Jedi Temple. You could sense his presence nearby, but with all the Clone Troopers storming around the temple killing Jedi in their wake, you could not help but feel worried for your lover. 

You, Anakin and the rest of the Jedi Council discovered that the Sith Lord behind all the issues was none other than the Chancellor. It was a big shock to Anakin, and you knew he felt betrayed since he basically considered him as a father. But you had always had your suspicions, and the discovery only made sense to you. 

You hear your name get called through the rubble and dust flying around the temple and you spin on your heels to see where the voice originated from. You let out a shaky breath when you noticed it was Anakin, and he was okay. 

“Ani!” You whispered and ran over to him and tightly embraced him in a hug. He hugged you back and buried his head into the side of your neck and inhaled your scent.

“You’re okay, I was so worried for you,” Anakin said, biting back a sob.

“And you’re okay,” you giggled when he began to kiss you tenderly on your cheek. 

“Of course I’m okay. I am the Chosen One afterall,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. You rolled your eyes at his banter and gently kissed his cheek. 

“Where’s the Sith Lord? Did you arrest him?” 

Anakin hummed in acknowledgement before continuing to kiss your cheek passionately. 

“Anakin–I’m trying to have a conversation with you,” you giggled in between kisses. 

He sighed heavily and stepped back a bit to look you in your eyes.

“We managed to arrest him, however, Master Windu was. . .killed in the process. Which leaves Obi-Wan as the new Head of the Council.” 

You gasped at the news and you felt your eyes burn. Master Windu was your own mentor when you were a Padawan, and basically the Father figure you never had. Even though he seemed very distant and cold-hearted, he would once in awhile have his moments that left great memories of the time when you were a Padawan under his authority.

“It’s alright, darling,” Anakin said, kissing your lips gently. “He’s in a better place now.” 

You nodded your head slowly, and buried your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Let’s go home, Ani.”

+++

Not long after Order 66, you and Anakin officially left the Jedi Order and got married. It was a small but beautiful ceremony; with only a few people invited. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padme Amidala, and Anakin’s old Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.

About a year later, you brought two beautiful children into the world: Leia and Luke Skywalker. Leia looked a lot like you, but had Anakin’s strong will and personality. Meanwhile, your son looked like a spitting image of your husband, but he had more of your quiet and laid back personality. 

Now, your twins were nearing the age of thirteen, and you couldn’t believe how fast your small babies were now young adults.

One problem, however, was the constant worry of your children being abducted from you due to them being related to Anakin. You both were aware that both Luke and Leia had a bounty on their head worth thousands of credits. Anakin and Obi-Wan had both tried to investigate who was behind the order of their capture, but they never succeeded. So, you found yourself being incredibly over-protective of your children.

You homeschooled your children because you were scared of them walking by themselves to and from the public school. You didn’t allow Leia to go out with just her friends even if she was accompanied by their parents, and you never allowed Luke to be outside by himself. 

Were you taking all precautions a bit too far? Of course you were. You and 

Anakin loved your children and were too attached to risk the chances of them being taken away from you. 

+++

“Mom, dad, can we ask you something?” 

You looked up from the holopad you were scrolling through and noticed Leia and Luke were both standing in front of you with anxious looks on their faces. You raised your brow and beckoned them to walk up closer to you.

“Yes you two?” Anakin said with a small look of concern on his face.

“Umm. . .” Luke started to say, but immediately lost his train of thought and snapped his mouth shut.

“You know how today marks the fourteenth year of peace throughout the whole galaxy, right?” Leia began.

You glanced at Anakin and noticed he was also confused as to where this conversation was going.

You nodded your head at your daughter to continue and she shakily inhaled.

“There is a parade and fair–”

“No” you and Anakin said at the same time sternly, knowing exactly where this was going.

“But why?” Leia pleaded, tears began to form in her crystal eyes. 

Luke sighed heavily, and with heavy footsteps headed to the staircase to head to his room.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Leia, we have been over this many times. I would have thought you would know by now.” You said.

Leia’s face slowly morphed into one of pure grief and frustration. 

“I HATE THIS! You and dad worrying about EVERYTHING!! This whole thing is so stupid!” And like that, she stormed out of the room and slammed her bedroom door when she reached it.

You shook your head and looked at your husband to see his reaction and noticed he was already looking at you.

“She is kind of right, you know?” You began. “Our children are basically secluded from the rest of the world, let alone other kids their age. It wouldn’t hurt to let them go out once, would it?”

Anakin hummed in thought. 

“I’ll think about it. I think you might be right.” 

“The parade doesn’t start until nightfall, so you just sit there and put your one brain-cell to work, darling.” You teased as you stood up from the couch you were previously relaxing on and began to head to the kitchen.

“At least I have a brain-cell, sweetheart.” Anakin bit back to which you turned around to smack him on the top of his head.

He chuckled and grabbed a hold of your wrist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

“You are such a bully, darling.” Anakin shook his head. You huffed at that.

“And you aren’t?” 

“No, I am just your teasing husband.” He said, glancing at your lips before pulling you into a long and passionate kiss. You hummed and smiled into the kiss. You reached your hand behind his head, and moved your hands into his hair, before pulling hard on it, causing Anakin to jump and disconnect your lips.

“HEY! You’ll pay for that!” He warned with a slight smile on his face. You rolled your eyes before squirming out of his tight hold. 

“Only if you can get me!” You giggled lightly before sprinting out of the room and running up to your joined bedroom. 

+++

“Ugh, why is mom and dad so strict?” Leia complained as she dramatically plopped onto her brother's bed. Luke shrugged and continued to tinker with Lola, Leia’s small robotic companion. 

“And you are so helpful Mr. I-don’t-dare-disobey-my-parents.” Leia said with venom  laced in her voice. 

Luke sighed heavily and ignored the rest of Leia’s banter.

After a stream of censored cursing and complaining about how her life is so miserable, she decided that she was going to take matters into her own hands. 

“I am going to sneak out of the house.” Leia said with some excitement in her voice. 

Luke just about choked at his sisters ‘revelation”. 

“Umm. . .no you aren’t” He said sternly.

Leia chuckled before sliding off his bed and began to walk over to her slightly older brother. 

“You aren’t the boss of me Luke. What are you going to even do, cry and tell mommy and daddy? You’re no fun at all. In fact: you’re straight up boring. I don’t need your consent. I’m doing what I want.” 

And with that, she stormed out of the room.

Luke sat at his desk quietly, thinking hard.

“She wouldn’t actually do it, will she?” He asked Lola, who was still off and had most of her parts laid out on the table.

He sighed heavily but decided his sister didn’t have the guts to carry out such a dangerous idea.

Or, so he thought.

+++

“Leia?! O.M.G girl, I thought your parents were gonna say no to you turning up!” Leia smiled when she recognised the face of her best friend, a Twi-Lek named Brigade, and her friend, Han Solo. 

“Yeah, they did say no. But I came anyway.” Leia said matter-of-factly.

Brigade gasped and squealed with excitement.

“About time you take control of your life! That’s so badass of you!” 

Han Solo chuckled at that and patted Leia’s head fondly. 

“And if anything happens, don’t forget I’m here.” he winked. 

Leia rolled her eyes at his playful banter and noticed that the streets of Coruscant was more packed than she expected.

“Wow, there’s a lot of people here.” She trailed off.

“Yup. But it’s normal for an event like this.” Brigade said casually. 

+++

“Luke, what do you mean she left?” I panicked when I entered Leia’s room and found it empty with her window wide open. 

“I-I am so sorry, mother.” Luke stuttered. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it and decided against telling you. I should’ve and I am so sorry.” 

Anakin had his arms crossed and he was staring at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. You cleared your throat to gain his attention, to which he obliged. 

“Ani? What are we going to do?” 

“Well, we need to go find her, first of all. But this event is a planet-wide thing and I don’t even know where to start looking.” 

Luke gulped and began to burst into tears. 

“I am so sorry! It’s all my fault!” 

You reached out to your son and hugged him tightly, kissing him on the top of his head. 

“It’s all of our faults. We have been too strict with you children and this behaviour was bound to happen eventually. If anything, it’s our fault.” You said calmly, glancing at Anakin to see him nodding in agreement.

“Now, let’s go find your sister.”

+++

“Umm. . .are you sure this is safe, Brigade?” Leia asked, gulping heavily when Brigade split up from Han Solo and was leading Leia away from the rest of the crowd to an alley-way close by.

“Yup! Totally safe. As long as you're here with me.” Brigade said carelessly. 

Leia nodded and tried to take her friend’s advice to heart, but through the force, she could sense something terrible was about to happen.

“Well, well, well. Look-y here! The Twi-Lek actually did it!” Leia heard a voice from behind her and she spun quickly on her heels and noticed there was two masked people in front of her. A man and a woman.

“What are they talking about?” Leia asked cautiously.

Brigade slowly faced Leia with an emotionless expression.

“You should’ve stayed home, Leia. Coming out here by yourself was foolish.”

“What do you mean? What are you on about, Brigade?”

“When I first found out how high the bounty was for you and your brother, I knew I had to get close to you. I’m sorry if it hurts, but my family needed the money.”

Leia felt hot tears fall down her cheek at the news. Her childhood friend had been using her this whole time? 

“What the Kriff, Brigade. You traitor. I thought we were friends!” She sobbed. 

Brigade continued to stand completely still without showing a pang of regret.

“So sad, but we have no time for theatrics! The big man wants the job to be done A-S-A-P. We have a ship to catch.” The woman said carelessly, as she dug into a satchel that was around her shoulders and pulled out a big sack of credits.

“A thousand credits, just as we promised you.” The man said.

Brigade caught the bag and opened it and looked over her newly-earned loot.

“Thank you, Leia. You just saved my father from a certain death.” Brigade said with a small smile on her face.

Leia felt strong arms grab her by the shoulders and she felt herself get yanked to the ground.

“I got you Leia!” She sat up and noticed Han had rushed into the alley and was now fighting for his life against the two masked people.

“Run! Get out of here!” He yelled at her. Leia quickly scrambled to her feet and rushed out of the alley, searching for the direction home. 

But, once again, she felt someone grab onto her, making her let out a bloody sounding scream.

“Leia, it’s okay!” 

Leia recognised the voice of her father and latched onto him tightly.

“Dad! I am so glad I found you! You and mom were right! Everything here is dangerous, please take me home!”

“Leia, what happened?” you asked with a calm voice bending over slightly to reach her eye level.

“Alley-way, and Brigade selling me or something and- O.M.G! Han is there all by himself! He needs help!” Leia exclaimed with complete terror and worry laced in her voice. She pointed at the direction she came from and her father nodded and began to rush that way.

When he was out of sight, Leia looked back up at you and could see that you were smiling and looked the complete opposite of how she expected.

“Why are you smiling? I thought you’d be so mad at me.”

“Oh, I am mad at you, Leia.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. “But I am so thankful that you are alright and nothing happened to you.”

Leia sniffled some more and buried her face into your warm body.

“I’m sorry, mum.” Leia cried.

“Shh. . .let’s talk about this when we get home.”

+++

“So, you actually were going to take me and Luke to the event?” Leia asked with complete disbelief in her eyes.

You nodded and looked over at your husband who still was nursing a bruise he had gotten from the fight on his left cheek. 

“Yes, your father and I have decided that we can’t make you guys live in solitude for all of your childhood, so we agreed to take you out into the city some more. However, because of your behaviour, you should expect to not be going anywhere for a week.” 

Leia nodded in understanding, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve actually decided that mum?” She asked.

You chuckled and raised your arms to invite your two children into a hug. They both giggled and practically jumped into your arms, making you fall back a bit.

“I love you mom!” They both said at the same time.

“Hey! How about me? I saved your friend and got your ‘attempt captors’ put into custody!” Anakin said with a fake frown on his face.

“Yeah, thank you father.” Leia said with a genuine smile plastered across her face. Anakin also smiled and joined the group hug.

The Skywalker family was happy and safe once again.

A/N: OMG!! This x reader was different from the ones ive previously written, i hope you enjoyed it! And thank you for requesting it! I enjoyed writing it so much 

Sorry if there was any mistakes or repetitive sentences, I am a bit too lazy to try and proof read it but ill do it eventually.

Love ya all!

-Will

[yona049]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙹𝚎𝚍𝚒 𝙴𝚛𝚊

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Oc

Part 1 /?

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Disclaimer!

°Mentions of fire injuries

°Burns Scarring

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

"Keep up, Ben!"

The little girl laughs while they run though the grassy fields. Giggles filling the cool air of Ossus. A planet that Luke Skywalker Created his own jedi temple on, training other young and upcoming jedi like Ben and Liita.

She looks back at Ben who quickly overtakes her on their run. His head high and cocky as he now looks back at her.

She squints with a smirk and reaches out into the distance, focusing as she runs with careful eyes. With a instant tug of her hand, a rock hits Ben's foot, throwing him off balance.

He was sent tumbling into the grass with annoyed growl. But easily reaches out to her before he yanked Liita down with him using the force, both of them rolling into a laughing mingled mess.

Finally coming to a stop, she sends a punch into Ben's shoulder while they lay in the dirt.

"I'm going to kill you! You ruined by robes! Master Skywalker won't be happy!"

Ben snorts and pushes himself up to lay back on his arms.

"Well, you started it! Besides, you ruined mine first. I should scold you like the child you are!"

Lii rolls her eyes and rests her head on her arms, laying on her stomach.

"Just because you're 17 doesn't mean you can scold me!"

Ben chuckles and ruffles her hair with a cheeky grin.

"I'm still three years older than you, Ewok!"

She gasps the second the name came from his mouth. Yes, Ewok's are adorable, but surely he meant it as an insult.

She pouted angrily, only to get a boop on the forehead.

"See? You even pout like one!" he teases again.

His teasing makes her smack his hand away.

"You're mean, Ben Solo."

"And you're adorable, Liita Dameron."

Her pout fades into a little blush that she quickly hides in her arms. Ben only smiles, giving her head a little rub.

That's how it went, day after day. Training as a Padawan to soon became a Jedi of the new era.

Somehow, that all came to an end.

Six years later, Ben burned down the Ossus temple, almost killing master Luke, and finally, taking the lives of any trainee that wouldn't follow him to the darkness.

Liita Watched him from between the flames, her eyes watering from the smoke and her saber gripped tightly in her hand.

She looked to Ben for help. But Ben wasn't there anymore. Somone else was. Reaching out to her, eyes pleading for her to join him. Join him or else he'd have to do something he didn't want to.

She couldn't see the light in him anymore. So instead of taking his hand, she retreated deeper into the screaming flames. Trying to find a way out.

But Ben...

But Kylo wouldn't let her run. He pulled rubble down and onto her, leaving her buried. As a lover, and now a memory.

°○°○°○°

Poe Dameron sat infront of a dark screen. His foot tapping eagerly and his eyes trained.

"C'mon, C'mon. Where are you!"

He mumbles eagerly while his teeth bit into his lip.

The resistance around him, rushing to fix ships and prepare any other weapons for battle.

D'Qar. The Resistance Base for the time being.

The screen he watched was balanced on some crates for a make shift table and a crate for a chair.

"She'll be there, Poe." A gentle voice and hand on his shoulder comforts him.

General Leia glanced at the screen then back to Poe.

"You know she has to be careful, if she gets caught talking to the resistance, she'll be killed instantly."

Poe grits his teeth and replies.

"Or tortured."

Leia sighs and pats his shoulder again.

"She's trained with the force, Poe. She wouldn't give in that easily. She can resist a trooper's torture."

"It's not a trooper I'm worried about. It's him." Poe says bluntly.

Before Leia could even try to form a reply, silence filled her vocals instead. She couldn't argue, because he was right to worry.

Just then, the screen zips to life! Poe almost leaps as he grabs the screen with both hands.

"Liita!"

The room was dark, and she wore a first order general's uniform to blend in.

_"Shh! "I'm Alright, Poe. Don't shout like an idiot, little brother!"_ she scolds, but smiles nonetheless.

Poe finally takes a breath, his hands relaxing back into his lap.

"You almost missed the check in time. I thought..."

_"Hey! Don't even start with that! I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't know what I was doing."_

She smiles, lifting the hat off hurt head. Skin burnt, hidden beneath her uniform showing as she shifted.

"Yeah, about that. You ok?"

_"Well, I haven't gotten caught yet! Aslong as I stay to the lower ranks and avoid higher ups, I can easily charm my way into making everyone believe I've always been here."_

She sneakily lifts her hand, giving it a easy wave and teasing.

_" You don't need to see my identification. We've been friends for years."_ She mocks her recent use of the force.

Poe chuckles, knowing his sister was trained for many years by a master Jedi. But his smile fades as new worry fills his mind.

"Talk to me, Lii. Anything new?"

_"No. The Resistance base is safe for now. They suspect nothing."_

Poe smiles warmly, his body at ease before placing his hand on the side of the screen again. His eyes growing serious.

"And you? Are you ever gonna come home, where it's safe?"

Liita paused for a second, glancing back into the dark room she was hidden in.

_"I... I can't, Poe. There's so much I can do here. So much pain I can inflict under their imperial armor."_

"Pain?" Poe calls her out. The sudden drop in her stomach makes her realize what she sounded like.

She quickly looks back at him.

_"Not what I meant! Don't do that! Don't make me paranoid. I'll never turn to the dark side! You know that."_

Poe watches her for a moment. She was in their colors. She was now in their ranks. No back up. Noone to balance her out.

"Ok... Just please be careful. And don't forget who's waiting for ya ok? Don't forget me and BB8." he quips some humor into their call.

Liita laughs. For the first time in a while, but it's all ended when suddenly a red light beams though the room.

_"I have to go, Poe!"_

Poe feels his jaw clench again. He would never know if she's ok in these times. But he needed to trust in her.

"May the force be with you, Lii."

She gave him a little nod before switching off the screen.

She needed to be quick. Stashing her Resistance devices in a hidden compartment in the Storage closet she was in.

She grabs her hat, pushing it firmly onto her head, leaping into the shining black hallways.

She was a Resistance spy in the heart of a first order fighter. An untrained Padawan with the hope of a Rebel.

She watched as Storm troopers and generals alike lined up on either side of the hallway.

She joined them swiftly, standing at attention. Hands on her sides and head held high. She needed to play the part now.

Like the red sea, soldiers parted at the sound of oncoming boots.

She watched his mask appear around a corner. Black eyes and breathing mechanism. Rumored to be a copy of his grandfather's.

Kylo Ren.

That's what he called himself now.

She stood straight as he walked by, unmoving and blending in with the others. But she kept her eyes on him, trying to find any speck of the Ben she knew. She hadn't seen his face for six long years, her heart longed to hold him again.

Suddenly Ben stopped and Liita flinched herself out of her trance.

She took a slow breath, filling her head with a blank slate. Images of the storm troopers. The TIE fighters and paperwork. A blank slate with no sign of the resistance or the force.

Once again her eyes go numb and her smile fades.

Kylo remains still for just a moment more, before continuing his angry stride.

Liita couldn't let him notice her. Not her face, not her voice, not the force that flows though her.

But for General Leia, she promised to keep an eye on him. And maybe she promised herself that too.

[daisychainsandbowties]

actually (i’m not sorry) let’s talk about force-bonded jedi knights Shannon and Mary.

“A Force-bond was a powerful connection between two Force-sensitive individuals that bridged their minds, allowing them to communicate through the Force both visually and emotionally.

The range of the bond was vast; it could span the galaxy, keeping two beings united in a psychic link despite the physical distance between them. As a result, both parties would manifest in each other's location at the same time, making it possible for them to see, hear and feel each other through their bond.”

thinking of Shannon standing in the hallway watching death approach and reaching out, finding that familiar hand, half-memory and half-desire. clutching it even as she raises her saber in the last extreme defense of Ava.

burning her life because she used to dream of holding a blue saber, of going out in glory, but love taught her to long for balance, for harmony, for peace. for green.

and she would have lived in peace, with Mary on some far-flung planet. tinkering with ships and growing too old, too fast. fixing up droids and complaining about the weather and painting the shutters in spring.

but she’s a jedi, so what she has is only an instant of that peace as she feels Mary come awake in a distant place. one last prayer on her lips. “let it be safe. let it be safe and very far away.”

whispering, “i’m sorry. i couldn’t face this part alone.”

distance had never stopped them and it doesn’t stop Shannon from dying with Mary’s arms around her.

they grow up hand-in-hand, youngling Shannon missing a piece of herself until she finds Mary. this odd, thoughtful girl from incredibly far away, who knows about engine specs and torque but not the laws of physics.

telekinetically passing her notes in class, sending them adrift like little white birds. Mary initially dumps them all in the wastepaper bin at the end of their classes, head spinning with physics and math and chemistry and kinetics and protocol and all the myriad things a jedi must know.

but eventually she unfolds them, hiding her blush with her binder of notes. chickenscratch handwriting and little diagrams of a cartoon Shannon (labelled) bonking a cartoon Mary on the head with a saber.

back when Shannon thought hers would be blue.

Mary most at home with a practice blade in her hand, trying to get used to the airy spaces in the jedi temple, quiet courtyards and the soft shuffle of pages in the archives. she sneaks into the hanger bay (as Ava will, in another decade) to look at the ships, to touch them, remembering the desert and the podracers kicking up sand. storms sweeping in to eat the sun.

scowling when Shannon takes her lunch tray over to sit at the far end of Mary’s table, so she can wink at her.

and then, one day, looking up and finding her beautiful.

after that they sit next to each other. binary stars slipping into orbit, trading from tray-to-tray; blue milk for the strawberry one. Mary eating Shannon’s greens when the jedi look away.

Mary growing closer almost against her will to this whirlwind of a girl. how she spars in the early morning with the empty air. she wakes up early to watch, pretending it's the dawn that draws her down, peering around a pillar, stunned at the grace of Shannon pivoting through the air, flipping over imaginary opponents.

asking her, as they perch on a balcony to watch the sunset over the endless cityscape, “why did you bother with me?”

Shannon has her face pressed sleepily into Mary’s shoulder. she plays with the hem of her tank top, “what d’you mean?”

“it just… seemed like you wanted to know me before you even knew me.”

“i did.”

Mary, turns her head, looking at the profile of Shannon curled up against her. warm. “yeah, but why?”

“i don’t know. i just had a feeling.”

they go together to Ilum, to get their kyber crystals, running through the icy cave systems. Shannon helps Mary when they climb and Mary clutches a half-conscious Shannon to her chest when they fall into freezing water. “i got you.”

“i k-k-know.” through chattering teeth, Mary letting Shannon slip her cold hands under her shirt for warmth. a wicked smile in the ice-warped dimness. "s-s-score."

saber fights late at night with blue offshoots of light dancing around their bodies. green sparks shattering against the stars. laying there tangled in their exhaustion, always drawing even. Mary kissing Shannon’s forehead, looking at their lightsabers sitting side-by-side. blue and green.

“we should kiss.” Shannon says this out of nowhere with the air of someone who has been thinking about it for a long time.

she’s half-draped over Mary’s chest, head on her ribs. “i can hear your heart,” she adds, when Mary loses the ability to speak.

Shannon sits up, turns. she’s about to say something when Mary lurches up, takes her by the jaw.

they kiss, and nothing is ever the same again.

[kanerallels]

Today's Spring Fling prompt from @monthly-challenge is Yellow! I wrote it shortly after 3x09 of The Bad Batch, and it was somewhat inspired by this post by @nimata-beroya!

It had been a full year. A year since Order 66, since the Jedi were declared betrayers and were, subsequently, massacred at the hands of their clones.

A year since Quinlan Vos’s life, so recently put back together, was torn to pieces again.

The first time, in all fairness, had been largely his fault. And he’d lost a lot then. But he’d been making things right, working for good again. He’d even been finally allowed back in the field, back fighting the Separatists.

And then. In the blink of an eye, in one order from the Chancellor— or should he say the Emperor— it was all gone. Vos had felt the lives ripped away through the Force, leaving an empty, black hole where they had been.

The Jedi were no more.

He was alive, Force only knew how. A combination of dumb luck— he’d been scouting ahead when the order went through— and skill. His stomach churned at the memory— he’d had to cut his way through too many of his men. Far too many.

And even as he set off an explosive, destroying the remains of his commander and his men, leaving behind the charred shape of his lightsaber— minus the crystal, of course— Vos couldn’t help but think of the others.

He knew Kenobi was alive, obviously. He’d gotten the message to stay away from the Temple while hunkered down in one of his hideouts in the Outer Rim, trying to figure out what the kark to do next. But the rest? Master Yoda, Master Windu? Thousands of other Jedi who he’d known, fought alongside? His own apprentice was among the dead. The painful memory lanced through him— of going to Felucia, finding the place where she fell. And then causing a huge ruckus trying to steal back her lightsaber from the troopers who’d taken it.

And then there were the clones. Vos wasn’t totally sure what had happened. And he hadn’t been with his clone commander for long. But Harrow was a solid guy, and wasn’t the type to just start shooting at you. The clones had been loyal to their generals, so something here wasn’t right. Vos’s current operating theory was that it was something to do with Dark side manipulation. Which meant Cody, Harrow, and thousands of others had been bent to the will of a Sith.

People had been hurt. People had been killed. And the only thing Vos could do about it?

Hide.

He hated it. He really, really hated it. The closest thing he had to family had been massacred, and all he was doing about it was dropping off the radar. Vos should have been fighting back.

But Kenobi had said keep your head down. And Vos tended to trust him. So he was keeping his head down. Besides, the Empire would be a tough nut to crack, even as a Jedi. Not impossible, mind. But tough.

So he’d disappeared— something he already had some practice in. Cut his hair, hid all relics of his former Jedi life, and just… blended in. Suffice to say, it was not the easiest thing he’d ever done. But Vos had picked it up eventually. Now he had a job and a tiny apartment and a grumpy neighbor, and he wasn’t dead. All very important things.

But now it had been a year since his family had been slaughtered. And things were only getting worse, and Vos was getting antsy.

So, he decided, maybe it was time to do something.

It started out when he was heading back to his apartment after work. Usually his neighbor, Traz, got home around the same time, and Vos liked to bother him for a little while. The grumpy Mirialan’s dry sense of humor reminded him a little of Obi-Wan, who he missed. A lot. So it was really hard for Vos to resist teasing him a little.

Today, when he headed up the creaky stairs to his floor, Traz was there at his apartment door, like usual. But he wasn’t unlocking the door. Instead, he was facing two stormtroopers, both carrying blasters.

Vos kept his gait casual as he approached, taking in the situation quickly. One of the troopers was talking, and Vos caught the last few words. “—provide some kind of ID soon, or you’ll be taking a trip with us to our commanding officer.”

Oooh, Vos thought. Terrifying. But when he looked at Traz’s face, it was clear his friend thought it was exactly that terrifying. His green skin was a chalkier shade than usual, and his hands were clenched into fists. “Like— like I said, I left it at work. I’ll have it soon, just—”

“Hey, there, friend,” Vos said, strolling up behind the troopers. Draping his arms around their shoulders, he gave Traz a wink. “Didn’t know it was a party— am I invited?”

Oddly, his presence didn’t seem to bring Traz much comfort. The troopers didn’t appreciate it much either. Shoving him backwards, one of them leveled a blaster at him. “Who are you?” she barked.

Holding his hands up, Vos said, “Easy there, troopers. I’m just heading home from work. The name’s Vos. What’s the problem here?” Snapping his fingers, he said, “Traz! Did you leave your ID at work again?”

A look of confusion crossed Traz’s face, which wasn’t surprising since to Vos’s knowledge, the Mirialan had never done that. He was fastidiously careful about that stuff, like Obi-Wan. Kark, I miss that guy.

“So he claims,” the other trooper said gruffly. “But he’s required to present identification. What’s your chain code?”

Panic flashed across Traz’s face, so quick that Vos only barely caught it. Ohhhhh. He doesn’t have one. Wonder how that happened. “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” he scoffed, keeping his tone cheerful and laid back. “I mean, look at the guy. He’s never broken a rule in his life.”

“This is none of your concern, citizen,” the first trooper snapped. “Go to your apartment.”

Okay, so we’re not playing nice. Time to bend the rules a little, I guess. Stepping forward quickly, Vos slipped between the stormtroopers and Traz. Blocking his friend’s view, he spread his hands. “Hey. There’s no need for all this— you don’t need his identification right now, do you?”

At the same moment, he pushed his intention through the Force. Come on. Work. Don’t let them catch me.

There was a brief pause, then the first trooper said, “There’s no need for all this.”

“We don’t need his ID right now,” the second trooper agreed. And with that, they turned and headed back down the stairs.

Releasing a sigh, Vos rolled his shoulders to release the tension. He hadn’t used the Force in public since… probably since I stole Aayla’s saber back. Oof. But kind of impressive— close to a year, and I still got it. Not bad, Quinlan. Holding back a grin, he glanced at Traz.

The Mirialan was staring at him, eyes wide. “How?” was all he said, confusion bright on his face.

Shooting him a wink, Vos said, “I won’t say anything if you won’t.”

For a minute, Traz didn’t speak. Then, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” And with that, Vos strolled into his apartment, feeling a tiny flicker of success. He’d done something. For the first time in months, he’d done something.

Nothing else happened the next day. But the day after— his day off— someone knocked on the door in the middle of Vos’s meditations. (which he still tried to do, when not absolutely exhausted from work. He couldn’t let go of it, not after a lifetime of being a Jedi. If it put him at risk… well, at least life would be a little more interesting.)

Hopping to his feet, Vos crossed the room and opened the door. Outside stood Traz, and with him was a blue-skinned Twi’lek girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen. 

Technically, she didn’t look like Aayla. But the serious way she studied him when he opened the door almost knocked him off his feet, pain clawing at his chest as he pictured his apprentice in her place. Ow. Nope. She’s gone, and not a kid. She’s gone, Quinlan. Let it go.

Taking a quick breath and trying to pretend that he wasn’t gripping the door frame to keep himself steady, he gave them a quizzical grin. “Hi?”

“This is him?” the Twi’lek girl asked Traz. She sounded deeply skeptical, and Vos held back a laugh. Probably he should be offended, but he really couldn’t blame her. He was currently wearing lounge pants with porgs on them, and an ancient band t-shirt for someone called the Twisted Rancor Trio.

“This is him,” Traz assured her. “He saved me from getting dragged into the Imperial headquarters the other day.”

Uh-oh. “This is true,” Vos agreed. “I am a naturally charming guy like that. How is this relevant, and are you trying to sell me something? Cookies, perhaps? Because I will shell out a couple credits for cookies.”

Rolling his eyes, Traz muttered, “And now you see why I didn’t think he’d be useful.”

The Twi’lek girl, however, was smiling. “I’m not here to sell you something,” she told him. “I’m here to ask you if you want to help more people.”

One of Vos’s eyebrows shot up. “Say what now?”

“We’ve all seen the Empire doing terrible things. And we all know that what they’re doing is wrong,” she said, her voice lowering slightly. “And you acted on that. So… I’m wondering if you’d like to do that a little more often.”

Ooooooh. This was dangerous. It was probably pretty stupid, and the exact opposite of keeping his head down. But… he’d had enough of keeping his head down, and he’d done his fair share of bad. It was time to do something good.

“You better come in,” Vos told them, stepping back from the door. “Let’s talk business— anyone want some snacks?”

They did, in fact, want snacks. As they munched on the snack cakes Vos had bought a few days earlier, the Twi’lek girl— who introduced herself as Tyala— explained the situation. She and Traz knew a lot of people who didn’t have chain codes, or who were fugitives from the Empire in one way or another. Traz himself was among the group without chain codes.

“But I had to stay here,” he explained. “Tyala’s on her own, and—”

“Everyone’s pretty sure I’ll get myself arrested without someone keeping an eye on me,” Tyala said, rolling her eyes as she munched on one of the cakes. Vos noticed her nails were painted a bright shade of orange. “Although I’ve never been arrested before, unlike some people here.”

Ignoring her, Traz said, “Besides, I couldn’t turn my back on the people here.”

“Good for you,” Vos told him. “So what would I be doing?”

The duo exchanged a look. “Well,” Tyala said, “you’re a lot better at talking your way past Imperials than we are. How about escorting refugees off the planet?”

Vos grinned. “That sounds like my style.”

And that was how things began. Every so often, Traz signaled Vos that they were ready for him to sneak a group past the Empire’s eyes. From there, Vos met Tyala at an old abandoned factory and picked up the group. He’d had to scrape together enough credits to buy a ship— a rickety old freighter which just barely ran— but it was worth it to be doing something. To help families to freedom.

The other two in the group never mentioned the circumstances under which Traz had decided to recruit him, which Vos appreciated. The less they knew, the better, and they seemed to recognize that.

(they’d had one talk, he and Traz. Once, where the Mirialan had mentioned his cousin had been taken by the Empire. “My family always thought he might be… different,” he said, significance heavy on the last word. “Jedi different. And then the Empire came in and took him. We haven’t seen him since.”

Vos hadn’t said anything about it, other than a quiet “I’m sorry”. Truth be told, it was probably better they didn’t know what happened to the kid. Force knew what the Empire had cooked up for Force sensitives.)

And so things settled into a new, far more tolerable (if nerve wracking) rhythm of working, then saving people right under the Empire’s nose. A few months in, and Vos was finally getting used to things— when everything was thrown into chaos again.

It started when Traz was arrested. Vos was on his way back from a trip, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. He was halfway up the staircase when he stopped. Because suddenly, the adrenaline wasn’t just that. It was a warning, humming through the Force.

A crowd of troopers were standing at the top of the staircase, and two more were leading Traz out of his apartment. The Mirialan made eye contact with Vos, and mouthed, Go.

For a moment, Vos hesitated. He couldn’t just leave his friend, couldn’t just let him be taken by the Empire. He knew what would happen. They both did.

But there was more at stake than just him. So Vos spun and darted back down the stairs, past the troop transport he’d completely missed. Someone shouted something at him, and Vos put on a burst of speed. It was time to disappear.

But he couldn’t do that quite yet. His go bag was stashed on his ship, and he carried some of the more important things with him at all times. But there was no way he could leave Tyala. He already hated himself for leaving Traz behind.

I’ll come back for him. But first things first, I get Tyala clear.

While it had never been clearly stated where the Twi’lek girl lived, Vos was pretty sure the abandoned factory where they met was a safe bet. She’d never really hidden the fact that she lived on her own, but without parents or an actual job, she couldn’t have an apartment.

When he made it to the factory, Tyala was waiting for him. “Traz sent a message, said he was— was compromised,” she told him, her voice hitching a little. “Is—”

“The Empire has him,” Vos said quietly, and a flash of pain went across the Twi’lek girl’s face.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay. Then we have to go.”

Vos’s eyebrows went up. “I… yeah, but I expected a lot more arguments about that.”

“I promised him I’d run if he got caught,” Tyala said with a shrug. “And… we’re outnumbered. The two of us couldn’t do it— could we?”

There was the slightest whisper of hope in her last words, and Vos hated himself for crushing it. “No,” he said. “We’d need more back up, and we don’t have that. Yet.”

Nodding, Tyala said, “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff.”

She disappeared into the doorway behind her, then returned a minute later with a satchel slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them headed to the spaceport, evading Imperial patrols with practiced ease. The attendant at the spaceport knew Vos well enough at this point, so it was just a matter of a few credits under the table, and in no time at all he and Tyala were headed for his ship.

As they boarded, Vos heard voices behind them. The filtered voices of stormtroopers. His heart jumped painfully in his chest, but he didn’t flinch. Casually, he hit the door control, and the ramp started to close.

“Did they spot us?” Tyala asked softly. Clearly she’d heard the troopers, too.

“Don’t think so— but let’s make tracks, just in case. Do you know how to co-pilot?”

“Not really,” Tyala confessed. “I’ve never had to.”

Shrugging, Vos said, “You’re gonna learn on the fly, then— literally. Ha, I’m hilarious.”

Tyala rolled her eyes, but she looked a little less nervous as they hurried into the cockpit. 

The takeoff went fairly smoothly. Sure, halfway through the Empire noticed and tried to tell them to stop, but Vos had chosen his spaceport carefully. By the time they had TIEs in the air, the freighter was through the atmosphere, and Vos was splitting his attention between watching the radar and showing Tyala how to complete calculations for hyperspace.

And then they’d made it, and a weight eased off of Vos’s chest. Sitting back in his chair, he let out a long sigh. “Nice job, kid.”

“Thanks,” Tyala said, her voice quiet. Vos shot a glance at her, watched her fidgeting with the strap of her satchel, yellow painted nails startlingly bright against the dull fabric.

“Hey,” he said. “We’ll go back for him. We just need to find some backup, and come up with a plan.”

“Where are we going to find either of those?” Tyala asked.

“Well, the plan comes from my genius level intellect. The backup… I still have friends out there somewhere.” Hopefully. “Just give it some time,” Vos assured her. “Traz will be out in no time. Now, you want something to eat?”

Tyala, looking slightly less worried, nodded, and Vos headed into the small galley. Their supplies were dwindling, to say the least, and it took a little digging to unearth something edible. But eventually, he came back to the cockpit, an odd assortment of canned fruit and crackers piled in his arms.

When he strolled through the door, Tyala was sitting on the floor, the contents of her satchel spread out in front of her. “Just making sure I have everything,” she explained.

“Smart,” Vos said, dropping down across from her with a grunt. Setting down the food, he glanced at the small array of items. Some he expected— three bottles of nail polish, in varying stages of nearly empty, a vibroblade tucked in a sheath, a spare set of clothing.

There was also a holodisk, a datapad with a cracked screen, something wrapped in pale blue cloth, and a piece of stormtrooper armor. Vos frowned at the last one— the pauldron was cleaved cleanly in half. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at it.

“Oh— I found it on this Imperial transport on Pantora,” Tyala explained. “Traz and I kind of had to steal it to escape some Imps before you showed up. It was super weird— we thought it would be hard, but all the troopers were gone. This was all that was left.”

“Can I?” Vos asked, and she nodded. “That is weird,” he mused, reaching for the shard of armor. “It’s cleanly cut— almost looks like a—”

His hand closed around the armor, and—

“Stop her!” the panicked shouts of his fellow troopers echoed almost as loud as the blaster fire they directed at their target. Scrambling backwards, he wished— not for the first time— that he’d never signed up for the Imperial Army, that he’d told his girlfriend goodbye properly, that he’d stood up to his commander when she’d ordered them to kill their prisoners, that he hadn’t gone into work this morning—

The two troopers to his left fell, and he had a good look at what was attacking them for the first time. His first thought was that it had to be a ghost, or a creature risen from the depths of the snow around them. Her skin was bone white, but dark gray lines crackled across it in jagged patterns. She was dressed in dark clothing, and the yellow saber she carried glowed against the armor of his companions and the snow.

The saber carved an arc towards him, and he jerked to the side at the last minute. Pain exploded through him, and a chunk of his pauldron clattered to the ground.

“Please,” he gasped. “I didn’t want to—”

“Then you should have grown a spine,” she growled. “Then you should have spoken up against it, and been shot rather than follow an order so vile.”

“I know,” he whispered, and he did. He hated what he’d done, and there was nothing he could do to make it right. So he closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come.

Only it didn’t. And it didn’t. And it didn’t, until finally, he looked up tentatively. The ghost woman was studying him, her expression impassive. Then it twisted with irritation, and she muttered a curse under her breath. “Fine,” she bit out. “You’re going to live.”

“I— I am?”

“Oh, don’t look so excited. You’re going to help me to pay off those debts. And don’t try and thank me, it’s not my first choice. But…” a trace of what looked oddly like sadness crossed her face. “I know someone who’d want me to make this choice.”

“Vos? Vos, are you okay?”

Vos blinked unsteadily. He was on his side, clutching the piece of armor so tightly it dug into his palm. Tyala was crouched over him, concern bright in her eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

Vos opened his mouth to answer, but instead, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it, even with the terror the trooper had felt still buzzing through his bones. Because he knew the woman in the vision.

She’s dead, he thought giddily. There’s no way. I brought her home myself. But it had been very clear to him that he hadn’t understood everything about Dathomir, or their ways.

And the woman carrying the yellow saber had been, unmistakably, Asajj Ventress. The former Sith assassin turned bounty hunter. The woman who had sacrificed her life for him. The woman he’d fallen in love with.

“Vos?” Tyala was watching him with great concern.

Sitting up, Vos grinned at her. “I’m fine.”

“Cool. What the kark was that?”

“Psychometry,” he told her, opening his hand and staring at the piece of armor. “I can sense memories— echoes, really— in inanimate objects. Things the owner left behind, if it’s a personal object. Or, you know, a really strong memory.”

“And… this one was?” Tyala guessed.

Nodding, Vos said, “Oh, yeah. And there’s good news about it, too. I think I know where we can find that backup I mentioned.”

Well. He didn’t know exactly where. But Ventress was alive, against all odds, and he knew where to start looking. Luckily, she made quite an impression, so it might not be too hard.Even if it was? Well, Vos didn’t give up easily. I’m on my way, Ventress, he thought. I promise.