#and how he may end up in a position to pass that saber on again

[animatedjen]

What if cal gave bode one of his lightsabers the other half? or?

That would've been really cool. Had Bode's identity been discovered earlier, had his fear not kept him from trusting the Hidden Path, he would've been an even more powerful ally for Cal and the Mantis Crew.

Sometimes I think about how, aside from Cere and Cal facing Vader at the end of Fallen Order, Cal has never fought alongside another lightsaber in the games. Every other saber was held to his head by an Inquisitor, a Sith Lord, a Memory, a Raider, or a Fallen Jedi.

Trilla, Masana, Ghost Tapal, Malicos, Vader, Dagan, Rayvis' Raider lieutenants, and Bode.

Cal needs powerful foes to challenge him, and allies who help but never surpass his (aka the player's) ability. Ludonarrative harmony is important when balancing the story and gameplay elements, and Cal's role as a lone warrior plays into both.

But the Jedi series also cares a lot about symbolism when it comes to lightsabers. In Fallen Order, Cal's entire character arc is represented by the condition of Jaro's saber. He wrestles with his identity throughout Survivor, and after fighting so many fallen Jedi and their kyber-bled weapons, he builds pyres for Cere, Cordova, and Bode. Any hope of a Jedi ally is gone.

Knowing Cal's saberstaff can split into two pieces, I'm curious to see if the third game would incorporate this with a (potential) Force-sensitive Kata story? But that's probably a whole different post.

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[morganas-pendragons]

Long Story Short (I Survived) | Din Djarin

Okay, I apparently write for Din now. This is set after It’s A Long Way Down and will feature the same Grey!Jedi reader, I am done with finals and am intending to write a fic between this one and the first one for Chapter 13! 

i forgot that din took his helmet off in the first fic i wrote for him, so we’re going to call this - another separate instance in which reader could have seen helmet less din  - and change one saber to two 

if you’d like to be added to tags for when I write for din, please let me know! until then... 

@earthtokace / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ / @kyber-queen / @kaikai1324 / @snippy-tano / @fractiouskat​ / @doctorsteeb​

SPOILERS FOR THE BELIEVER 

Din is staring down at the Imperial console when he feels it creep up upon him. It’s a niggling fear, one that sinks deep down into the pit of his stomach and very nearly disappears - which gives him hope that it’ll just dissipate and die - until realization smacks him right back into reality. 

  “You’ll have to take your helmet off.” 

He’d felt this same emotion when IG-11 had coerced him into taking his helmet off when he’d been injured. It had felt the same, affected him the same, paralyzed him the same. 

Panic. It’s panic. 

The last time he’d done this had been out of necessity, out of fear, and that had been the only reason he’d survived. He’d broken The Creed to save his own life and of those who had been with him when the Moff attacked. Now, staring at this console, the life of his son is at stake if he doesn’t take this helmet off. 

Din whispers into the corners of his frightened mind. I’m scared. 

You had accompanied Mayfeld and Din as the third party (since Boba and Fennec had Cara) and had displayed skill in aiding him with the bands of pirates who had attacked their transport of Rhydonium. His mind was still spinning with the sheer speed in which you had spun those lightsabers. He didn’t think a person could move that fast. 

Around the corner and turned away from Din, you allow yourself to feel the whispers of The Force encircling your mind - the newly acquired bond you’d somehow formed with Din since having seen Ahsoka - and whispered in reply I know. A beat of silence passes before you continue. Remember who you’re doing this for. 

In the moment that Din’s fear threatens to overtake him, you send waves of comfort and assurance through your Bond in the Force - which shouldn’t exist to begin with, it’s not that easy to create bonds with a non-force sensitive -  to coax him into doing what needs to be done. Your eyes are turned. Your focus is on Mayfeld and the dozens of Imperial Officers who surround you. 

As he removes his helmet, Din remembers. He remembers your boundless laughter playing with The Child. He remembers the way his son beams at you, the way he falls asleep on specific words of lullabies because that’s always the precise moment your voice goes just soft enough that he feels as if he needs no more comfort. Din remembers the way you’d watched on in silence, quietly mourning a relationship that had yet to reach its peak, and how breathless you’d appeared - and overjoyed, he still hasn’t recovered from the sudden hug you gave him upon return to the Razor Crest - when he’d brought Grogu back inside after Ahsoka claimed he could not be trained. 

Remember who you’re doing this for.

Maker help anyone who dared to cross him when his child, his son - the one attachment he has not verbally acknowledged yet, but everyone else has, including you - is the one in danger. When you are the one in danger.

Maker help them.

You are not anticipating what comes next. 

This was supposed to be easy. Get in, get the coordinates for the cruiser, and get out. Mayfeld had mentioned to you after Din had entered the mess hall that he’d need to take his helmet off in order to access the terminal, and on instinct you had turned away from the mess to survey the crowd around you. 

Your lightsabers - now meshed together into the staff slung across your back - lay comfortably and within reach as dozens of Imperial troops brush past you and congratulate both you and Mayfeld on being the only transport to bring back the Rhydonium. 

  “Trooper? Hey, trooper!” 

Mayfeld’s hand shoots out before you can protest, and your head is whipping back just enough to ensure that Din hasn’t been found out. “No.” Mayfeld murmurs, shaking his head. “Not yet.” 

You’re not focused on him. You’re focused on the dark hair that frames the very visible head of the same man you’d resigned yourself to falling in love with. 

His helmet is off. 

Dread curls itself in your veins as you and the former Imperial turn to the mess hall. You’ve managed to respect Din’s wishes in refraining from both seeing his face - and using his name, you’re only allowed to do that in private - since you met, but circumstances have ruined the reverential act he would’ve saved for marriage. That was when he’d had removed his helmet to allow you to see him. 

The thing is though.. You’ve always seen him. You don’t need to see his face to know Din Djarin’s heart, and his heart lays with you and that baby. The one he’s fighting to get back. 

  “No, son. What’s your TK number?” 

Lucky for you, you’d been alive during The Clone Wars. You can worm yourself and him out of this situation fairly easily. 

  “This is our Commanding Officer TK-593, and First Officer TK-616, sir.” Mayfeld slaps your back as the two of you enter the mess hall and flank either side of Din. You cannot bring yourself to look at him head on. It would not be fair, not in the midst of the pure fear that’s coursing through his mind. 

I’m right here. You whisper into the heart of the fear that plagues him, fingers idly tracing the inside of his hand as you stare the Imperial Officer down. As expected, Din visibly relaxes at the gentle trace of your fingertips against his palm. We’re surviving. 

  “I am Imperial Combat Assault Transport TK-111, sir.” Mayfeld continues, folding his hands over each other as he stands at relaxed parade rest at Din’s side. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to speak up to him a little bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” 

This gives you the brilliant idea of conversing with Din in Tusken sign, something he’d been adamant to teach you after your excursion on Tatooine. 

  “She’s our interpreter. We call her Whip.’’

While Mayfeld guides the conversation with the officer, you and Din are easing into talking in Tusken about however many ways this can go wrong, but then he changes the topic to something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. 

You can look at me, you know. He signs, hands frantic as he tries and fails to find your eyes. You value him - and his heart - far too much to be the first person he knows to have seen his face.

No. You shake your head. I can’t. 

And you don’t. You only look at his side profile for the remainder of that trip, refusing to allow yourself the satisfaction of being the one person he cared about that has seen his face. Seen him. 

Like I said. You don’t need to see Din Djarin’s face to see him. 

*** 

Din is almost positive he’s ready to accept how he feels about you. 

The minute Mayfeld shoots that officer in the chest, you spring into action and whip that staff off your back - disengaging the lock that holds the two lightsabers together - and the world explodes in a flurry of blue as you perform the sword and shield method he’s seen you do flawlessly at least five times now. 

You don’t look at him even after you’re back in Slave One. He and Cara have escorted Mayfeld back to the surface of the planet, and it’s just you and Fett in the cockpit. Despite the clone and bounty hunter being so much older then you, there’s something oddly comforting knowing you’re sitting next to has suffered as much as you have. If not more. 

Long story short, we both survived. 

  “You know, I’ve been with you a grand total of a day and I can already see it in your eyes, Whip.” The nickname Mayfeld had come up with in the facility has already made its rounds on the ship, and Boba feels it’s more then appropriate for the first Jedi he’s met since the kids who put him in the Sarlacc to begin with. Being inside of that thing had mellowed him out. He had accepted his life for what it was now. Oddly enough.. Boba Fett is at peace. “You’re lovesick for the Mandalorian.” 

  “Boba-” 

The older man, one who mirrored what you’d always envisioned the clones - may Maker rest their souls - to look like as they aged, removed his helmet to look at you. “Take it from someone who knows. He gets you. You get him.” Boba turned his gaze back towards the ramp of Slave One where Din was talking in low voices with Cara. “Wish I’d had a jeti like you who saw me despite the armor.” 

He stopped speaking after that.  

Taking a deep breath, you descend from the cockpit just as Slave One takes off again, the coordinates for Moff Gideon’s cruiser inputted into the navi-computer. Fennec and Cara move by you to join Boba in the cockpit which leaves you and Din alone in the cargo bay. 

It’s deadly silent. 

Ner jeti. He whispers. You can hear his thoughts as clear as you hear your own. Why will you not look at me? 

Your eyes slam shut as his fingers curl around your hips. You cannot do this to him, no matter how much you want to - no matter how much you desire to finally kiss those lips you’ve dreamt idly about so many times - because here’s the truth of it: You have suffered, parts of you have died, everything you have ever known has died, you have lost everything and didn’t even try to save those on the other end of those attachments you’d formed... but something, something good, put you right here. Right here in this moment with Din Djarin mere moments before plunging into the subject of your night terrors after months of being tormented by nightmares of your fellow Jedi being tortured by the Empire for simply existing. 

And quite frankly, there’s no one else you’d rather take that plunge with. 

That fact terrifies you. 

  “I can’t look at you, Din.” You whisper. “I can’t look at you because then that would be breaking your Creed for me... and I can’t let you do that when the baby hasn’t even seen your face yet-” 

  “Oh, believe me.” A clunk echoes in the cargo-bay as the beskar falls from his hands. Your heart stops and your breath catches in your throat as you tremble beneath his grasps, eyes still closed as he steps into the curve of your body - chest to your back - and lowers his entire head to your shoulder. “I intend for him to.” 

Din lays a kiss at the nape of your neck. Maker... he’s real. Your head starts spinning as his kiss ascends right to the shell of your ear, in which he then whispers, “Open your eyes, Sarad.” and it’s such an intimate act on the behalf of someone who has not known love until you and the baby showed up that you can’t not open your eyes. 

When you turn around, your world is enveloped in a mirage of onyx. Brown eyes. 

  “Din-” Din chuckles at your obvious reluctance because he is absolutely terrified to let you see him, the real him, vulnerable and waiting and desperate for the same acceptance. 

  “I told you my name way earlier then I ever anticipated I would.” He begins, taking your hands in his own to lay them against his cheeks. It has been so long since he allowed himself to accept touch, to accept that people in the galaxy were still gentle, that he trembles when your warmth seeps into his skin. “After what Bo-Katan told me and what Mayfeld kept saying in the transport... I’ve done alot of thinking recently, and I’m coming to the conclusion that maybe the way I was raised was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with taking the helmet off.” He exhales on a shaky breath and turns his face to kiss the inside of your hand. “But then again.. I’ve always wanted to around you.” 

Your voice is small as you ask, “Why?” 

  “Because you’ve always seen me.” Din replies. “Despite the armor and the helmet, you’ve always seen me for who I was. You saw me as a father for the-” He swallows the knot in his throat and leans inward until you are a hairs breath apart, forehead resting against yours as he pulls your body into his own. “As a father for our child. Not just as a bounty hunter, but as a man. A man I could never see myself as. When you came around, I stopped surviving. I started living.” He snorted sharply through his nose. “I almost forgot what that felt like.. I think you pulled me back right before I forgot entirely.” 

He’s so grateful. It’s hard to live feeling like you’re a ghost. 

Din tests the waters of this desire radiating from you both by applying just the barest amount of pressure of his mouth on yours. As to be expected, your entire body quakes at the contact and it takes all his physical control to not allow his spinning head to make his knees give out and send him falling on the floor. 

Oh.. he could get used to this. Used to this feeling.

He’s felt this before.

Joy. 

  “That’s the thing.” Inward, outward, forward and back again, you slowly allow yourself to succumb to Din’s kiss and grip his face in your hands just a little bit tighter. “I’ve always seen you.” You pull away just enough to force your eyes open, and then you are graced with the face of the man you love. You do. You love him, and you’ve accepted it. Kriffing Boba Fett. “And you know what? I thought I’d died before I met you. I never thought I’d make it here, much less be with you.. and I am so lucky.” There it is then, that breathless smile Din has pressed the sight of twice now into his memories, that presses itself into your aspect as the two of you look at each other. 

  “Why are you lucky?” 

You wink and shrug. ‘’Long story short?” You muse. “It’s a good thing I survived.”

Little to Din’s knowledge as he plunges into the mystery of his growing love for you - his flower, the one who made him bloom - that when he kisses you again, your eyes are wide open the entire time. 

There’s never been quite so beautiful a sight as somebody who’s survived. 

bonus: i am thinking about how beautiful pedro pascal was in this episode 

[thebiscuiteternal]

What about post canon!WWX or LWJ confronting NHS about his crimes and LXC and having to hear some very unpleasant truths.

This is not the ultra mean idea I posted here, but it's still a pretty mean one I had over on twitter some months ago. Might end up being a multiparter, 'cause I got stuck on where to go after a point.

___________

"-and so you asked for my help."

"That's a funny way of saying you invited yourself into this," Nie Hengbai rumbled, arms folded over his chest and a look of barely concealed disdain on his face.

Lan Xichen wasn't sure if it was actually for Wei Wuxian, or for him. Nie Hengbai had never approved of him pushing so hard for swearing brotherhood so soon after the war ended.

And the ensuing years had only proven him correct it seemed.

"Details!" Wei Wuxian said with a flippant wave of his hand. "Let's see the patient."

Nie Hengbai glanced over to the sect's head healer, Liu Feng, who rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"It's not like anything else we've tried so far has done any good," the old man grudgingly admitted. "And he's already lost the last three years so far."

"...Fine," Nie Hengbai finally muttered. "But you may only conduct a cursory examination for now, and only with Liu Feng present. Approach him without permission at any point, and we will throw you both out on your asses."

"That's fair," Lan Xichen said quickly before Wei Wuxian could open his mouth.

Liu Feng eyed them both, clearly as unhappy about acquiescing to this as his interim sect leader, then curtly motioned for them to follow him.

The family quarters were even more sparse than Lan Xichen remembered, what decoration Nie Huaisang had added after his brother's death having been removed.

Had even that been part of the act?

Nie Huaisang was sitting up in bed when they entered and one of the female disciples, one he didn't recognize, was sitting facing him.

"How much more has he lost?" Liu Feng asked as she switched out the filled piece of paper on the tablet in their sect leader's lap with a fresh sheet.

"It's hard to tell," she said. "The effect has slowed, at least to the point that he only writes in response to questions now instead of just... everything. I think if you tally the answers together... maybe around two months."

"That's an improvement. Perhaps it's a sign that the curse will pass on its own," Liu Feng said, shooting them another glare.

Wei Wuxian smiled, all teeth. "But you don't know if his memories will come back when it does," he said brightly.

Lan Xichen let them argue, turning his attention to Nie Huaisang instead.

He'd heard once, that one of the Emperors outside their territories had a ceramic doll that could write via the moment of a complicated series of mechanics inside.

Pale and unmoving, his expression blank and his eyes even more so, he thought that Nie Huaisang might very much resemble it.

His gaze trailed down to the brush held in the other man's hand, grip stiff and unnatural, and a thought -a very unkind thought, one that he should have been ashamed of himself for having- took root in the back of his mind.

"Did he move?" he asked, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them.

The room went silent, all three gazes turning to him and Nie Huaisang.

"Xichen-ge," Wei Wuxian said, a gentle warning -and wasn't it hilarious that Wei Wuxian was warning him against acting out of turn- in his voice, but it was too late.

Nie Huaisang wrote a single character.

No.

Grief and anger flooded him. He vaguely felt a hand take hold of his arm, but he shook it off. "Why did you say he did?!" he snapped.

There was no response.

"Xichen-ge," Wei Wuxian said again, tone sharper as he pulled him away from the bed.

The disciple had moved between him and Nie Huaisang, saber drawn. Liu Feng had needles in hand and was positively glowering at him.

They thought he was going to harm their sect leader.

They... they might not have been wrong, he realized, anger deflating as quickly as it had risen.

Still... still... "Answer me," he rasped past the knot that had formed in his throat. "Why did you say he moved?"

"He loses the memory after he writes it down, isn't that how you described it?" Wei Wuxian asked Liu Feng, who was still standing with needles at the ready.

"As best as we can tell," Liu Feng replied warily.

"I've been monitoring him since the switch to questions," the disciple said, lowering her saber just enough that it was still visible as a warning. "Each response costs him the day it happened."

Which meant that one word would have erased the entire confrontation at the temple.

And all the answers he was seeking for the things that had happened there.

Lan Xichen suddenly felt sick.

Wei Wuxian glanced in his direction, expression softening in worry, then gently pushed him to sit in a chair. "Well, then. We'll have to be more careful how we word things, won't we?" he asked.

The disciple snorted. "And why would we let you ask anything else after that little stunt? Get out."

Wei Wuxian's eyebrows raised. "Oh? And who are you to give an order like that?"

"Don't," Lan Xichen said quietly. "She's right, I..." He took a deep shaking breath, then bowed as low as the chair would allow. "Taking advantage of his condition to satisfy my curiosity was wrong. I offer my humblest apologies."

He couldn't see what silent conversation might have taken place between Liu Feng and the disciple, but after a long, uncomfortable moment, he heard a soft "Hmph," and the sound of a saber being returned to its sheath.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You always hated tagging along on boys' night.

Words: 3300

Warnings: tw//kassanovella

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: HI LOOK AT ME I GOT THIS OUT IN TIME. I did indeed test positive for COVID so this was wrought through my fatigue--and may be why there is a delay for the next chapter. We'll see!

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I am doing my best to respond to all the feedback, but I'm like... so tired LMFAO. Thank you so much for your support and engagement. It literally means the world to me and is so encouraging.

I love you. ❤️

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered. 

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return. 

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence. 

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate. 

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch. 

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen. 

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit. 

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels. 

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator. 

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said. 

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing. 

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind. 

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Your eyes widened. Master? 

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you. 

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear. 

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead. 

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly. 

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar. 

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea. 

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat. 

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel. 

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead. 

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you. 

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness. 

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault. 

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret. 

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name. 

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find. 

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there. 

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t. 

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk. 

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.” 

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

[loop-hole-319]

Goodbye little Elk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYzWmKlZtrU&ab_channel=nova60

At first glance this panicked creature may look like a fully grown Cervitaur of a Caribou, and it may appear that he has an antler deformity causing his antlers droop down to the sides of his head. But this is not the case, this is in fact this is an adolescent Irish Elk Cervitaur with a scientific name of ‘Megaloceros giganteus Elaphocentaur’. His future fossil records suggest that he is around the age of 15 to 16, and that he lived approximately 8000 years ago. This specific individual also appears to have some form of hyperpigmentation disorder on his lower half, causing the normally brown fur of the species to appear black. This young bull has been separated from his herd and has been searching for it for the last several hours. But little does he know his search is about to come to an end in the worst way possible.

Danny was well aware that he was a dumbass, his sister would constantly remind him of this fact. Of course it was all in good fun.   “MOOOHEEEEEUHHMmmm” He called out to his mother knowing that his shrill cry out to her would carry for miles. While keeping an even paced trot, he scanned the foggy horizon of the chilly morning dew fields for her and his sister. Tears began threatening formation, he had at this all night and there hadn't even been a response call back. His self-hug tightened in on himself as he slowed to a stop, the tidal wave of emotions and realizations that he had been holding back we're starting to crack the dam.

 The tears that now fell freely down his face were much warmer than the chilly air, a dry heave came up through his throat as the conclusion that he had been ignoring for the last several hours finally reared it's ugly head. He was alone, completely and utterly alone. He had no idea where his herd was and they had no idea were he was. For all they new he could be being eaten by a saber tooth right now. He knows how dangerous it is to stray from the heard, his antlers aren't even two feet long yet so why the hell did he wander.  

His ears shot back on a swivel point and he froze as he was pulled back into reality, he had heard something out there. Slowly he turned himself around to point in the direction of the sound and flicked his ears forward straining them to pick up the smallest sounds. There out in fog was a small movement. 

Danny took a step forward leaning his human body forward and subconsciously extending his opposite back leg out to balance his already tremendous weight. Danny squinted and placed his hand above his eyes to block out what ever early morning rays were able to creep through the overcast sky. He sat there staring out over the land for a moment or two try to see if he could spot what ever was out there. 

The wind picked up and blew in his direction just as he was beginning to abandon his side search and a familiar sent slammed into him. His eyes widened in recognition and his ears dropped down to the side of his head. He could practically hear his own heart begin to palpitate in his chest. “No, no no no no”  A loud howl erupted a good ways away the source of it being shrouded by the fog. A pack of dire wolves was approaching him. 

 Danny stumbled backwards away from the smell as he began to hyperventilate, he stumbled over his own four feet as he turned around to flee. The thunderous sound of his hooves slamming into the dampened dirt cut through the other wise quiet and serene landscape. The beat of his hooves hitting the floor alongside his heavy breaths that were laced with fear created a harmonious rhythm that was only interrupted with splashing as he ran through what he believed to be a shallow pool from the other days rain. 

Danny’s pace was slowed significantly once he entered the pool, he internally cursed himself for not just going around the shallow puddle. Although the puddle was much shallower than he originally believed it to be and the ground was much softer in the dirt in the surrounding area. Perhaps the water pulled above it combined with how hot it was the day before had made the ground soggier.

Danny’s heart felt like he had just jumped from a cliff with realization.

A Tar pit.

He was stuck in a tar pit.        “OHH GOD” he yelled out. “SHIT” He leaned his upper half forwards with one of his front hooves in an attempt to move himself out of the tar. He may have succeeded if he pulled up out of the tar and then moved it forward, but fear clouded his judgment and the offset caused him to tilt forward and land sternum first into the tar. Danny lay on his human stomach and his deer rear facing skyward, his arms spread out in front of him in an attempt to keep his head off of the tar. He could feel his back hooves slowly sliding away from him, in a split second before another wave panic struck him, he wondered if his legs would slide out from under him or if they would buckle under his weight first.

His question was answered for him as a squelching sound from his hooves sliding through the tar reached his fuzzy ears. And in the moment that his hindquarters landed on the tar he attempted to push himself up with his front legs, only to feel them sink deeper into the pit.  He cried out in shock as this happened, although the new position removed some pressure off his neck, which not only had to hold up his head but as well as his antlers that reached a little over 5 feet from tip to tip. And he knew as soon as he put his head down the underside of his antlers would become stuck in the tar, if that were to happen it would become impossible to remove his head and seeing that in this position, he was barely able to hold his head up let alone put out of the sticky oil what spell disaster for his already doomed self.

Danny breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm himself before taking a moment to collect himself to pull all of the emotion that he had been feeling throughout the day to place it on a back burner. His sister had always told him that if he got himself into danger, he needed to be able to think clearly. So he took another deep shaky breath before starting the grounding exercise she had taught him to do. So he sat there in tar quietly feeling the sticky tar cover his under belly, the tar itself smelt like shit. It also felt like shit in his fur. 

The smell reminded him of the onetime his sister dared him to stomp on an abandoned terror bird nest. He felt warm rays of the sun as they begin to peek through the clouds is it ascended into the sky. Feeling calm enough he decided to attempt his stand once again, the sense of calm but he had managed was quickly overshadowed by fear and dread as sudden shift in weight began to pull him further into the pit of crude oil.

 He began to panic and pulled his top half off of tar a sudden boost in strength given to him bye fear, that new weight combined with his panicked flailing pulled his legs even further under. “MOOOHEEEEEAAAAAEEEEUUUHHMmmmmmm” He struggled and cried out again for his mother, panic filling his voice.     He cried out for her again and again only stopping when the winds sudden change in direction reminded him that he was not alone.  

His ears flipped back and his eyes widened at the sound of large paw pads slamming against the earth. At this point his level of panic had reached its Max and he could do nothing but watch as the dire wolves walk carefully around the edges of the puddle searching for the piece of land that had the shortest distance to him. one of the younger possibly less experienced wolves paced impatiently as its elders searched for a good entrance point.

 Several of the rougher looking wolves had already decided that they were to wait until he tire or pass out for exhaustion, they let him know this by going and laying under some underbrush nearby not once taking their eyes off him. The majority of the wolves however, continued to sniff along the edges of the bank gauging the distance between himself and the edges of solid ground. The younger impatient wolf disappeared behind him out of Danny’s line of sight.

Then suddenly Danny feels a great force impact him from behind, the wolf has jumped onto his back. The sudden force from the impact sends his body down several inches more into the tar and the wolf begins to scratch and bite at his human back. Danny cries out in pain and through his hands over his head reaching desperately for the wolf. Danny in an attempt to reach back further he bends his upper half backwards and successfully manages to grab the wolf by its scruff. feeling the matted fur in between his fingers Danny throws himself forward, sending the wolf sailing overhead landing upside down in the tar. The force of the impact since the wolf down several inches into the thick oil and begins to whimper loudly as it realizes that it's back and entire face have been submerged in the tar. The force of him throwing the wolf over his head and into the tar cast himself to be slammed into the viscous black liquid and now he lays on his stomach his arms spread out in front of him to keep his head from landing in the tar.

It has been several hours since he has sent the wolf flying overhead, since then the wolf has stopped moving completely. The sun is now completely overhead it's heat evaporated bear entirety of the puddle that hid the tar pit from view. Danny lay miserably in the slowly heating tar as it radiated heat and bubbles slowly rising to the surface popped around him at random.

 His throat was sore form calling out to his mother and he was beginning to feel lightheaded from the intense heat and the amount of water that he had lost and crying. One of the elder wolves stood up and began to slowly make its way over to the edge of the solid ground. Danny let out a single self-pity filled chuckle as he eyed the wolf. his neck and arms felt as if they were on fire he had never needed to hold up is heavy head like this for so long.

 His arms had begun to tremble a while ago and he could feel the muscles giving out underneath him. And just like that his arms buckled from the weight of his own antlers, he wondered to himself how much longer would he have lasted if he did not have them. And with a resounding splat he landed in to the tar, he miraculously managed to keep his chin above the tar as it fell. Danny tilted his head to the side and allowed his antler to touch the tar, he was not going to be getting up from this anyways, so it didn't matter now. His eyes slid shut as he began to pass out from exhaustion the only sound now was of the wolves getting ready to feast on him.

[anna-pixie]

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part three}

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hello!! i have written and rewritten this part a lot, and i still can’t decide whether i am completely happy with it, so honest feedback is encouraged!! ty all so much for your love on the last part, i hope you enjoy <3

summary: you and obi-wan head out on another mission, but something has got him in an awful mood (lmk if you guys figure out what his mood is about before the next part!!)

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader

warnings: mentions of sex

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“Y/N, when you said you were serious about your training I expected I would see you there on time each morning.” The familiar lilt of Obi-Wan’s voice jerks you up from your incredibly deep sleep. You wipe away the drool from the corner of your mouth and gaze around your room with bleary eyes. 

There’s nobody there. 

Then a knock sounds from your door and you realise that your Master is too respectful to just barge into your room without permission. 

“Come in, Master.”

You hear the hiss of your door sliding open and smile sheepishly as your favourite bearded face peers around into the unhomely expanse of your room. Unlike the Jedi Masters, padawans weren’t encouraged to decorate their rooms. That’s a privilege earnt through time and experience. You’re thankful that you went to bed wearing a large jumper last night, though as you stretch the material exposes your stomach ever so slightly. 

“I broke my datapad yesterday…” You trail off, knowing that this is the third one you’ve gone through this year, “I didn’t have anything to set an alarm on.” An innocent smile graces your lips as Obi-Wan sighs, sitting next to you on your unmade sheets as he returns it with his own wry grin. 

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Padawan?” You know your Master well enough by now to be able to tell what he is feeling by the tone of his incredibly expressive voice, and thankfully right now he doesn’t seem too annoyed by your lack of care for your datapad. However, you also know that you’re treading on very thin ice, that you’re going to have to start putting a lot more effort in unless you want him to give up on you like everyone else has. 

It’s been a few weeks since you met Ahsoka which gave you the motivation you needed to get back on track. To say it’s been a hard few weeks would be an understatement. You’re up every morning before the light, fighting and learning and meditating with Obi-Wan. The two of you spend a lot of time together alone in the mornings and evenings when most other people in the temple have already retired to bed, but a lot of your time in the day is shared by Anakin - he thinks it is a great idea to train you and Ahsoka together. 

Now that was a kick in the teeth. 

You like Ahsoka, you really do, but it’s so humiliating to be trained alongside someone so much younger than you. Especially in front of the man you’re head over heels in love with. And, as another cherry on top of the cake of your shit life, the senate has been quiet as of late, which means Padme has plenty of free time to come and oversee your training sessions. Keeping an eye on the Jedi Temple, she says, but everyone sees the smiles exchanged between her and her Jedi. It makes you feel queasy. 

How are you supposed to focus on training when your biggest distraction is hanging in front of you everyday?

You have to give it to Obi-Wan, he tries his best to steer you away from the pain caused by seeing Anakin and Padme together. He stands directly in your eyeline when he knows they are near each other, so that you can’t see anything except his smiling face. When Anakin suggests lunch with Ahsoka and Padme, Obi-Wan regretfully informs him of the non-existent prior engagements the two of you have with a sneaky smile your way. 

With all the hardship of the past few weeks, you’re happy with how close it has brought you and your Master. 

“Can we just leave it for today, Master? Please.” You flop back down onto your bed, your eyes remaining on Obi-Wan as you send him your best pleading, doe-eyed look. 

“Sadly, we’ve been called away to war so I’m afraid that isn’t an option. It seems as though this is going to be a long operation. We’re first needed in Umbara, it seems as though General Krell has been executed by the clones. After that we go straight to Mandalore.”

“The clones executed a Jedi General?” Your voice is high as you stand up, heading over to your small closet and quickly rifling through your clothes to find something that would hold up for a few days. 

“It appears that he was a Separitast sympathiser. He turned two clone units against each other, forced them to kill their own.”

Your eyes are wide as Obi-Wan continues to explain the situation awaiting the two of you on Umbara, and your heart clenches as you think about what the Clones must have been gonig through during their time there. You know attachments are forbidden as a Jedi, but you can’t help the close relationships you have formed with some of the soldiers. Captain Rex is like a brother to you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later, you’re holding onto the bar above you as your ship takes off in the direction of Umbara, Obi-Wan looking more jittery than you’ve ever seen him as he paces around next to you. 

“You okay, Master? You seem shaken up.”

“I’m fine, young one.” He dismisses you with a shake of your head, “Come with me, we may as well get some training in whilst we’re enroute.” He doesn’t say anything else, just turns away and heads out of the bridge with not so much as a glance back to make sure you’re following him.

What on Alderaan is going on with him?

His mood doesn’t let up during training, you’ve never seen him come at you so relentlessly. If it wasn’t for the fact that they knew you so well, the passing clones would probably assume that the two of you were fighting to the death in your training room. 

A cry escapes your mouth as he knocks the saber from your hand, as it clatters to the ground and rolls somewhere you don’t bother to look for, you expect him to stop. However his saber remains active, and he seems to be in a trance of sorts as he swings for you once more, only stopped from making contact with a part of your body when you swing your leg out from beneath you, causing the two of you to fall to the ground with a low grunt from him. His saber falls from his grasp in the same way yours did, and you work on figuring out how to calm him down as his body cages yours into the ground. 

The only noise in the room is the sound of you both breathing heavily, and when your eyes finally look up and meet his again you almost feel as though he has used the force to steal your breath away from you. His blue eyes capture yours, not letting up as his gaze seems to only darken the longer the two of you lay there. 

You can’t help but be reminded of a similar situation you found yourself in with Anakin a while ago, the two of you ended up tangled on the ground after a round of playful sparring. It was all heavy breathing and dark looks and you remember that all you could think was how much you had wanted him to kiss you in that moment.

So why, Maker tell, do you have the exact same feeling now? You thought that your crush on Obi-Wan had been a silly, fleeting thing back when you first began training under him. You didn’t think it would return with a vengeance, your mind silently asking him to lean down further as you struggle to pull your eyes away from his own. When you and Anakin has been in this same situation, you had hoped that he was going to kiss you, so it was humiliating when he finally tore his gaze from yours and pulled himself away from you with an awkward cough. 

You think that Obi-Wan will do the same. Of course he will, he’s the most rule abiding Jedi you’ve ever met. 

That’s why, when you feel his lips being placed softly on yours, you think you’re just hallucinating. It takes your mind a moment to catch up to what is actually occurring, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls away and then presses his lips to yours with more fervour once he realises that you aren’t going to push him away. 

The hand that almost struck you with his saber minutes before reaches up, holding onto your jaw whilst the other keeps him steady on top of you. He breathes heavily as he kisses you, your breath minging as you savour the feeling. This isn’t your first kiss, you had snuck out to the clubs of Coruscant before and kissed random boys before, but this was different. This was your first kiss since you had fallen in love with Anakin. All those nights you had spent dreaming, hoping, praying that he would be the next person you kiss. Yet here you are, your lips moving feverishly against your Master’s as you thread one of your hands into the long hair at the nape of his neck. 

You must stay like that, basking in the feeling of each other for a good few minutes before a loud bang from the corridor snaps you both out of the spell you had fallen under. Obi-Wan quickly gets up, sticking out his hand to locate his saber, unable to look you in the eye as you slowly rise from your position. Your mouth tingles and your eyes are wide as you stare at the side of Obi-Wan’s head. 

He smooths his hand over his beard and mumbles a quick, “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Padawan.” before leaving the room hastily. You flinch at the way he says the word Padawan, like he is reminding you both that what you just did was not only forbidden but also extremely morally wrong. You’ve never been one to care about such trivialities, but Obi-Wan is definitely a fair bit older than you, to say the least. 

As you catch your breath and find your lightsaber, you think to yourself that it’s good that you were interrupted, because if you weren’t then you might’ve been found by a soldier who would’ve reported what he saw back to the council. You ignore the part of you that wishes you would have continued, that thinks of how well your lips worked together and how at home you felt with his body on top of yours. And most of all, you ignore the part of you that wonders if him kissing you had anything to do with his sudden mood change since departing for the trip.

The rest of the journey is slow and quiet, you take some time to meditate and gather your thoughts, knowing you’re in no state to be dealing with anything important right now. A soldier offers you something to eat but you have to decline, with the way your stomach is turning you know you won’t be able to stomach any food. 

Obi-Wan seems to have retired to somewhere quiet on the ship, you don’t see him until you touch down on Umbara. The capital has been captured now, and that is where you will spend the night before heading to Mandalore, however you must first deal with the execution of General Krell at a nearby facility that was taken by the clones. 

You walk silently alongside your Master, an awkward tension in the air that is an extreme change from your usual playful banter and general good moods. As you approach Captain Rex and his troopers, he shoots you an inquisitive look, which you quickly brush off with a whisper that you’ll talk to him later. 

The situation is resolved quickly, you and your Master both know you can take Rex’s word for the events that transpired, and you make sure Krell’s body is properly taken care of. 

“We’ve only got one spare speeder on us, General, so Y/N will have to ride with one of the boys.” Are Captain Rex’s departing words before his gunship takes off towards the capital, leaving you, Obi-Wan and a few more troopers to travel back via speeder. 

“You can ride with me, Y/N.” A clone who is about to depart shouts over to you, though your attempt to walk in his direction is thwarted by a sudden, harsh grip on your forearm. You turn quickly, shocked to see Obi-Wan shake his head, gesturing over to his own speeder instead. 

“She’ll ride with me.” 

The trooper offers no argument, simply saluting the two of you before speeding off towards the capital with a trail of dust in his wake. 

You notice that Obi-Wan still hasn’t directly addressed you since the incident on the ship, so you stay quiet whilst climbing onto the speeder, waiting for him to say something. A squeak leaves your mouth when you’re pushed forward, Obi-Wan’s large body enveloping you from behind as he reaches past you to grab hold of the handles, and you’re off before you can even think about what is going on.

“We need to talk when we get back.”

Are the first words spoken to you, and the last, because he quickly falls silent. Though, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you when his chin rests on your shoulder, his beard scratching your cheek oh so slightly. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner in Umbara is a quick affair, you scoff down what you can, not talking as much as usual due to your preoccupied mind. Obi-Wan disappeared after you both briefed Master Windu who is still back at the temple, and you wonder if he is off meditating somewhere, trying to reconcile for the ‘mistake’ that the two of you made. 

You’ve been fighting your own inner turmoil about the situation since it happened earlier that day. Once you finish your food, you retire back to the uncomfortable bed in a tiny room at the top of the large building, assuming that Obi-Wan has decided to forgo the conversation and ignore you altogether. 

As you lie on the hard metal, your mind wanders over the past few months. You wonder how Anakin would react if he knew you and Obi-Wan had kissed. Would he be angry? Jealous? Happy? Deep down you know you would want him to be jealous, you would want him to be angry at the thought of any other man having you in the way that he wants you. 

But he doesn’t want you in that way, you remind yourself. Does Obi-Wan even want you in that way? You know he is a well revered man, and nobody can deny how good looking he is. If he really was looking for a romantic, or even just sexual, connection he could probably find that anywhere - why would he get that from plain old you?

A pang of sadness hits your gut as you think about him regretting the kiss, returning to Coruscant and finding another girl that he would rather betray the Jedi code in order to be with. And with wide eyes and a whisper of ‘oh no’, you realise that this is exactly how you felt when your feelings for Anakin started growing stronger. Just what did that kiss stir within you, surely your years old feelings for your Master haven’t suddenly resurfaced, right?

A knock on your door startles you, that deep in thought you hadn’t heard anyone approaching your rather isolated room. 

“Y/N?” It’s Obi-Wan. 

“You can come in, it’s open.

He slides the door open, his actions sheepish and small and not at all like the overly confident man he usually is. It pains you to see him like this, stumbling and second guessing everything he does. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked when you’re not on Coruscant, anything could wander in.”

“Sorry, Master.” You’ve shuffled to the edge of the bed now, Obi-Wan sitting beside you, mirroring the exact position you were in when he woke you up this morning. Before everything turned into a mess. 

“I… I’m so sorry, Padawan. I abused my position as your Master and I never should’ve even thought about doing something like that with you. Especially after you confided in me about your feelings for Anakin, I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of your vulnerability.” His voice is so shaky that you barely recognise it, and a wave of sadness hits you when you realise that he must’ve been carrying this burden of guilt around with him all day. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s fine. You didn’t force yourself on me, I was completely on board when it happened, in fact I quite enjoyed it. I know it was wrong, against the code or whatever, but I won’t tell anybody. Please don’t feel guilty.” You make sure he keeps his eyes on you, a delicate touch on his cheek to keep him faced your way. A sigh emits from his mouth and your heart swells in your chest when he leans his head into your hand, seeking your comfort. 

“I’m tired, Y/N. This war, I’m beginning to feel it’s toll.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need a break, Master, but it’s not just tiredness that is eating at you right now. I know you, there’s something else going on. You can tell me. Is it something to do with Umbara, Mandalore, anything?”

“Thank you for your concern, Padawan, I’m quite alright.”

“Don’t do that, Obi-Wan.” Your voice wavers this time, “Don’t use that title as a way to brush me off. Yes, I’m your Padawan, but I hope that by now I’m also your friend.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have friends, Y/N.”

You scoff, removing your hand from his face as you turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as he lies to you. 

“I was always jealous of him, you know.” He speaks again, after a few minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence. 

“Of who?”

“Anakin.”

You turn back, your interest peaked as he looks at you. You swallow, a blush coating your cheeks as you note that his eyes are as dark as they were before. Before he kissed you. 

“What reason could you possibly have had for being jealous of him? Oh, Maker, don’t tell me you’re in love with Senator Amidala.”

He chuckles, “No, little one, I was jealous of him because he always seemed to have your attention when he cared so little for you. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at him.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

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[please-buckme]

Yes, Master. - Anakin Skywalker x reader

⚠️Warnings: SMUT✨, name calling, angry Ani, soft Ani, ANI!

3,436 words

(I didn’t make this gif! Idk why it says ‘when’ but I kinda like it.)

Today was a dark day. You could hear the rain beating against the window of your apartment window. Your covers still warm from your body heat as you lie there motionless in your bed. You can still feel the dried up tears on your cheeks from the night before, covered with fresh new tears from this morning. Today you would be finding out who your new master would be and you couldn't bare the thought of it. You told them time and time again that you didn't need a new master, that any day now you should be testing out of being a Padawan.  They insisted though. Since losing your master on her last mission you hadn't even left your room, she was like a sister to you and the only person you really talked to on a day-to-day basis. You missed her deeply. You tried to reach out to her through the Force but could never seem to find her. Was this her way of helping you move on?

Nevertheless you had to listen to the council. If they insist you be placed with a new master, then that is how it shall be. There's only one tall, annoying, arrogant and selfish problem with that, Anakin Skywalker. You knew that he among very few were left without a Padawan and you prayed to the stars every night that you wouldn't end up with him as your master.

You and Anakin were around the same age. You were both put into training around the same time and there wasn't a day where you remembered liking him. Telling a young boy that he is the chosen one.. not good for the ego. You had trained together most of your life and as you both grew older you started to feel how strong he had become with the Force. You went from winning every now and then to never being able to even pull out your training saber. So, it didn't surprise you when he became a master. It did however infuriate you. You weren't as good as him of course but you had amazing fighting skills for your age and you, for many years, were an even much for Anakin. You were so enraged that you actually stopped seeing or even talking to Anakin for a while, almost two years by now. You were a little nervous to see him if he were to be at the council meeting. You didn't understand these nervous feelings though. Anakin is Anakin and you loathe him.

After you had finally given yourself a few more minutes of starring-at-the-ceiling time you got up and got ready before leaving for your meeting. You paced slowly down the long corridors greeting fellow Jedi as they walked by. You could feel your heart beat ripping through your chest as you reached the doors to were the council sat awaiting your arrival. You placed your hands to the cold metal doors taking a deep breathe as a nauseous feeling came up from your stomach. Taking in one more deep breathe you opened the doors . You scanned the room to see who all was there. Masters Plo Koon, Windu, Kenobi and Ki-Adi-Mundi. Okay. You thought. No Anakin. Just then you heard the doors open from behind you.

"Sorry I'm late. I was on planet Alderaan when I got word that you needed me back at the temple." Anakin voiced from behind you. Master Windu put a hand out signalling Anakin to take a seat. He walked quickly to find his seat but when he passed you it felt like everything had gone into slow motion. He glanced up at you for a second not seeming to recognize you. You could tell when he realized who you were when he gave you a crooked smirk before continuing his trek to where he would sit and stare at you with that devilish smile.

"Shall we begin?" Master Kenobi suggests. You nod your head and give him a faint smile. "Now, miss (Y/L/N), we are very sorry for your lose, for all our lose but the time has come for us all to move on. As you know you are hear to be reassigned to a new master and-" You cut Obi-Wan off.

"With all do respect Master Kenobi, I feel I no longer need a master. I am ready to finally show you what my training has--" Obi-Wan signals for you to stop.

"I am sorry my dear but the tragedy of losing your master has put you very behind. Now, in a few months I do believe that you will be fully prepared to test. And who better to show you the ropes than an old friend, Master Skywalker." Shit .

"You can't be serious." Anakin said from your left. "This girl is unteachable. We don't even get along and we aren't  friends." You can see the anger written on Anakins face. You couldn't agree more with everything but the 'unteachable' part.

"Master Skywalker!" Master Windu exclaimed. "The council has decided that this is how we want to proceed with miss (Y/L/N) training." Anakin now has his face nuzzled into his hands. "Look, you are both familiar with each other and have already trained together many times before. It's only for a few months until she's back on her feet and ready to test. This meeting was to assign miss (Y/L/N) to a new master and look we've done just that. This council meeting is now over. Good luck and may the force be with you, (Y/L/N).

"Yes great.. uhh same to you, Master Windu." You gave them all a weak smile before turning to leave yourself when Anakin grabbed you by the arm.

"What the hell was that? How did you get them to agree with this idiotic plan?" Anakin questioned. You could feel the anger radiating from him.. His eyebrows were scrunched together and almost touching, his nose was narrow as his nostrils flared and his lips were pierced tight making them turn white.

"You shouldn't do that with your face, Ani. It doesn't look good on you." You gesture your hand towards his face and he grabbed your wrist, with his metal hand, aggressively. "h-um ouch?"

"You don't get to call me that anymore. It's only Master Skywalker from now on." He brought his face down to yours so that you're now eye level with him. You smirk and start to laugh.

"Really? And, uh, what are you gonna do if I disobey you, Ani." You whisper his name into his mouth. His face was now burning red. his grip on your wrist tightens as he drags you out of the room and into the hall. You're practically running behind him to keep up. "Mind giving me my arm back?" You try to pry yourself from his grip but of course you can't. You now see that he is dragging you towards the elevators. "Wh-where are we going?" You feel that nauseous feeling in your stomach again.

When the elevator finally opens he throws you in against the back wall. You feel a sting of pain in your back from the impact but all of a sudden Anakins body is pressed firmly atop of yours. You look up to stare directly into his beautiful blue eyes but before you fall too far into his trance you look away and start to push him off of you. He takes both of your hands into his metal one and locks them in place. "First lesson, obedience." He lifts your body from the wall and slams you back into it. Your head now stings and your vision is a little blurry but you're actually, in a weird way, enjoying this side of him. He has been aggressive towards you before but this time was different. This time you could practically smell the sexual tension. "We're going up to my floor and I want you stripped and on your knees the second these doors open. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Master." He groans in response at your words. You free one of your hands from his grip and palm him over his pants. You hear a low raspy growl come from his throat as he leans into your hand. You audibly laugh. "Touch deprived are we, Master?" He picks you up from the wall and slams you into in again making you moan and wince in pain.

The doors finally opens and he throws you to the floor. "Crawl to the bed." You do as he says and make your way to the bedroom. You feel his boot kick you along as to hurry you up. Once you get there you sit on your knees as you look up at him with lust filled eyes. "Didn't I tell you to strip?" You quickly undo your belt before taking off the rest of your clothing besides your bra and panties, both a lacy soft pink color. You sit straight up still on your knees as he towers over you. You reach out for his growing member still confined in his pants.

"May I, Master?" He nods in response as you undo his belt whilst palming him again. You kiss the tip of his cock before outlining it with your tongue. "Does that feel good, Master." You teased.

"It'd feel better down your throat." He groans now tangling his fingers throw your hair.

"Yes, Master." You kiss the tip one last time before grabbing at the hem of his pants and underwear and pulling them down. You watched as his cock sprang free from its clothed prison and stared in awe. You drooled at the sight, grabbing him at the base and slowly running your hand up and down his member. you could feel every vein as they pulsated at your touch. You watch as precum poured from the tip. You look up at him as you licked up the precum with a flick of your tongue and watched as Anakin twitched above you. You then lifted at the base to lick a line up from the base to the tip before lightly sucking on the tip. Anakin didn't bring you up here for you to tease him though. With the fist full of your hair, he thrust until your mouth was completely filled. he groaned as profanities slipped from his clenched teeth. Anakin felt so good in your mouth. You started to feel the nervousness in your stomach turn into burning passion. You reached down with your free and started rubbing yourself over your panties.

"You like my cock in your mouth, slut" You moan in responds which makes him thrust deeper into your throat. "That's good, baby girl, open your throat for your master." You moaned again allowing him to thrust deeper and deeper till he bottomed out. After a few more deep thrusts he pulled all the way out of your mouth with a pop. You were left there on your knees panting for air with drool dripping from your mouth and chin.

"Lay down on the bed." He demands while hoisting you up to stand from your kneeling position and throwing you to the bed. You watch as he strips from his remaining clothes. Your breathe hitched in your throat when he strips of his tunic and reveals his beautifully toned.. everything.

When he walks over to you you sit up and softly run your fingers down his torso, tracing his perfectly defined abs gently. "You're so.. beautiful, Ani." You can feel a little chuckle erupt from his belly as he softly pets the back of your head. A few more strokes to your hair before he pulls it hard making you look up at him.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, slut. Lay down." He demands through gritted teeth. You move to the pillows that smell like him, fragranced with mineral shampoo and sweat, not the bad kind of sweat but the sleepless kind. Even just the smell of his pillows makes him even more beautiful.

You see Anakin out of the corner of your eye stroking himself before crawling onto the bed towards you. Seeing his figure coming atop you makes you breathless, almost dizzy. You reach up to his chest just so you're touching him in some way. An unexceptional moan escapes your lips at the touch of his warm, tan skin. 'So beautiful.' You mouth trying desperately not to make another involuntary sound.

You look up now to see Anakin observe your actions before making eye contact with you. You pause as your eyes meet. You bring your other hand up cautiously to his face whilst the other travels down further.

After all these years you never would have guessed this would happen. You never noticed just how gorgeous he was under all that armor. You run your fingers across the scar beside his right eye and he pulls away a bit. "Anakin." You say softly pulling his face back to align with yours. He looks at you harshly for a second before you lean in and kiss his scar softly. "Everything about you is so.. perfect. Even your scars." You kiss your way down his cheek making your way down to his lips. You hesitate for a second before Anakin leans in and initiate the kiss.  You moan into the kiss as if you'd been waiting a thousand years to kiss this man. The kiss was so passionate and rough. You could feel his teeth graze against yours as it deepened into a more desperate and sloppy kiss.

Your right hand had finally made it to the base of his member. You stroked him a few times before aligning him with your entrance.  Anakin then glided into your slick pussy agonizingly slowly until you could feel him almost hitting your cervix. He holds himself in place as groans fall from his plump, blistered lips and onto yours. Anakin pauses. He pulls away from the kiss and glances over your body. You bring your hands up to his hips to let him know he can move but your hands were quickly thrown over your head by Anakin's favorite restraint, the Force.

You watch him while he steadies himself inside you. He slowly runs his hands down the bed until they meet your hips. The sudden contact makes you buck your hips up at him and you get a very low growl in response. You see his large hands envelope your waist as they ascend up your body.

"Anakin?" You say softly. In response he says nothing, just glares at you for a moment before he goes back to memorizing every inch of your body. You can feel the calluses on his palm as they scratch at your skin. You'd always imagined how his flesh hand would feel when you'd train for hours on end. You knew they'd be rough.  He moves them up your sides which tickled but you didn't laugh because all you could focus on was his cock. You could feel your walls clenching around him tightly as he pulsed inside of you. He then graced over your breasts squeezing them gently and flicking his thumb over the pink buds before one hand moved up to your face and swept a piece of hair away and the other, the metal one, stuck one digit in your mouth. You moaned at the feeling of metal on your tongue, his metal that is. He then pulled it from your mouth and connected it to your clit. 

"Say, Master wreck my pussy." he says in a low rasp as he draws tiny circles, with his metal digit, on your clit.

"Master, uh, Master, please wreck my pussy"

"Again." He pulls out slowly.

"Please wreck my pussy, Master." He slams back into you.

"Again." He pulls out and slams back into.

"Fuck!"  You screech at the sudden movement. Your moans were shaky now, along with your hips.

"I said again!" He then brings his metal hand from drawing circles on your clit to now wrap them around your neck. He pressed down gently at first but the longer you waited to say it the harder he pressed.

"Plea-se please wreck my pussy, Master" he pulls all the way out this time so all you can feel is the tip and your juices that came with it on the outside your warm cunt.

"Again." He growled from the loss of you tightly wrapped around him.

"Please, Master Skywalker, wreck my pussy!" With that he slammed back into you even harder as his grip on your neck tightened. He let out a loud groan before releasing your neck which you're sure is bruised now. Anakin is thrusting in and out of you at a vigorous pace making you squirm beneath him. Your moans were now screams of pleasure as Anakin wrecked your pussy.

You could tell he was getting close by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming but you weren't ready for him to cum yet. You wanted to play.

"Does my pussy feel good, Master?" You look up at him innocently. He nods in response. "I, uhh god, I-I didn't hear you, Master. Does my pussy feel good wrapped around your cock, Master?" He nods in response again with a whispered 'yes'. Just then you feel the Force weaken around your wrists. You take this opportunity to bring them up to his shoulders and push him out of you, making you both groan loudly and you can see the anger in his face. He goes to reach for your neck again but you had other plans in mind. You now use the Force and stop his wrist. He's very strong so whatever you were going to do had to be quick. You then get up from the bed and tell him to sit down on the edge. He does as you command just wanting to be back inside of you. You then seat yourself in his lap and softly grind on his cock.

"Tell me how good I make you feel, Master." He throws his head back as you kiss and nibble at his neck. "Tell me how good your cock felt in my dripping, wet pussy, Master." You grabbed his cock at the base and slid your pussy up his shaft before hovering over the tip.

"So fucking good, princess." You slid yourself back down his cock with ease. You take him at a slow pace until you're fucking him the way he had been fucking you. He's a moaning mess under you and the sight of him brings you closer to your high.

"Do you want to feel me cum around your cock?" You say shakily.

"Y-yes, baby." He brings his hands up to your back to steady you.

"Make me cum on your cock, Master. Please." Anakin groans loudly before he throws your legs over his arms and lifts you up whilst pounding into you fiercely. With that you come almost instantly. You scream in pleasure as he finishes you off. Your legs are a shaking mess and you're eyesight is flushed with ecstasy making you see nothing but stars.

After you come down from your high he throws you back onto the bed. He makes you lay down as he aligns his hips with your shoulders. You gladly take him into your mouth as he bottoms out in your throat once again. He's holding your head between both hands as he feeds you his cock. It doesn't take him long before you feel him twitch on your tongue. He lets out a low raspy growl as he climaxes in your mouth.

Once he pulls out of your mouth you let some his cum slip out onto your face, feeling the warm liquid drizzle down your check and into your messy hair.

"Swallow it." He demands. You do as you're told and lick the remaining cum off your cheek.

"Good girl." He says now dismounting and laying down next to you.

That was the best sex you'd ever had and you hate him for that. After your breathing settles you pop up from his bed and get dressed as he watches you. After getting all your clothes on and situate your hair you head to the front door.

"Same time next week?" Anakin calls out after you. You giggle to yourself before turning back around to see the that beautiful mess staring back at you.

"Yes, Master."

xMasterlist.x

[shimmersing]

Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar’s Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can’t have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear.

Part Two

“Thank you for coming. I have made all the preparations for the ritual to find Lord Vivicar.”

Yuon turned to greet Aitahea with a rueful smile. “I plan to create a connection between us, using your shielding ability. If it is - was - Parkanas, this should work. Drawing on your strength, I will invert the link between myself and Vivicar and use it to sense his location.”

Aitahea didn’t know the details of what Parkanas might have experienced, nor did she wish to know. She did understand that as a result of what had occurred on Malachor Three, Yuon Par and Duras Fain were the parents of Laranna Fain. All of the Masters involved had abandoned Parkanas, whom they should have protected, she realized in dismay. That’s what the Jedi were, protectors, defending the innocent and championing justice, weren’t they? What did it mean, truly, that Yuon had called Parkanas weak?

“Don’t expose yourself to Lord Vivicar’s influence any longer than you must, Yuon.” Aitahea found herself whispering a plea. “Please.”

If this failed, it would cost lives, Yuon’s and Aitahea’s surely among them. In the quiet moments after her crying had passed, she’d discovered a calm remnant of strength, her private conviction that being a Jedi meant protecting everyone she possibly could.

Focusing on these newborn doubts would not benefit anyone. Her trust felt shaken, but Yuon had never brought her to harm before.

“I won’t. For your sake, as well as mine.” Yuon sighed, resignation in the drop of her shoulders. “There are risks. For one, the shielding you gave me on Coruscant will be severed.”

Aitahea flinched. The shielding had become a comfort, perhaps not so unlike the Force bond that some Masters and apprentices formed through training. But as a shield and not a true bond, it was more akin to a signal she could check at will, adjust, improve, and repair as necessary. Aitahea thought of both Yuon and herself as fiercely individual in certain ways, and she’d never truly considered the implications. It had simply been so crucial, so necessary.

“I don’t know what will happen then,” Yuon continued, looking focused and prepared again. “It’s possible I could die once your shield is gone.”

“I’ll protect you, Master.”

“With your strength to sustain me, we will do what we can.” Yuon forced another smile, little more than a grimace. “No matter what happens, you must give me as much time as possible. Reversing the link may be a long process.” She knelt on the carpeted floor. Aitahea followed suit, while Qyzen stepped back to lean watchfully against a pillar.

“Let us begin.”

The Force wrapped her, whole and complete, and Aitahea suddenly recalled a childhood visit to an artificial sea on Coruscant. She’d been young; the memory was little more than a hazy sensation of warm, buoyant safety. Yuon’s presence across from her smoldered like the banked embers of a fire, steady and glowing.

Sinking further into the lull of meditation, Aitahea found herself adrift in the numinous experience of the Force. On Tython, with her own Master, under the watchful eyes of the Council, Qyzen’s comforting presence near them, in the safest place in the universe. All was as it should be. For a moment, she rested calmly in the knowledge that she had everything she needed.

Then Yuon’s gentle warmth grew abruptly fierce. An unnamable distress gripped Aitahea; the profound embrace of the Force around her shuddered. An unnamable something snapped, and Aitahea gasped aloud at the acute absence of her carefully constructed shielding. Her eyes flew open to see Yuon swaying.

“Yes, yes – it’s working. I can feel his mind and… uhhh… I can feel—I…” Yuon’s words trailed off, reeling listlessly for a horrible moment. Just as Aitahea was about to call her name, Yuon’s eyes opened.

Only they were not Yuon Par’s eyes. With horrible, sickening recognition, Aitahea felt the tendrils of darkness that she’d battled for almost a year once again entangling her beloved Master. When Yuon opened her mouth, it was not her voice that spoke.

"She can feel the power that she’s challenging." Yuon slowly stood, motions mechanical. “There is no hope.” Aitahea reeled back in alarm, and Qyzen hissed a sibilant curse. Vivicar laughed, examining Yuon’s body as though it were a costume he wore.

“Yuon has drained your strength and made herself vulnerable to me. Still arrogant and reckless.” Turning back to Aitahea, Yuon’s head tilted in a horrible parody of affection, her Master’s face a rictus of agonized delight. But it was Vivicar’s voice that uttered her name.

“Aitahea.” She shuddered but held her ground. “You don’t look as strong as you did last time we spoke.”

Inhaling slowly, Aitahea raised her eyes to meet the horrible, mindless stare in her Master’s face, thoughts racing to find a response. “I know your name,” she exhaled in a shaky whisper. Vivicar twitched Yuon’ lips into a smirk but offered no reply. Aitahea continued, voice trembling. “You were once Parkanas Tark, a brave Jedi. You could be that man again.”

“The past means nothing,” Vivicar growled, waving a hand. “All that matters is the future, which doesn’t involve you, Aitahea.”

She clenched her jaw at his mockingly familiar use of her name, restraining a distraught scream of please stop. It would only fuel him further.

“See how Yuon’s will crumbles before mine.” Vivicar threw Yuon’s head back with a laugh, casually plucking her lightsaber from her side. Aitahea felt frozen; she could not bear fighting Yuon again, not after Coruscant. But when Vivicar ignited the blade, the usual lively green replaced by unthinkable red, she stumbled back in incomprehensible terror. Every cell of her being shrieked at her to flee. Yuon’s careworn face sneered down at her with unrecognizable hate. “Fitting, that two of my enemies will destroy each other.”

Stunned into a blank, silent moment by the abject horror of her present, Aitahea observed her own motions as if they were saber stances, performed by an initiate in practice. Lightsaber hilt to hand. Ignite. Ready position. Block, but if the blade isn’t fully —

Aitahea was shocked to find herself pinned brutally against the back wall, the ruby blade just inches from her skin. Qyzen was already aiming, but Vivicar flung out Yuon’s hand and threw him to the opposite corner. Aitahea took that moment of barest distraction to send Vivicar himself flying, then climbed unsteadily to her feet and placed herself between Vivicar and Qyzen.

Vivicar drew Yuon’s body up, limbs dangling as though they were on strings, a youngling’s broken toy. Qyzen pushed to his feet again, growling a string of curses behind Aitahea, who hesitated at the sight of Yuon’s lolling head and drooping eyelids.

At serious risk of toppling over, Yuon bent unnaturally and picked up the saber that had tumbled from her hand. Aitahea could sense that Yuon had been knocked unconscious by her reckless, panicked Force push, but Vivicar still drove her lifeless body forward.

“Parkanas Tark, Yuon Par was your friend!” Aitahea dodged a clumsy thrust. “Did she never once show you kindness, that you can do this to her? Release her! Parkanas, please!”

Aitahea blocked a second inept strike, and for a moment, Yuon’s eyes cleared, her voice was her own. “Aitahea!”

Vivicar stumbled back, clutching at Yuon’s head and keening pitifully. Yuon’s saber hilt clattered to the floor again. Aitahea reached for it, only for anguish to pierce through all her shields, white-hot agony suffusing her. Distantly, well beyond her own tormented scream, Aitahea somehow heard Vivicar’s wail become Yuon’s voice again.

“It… It worked!” Yuon cried, her own eyes peering out from her spent, elated face again. “Listen, Lord Vivicar… he’s out in deep space, on some sort of vessel… the coordinates!” Her hands reached out, beckoning.

Aitahea, panting in the wake of the assault, looked around for the datapad they’d had nearby, hoping that it hadn’t been damaged in the struggle. A cluster of Jedi had crowded into the doorway, alerted by the unusual commotion. Aitahea found and handed the datapad to Yuon, who began softly muttering as she searched the galactic map.

“He’s surrounded himself with defenses. Send this. It’s his code. It will give you… time to get aboard.”

Yuon pressed the datapad back into Aitahea’s hands, then sank to her knees again, clutching at her head. “No—the darkness… Vivicar’s will is too strong!”

Over one shoulder, Aitahea addressed anyone who was listening, fighting an overwhelming fatigue. “Fetch the Council and a medic immediately!”

“Yes, Master!” came a chorused reply as several youthful volunteers scattered. A few others began to clear the hallway in a spurt of practicality.

“I can’t hold on! Please, kill me!” Yuon threw her head back, arching her spine, a strangled moan tearing itself from her throat. “End it now!”

“No, Yuon. You’re safe now,��� Aitahea soothed, Qyzen thankfully at her side again. He lifted the datapad from Aitahea’s hands so she could pull Yuon into her arms, willing the shattered shielding back in place.

Excruciating moments passed, punctuated with agony that Aitahea couldn’t identify as hers or Yuon’s or a lingering effect of the ritual. It was tedious and exhausting, like the time she’d attempted to paste back together a statuette of Master Gnost-Dural that a youngling under her care had broken. Pieces had been missing, and she’d been unable to fully complete the repair. Now, she filled in cracks and breaks with what felt like pieces of her soul.

Finally, the shielding began functioning. She could feel every straining fissure.

Yuon groaned, shook her head, and pulled herself from Aitahea’s tenuous grasp. “The darkness… it’s gone.” Yuon passed a hand over her face, blinking as though she’d woken from a long slumber.

“I’m glad, Yuon,” Aitahea murmured, swaying. Yuon started, suddenly recognizing her former student’s distress. She grasped Aitahea’s shoulders, steadying the other woman.

“You—you look exhausted.” Guilt flickered over Yuon’s face like a shadow. “Aitahea… You have sacrificed so much for me.”

Aitahea offered a doleful half-smile, struggling to keep her eyes open. “The Jedi way is to serve. Vivicar should no longer be able to influence you, Master,” she assured Yuon.

Several Padawans rushed into the room and began fussing over Yuon, her keepers that Master Satele had mentioned during their first meeting, she assumed. Qyzen leaned down and offered a scaly arm to support Aitahea as she struggled to her feet.

“Your shielding has driven him from my mind,” Yuon said. Brushing off the exasperated Padawans, she caught Aitahea’s other hand between her own. “Thank you.”

Palm to palm, Aitahea sensed the delicate strength of her shield, already showing signs of deterioration. “Of course, Master.”

The Padawans rushed in as soon as Yuon released Aitahea’s hand. “I—I must rest.” She blinked, and two of the Padawans took her arms, making soothing sounds. “Master Syo and the Council. They must hear of what we’ve learned.”

“Herald needs treatment for injuries,” Qyzen added as Yuon was pulled away.

Aitahea felt utterly wretched yet single-mindedly determined to end the plague as swiftly as possible. They knew where Vivicar was hiding. They could end it all in just hours.

“The Council first, Qyzen.” Aitahea lifted her hand experimentally off Qyzen’s steadying arm, feeling the lump in her throat tighten when her legs quivered. She took a breath, then a step, and finally waved for Qyzen to follow. With a shake of his head, Qyzen acquiesced, staying a step behind her.

By the time they’d reached the Council chamber, Aitahea had reached deeply into the Force to dampen the pain of her injuries and the fatigue of conflict. It didn’t eliminate her agony, but it allowed her to focus long enough to deliver her debrief to the Council.

“The ritual was a success,” she began. “Lord Vivicar is out in uncharted space in a hijacked vessel, the Progress. He knows I’m coming.”

“Now only your shielding ability can stop him,” Master Satele said, the other Masters nodding their consensus.

“You’ve shown great fortitude and once again saved Master Yuon, despite the odds.” Master Syo leaned forward in his chair. “But Lord Vivicar will have made preparations, and he still has his greatest weapon—the plague itself.”

Aitahea took a tremulous breath. “I believe I can save him, Master Syo. Now that I know who he really is, I could return Vivicar—Parkanas, that is—I could return him to the light.”

Syo shook his head. “A noble thought, Aitahea, but don’t take unnecessary risks. Your shielding ability is our only hope.”

Master Jaric finally spoke. “Jedi, you’re exhausted. You need medical treatment and rest.” Qyzen grunted beside her in rare agreement with Master Jaric.

“There’s no time to waste, Master. We must move now, before Vivicar strikes back,” Aitahea argued. “I can recover en-route; I have a very capable crew waiting.”

Syo glanced at Satele, then gave Aitahea an reluctant nod. “Go to the coordinates quickly. And, Aitahea—may the Force be with you.”

Aitahea accepted the dismissal with a shaky bow, unable to trust her voice, and left the Council chamber. Qyzen followed, arm steady as he offered it to her again.

“Herald cannot—”

“Qyzen, we must,” Aitahea interrupted. “I’ll rest on the Luminous, Sia will manage the flight, and Tharan and Holiday can offer some assistance, I’m sure.” Qyzen hummed a skeptical agreement but said nothing.

They limped to the shuttle pad. Aitahea idly hoped there wasn’t a trail marking their path after she noticed the oozing wound at her hairline. No wonder the Council had looked so concerned; she probably looked a fright. With the coordinates already sent to Prelsiava onboard the Luminous, they could leave as soon as they were onboard. Then she would rest.

Qyzen mindfully guided Aitahea to a seat on the shuttle. She spent a few moments in unsteady healing efforts, but her grasp of the Force felt tenuous now, soaring thousands of meters above the sacred ground of Tython. Finally, Aitahea shambled on leaden feet through the orbital station to the Luminous, ready and waiting.

See-Too made a little stuttering gasp of alarm when he saw Aitahea climbing the stairs to the main deck and tottered over to fret as they ascended the stairs; Qyzen had kept her upright through the orbital station, but Aitahea’s fragile strength was nearly spent. “Master Jedi, we must get you to the med bay at once!”

“Kriffing hell, Ai.” Sia pushed past the droid, slinging Aitahea’s arm over her shoulders. “What happened to you?” she asked, dragging the barely-conscious Jedi to the med bay. Between them, Qyzen and Sia got her onto the observation bunk while See-Too went in search of Tharan.

Aitahea roused, seizing Sia’s sleeve. “Are we leaving?” she whispered, eyes briefly opening to squint blearily at the pilot.

“Got underway as soon as you closed the hatch.”

Aitahea sighed deeply, the faintest smile on her lips as she closed her eyes again. “How long?”

“Six hours or so, if I got the calculations right, and I always do. You’ve got to rest. I’ll get Tharan and Holiday in here to patch you up at least, bandage that head wound. Don’t give me that line you always do about self-healing.” She folded her arms, disapproval in her narrowed eyes. “You’re starting to scare me, Aitahea. Very little in the galaxy scares me; you know that. When does this end?”

“Soon,” Aitahea murmured. Sia sighed but didn’t press her further.

“You’d have been better off staying on Tython where they have a full medical suite, you know,” Tharan mentioned casually when he walked in, Holiday on his heels. He scanned a few labels before selecting a medical stim and a sedative from their supply. “Fortunately, See-Too has done exceptionally well keeping our stock current. You’ll recover quickly.” He unceremoniously injected Aitahea with the drugs, efficiently bandaged her obvious wounds, and then ushered everyone briskly from the med bay. Aitahea was asleep before they left.

Her wrist comm beeped; a call was coming through. Aitahea stirred but drifted back into stillness once the alert ceased to sound. A few moments later, the missed contact’s ID popped unseen onto the display:

Lieutenant Erithon Zale.

Constellation: Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

[swtorramblings]

I Shall Save Myself-2: We Save Who We Can

Arcann comforting Senya by @fleeting-sanity​. Finally using it for what I got it for.

I Shall Save Myself Second Draft Chapter List

Empress Vaylin has fallen, her forces in disarray, but she may have dragged the Alliance Commander down with her. The Force wielders within the Alliance have mostly been incapacitated by an unknown event, a massive burst of power that occurred during the battle. Koth and Theron arrive on the scene to investigate.

Theron and Koth were the first on the scene during the surrender of Vaylin’s forces. The Eternal Fleet was still. Most of the Alliance’s Force sensitives were incapacitated, unconscious or at least suffering severe pain. Sana-Rae had stayed in the Enclave, and was somewhat protected there. She reported that there had been a massive release of energy where the Commander had confronted the Empress. No one was moving when they arrived. Vaylin and the Commander were side-by-side on the ground. She had been defeated, finally, but at heavy cost. Theron did not trust Koth with Senya or Arcann, but didn’t care much about Vaylin’s well-being, so said, “Koth, check the Commander. I’ll check the others.” Koth hesitated, looking at Vaylin, but still went to the Richerd’s side. Theron saw the damage to the wall, and passed a section of the ground that had been so heated that the stone melted. What in the world had happened here? A pained voice came over the com system. It was Lana. “Koth, Theron, report? What is happening out there?” Koth answered first. “The Commander is badly hurt, light saber wound, at least as bad as what the Prince did.” He still refused to call Arcann by name. “We need a medical team.” The other two were already stirring as Theron reached them. “Senya and Arcann look like they took a beating, but they’re already waking up.” He reached Senya and offered his hand, but she waved him off and stood, though not without effort. Arcann stood slowly, taking in the battlefield. “Mother?” “I’m all right, Son. It’s over.” Lana broke in again. “Has anyone checked Vaylin?” Other forces were arriving, a medical team first. They were preparing the Commander to be moved to facilities in the base. The healing that Valkorian had provided last time seemed to be absent. It was going to be touch and go for a while. Koth was helping the medical team. “She’s down, Lana, and looks badly hurt. I don’t think she survived whatever Richerd did, whatever it was you felt. No way to know for sure.” He looked at the mother and son. They both shook their heads. They had been out, also. “Our royals were both unconscious. We had no eyes on the fight.” Lana responded, “You’re assuming it was the Commander, it chould have been the Emperor or Vaylin. Until we know, we have to be careful. At this point, she raised her voice, ending each word sharply for emphasis. “Again: Has anyone checked Vaylin?” Senya nodded to Theron, knowing that no one else should have to risk it. Arcann walked with her. “Sorry, Lana, this is all a lot to take in. Senya is checking. We’ll keep our forces at a distance, just in case.” Senya knelt down next to her daughter, hesitant. She was not sure she wanted to know, to verify her fears. Vaylin had several minor saber wounds (they were never really minor), some of which her mother had inflicted. Nothing like what it seemed she had done to the Commander, but still potentially lethal. Arcann put his hands on her shoulders, and said to her, “It’s all right, Mother. We did what we had to.” Then she saw it. Her daughter was breathing, shallowly, raggedly. Senya put her hands to her mouth. She did not know for a moment what to do. But only for a moment. “She’s alive!” she shouted. She took one of her son’s hands, and whispered, “She’s alive.” Koth glanced over, a scowl on his face. “So? We’re not going to do anything to help her.” Theron didn’t care for the idea of not tending to a defeated enemy, but in this case, he found himself agreeing. However, he knew that the Commander would not approve. She was beaten. One of the rules was, we save who we can. “Koth, you know we have to.” “No! I had friends in the military, with the Knights! Do you know how many of them aren’t here now? Because of her? How does she get to live when they’re dead?” Before Theron or Lana could respond, to agree or otherwise, a deep, quiet voice ended the argument. “I’m afraid”, it said, “we must insist.” Arcann had taken a position between his sister and the armed troops, hand on his lightsaber. Their mother got to her feet and joined him. Koth glared at them, but eventually threw up his hands. “Fine, you want to save that monster, that’s your business. Not in our base. We don’t want her anywhere near the Commander. Or any of us.” He hadn’t asked, but no one voiced disagreement. “Get a ship, take her away from here, hopefully you’ll crash in the wild. I’m done here.” He followed the medical team inside. “Thank you, Son.” Theron walked to them. “He has a point, though. I know this is hard, but our wounds are too fresh.” He glanced at Arcann. “And a lot of our allies already have complaints. She won’t be safe here.” Senya had gone back to tending her daughter, so Arcann responded. “Understood. Give us a shuttle and a single medical droid. Kolto if you can spare it. We will take her into the surrounding wilderness while we plan for more permanent arrangements.” Theron nodded. “Good, we’ll do what we can here.” He looked over to Torian, added him to the tally of the dead she had caused, but also remembered the reports from Nathema. “We’ll find you your kolto. If the Commander dies, though, and she’s still alive, make sure you are off-world as soon as possible.” Arcann nodded. After the shuttle arrived, he checked it over (he trusted some members of the Alliance, but not all, especially now) while Senya tenderly carried the former Empress and placed her in the bed in the back and activated the medical droid. While she watched over Vaylin, Arcann flew the ship out until it was no longer in sight of the base. Theron stood on the platform, watching them go, making sure they were not easily followed. He sighed deeply. “Commander, I hope your rules aren’t the death of us. Or of you.” He turned and went back inside, deciding to walk to the war room. He needed time.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A prompt for a continuation of your "NMJ goes mad with losing his brother" fic? It needs more. Preferably including A) NHS waking up as a fierce corpse and B) Lan Zhan, at least, not dying.

part 1, part 2, part 3

Lan Wangji wrapped his fingers around Wei Wuxian’s shaking hands, white-knuckled and fearful and unable to release his grip on the Stygian Tiger Seal. He didn’t say anything, only stood there, but that was fine, that was enough.

He was alive, and that was enough.

How Wei Wuxian had felt when he’d arrived to see him staggering backwards, Bichen falling from numb fingers, red staining his white robes –

He didn’t want to think about that.

It was fine: they’d arrived in time, it seemed. 

Based on how everyone looked, and on the general state of the surrounding area, he’d guess that Lan Xichen had started fighting Nie Mingjue first, possibly after some conversation, and for a while they’d been evenly matched, but then Lan Wangji hadn’t been able to resist coming to his brother’s aid, the two Jades of Lan perfectly in tune with each other as they fought against a single opponent.

Working together and using their full efforts, they probably would have eventually been able to beat Nie Mingjue, even blackened and more fearsome than ever as he was now; but of course, once Lan Xichen accepted outside assistance, Nie Mingjue could as well.

It was a little terrifying to think that he retained his sense of fairness underneath it all, actually. That meant that whatever he’d done to the Jin sect, some part of him still felt it was just.

By the time Wei Wuxian had arrived with Nie Huaisang in tow, Nie Mingjue had already summoned the masterless sabers, which he’d brought with him in a qiankun pouch – just two of them, in addition to himself, and the balance of battle shifted entirely to his side.

The Nie sect was known for its offensive power, after all, and even the Twin Jades of Lan would have difficulty against their sabers.

Not would. Did.

Lan Wangji had fought against the two sabers himself, leaving Lan Xichen to fight Nie Mingjue unhindered, but the sabers had cut at him - he was fast, but they were faster, and his white robes were stained from a multitude of cuts to his arms, to his chest, to his hips and legs.

Little cuts, in large part, but it was only a matter of time before the little cuts slowed him down enough -

Before -

Wei Wuxian had seen Lan Wangji falling, had seen Bichen leaving his hand unwillingly, and his chest abruptly contracted in utter panic. 

He’d reacted immediately, acted on instinct, whistling to summon any fierce corpses in the area. 

Not that there were many, it being the Cloud Recesses, a place of purification – but in the end his instincts had only made things worse.

The masterless sabers were, it seemed, exactly as terrifying as Xue Yang had made them out to be: they were swollen with power, very nearly conscious, and enraged by the presence of evil. It was as if the mighty ancestors of the Nie clan had reawaken from their slumber to help their descendant wreak vengeance across the land. 

Or at least it would be, if those ancestors were made of steel, knowing neither fatigue nor pain, neither mercy nor pity, and continuously drawing power from the earth and sky even as their opponents’ energy drained away.  

They struck hard, chopping down again and again, an unstoppable force, inexorable, taking lives as a easily as a thresher reaped grain.

The low level fierce corpses Wei Wuxian had been able to summon didn’t stand a chance.

Desperate, he had reached for the Stygian Tiger Seal, unsure if he would be able to wield it before Nie Mingjue turned Baxia against him, not thinking of the consequences, thinking only that he had to stop this, he had to save Lan Zhan -

It would all have gone very bad if Nie Huaisang hadn’t intervened at that very moment, shouting, “Da-ge! Make them stop before they turn on me!”

Nie Mingjue had pulled back at once, a harsh gesture causing the masterless sabers to unwillingly retreat from battle and return to his side; Lan Wangji had in turn struggled off the ground to come to Wei Wuxian’s side, and now he was silently holding Wei Wuxian’s hands, letting Wei Wuxian feel his still-strong pulse, and Wei Wuxian could finally let go of the Stygian Tiger Seal.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it; he hadn’t been thinking straight. 

Using the Stygian Tiger Seal so close to the Cloud Recesses, near the graves of all those purified Lan sect ancestors, all those common people in the villages not far away, everyone accustomed to peace – it would have been a disaster.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji echoed. “You came in time.”

The sincerity in his eyes made Wei Wuxian’s face feel oddly hot, so he coughed and looked over to where Lan Xichen was leaning against a tree, recovering. “Don’t worry about it. You were doing fine.”

“We were not,” Lan Xichen said simply. “Thank you for your timely assistance, Wei-gonzi. It would have gone badly, otherwise.”

Lots of dead people, in other words.

Lan Xichen looked over to where the Nies were standing: Nie Mingjue’s hands were on his brother’s shoulders, his unguarded back to them – it wasn’t an insult as to their abilities, merely indifference to his own fate. Nie Mingjue clearly cared very little about anything beyond having his brother back. Their heads were bowed together as they spoke, and Nie Huaisang’s expression was positively fierce as he hissed out something. 

Lan Xichen’s expression wavered for a moment, and then firmed with determination; he stood and walked over to them.

“Nie-gongzi,” he said politely. “I was hoping you could confirm something for me.”

Nie Huaisang looked at him, his expression utterly unfathomable for a moment; he seemed to be thinking of something. He moved away from his brother, Nie Mingjue turning to stand by his side but never removing his eyes from him, as though he feared Nie Huaisang would die again the second he blinked.

“Go ahead and ask,” Nie Huaisang said slowly. “And then – I have something to ask of you, I think.”

Lan Xichen looked almost as though he regretted Nie Huaisang’s easy agreement. Despite this, he asked, “Your death. If you remember it, can you tell me - who was responsible for it?”

“The Jin sect killed me,” Nie Huaisang said, and now Wei Wuxian was really paying attention: he’d been so busy conducting tests to make sure Nie Huaisang wasn’t about to come apart at the seams that he’d never actually asked for the details of what had killed him. “It was at the orders of Sect Leader Jin, but the execution of the order was at the hands of san-ge – sorry. Jin Guangyao.”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes, pained; it was as if he had been struck a harsh blow, knocking the breath out of him.  

Wei Wuxian sympathized: who hadn’t heard of how fond Lan Xichen was of his youngest sworn brother? Who didn’t know that Nie Mingjue had only agreed to swear brotherhood with Jin Guangyao at Lan Xichen’s instigation?

“In that case, I am sorry,” Lan Xichen said, his voice low. “You would not have gone to Lanling alone, if not for my invitation. It may have been at A-Yao’s – at Jin Guangyao’s suggestion, but I trusted him, and you believed in me, and he killed you. The price for my blind faith was too high.”

Wei Wuxian winced. He hadn’t realized that Lan Xichen was directly involved in Nie Huaisang’s death, though of course it made sense thinking about it – Nie Huaisang had gone to Lanling alone, without any retainers, and despite the ongoing, if unspoken, war for influence between the Nie sect and the Jin sect.

It really did seem as though he had been lured there specifically to die.

And it had been done using Lan Xichen’s word of honor –

Lan Xichen’s mind was clearly going along the same lines: he inhaled once more, the sound of it agony, and said quietly, “It seems your brother was right to seek vengeance against me.”

“That’s probably true,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Wangji’s fingers twitched – they’re still wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s, even though he’s already put away the Tiger Seal, and for some reason Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel inclined to let go. “I’m not going to let him kill you, though.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers relaxed.

“I’m feeling very sensitive about people getting killed recently,” Nie Huaisang said, and shrugged. “For obvious reasons.”

He patted his belt in an instinctive motion and frowned, clearly having looked for something and found it missing. Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure what until Nie Mingjue mutely reached into his own belt and produced a fan, which he passed over; Nie Huaisang automatically opened it and held it in front of his face, only belatedly realizing where it came from and turning to look at his brother with concern.

“How did you die?” Wei Wuxian asked, both out of curiosity and because he remembered the stories Nie Huaisang had told in the Cloud Recesses of how his brother always rolled his eyes at his habit of carrying a fan, how silly and childish he thought he was being – that Nie Mingjue carried one with him now, even though he hadn’t known Nie Huaisang would be coming, even though he hadn’t known Wei Wuxian would be able to succeed –

Wei Wuxian thought of Jiang Cheng, searching fruitlessly for him for months, and tried not to think about it any more.

He didn’t want to think about what he would have done, if he were in Nie Mingjue’s shoes. Whether he would have made the same choices: to murder hundreds, if not thousands of cultivators, simply for the unfulfilling catharsis of revenge for a brother lost.

He thought there was a good chance that he might.

“Oh, you know, being led into a trap and left to die slowly and painfully while begging for help from someone who didn’t care to do anything – it was all very bad, and I’d prefer not to think about it, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and in retrospect Wei Wuxian would prefer that he didn’t as well – Lan Xichen looked as though he wanted to throw up. “A better question, though, is why did I die?”

That got everyone’s attention, even Nie Mingjue, who frowned. “You died because he killed you,” he said, his voice low and rumbling.

Nie Huaisang waved his fan in the air, clearly more comfortable now that he had it. “Yes, that’s the straightforward answer. But why kill me? Why risk your anger – admittedly, he may not have realized the extent of your anger, but why risk it at all? I’m no harm to anyone.”

“That is a good question,” Wei Wuxian said, and it was, now that he had a moment to think about it. “It’s not profitable in and of itself, and we all know how the Jin sect favors – ah, favored profit. If I had to bet on it, I’d say you probably found something out that they didn’t want you to know, so they felt they had no choice but to kill you.”

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I think so, too. That’s why I need Sect Leader Lan’s help.”

“My help?” Lan Xichen asked. He sounded tired. “What do you need my help for?”

“They were planning on killing da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and they all winced at that. Even Lan Xichen, who looked as though he had become almost resigned to the betrayal, nodded, accepting it: if he would kill Nie Huaisang, who was harmless, then plotting to kill Nie Mingjue, even if he was sworn brothers with the man…this Jin Guangyao fellow truly really knew no limits. “They were going to use you to do that, too. Something about a song you’d been teaching san-ge? I don’t know how you’d kill someone through a song, though.”

Nie Mingjue huffed, and the slightest trace of a sneer appeared on his lips – it was probably the closest thing to an expression that he’d had in the entire time Wei Wuxian had seen since his brother’s death. It was depressingly a relief to see the traces of the more familiar anger on the man’s face.

There was a sudden movement: Lan Xichen had abruptly knelt down, his knees going soft in horror if his expression was any judge.

“Clarity,” he said numbly. He had already been injured to the point of pain, and now he suffered another blow, more potent than any saber strike: it was horrible to watch. “The Song of Clarity – I taught A-Yao how to play one of the Lan sect’s ancestral songs. It was meant to help calm da-ge’s qi, to reduce the likelihood of a qi deviation.”

“So that’s probably how they were going to do it,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping his fan against his cheek. “Da-ge’s qi is already unstable naturally; if in the guise of playing music to stabilize it, you played something that would instead throw it into turmoil –”

“The Songs of Turmoil,” Lan Wangji suddenly said. “Brother – in the Forbidden Library…”

“He wouldn’t have had access to that!”

“He rescued you during the war,” Nie Mingjue said, his expression gone flat again. “You were carrying your clan’s books with you at that time, were you not?”

Lan Xichen’s head bowed. “Yes,” he whispered. “I was.”

Besides, Wei Wuxian thought to himself, Jin Guangyao had made his name by being a spy in the Nightless City - if he could fool Wen Ruohan, who was paranoid and trusted no one, then finding things out in the Cloud Recesses, where he was given free rein by the sect leader who trusted him...it would have been too easy.

“That leads me to my next question, I suppose,” Nie Huaisang said. His expression was hidden behind his fan, but his eyes were narrow. “And I would ask that Sect Leader Lan not take any insult at my suggestion. But I have to wonder: how many times is it plausible for a man to be inadvertently used as a weapon, before…?”

Before he himself should itself be investigated.

“That’s an unfair question,” Wei Wuxian said, even though it kind of wasn’t. If someone had been involved in multiple murder plots against him or his family, he would be suspicious of them no matter how virtuous they appeared to be. Still, this was Lan Xichen. “If he trusted him, he trusted him. The same initial fault led to everything else; it wasn’t anything new.”

Lan Xichen choked out a laugh, his voice raw and gasping. “I thank you for your defense, Wei-gongzi, but Nie-gongzi is correct. How many times must I be used as a knife in another’s hand before I take responsibility for my own behavior? How many other times did he use me as a shield of virtue to hide behind? I’ve always believed that he had reasons for everything he did…”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Nie Mingjue said.

“It matters to me,” Lan Xichen said, and he looked up, devastation and determination in every line of his face.

“Brother…” Lan Wangji began, looking concerned.

“No, Wangji. This is necessary. Da-ge – no. Sect Leader Nie. I have wronged you, you and your clan, in more ways than one. I submit myself to your jurisdiction, to be tried and judged, and welcome whatever punishment is appropriate under the rules of your Sect.”

Lan Wangji’s hand was so tight around Wei Wuxian’s own that it hurt, but Wei Wuxian didn’t say anything about it. His heart was in his mouth, watching the Nie brothers: with such a submission, Nie Mingjue could take Lan Xichen’s life with Baxia this instant, and Lan Wangji would have no recourse.

Assuming recourse was even possible. Those sabers...

Nie Huaisang coughed, interrupting the tense mood.

“Okay, okay, you can come back to Qinghe with us,” he said, waving his hand as if it were nothing. “We’ll figure it out from there. No more immediate executions; I think we’ve had enough of those – da-ge, I can’t believe you brought out the sabers! What were you thinking?”

“I don’t think he was,” Wei Wuxian said, his shoulders relaxing; he turned to smile at the relieved Lan Wangji. There was still hope for something vaguely resembling a good ending, maybe. “At all. You two really are brothers, Nie-xiong.”

“Rude!” Nie Huaisang huffed, but he was grinning. “You have to come to Qinghe too, Wei-xiong; da-ge won’t feel comfortable if you aren’t around, at least at first…Lan-er-gongzi, why don’t you come as well? Since you’re having such difficulty letting go of Wei-gongzi’s hand –”

[pretchatta]

I (accidentally) rewatched the entirety of s1 of rebels recently (in my defense it is utterly flawless and possibly the best star wars content out there) anyway, when I was at the part where ezra is in the jedi temple on lothal and sees the inquisitor killing the rest of the crew his family I thought: what if that was kanan? and then this happened. (ao3 link in the source)

rating: teen, warnings for (non-permanent) character death and violence

---

Kanan was running.

Somehow, the Inquisitor had found him on Lothal. The pau’an had ambushed him at the Kothal market during his supply run and Kanan had barely escaped with his life. As market stalls had tumbled to the ground around them, the people of Lothal had screamed and fled in fear. In the panic and confusion he’d lost both the supplies and his lightsaber, so now he ran.

He just had to make it to the Ghost, and then Hera could fly them all away to safety.

He raced across the plains, prey fleeing from a predator, the waist-high grasses whipping his legs and threatening to entangle his ankles. He somehow managed to stay ahead of his pursuer, but he could feel the Inquisitor gaining on him. He tried to increase his speed, but his legs wouldn’t move any faster through the grass.

By the time he reached the ship, he was barely holding onto his lead. Panic was rising in his chest.

“Hera, take off!” he shouted, racing up the ramp. He came past Zeb coming the other way.

“I’ve got your back, Kanan!” 

Kanan heard the hum of his bo-rifle activating. “Zeb, no!”

He was too slow to stop him. The clash of the staff against a lightsaber reached his ears from behind, and then his friend’s strangled yell. He turned just in time to see Zeb’s body hit the ground at the base of the ramp. 

Kanan stumbled backwards, looking up and into yellow glowing eyes. The Inquisitor’s mouth split into a cruel grin that revealed rows of pointed teeth.

“Hera!” Kanan yelled again desperately. Why wasn’t she starting the engines? Couldn’t she hear him?

His flight instinct took over and he made it to the ladder, scrambling up it. As he passed the nose gun, Sabine ran onto the balcony, blasters out. He opened his mouth to tell her to stop, run, go back, but she was already shooting at the dark figure emerging below. With an almost lazy flick of his saber, the Inquisitor sent the bolts straight back to her. Her body crumpled to the deck, the holes in her bodysuit smoking. Her armour had always been too small for her; she’d left Mandalore too young to have a full-sized suit.

With no way of his own to fight back, Kanan kept going up. At every rung he fought against the pain of knowing his family were sacrificing themselves for him. He made it to the top of the ladder when he heard something that made his heart drop through his feet.

“Stop right there!” 

Kanan looked down to see Ezra advancing on the Inquisitor, who had stowed his lightsaber and was about to step onto the first rung of the ladder. The pau’an turned to snarl at Kanan’s apprentice. A black-gloved hand shot out, fingers twisted into a claw, and Ezra was sent flying backwards. He hit the bulkhead with a sickening crunch and hung there, suspended for a moment, before the Inquisitor dropped his hand. Ezra fell to the floor. He didn’t move again.

“No!” Kanan screamed.

The eyes were back on him, and it was like his whole body was being drenched in fire and ice, the terror all-consuming. He fled upwards into the cockpit where, with a rush of relief, he saw Hera was already in the pilot’s seat.

“We have to go, now!” 

“What is it, love? What’s happening?” She stood up to meet him in the middle, relaxed and ignorant of the slaughter below.

“It’s the Inquisitor, he found me. We have to take off!”

“But he’s already on the ship.” If she knew that, why was she being so calm? “You should take the Phantom and get yourself to safety.”

He nodded; she was right. “Yeah, okay, let’s do that. Come on, let’s go!” He took her hand and dragged her to the door that led to the rest of the ship, but she resisted.

“I’ll hold him off so you can get away.” She took her blaster out of its holster.

“No, we can fight him together!” 

The pale, elongated head was already coming out of the hatch.

“Kanan, we cannot win this battle… You must run.” Her voice sounded different. She pushed him through the door. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.” 

Her blaster was raised and her body half turned towards the cockpit, but she was still looking at him. She didn’t see the dark shadow moving behind her, and he was too frozen with fear to warn her.

Her lips parted in a silent cry as the red blade blossomed from the center of her chest. The light faded from her eyes, and Kanan felt agony rip through his entire body as he watched.

“No! Hera! NO!”

The blade retracted and she sank to her knees, still staring sightlessly up at him. Slowly, she tipped sideways, landing on the deck in a sprawl of limbs and lekku. Dead, like the rest of his family. 

He hadn’t been strong enough to protect them, any of them. They had given their lives to protect him, and now it was his fault they were gone. He wasn’t even worthy of their sacrifice. 

The Inquisitor stepped over her lifeless form, advancing on him. He stumbled backwards, barely staying on his feet, trying to keep the distance between himself and his hunter. His back hit the closed doors at the other end of the corridor.

Was there any point in fighting back, now? What was left to live for?

The lightsaber ignited again, and with a snarl, the Inquisitor lunged forward. As he watched death coming for him, he screamed, for he realised that even after everything he was still a coward. He didn’t want to die.

The lightsaber slashed downwards. Everything went black.

-

-

-

His throat hurt. His muscles ached. Fear – no, terror – permeated every cell in his body. Something sharp was digging into his shoulder. He was screaming, a wordless shout that continued seamlessly from where he’d been a moment before. That was why his throat hurt. He stopped, but it still felt raw. He heaved a gasping breath.

He was in his bunk on the Ghost – no, Hera’s bunk. The sheets were twisted and wrapped around him, and his whole body was covered in sweat. Had he been dreaming? No, it was too real. They were all dead. His family were dead, and it was his fault, and he was dead too–

“Kanan? Kanan, wake up! It’s just a dream, please, love, you’re dreaming, wake up.”

Something was shaking him, and he realised the pain was from fingers gripping his shoulder.

“Hera?” he asked hoarsely, because even though it couldn’t possibly be her, he’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

“It’s me, love, I’m here.”

A soft hand cupped his cheek and turned his head to look at–

“Hera!”

He dived at her, wrapping his arms around her blissfully warm body, the forcefulness of his movement nearly taking them both off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t care. He squeezed her tightly, feeling how alive she was, how real, clinging to her like a lifeline.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, rocking backwards and forwards, not letting her go. Tears streamed down his face, tears of relief and pain and love and fear.

“It’s okay, it was just a nightmare, you’re okay now,” she soothed, stroking his back with one arm – the other was trapped between them and unlikely to escape from his vice-like grip on her. “I’m okay. Everyone’s okay, you’re on the Ghost, we’re all safe, there’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

“It was – s-so real –” he choked between sobs. His whole body was shaking now, but she continued to stroke his back and just let him hold her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, burying his face in her shoulder. She pressed a kiss to the side of his face and her hand moved to his head to stroke his hair. Everything about her comforted him; the shape of her body, the way it physically pressed against him, the smell of her skin, the smooth glide of her hand over his head, the soft murmuring of her voice in his ear. Hera made him feel safe in a way that no person or place had since he was fourteen.

Eventually, his heart rate slowed to something nearer its normal pace and his breathing evened out. He loosened his grip on Hera and allowed her to find a more comfortable position, but didn’t completely let go of her; he wasn’t ready for that just yet. The fear and grief from the nightmare still lingered, tendrils of darkness lurking in the corners of his mind, but he felt somewhat in control of himself again. The dream may have been all of his worst fears rolled into one, tortuous visual, but it was just that; a dream. It wasn’t real.

He breathed in and opened himself to the Force. Immediately he felt Hera beside him, her presence blazing with love and a fierce protectiveness. Expanding his awareness outwards, he felt each member of his crew; his family. They all slept soundly, their Force signatures calm and muted, dreaming their own dreams. And alive. 

Despite everything, they were all miraculously, blissfully alive.

[cl-01-kestis]

My Little Rebel - Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 14

Summary: After getting a new leg installed, you travel into the depths of Coruscants night life and find yourself in a surprising scenario.

Warnings: hints of nsfw, alcohol consumption

(Keep in mind Cal is aged up to 19)

Quick note: This original post had an nsfw scene in it, I’ve taken it out because I feel like it doesn’t fit the story well at all. I’ve still implied that something happened, but you can perceive it however you want.

The sounds were so deafening, silence flooded your mind and you hated it. High pitched ringing rattled around your ears and pierced your ability to hear for a while after it stopped. You can’t remember the last time you opened your eyes, the light slid through your lashes and you felt like you might’ve been something other than alive. You could still feel your heart beat, you still sucked in weak breaths of air through your nose.

The first thing you smelled was metal, thick stench of silver varnish, polish and gasoline. You wanted to gag but something about being it seemed to calm you down, you felt like you were back on Yavin again but you knew you weren’t. Your fingers twitched and you opened your eyes slowly, immediately shutting them back over when you tealised two big bright lamps were bent over your still form which seemed to be lying on a leather made bed, a medical bed.

You weren’t in the Mantis, that’s for sure. The last thing you remembered was falling down after getting your leg cut clean off, after that everything was black.

“She’s waking” You heard a foreign voice speak, clearly there was people in the room spectating you as you slept. You attempted to open your eyes once more and squinted them instead of closing them over, your arms moving beside your waist to push yourself up and regain full consciousness.

As soon as your eyes adjusted to the light of the lamps looking down on you, they focused on the brand new shiny leg, replacing the one that was cut off. Only then did you realise just how much of your leg you lost, the metal started right at your v line and was attached to a metal brace that was wrapped right around your hips.

“Where am I?” Was your immediate response to your surroundings, shifting your position so your legs dangled off the bed and you held your head to avoid getting a headache due to how quickly you had woken.

“Hiding in the lower levels of Coruscant” Cere’s soft voice called out, the sound of chair legs scraping against the concrete floor before her face appeared in front of you. Cere was slightly lower than you due to how tall the bed was, looking up at you with her beautiful brown eyes and trying to avoid staring so much at your new leg. Processing her words, you let out a soft hum in response and blinked a few times to adjust to the light.

“We were lucky enough to find a mechanic who fixed you up, the leg should take a few days to get used to” Cere informed you in a serene voice, resting a hand on your knee on your real leg and reaching out her other one to hold your hand. You nodded your head at her words and looked up to find that Merrin was fast asleep in the corner, sitting on a chair with her arms folded and head tilted slightly to the side.

“Everyone’s asleep, the time’s 10 at night, I’d get more rest if I were you” You turned your head to meet the eyes of a young man, around the age of 18 with scruffy, curly hair and a face that was patched with oil and polish. Clearly he was the one that fixed you up.

“Thanks” You smiled at him, watching as he wiped his hands with a clean cloth after rinsing them under a tap which was in the corner of the room.

“It’s no bother, just don’t walk around too much just yet, this’ll take a while getting used to” The young mechanic said, chucking the dirty rag somewhere random and walking up to tell you more about your new metal leg.

“It’s made of Alum, commonly used for Mandalorian armour so it should stay intact for a few years. You can move it around, it’s attached your nerve endings to the legs so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find your way around it” He explained calmly, getting down on one knee in front of you and holding your ankle.

“If you may, I’d like to test the flexibility” He offered with a kind smile, earning a blush from you as you nodded your head and let him do what he had to do.

He stretched your leg out as if it were your other one, his hand holding down the robotic legs knee as the other one cupped your ankle, strething it so it was level with your hip and making sure he wasn’t going too far. You felt strange, it was as if you felt his fingers ghost on where your ankle should be, you never knew what it felt like to have a fake limb but here you were. Recklessness got you here and taught you a valuable lesson.

You were surprised you weren’t as shocked and as heartbroken as you should’ve been, you were pretty laid back about losing a leg, that says a lot about you. But you’re a Jedi after all, Jedi shouldn’t be scared and that’s one thing you aren’t. So you blame it on that.

Plus, it looks cool as hell. When people notice that one of your legs isn’t natural they’ll probably stay away from you, which is a good thing. Intimidation might be the way to go through to restoring the Jedi temple, you want people to avoid you and this was the first step of doing so. But still, a part of you felt pissed off because your real leg was sitting around somewhere in the holocron vault.

“How does it feel?” The mechanic asked, stretching it further. You felt strange around the area where your ham strings should be, he did say he wracked your nerve endings with the legs ones so it made sense as to how you could still feel everything.

“It feels normal, not sore” You replied, wriggling your robotics toes and rolling your ankle to test it’s flexibility.

“That’s good! If you’re ready, try standing up” He got off his knee and stood up, dusting his trousers off and reaching out for your hand.

You were reluctant to take it at first, your eyes flickering to Cere who nodded at you in encouragement. “You can do this” She smiled.

Taking his hand, you lean forward and hike yourself up onto your feet. Instantly, you crashed down onto the floor and thankfully landed on your hands instead of your face, saving you a few other instalments.

“Thought that might happen, it’ll take some time to walk straight” Cere informed you, looking at the mechanic who nodded his head at her statement and helped you back on your feet, this time holding your arm whilst Cere held your other.

“This is so weird” You sighed, closing your eyes briefly to gather your thoughts and gain the strength to take your first step on your new leg.

“It will be, dear” Cere assured you softly, rubbing your shoulder before helping you sit back down on the bed you woke up on, patting your back before leaning down and pressing a motherly kiss on your head. You smiled at her gratitude and squeezed her hand before letting her go back to sitting down beside Merrin who was still fast asleep.

-

Some time had passed and it was coming up to 11:30, Cere was asleep and so was Merrin but you were wide awake, getting used to walking around with a new leg and having the support of the mechanic who kindly gave you a crutch if you were to ever fall over.

You paced around the workshop for some time, using the crutch and waddling about till the pain in your leg went away and the nerves got comfortable enough to let you walk around without any trouble. Sleep wasn’t something you craved at that exact moment so you decided that sneaking out and finding clues about your past would be useful.

“Hey listen, have you seen a lightsaber around here?” You asked the mechanic whilst walking up to him without the crutch but still holding it in your hand, watching as his expression changed from emotionless to surprised.

“You’re the owner of that thing? Here I was thinking the Jedi were extinct!” He exclaimed with a delightful tone, grabbing your lightsaber from his workshop table and chucking it to you from a fair distance, a far enough distance that required you to reach it with the force.

“Not all of us” You replied with a smirk, bringing it up to your gaze and widening your eyes once you realised there had been a few changes made to the lightsaber.

“I noticed it wasn’t in very good condition when you came in, decided to patch it up... might be useful” The man said, walking up to you and pointing to the hold at the opposite end of the hilt.

“Double blade...” you whispered to yourself in amazement, looking back up to the mechanic with big bright eyes and bringing him in for a tight and unexpected hug.

“Thank you for this” You mumbled in his ear, squeezing him before letting him go and bringing your attention back to the saber. The mechanic cleared his throat and smiled, trying to suppress the blush spreading on his face as he watched you further inspect the newly improved saber.

With the click of the button, your lightsaber burst into life and a matching blade appeared on the other side. You felt so emotional looking at it, this would strengthen your combat skills enough to take down a full Inquisitor, it made you happy to see it. You’d heard so much about different Jedi who wielded double sided lightsabers, they were only used in advanced combat so it was never common amongst most of the Jedi. Only the most skilled could wield one.

Testing its movement, you adapted quickly to the new model of lightsaber and spun it skillfully around your body. You adjusted to the heaviness of the model and made sure it didn’t hit any parts of you as you made the saber come to a still once more and turned it off, the blades sheathing back inside the hilts.

“This is perfect” You beamed, nodding in approval at the mechanic who bowed his head in gratefulness and let out a relieved chuckle.

“That’s good to hear” He replied, turning to his workshop table once more and leaving you to get ready to wherever you wanted to go. But you were lost for directions at the moment, you’d never been to the lower levels of Coruscant before so of course you’d get lost without some advice.

You didn’t want to pester the mechanic further, so you approached the bed you woke up on and placed the crutch on it, dusting yourself off and grabbing your combat trousers which had been taken off for the procedure for your synthetic leg.

“You have any idea where I can find a popular club around here? It’s not what you think it is, I’m just trying to get in touch with someone” You turned around to the mechanic whilst fitting your new leg into the leg hole of your trousers, slipping it through and then getting your other one in.

“Why a club?” He asked with confusion, screwing on a gadget to a droid which was out of power, he was clearly trying to regenerate it.

“It’s busy, clubs are usually full so it’ll be a good place for me to blend in” You replied with reason, earning a fair nod from the mechanic who put down the screwdriver and wiped his hands.

“I’ll write down the navigations for you, look out for a club called the Outlander, that’s one of the most popular on the top level. But if you’re looking for something more on the lower side, go for Club Kasakar” The mechanic said whilst scribbling a bunch of messy handwriting in Aurebesh, your second language.

Not many people knew, but even though you were born on Coruscant, long before the Jedi found you, your mother and father were from Corellia so your first taught language was Old Corellian. Only when the Jedi found you did you start speaking Aurebesh.

“Here, this should help” He said, walking up to you and handing the piece of paper with a smile. You took it graciously, thanking him silently before looking over his handwriting and studying the navigation to both of the clubs.

“Also, one more thing,” you looked up to the mechanic who looked at what out were wearing.

“Turn up at a club like that, they won’t let you in... no offence” He warned you with a small ghost of a smile, making you blush and look down at your attire before clearing your throat.

“Thanks” You mumbled, bidding him a farewell before turning around and finding your way out of the workshop, clipping your lightsaber underneath your poncho and keeping it well hidden.

You arrived on a small landing platform that was stretched out into a large pot hole that went so far down, you couldn’t see the bottom. This was all the lower levels of Coruscant, vehicles of every kind drove past, carrying either locals or visitors, maybe even tourists. You skimmed over the large space to check if there were any taxi’s floating about whilst also making sure neither Merrin or Cere were looking around for you. You needed time alone.

You looked down at your wrist, a holowatch was wrapped around it and you were surprised to see it was in good condition after all you went through. Flicking through your contacts, you stuck your tongue out and frowned as you searched for the one person you needed to see most.

Clicking on his name, you waited. The sound of dialling rung out in the air around you and it took half a minute for the other end of the line to pick up. Some rustling was heard but you didn’t waste any time in getting the message across.

“I don’t have much time, save all your questions for later. Meet me at the Outlander club on Coruscant at midnight, don’t let anyone see you” You spoke clearly, checking your back to see if anyone unwelcome was listening in and realising who you were speaking to.

“I’ll be there” Cal replied.

“Good” You said sharply before hanging up and waiting on the platform for a taxi to come and pick you up. You had a long night ahead of you.

-

It was cold outside of the Outlander, busy to say the least, but waiting in the cold made you look like your date stuck you up. You made a stop at one of Coruscants designer shops and bought yourself a black mini dress and a pair of cheap silver heels. You weren’t going to waste your time on anything flashy so you went with the most basic option you could get. You were freezing though, you kept your poncho on due to the dresses lack of material.

You wish you had looked at your options before picking the most simple thing there was. In terms of comfort, the dress you were wearing had nothing towards it, instead it was for showing off and had the sole purpose to catch everyone’s attention. You felt embarrassed as strangers walked past you, looking you up and down like a piece of fresh meat before entering the club. You watched people go by opposite from the entrance with one leg bent, heel against the wall as you held your poncho close to your shivering body. Your legs were on show and had a wet look to them due to the dampness of the area and the fact it was lightly raining. The neon lights illuminated your figure and made you vulnerable to the naked eye.

You turned your head at the sudden shift in the force around you and felt your heart squeeze in your chest, looking over in the far distance to see a flash of red hair. You lifted yourself from the wall, eager to see if it was Cal as you walked a few steps forward and leaned on your toes.

Cal emerged from the crowd of people he was hiding in and searched around to find you, gold eyes shifting from body to body as he stuffed his hands in his black trouser pockets after adjusting his black blazer. You swooned are the way he looked, noticing the all black suit he had on and noticing he took your advice in making sure no one noticed him. He blended in perfectly.

“Cal!” You yelled out to him, waving your arm in the air to catch his attention which worked immediately. His eyes snapped to yours and his face lit up like a Life Day tree, picking up his pace and eventually crashing with your body. He wasted no time and swept you completely off your feet, spinning you around and setting you back down to kiss you passionately. You smiled in the kiss as he held you tight and used one hand to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking it softly as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“I’ve missed you” He whispered as your lips departed, pressing his head against yours and closing his eyes as you hummed in response.

“You look amazing” You said to him, leaning away and taking a step back to inspect his outfit to which he blushed and waved your comment off bashfully.

“It’s nothing, I didn’t want to be noticeable so I went for the most simple thing” He said with a shrug, taking a joking spin which made you smile and let out a soft chuckle.

“But you... wow” He gasped, eyes noticing your dress underneath your poncho. In response, You unwrapped the poncho from your shoulders so Cal could see the rest of your dress, twirling and trying not to freeze to death as the cold enveloped your top half once more. Cal breathed out a sigh of amazement.

“Wait a minute” Cal stopped and frowned when he noticed your leg. The light shone against the Alum leg and caught Cal completely off guard. Any sign of happiness to see you was replaced with anger and confusion.

“Who done this? When did this happen?” He asked eagerly, taking a step towards you again and holding your hands delicately with his.

“I had a run in with an Inquisitor, it’s nothing” You brushed off his curiosity, trying to avoid telling him the fact you stole holocrons and almost got yourself killed.

“Maker (Y/N) you could’ve been killed!” He exclaimed, huffing to himself as you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“Not trying to sound big headed, but I’m a Jedi” You smirked, causing Cal’s frown to slip off his face and replaced with a small ghost of a smile. He nodded his head awkwardly.

“Fair point, but let’s not forget you still have much training to do” Cal offered you his arm which you gladly took without hesitation, strolling in with him into the club as your other arm held on to your poncho. You two received many looks as you walked in the Outlander, feeling the bass of the music in your feet as you walked over to a high table and stood at either side of it, facing each other with smiles on your faces.

“Of all the places I thought I’d next see you, this is not what I pictured” Cal joked, earning a giggle from you as you leaned your elbows on the table, the neckline of your dress hiking down slightly and revealing your cleavage.

“Even so, no one will find us here... it’s just me and you now” you said coyly, tapping your fingers on the surface of the table as Cal flashed you a mischievous smirk.

“Last time you said that I had you pinned down on a bed” He replied, immediately causing you to blush and look away, fighting back a chuckle as he leaned on the table and placed his hands over yours. You bit your lip and looked back up to meet Cal’s flirtatious gaze, he winked at you before a waitress approached your table with a bright smile.

“Hi folks! Welcome to Outlander, what can I get you to drink?” She said in a speaker voice, holding a tray against her chest as she looked at the both of you.

“You speak Old Corellian?” You asked her in a quieter tone, seeing her furrow her brows before managing a smirk and nodding.

“Mimmin doko” I do. She replied, earning a smile from you as you leaned up and cleared your throat.

“Ihn spelulo de Coruscant visci Fho Uhl sinioro Il Ihn spelulo de Corellisi vin Fho mi” A glass of Coruscant whiskey for the gentleman And A glass of Corellian wine for me. You said effortlessly, seeing the waitress nod as she scribbled down your order on a small holopad, smiling as she finished and nodded.

“Coming right up” She chuckled, turning around and making her way back to the bar as you turned back to Cal who had a more than shocked expression.

“Where the kriff did that come from?!” He asked in amazement, whistling to himself as he looked you up and down seductively, intrigued by what he heard.

“Corellian parents, kinda cool right?” You simpered, stroking Cal’s forearm which made him raise a brow at you in amusement.

“Cool? It’s hot as shit” He said lowly, making you laugh and tap him playfully as he leaned in close to you, your heads almost touching.

“Why’d you speak it to the waitress anyway?” Cal asked curiously, looking around to check once more if anyone was looking at either of you as you smiled and cleared your throat to pass the time.

“Hidden identity I guess, to cover up our tracks so no one knows who we are” You said.

You and Cal chatted for a bit and waited for your drinks whilst listening to the music blasting around the club, people dancing at all corners as you two blended in and looked like everyone else, normal. Cal occasionally touched your arm and intertwined his fingers with yours, knowing fine well he wouldn’t be able to do this with you around people for a long time after. The thought made him sad but you understood how he felt, the two of you were the most dangerous people in the galaxy according to the Empire and Rebellion. You were destined to destroy one another, but at this exact moment you could be with each other without anyone knowing. Now that thought was calming.

“Here’s your drinks!” The waitress from earlier returned with your order, lifting the drinks and placing them on the table effortlessly.

“Lui mia kar” Enjoy my dears. She smiled before walking away and leaving the two of you alone once more. You looked at your drink and then to Cal’s, noticing he had glowing blue whisky which made him look at it as though it was a foreign object.

“Care to tell me what you ordered for me?” Cal asked in a sultry tone, picking the whisky glass up and inspecting it before taking a chance and trying it. His lips met the rim of the glass and he tilted it up, the blue liquid reaching his mouth and making him hum as the whiskey poured on his tongue.

“Coruscant Whiskey, it’s a drink my friends and I got drunk on a lot when we all started living on Yavin” You chuckled, watching as Cal’s face twisted in different emotions. At first he was skeptical about the taste but he raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“It’s not that bad actually, pretty sweet” He commented, setting his glass down and smiling at you.

“It is, Coruscant offers sweet whiskeys but some can be a bit too sweet. Corellian wine on the other hand, any type of wine from there is perfection” You smirked, picking up your own glass and taking a sip from the ruby red liquid inside. Cal watched you closely, noticing the way you licked your lips after you finished sipping. He couldn’t stop his eyes from looking down below your neck, noticing the way your breasts were held in tight against the material of your dress. Cal took note that you weren’t wearing a bra considering the dress had extremely thin straps and would look rather strange with one on.

You noticed Cal looking and leaned your head down so you were blocking his view, earning a blush from him as he quickly looked away and took another shy sip of his whiskey, shrivelling up at the taste for a second before getting used to it once more.

“So... how goes the Inquisitor work?” You couldn’t help but ask, watching as Cal frowned and pursed his lips, it was clear the question had damaged the mood slightly.

“It’s... boring, nothing too important’s happening” He said in a more than melancholy tone, avoiding your gaze as he looked at your hands, almost as if he was studying them.

“Trilla- The second sister, she’s frantic about catching you” He added.

“Am I really causing such a stir? What’s next, Darth Vader knows about me?” You scoffed. Cal stayed quiet.

Your heart twisted when he didn’t reply, he only swallowed and looked down at his whiskey in guilt. You leaned back slightly and felt a lump growing in your throat.

“Well shit” You chuckled, not out of amusement but rather fear, just to shake the tension off your shoulders.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” You asked. Cal shook his head and returned his gaze to yours after what seemed ages. You sighed in relief.

“At least that’s something...” Your gaze shifted over to the bar which was shaped in a hollow circle in the middle of the room, many customers sat at the counter and ordered drinks of all kinds, some others were selling death sticks. You watched in interest and skimmed the room until your eyes landed on the bathrooms in the far corners of the club. You noticed couples either going in or coming out, making you blush and look away before picking up your wine and taking a few big gulps of it which made Cal’s eyes almost bulge out of his head.

“Careful! Don’t get drunk on me just yet” He scolded you playfully, bringing the base of the glass down on the table as you still kept a firm grip on the body.

“Need something to shake me up, it’s been a stressful day” You said, hinting at your leg which made Cal nod his head in an understanding manner, his eyes lingering on it for a few seconds longer before clearing his throat and reaching his hands up to his collar to loosen his tie and undo a few buttons.

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at his pale skin underneath his shirt, you could see a muscle in his neck flex which made your heart flutter, unable to take your eyes off him. He took notice to this and smirked, walking around the small table so he was next to you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You know, i don’t mean to sound provocative, but I wouldn’t mind taking you somewhere more private” He said in your ear as you sipped slightly at your wine, trying not to choke on it as your face heated up and you looked at Cal with wide, surprised eyes.

“And for whatever reason would you want to do that, Mr Kestis?” You toyed, hands reaching to Cal’s tie and pulling on it to bring him closer to you, your lips inches away from each other as he let out a low chuckle and grabbed your hips.

“I’m sure you know why” He whispered, using his other hand to grab your chin and tilt it up slightly as he peered down at you with his bright golden eyes. You didn’t look away, you felt impelled to kiss him right there and then but you were around so many people. It took a lot to fight the urge off and Cal shifted around your thoughts out of curiosity, a cocky smirk growing on his face as he pulled you closer to him and smashed his lips onto yours, almost knocking the wind out of you.

At this point you didn’t care about the embarrassment of people watching, you kissed Cal back and didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and grant him access to taking it a step further. Your hands tugged on his hair and you felt his fingers dig deep into your hips, his other hand shifting from your chin to your ass which made you yelp in surprise.

“Maybe somewhere private doesn’t seem so bad” You breathed out as you separated your lips from his, feeling his hot breath tingle on your face as he pulled away and nodded his head. He was flushed in the face, licking his lips as he grabbed his whiskey glass and finished off whatever was left in it, cringing at the taste once more before grabbing your hand and taking you away from the table. You didn’t have time to finish your wine but you managed to quickly leave a few credits to pay for both of the drinks.

The air was thick as the two of you approached the entrance to the bathroom, but neither of you thought anything about what you were doing. You received strange looks from people who were nearby the bathroom, knowing fine well what you two were getting up to. You laughed as Cal looked behind his shoulder and cracked a smile, pulling you close and kissing you once more before leaning into the bathroom door and taking you with him.

You and Cal stood at the bathroom sinks beside one another, flushed with heat as you washed the sweat off your faces with water from the taps. You had messed up his suit and he ruffled your dress, the hem hiked up more than it was supposed to. You both kept replaying the events that just took place in your heads, side eyeing one another and letting out the occasional giggle which was muffled by the music outside of the bathroom.

“We should probably get back to the club, it’s starting to heat up in here” Cal said, turning to face you and reaching over to your shoulder to fix the strap of your dress. You nodded your head, clearing your throat and taking his hand so he could lead you out of the bathroom, eyes linked to yours a second longer than necessary before he turned around and started walking towards the door.

The two of you returned to your tables very suspicious looking, ordering another round of drinks and looking to one another with great blushes on your faces. You could definitely say you spent this night well.

[tessaliagrey]

Bo’s redemption - or the lack thereof

Every time we get an episode of Star Wars that has Bo-Katan in it, tumblr is full of everything from “OMG I love her, she’s the coolest and sooo badass!” to “OMG I hate her, she’s a terrorist!”. And I might say you are all right.

One of the things that comes up periodically is Bo-Katan’s redemtion - or the lack thereof - depending on how you see her character in general (see above).

In my opinion, Bo has no real redemption arc. And I don’t think we’ll ever get one. As to why, I think it helps to retrace her steps...as far as we as viewers know them.

The first time we see her in mid-season four of TCW, she is a faceless (literally) Death Watch lieutenant on Carlac. She slaps Ahsoka’s ass, burns down a town, helps kill the townspeople and tries to kill Ahsoka and Lux Bontari as they escape. And she seems to have fun doing all that. Yep, solid terrorist. And I’m not budging on that. There is nothing “badass” about that. It’s just wrong.

The first time we see her as an independent character is during the Lawless arc. She’s still fully emerged in Death Watch. And even though she might not think of getting Maul to “help” is a good idea (I think she really thinks that Sith are no better than Jedi), she stands by Vizsla’s decision to join forces with him.

But that is also the part where we begin to see that while she is loyal to Vizsla, she is also probably one of very few people who are allowed to contradict him. Maybe not publicly, but at least bewteen the two of them. She tells Vizsla to his face that she thinks joinging forces with Maul and Savage is a bad idea. But she seems to trust Vizsla so much that only a few words from him are needed to quench her fears; at least for the time being.

But the longer this allience between Maul and Death Watch lasts, the more worried she gets. She sees that Vizsla is loosing his grip on the situation. But her trust in him seems to be unbreakable. Even when he says that “Maul will soon be dead alongside the duchess”, she doesn’t say anything. She just smirks. He tells her to her face that her sister will die at the end, and she doesn’t say anything. (As to why, we can only speculate, and that’s not what I want to get into right now.)

And then, for a few days maybe, everything looks like it all panned out the way she wanted. Maul and her sister are imprisoned, a “true” Mandalorian rules, and the people will find their way back to the warrior faith that was still openly practiced until the beginning of Satine’s rule after the civil war.

But then, everything changes. And quickly. Maul escapes his prison and challenges Vizsla to a duel, which he naturally accepts (he might just run himself through with the Dark Saber if he didn’t). And loses. He dies; unceremoniously, broken and defeated. And only then, only in those last few moments of Vizsla’s life, does Bo-Katan realize that it was all for nothing. That her vision of Mandalore will not come to pass. That it ended in one swift motion of a black blade.

Maul declares himself ruler of Mandalore, and a not unsignificant part of Death Watch bows down to him. Bo rejects his rule - not because he killed Vizsla, which Bo is visibly shocked by - but because “no outsider will ever rule Mandalore”. She and others loyal to her, like the Nite Owls, make a run for it and escape the palace.

She then teams up with her nephew Korkie (How the hell did they get in touch?) to rescue Satine (Why? We never learn that!), and Bo seriously tries to save her sister’s life. But they are overpowered by Maul’s Death Watch loyalists and barely escape while Satine is recaptured as bait for Obi-Wan.

We don’t know where Bo was when Maul killed Satine or how she learned about her sister’s death. The next time we see her, she and her Nite Owls rescue Obi-Wan from being imprisoned and help him escape, asking him to tell the Republic what happened, even if it meant a Republic invasion of Mandalore. The reason she gives is that “Maul will die. But Mandalore will survive.” Why she wants Maul dead; if it is because he killed her sister, because he killed Vizsla or because he’s - from her POV - the reason it all failed, we never learn. Maybe, in the end, it is a combination of all three. But that is speculation.

Well, the Republic doesn’t get a move on when it comes to Mandalore and it takes the unlikely alliance of Bo-Katan and Ahsoka to get Anakin and Obi-Wan to agree. Again, all we really know is that Bo wants Maul off Mandalore, preferably in pieces. She brings up Satine to goad Obi-Wan into helping her, but we still don’t know if she actually grieves/grieved for her sister, or more for a lost ideal of Mandalore.

Well, the siege of Mandalore finally happens, and by the end, Bo is left in charge as regent. It is also the only time we hear any words of regret from her. “I wish I was good at something other than war.”

After that we have a nice 17 year gap in Bo’s story, and anything we know about that time comes down to hearsay. We learn that she was betrayed by Clan Saxon (who had followed Maul) and had to flee Sundari. We get the feeling that Fenn Rau as a protector knew her personally around the time of her regency, but we don’t really know that for sure.

But something in the past seventeen years did change in Bo-Katan. Well, it is quite some time to reflect on your actions and choices. We get the feeling that she did learn to understand her sister’s motives, though they will never be hers. And that she can recognize what her sister acomplished as a leader. She’s a lot more considerate of other people’s positions. But we never hear a word of regret for what she did during the Clone Wars, for being part of Death Watch. And maybe that is because there simply is no regret. Bo-Katan as a person might be a lot calmer and a lot more considerate, but her ideals of what Mandalore should be, of what it stands for and what it means to be Mandalorian, haven’t changed.

Bo-Katan may have matured; grown as a person. She does try to do right by her people. But there is no redemption. We might like the way her character is portrayed in Rebels and The Mandalorian, and we might even wish for her to be redeemed, but quite honestly: How?

No, I’m afraid we will have to live with our conflicting views of Lady Bo-Katan of House Kryze, where we love her and hate her, but can’t get around her. And face it, people, we wouldn’t want it any other way.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion Part 7. The Child

{Masterlist}

Notes: I screwed up the timeline of Star Wars because I didn’t think about it so, sorry. 

Ps. I stan big-brother Therapist Opress

Warnings: Swearing, reader is a panicky mess for a little bit, some suggestive language

Words: 3246

Taglist: @and-claudia // @tararuthven // @ravenclawlegacy // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol

<- Previous

………………………………….

Forever 

Forever indeed. It felt like Maul had been gone for forever. You hadn’t seen him in two months and they were some of the most excruciating months you’d ever lived through. What made it worse were the few and far between calls late at night that only made your aching for your unofficial husband grow. You were legitimately becoming concerned for as the time stretched on without contact, you began to feel sicker. Was it possible to get sick from missing someone? Is that what people meant when they described someone as ‘lovesick’? 

“Y/n, are you sure you are alright?” Ki-Adi’s voice shook you to the core as you were forced to refocus on the fact that you were currently in the middle of a duel with him. Your master had lowered his saber, one hand held up to stop you from pressing your advantage while he questioned you. 

“I’m fine, Master.” The reply was immediate and spoken without thought. You knew you were just being dramatic and that your life had to go on when Maul wasn’t around. You were to become a Jedi. He was a Sith Lord. Divergence from each other was what founded your relationship and when that manifested in not seeing each other for months, you had to learn to deal with it. The whole ‘feeling sick because my husband isn’t here to hold me’ thing was getting old fast. 

Your husband....gods, those words didn’t seem real. Legally binding or not, the fact of the matter was that you had married Maul in total secrecy two months ago. You could remember the moment he claimed you as his wife so clearly that on the most lonely nights it seemed to become the only thing that was real and untainted by hypocrisy, hubris, and politics. The knowledge that you were the only one who would ever know the feel of Maul’s hands on your hips, or the gentle nudge of his nose against your own as he pressed his lips to yours, or even how solid he felt when buried in-

You internally shook your head. Yes, the knowledge that you were the only one that would ever know how any of that felt was...intoxicating. And you were selfish. Maul’s love was a drug and you were the only one that had access to it. 

“Are you sure? You seem very distracted.” Ki-Adi continued, blocking the strike you levied at his side. 

“I’m. Fine.” You seethed, frustrated at your mind for wandering and at your body for how poorly you were fighting. 

Ki-Adi sheathed his saber and raised an eyebrow at you, hands finding a place clasped behind his back. He was disappointed. You sighed and sheathed your green saber as well, already preparing for the inevitable lecture. “I do not believe you, Y/n. You haven’t been acting like yourself since we returned from negotiations on Toydaria.” Ki-Adi stepped forward to grasp your shoulder, communicating his concern more clearly than his perpetually calm voice would allow. “Did something happen?” 

You shifted on your feet, knowing you would have to lie. There was no way you could tell him that you were lovesick but you could explain the physical symptoms your predicament had manifested. “No, master, nothing happened. Just...I don’t know how to explain it.” You carded a hand through your hair briefly. “For the past few weeks, I haven’t felt...like myself?” You tried, looking into your master’s calm face. 

Ki-Adi’s brows furrowed. There was no condemnation in his eyes, only curiosity. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean...I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s worth of rest. For some reason, certain smells have been bothering me lately, I’m so tired all the time-yesterday I passed out in the library and Madame Jocasta had to walk me to my room because I couldn’t walk more than a few steps without feeling nauseous.” You let out an angry huff directed at the strange reactions your body was having to the absence of Maul. “But, every time I’ve considered going to the healers to see what is going on, the symptoms vanish.”

Ki-Adi was quiet for a moment as he digested the revelation. “Do you know what might be causing these reactions?” He eventually asked, taking a seat in the middle of the mat you had been fighting on. You followed his lead, sticking your chin in one hand and propping your elbow on your bended knee while your free hand toyed with a rogue string on your robe. You shook your head, eyes boring into the ground. “Are you, perhaps, nervous for the Trials?” 

You shook your head again, straightening up. “No, I mean...I am just a bit nervous but I know that these reactions aren’t originating from that. I was more nervous about making my second lightsaber and this never happened.” Your stomach gave an almighty lurch all of a sudden which caused you to clasp your hand over your mouth, the other shooting to your stomach. But, just as quickly as it had come upon you, the sensation vanished leaving you and your perplexed master. You groaned in frustration, almost wishing you would just vomit so that whatever was going on would cease. Ki-Adi sent you a sympathetic frown, helping you to your feet. “If I may forgo discretion, master?” He hummed to tell you it was alright. “I spoke with Luminara Unduli and she posited that it could just be an intense bout of pms. Which would make sense…” Because I’m late…Like,...two months late. And with that realization, a whole new plethora of issues became very likely possibilities. No, no...we...Maul and I aren’t even the same species. That can’t happen...or can it? Zabraks are classified as Near-human. In theory, we could...no, no. 

“Hmm, this is troubling. May I suggest that you go to the healers, Padawan? Even if Master Unduli is correct, I think it would be wise to receive confirmation.” Ki-Adi, ever tranquil in his approach, thankfully rescued you from the spiraling panic now coiling in your chest. “Come, I will escort you there.” 

…………………………………….

“Y/n?” Savage’s rumbling baritone voice pulled you back to reality and you suddenly realized that you had been zoned out for a very long time. When had you started deep cleaning the ship? Looking away from the floor of the cockpit you had started diligently scrubbing, you met the towering zabrak’s questioning gaze as he leaned against the doorway. “Are you alright? You’ve been cleaning incessantly since you woke up.”  

Briefly letting your eyes flicker over the various cleaning supplies strewn around you, you shrugged, mouth feeling dry. “I...I guess.” With a little more focus, you returned to scrubbing, eager for some distraction. “I’ve just...been lost in thought, I guess.” 

“I noticed.” Savage stated bluntly whilst crossing his arms. “I’m worried about you, sister.” You paused at his words, momentarily closing your eyes as you collected yourself. You could hear him approaching, long strides echoing around the small area as he neared until he crouched next to you and gently worked the rag out of your hands. “You have not been yourself for the past few days.” Your eyes snapped open and slid to the side to meet Savage’s gaze. His brow was worked into a frown and one of his large hands was hesitantly reaching out, as though he was unsure if he was allowed to console through touch. 

Opting to let him in, you reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m afraid seeing Maul in this state has...drained me. I just needed a reprieve and I guess shutting down was the way I went about achieving that.” As you spoke, you let your thumbs dig into his palm while you used him as an anchor. “And,” glancing around Savage to see into the makeshift sleeping area the three of you had set up, you took note of how Wild was still completely passed out which made it safe to make your confession, “and it isn’t helped by the lying on my end. I want to tell Wild the truth, but I’m terrified of how he’ll react. He’s lived his whole life believing his father to be dead. What will he do when he finds out that he’s not and that he was, in fact, a Sith Lord? I don’t want him to go into shock over it but how the hell am I supposed to adjust him to the idea organically?” You muttered more to yourself than to Savage who was still patiently crouched next to you, happily lending an ear. 

Savage’s breathing was the only thing you could hear, low and steady like the breath of a mythical beast. It was soothing to hear something other than your own panicked thoughts. “I wish I knew how to help you, Y/n. I care for Wild and I care for you too. The three of you are the only kin I have left.” He sighed and finally took a seat beside you, still allowing you to toy with his hand. 

“I hadn’t thought about that...how are you holding up?” You tried carefully, releasing Savage’s hand when he gently tugged it away from you. 

“Not well, if I am to be completely honest. Though-I have the benefit of not remembering what Maul used to be like.” Savage’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. 

Not entirely sure where to go from here, you opted to voice the most pressing anxiety that plagued you without ceasing. “Do you really think Mother Talzin will be able to help him?” 

“Help him? No. Bring back Darth Maul? Yes.” 

……………………………………..

“Padawan L/n, these results are...most concerning.” The words falling from the Mirialan healer are...disconcerting which causes you to sit up, propping yourself on your elbows as you rise from the bed to watch her movements. 

“Why?” You ask, sitting up a little further as your panic makes a resurgence. “What’s wrong? What do they say?” She didn’t reply nor did she turn to look at you as she raised a hand and flicked her fingers in unison to beckon you over. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and walked over to the screen that was displaying the results of the full-body scan she had run to pinpoint the epicenter of your troubles. The particular area of interest was a position that was decidedly not your stomach like you thought it would be. Oh no. “W-...what does that mean?” You asked, trembling. Your throat was swiftly closing up as you continued to stare at the red circle that blinked placidly above your uterus. 

“Y/n, you know what it means. Coupling the scan with your other symptoms, I think the issue is impossible to deny or misinterpret.” The Mirialan was bristling as she spoke, the sympathy draining from her voice with every word till it was sucked dry of any humanity. “I must inform the council immediately.” 

Inform the...shit. Whirling around faster than you thought humanly possible and leaping over the bed, you practically tackled the healer to keep her from leaving the room. “Dariada, listen to me. I don’t know how this happened.” You attempted to explain, hands grasping her left forearm in a vice. 

She made a noise of utter indignation that echoed in your head. “You don’t-how could you not know?! You slept with a man, Padawan L/n, that’s how this happened. You broke the code! They’ll expel you from the order for this!” She was livid. 

“They could if I had broken the code! But I didn’t! I didn’t sleep with anyone!” Liar. Liar. This baby’s mother is a liar. Maul, fuck, where are you? One hand shot to your front, gently laying over where your womb was. “There was no one. I swear.” 

“That doesn’t happen, Y/n. You had to have slept with someone.” Dariada shot back, hood dangerously close to flying off. Her vibrant green skin was a shade darker from the blood rushing to it in her anger. You had never liked Dariada, she was always far too self-righteous, but you liked her even less now. With what could only be described as a snarl, she wrenched her arm free and grabbed both of your wrists in an iron grip, already marching her way out of the hall and dragging you along with her. She held true to her word and informed the council of the...situation. 

Soon you were standing in the middle of the council members, begging for them to believe you that there had been no one. The lie felt like poison on your tongue, it seeped into your own system just as it flew at the council members. Plo Koon was the first to believe you. “I can sense much fear in you, padawan. Why?” The Kel Dor had asked amidst your muffled sobs. There was no hint of condemnation in his modulated voice, but, instead, compassion and empathy. 

“With all due respect, Master Plo, I just found out that I’m pregnant and I can’t even explain how it happened. I am not ashamed to admit I am terrified of what is to become of my baby.” You turned towards him, hiccuping and blubbering throughout your confession. 

“Only your baby?” Plo Koon asked, raising the ridge where his eyebrow would be. You were painfully aware of the gazes of each individual master on you. Ki-Adi’s was the heaviest of them all. 

With a swallow, you attempted to calm your nerves. Maul could help you. Maul would help you. You just had to get in touch with him. But what would his master do to him, to your baby? The tears began anew. “Only my baby. I can be expelled from the order and find a way to survive but what of them?” No answer was needed for your question. The implications were clear. 

“Padawan, approach.” Master Yoda’s voice called to you as he beckoned you closer with his three-fingered hand. His expression was unreadable. You did as he commanded and the old master closed his eyes and held his hand out in front of him when you were little more than a foot away from him. “A child of the Force, the babe is. Clouded is their future.” The grandmaster sighed heavily, letting his head and hand fall in time. “Expel her, we cannot. Powerful will the child be. We must not let either of them fall to the dark side.” Murmurs fell from the masters, sneaking past you as they slipped from loose lips. 

“But is she telling the truth, Master Yoda?” Master Tinn was the one to voice the question on all of their minds. 

“She has to be, Master Tinn.” It was Ki-Adi who spoke in your defense. “Dariada said that she was approaching nine weeks, in that time, the only instances where Y/n has left my sight was when she was in the temple. Y/n is predisposed to the light side and has never broken the code before, to assume that she would to this extent is unwise and unfair to my padawan.” You sent Ki-Adi a grateful smile as he rose from his chair and approached to stand beside you in front of his fellow masters. 

“What are you suggesting we do then, Master Mundi?” Mace Windu asked from your right. 

“Put Y/n’s training on hold and postpone the trials. We will keep her in the temple to watch over her and when the baby comes, I think it would be wise to look into training them.” Ki-Adi offered swiftly to muttered agreements. 

With a tap of his staff, Yoda called the room to him. “A wise decision that is, Master Mundi. Watch her closely, you must. Now,” He focused on you, eyes penetrating your defenses till his gaze seared into you, “fetch Master Qui-Gon Jinn, young padawan, know something of this occurrence, he might.” You dipped your head to bid the council farewell before skirting away from them. As you fled the meeting area, one thought remained. Where are you, Maul? 

…………………………………………………

Maul was being a nuisance. You had gone into the cargo hold in search of more ration bars and thought that he had still been asleep. You were correct, he was still in the same place you had left him last night. Or he had been until Savage came stomping in after you and woke him up. Now, he was acting like a feral tooka; hissing and spitting at Savage while you, once again, trapped behind him. Savage had backed off with his hands up to show surrender but Maul hadn’t relented and you were rather fed up with it. “Savage, go get me a damp cloth, I’ll try to calm him down.” You ordered whilst nodding your head to Maul. Savage was eager to help calm his brother and so, swiftly backed out. 

Meanwhile, you worked to soothe Maul once more, delicately coaxing him to lay down with his torso across your lap. Gentle purrs rumbled in his chest while you worked your hand into the perpetually tense muscles in his back. Savage entered once more, quietly this time, and handed the cloth he had gotten to you. You used the rag to dab at the junctures of Maul’s body. You hoped the motion would be soothing. His fever had broken sometime during the night but you were still trying to ensure he was kept comfortable for the remainder of the journey. 

Before the silence could persist for much longer, Savage broke it as he leaned on some stacked crates across from you. “Did Wild mention the tattoos to you?” 

Looking away from Maul and to the door to the hold, you made sure the three of you were alone. “Yes, he told me he had been talking to you about Dathomir and the Nightbrothers.” You brought your gaze back to Savage who seemed a little hesitant to continue talking. 

“Did...did he tell you why?” You shook your head. Savage sighed heavily and slid down to be seated. “I’m afraid Wild suspects we are hiding something from him.” 

“I knew he’d start to.” You muttered under your breath, subconsciously gripping the cloth tighter. “Did he say anything?” 

Savage shook his head, “No, but he was asking a lot of questions regarding Maul. I answered as many as I could.”

“Wild’s always been perceptive, I knew we couldn’t hide this forever. But, did he tell you why he wanted more? He told me you had offered to help him.” 

The yellow zabrak groaned, pulling one knee up to use as an armrest as he averted his gaze to Maul who had taken to playing with your free hand. “All he said was that he could feel something coming, something monumental.” 

Your brows furrowed. That was...news. Why hadn’t he talked to you about this? Probably because you’ve been keeping secrets from him, you lying piece of-

The door suddenly slid open to reveal the boy of the hour. His...cold saffron eyes zeroed in on Maul before flicking away to Savage and then yourself. His face was stiff. “We’re approaching Dathomir, I took the liberty of starting landing procedures.” His voice was clipped and serious, more than it normally was. With one last glare at Maul, he turned and stalked towards the cockpit. 

<- Previous | Next ->

[ayo-cowbelly]

when the fire goes out, how do we stay warm? - part 1/?

next part ~ masterlist

welcome to my new series ~ an angst dump of “what if anakin and obi wan’s roles on zygerria were reversed?”

you can blame the New SW Canon discord for this. Their angst-loving asses fueled this fire, and what was supposed to be a snippet spiraled into this.

the yarra root i got from discord- we had a huge discussion about tatooine slave culture, and said yarra root is something tatooine parents will put in their child's tea/drinks, to kill them/"put them to sleep", so the masters won't hurt/kill them (it is seen as an alternative to a brutal, painful death). We also discussed the idea that people on tatooine will take their children (or just themselves) and go out to the sand dunes and "let the Desert decide their fates", so when Anakin mentions being "swallowed", that's what he means. Just to clarify.  

Hope you like it!

@youngcreativenerdgoddess @alabasterswriting @ilonga @rynae-reblogs @everything-or-anything @waterrose3 (i love y’all, thanks for the support!)

***

Obi-Wan looks down into the arena from his place beside the Zygerrian queen. He wants nothing more than to jump down there, to yell, to scream, to do something- but he knows he can't. To blow their cover now is to destroy any chance of saving the colonists. But he wishes he could save more than just them. He wishes he could liberate this whole damn planet. He wishes he could get rid of the threat the Zygerrians posed, somehow- even if he had to rip the crown out of the slaver queen's cold, dead hands.

Obi-Wan looks across the arena as the queen speaks, not looking at Ahsoka nearby (in that horrible outfit, that made people leer at his grandpadawan, like she was a mere object. They looked at her the way Obi-Wan had seen people looking at Anakin during his brief time on Tatooine all those years ago).

Oh. Anakin. Where was he?

Obi-Wan was furious that the Council had sent Anakin, of all people, to this slaver planet. The should have remembered Anakin's past, his time as a slave when he was just a child. They should have remembered that Anakin was once considered nothing more than property, an object to be passed around to different Masters. Obi-Wan should have remembered, he should have fought harder.

He hopes Anakin doesn't know of this auction, as Obi-Wan knows that Anakin would tear down this entire planet if he found out. He would scrape tooth and nail to destroy this disgusting empire. For Anakin mostly acted on his emotions, not that it was necessarily a bad thing- but he sometimes forgot to look at the big picture. There was a balance there, one Anakin struggled to find.

Balance always seemed to elude him.

Obi-Wan worried greatly. After this dreadful mission, they'd actually talk, for once. About everything.

He focuses back on the queen's words, as she announces the Togrutan governor. Obi-Wan tries and fails to look away from the man's beaten form.

And then the worst happens.

"My friends, behold! Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear- on his knees before us!"

Obi-Wan barely registers Ahsoka's horrified gasp, for he is equally as distraught. Below him, on the sandy platform, is Anakin. A shock collar is on his neck and dirt on his face. His clothes are ripped, and his hair is mussed and greasy. Obi-Wan wants so badly to run to his brother before Anakin does something rash and gets them all caught.

But when Obi-Wan looks over Anakin's frail form again, he sees something. Something so much worse.

The fire in Anakin's eyes is... gone. There is no defiance, no opposition, none of that trademark confidence- only the hollow gaze of someone who is dreaming of being anywhere else. All at once, Obi-Wan's previous fears vanish. Before, he had been worried that Anakin would say something sarcastic, signal for his 'saber, fight back; but now, Obi-Wan knows that isn't the problem.

Anakin had been a slave, once. Before he was a General, a hero, a Jedi, a Master, a brother, or a husband (yes, Obi-Wan knew. Anakin had never been subtle, and try as she might, neither was Padmé)- before any of that, he was simply Ani. A slave, a son, a child of a cruel Desert that took more than it gave.

This is who is before them now. It wasn't Anakin down there, it was Ani, and that was so much worse. Obi-Wan Kenobi's (previously unknown, for he had never imagined it to be possible) greatest fear had come true, before his very eyes.

For the first time in over ten years, Anakin Skywalker was not fighting back.

"This Jedi, this watchdog of a petty, corrupt senate, a preacher of freedom and peace though he brings only war and death- is nothing more than a puppet! And now, he will kneel before us," The queen boasts, proudly smiling at the cheering crowd.

At this moment, Obi-Wan wants her life to end. He wants it to be at his own hands. How dare she do this, how dare she make Anakin go through such a thing, how dare she-

Oh. She's speaking to him now. "Show him his true place," She commands. Obi-Wan nods numbly, a pathetic movement of a broken man. Obi-Wan feels broken, he does. He feels crushed, splintered, shattered into a million tiny pieces-

Anakin had broken, and as Obi-Wan is his brother, he will too. Two halves of the same whole, and if one goes down the other surely will as well. They are nothing without the other, and are only something when together.

Some may ask, "What is the galaxy without Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

The real question is, "What is the galaxy when Anakin Skywalker stops fighting?"

Obi-Wan doesn't know the answer to that. He doesn't know what it's like to witness your dearest friend, your son, your brother, your soul, fractured into pieces-

Or maybe he does, now. He doesn't want to think about it.

He remembers things Anakin once said, about his mother and Yarra Root and a saying.

"I would rather my child die than be a slave like me."

But Anakin, Ani (for as much as they are different, they are also the same) had once been a slave. And now, he is again. Or maybe he always had been, and only his title had changed with time.

Has Anakin ever truly been free?

How could Obi-Wan have let this happen?

He approaches his former apprentice (though everyone knows that statement is a half-truth; no Master-Padawan pair had ever stayed so close as they had after Knighthood) and he almost wants to claw his eyes out. Anakin is kneeling on the hard ground, his shoulders are hunched. Obi-Wan has never seen him look so... defeated.

As Obi-Wan nears him, Anakin turns. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks are gaunt, and above all he looks haunted. "Obi?" He says weakly.

Obi-Wan doesn't care about their cover anymore. "Yes, dear one, I'm here."

Anakin shudders, his voice cracking from disuse and the delusions of fear. "I- I wanted to help, I was going to- the Root, Obi, the Root- I'll find it, so they can rest- let them rest, let me rest, please-"

"It's going to be alright, I promise. Just hang on," Obi-Wan whispers, and his younger brother makes an aborted movement, one he guesses was meant to be a nod. Obi-Wan looks up at R2, not able to take anymore of this con.

His and Anakin's lightsabers soar gracefully through the air, and Obi-Wan catches them both. Ignoring the angered roar of the spectators, he pulls with the Force and removes the shock collar, trying not to look too closely at the angry red mark it left on Anakin's neck. When Obi-Wan goes to hand Anakin his lightsaber, his brother flinches, but makes no move to take it. "I don't- I don't want it- I want to rest- I want to rest, like Mom- let the Desert swallow me, Obi, please-"

"Anakin, please just hold on, for me. Sleep, and I will be here when you wake up." Obi-Wan blocks the Zygerrian guards' shots as Anakin closes his eyes, slowly crumpling into a fetal position on the ground. The Jedi Master glances up to the balcony, where Ahsoka is holding the queen, green blade pressed close to her neck.

Obi-Wan grips the two lightsabers (lighsabers that would forever be entwined, just as their souls were. Though Anakin loved Padmé more than anything, with his mother a close second, Obi-Wan was somehow more. He was his other half, and they would be brothers until the end). Blades ignited, he scowls up at the slaver queen. "Your Majesty, I feel it is time for your reign to end."

"Oh?" The queen has the gall to laugh, even with a blade to her throat. "Is this what the Jedi are now, wild beasts that fight wars and threaten royalty?" She's not sending her guards to detain him, not yet. She's waiting for him to move, to break, to fight (fight when Anakin cannot).

Obi-Wan doesn't reply. Instead, he jumps.

He goes for the nearby guards first. Their heads roll onto the ground, cleanly severed. One by one, they fall at the enraged hand of a Jedi- no, this is not the fighting of a Jedi, this is the fighting of a brother, an other half, someone who is seeing red because their sibling has been torn apart. Obi-Wan had felt anger before, but never like this. This is cold, and detached, but it is also hot and painful and so horribly real-

And Obi-Wan is drinking it up, letting it fuel him as he practically flies through the arena.

Rex is taking out the Zygerrian reinforcements, his aim always ringing true. Ahsoka, who now seems to be nearing the Dark path Obi-Wan has started down, has killed the prime minister and is slowly backing away with the queen. Obi-Wan jumps up to them, signing at Rex to meet them outside.

"Get Anakin" He signs to the Captain, who nods once and as gently as possible lifts his General (the clones are much stronger than they look, Obi-Wan has learned) and exits. The Jedi turns to the enslaving, despicable ruler. She smiles cruelly, blood from where she must've bit her tongue starting to coat her teeth. She looks almost primal, exuberant, her eyes flashing with excitement-

She knows Obi-Wan is in pain, and she is reveling in it.

"Kenobi, is it? I must say, I've never seen a Jedi so unhinged. You've surprised me."

"I do like to keep my opponents on their toes," He says roughly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You and I are similar in that fact." She smirks, making Obi-Wan's blood boil. How dare she compare herself to him (him, who had let Anakin be taken, let him be dragged off to Force knows where, to then be thrown in chains-)

Who was he to act so above this slaver? Yes, she had been the one to do this Anakin, but Obi-Wan hadn't helped at all (never mind the fact that he hadn’t known); and doesn't that make him just as guilty? He had been too preoccupied in the mission, the part he had to play.

That always seemed to happen to them. Obi-Wan was always busy with duties, while Anakin spiraled. Obi-Wan never noticed, never helped. His eyes flutter closed, just for a second, and he is met with the image of his sleeping brother, cheeks sunken and face pale. The guilt eats at him, painfully carving out a place in his heart.

The world fades. Obi-Wan lunges. There is a scream.

However, the scream doesn't come from the queen. It comes from Ahsoka.

"Master, no! It's not- you can't-"

"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan whispers, one blade mere breaths from slicing through the queen. "Anakin-"

"-Wouldn't want you to do this," She interjects. They are both aware of the unspoken truth that hangs in the air; Anakin would do it himself, before either of them could even move. "Master, please, she'll be taken back to Coruscant, but we can't do this." She gestures to his ignited lightsabers.

Obi-Wan looks to his weapons, then to Ahsoka, and back again. The blinding anger slowly melts away, leaving an icy-cold feeling in his bones.

The queen glowers. "Master Kenobi, I grow tired of this. Perhaps we can work up an agreement?"

"I will not barter with slavers, you witch," he snaps. He tries to shrug off Ahsoka's wince, knowing she was surprised at his tone. She had never heard her grandmaster so... outraged. Impatient, tired, disappointed, sure- but not this.

This is almost Dark.

The Zygerrian queen chuckles. "How about this: If you agree to my terms, I will let your friends go, no questions asked."

As much as he doesn't want to listen, Obi-Wan is enthralled by the promise of Anakin's safety. "What do you require?"

"Master, you can't-" Obi-Wan shakes his head, and Ahsoka, upset as she is, quiets.

The conversation resumes. "It seems I'm in need of an attendant, if the girl behind me is a fake. Would you be willing to take up the role?" Her tone and word choice are misleading. There is no option, no room to decline- if he tries, she will have them all killed. She is in control of the situation (Obi-Wan certainly isn't, he lost control when Anakin came out in a shock collar- don't think of it- don't- stop- no- ANAKIN-)

"You will let them go?" Obi-Wan asks quietly.

"They will be free," The queen answers, the irony of her words likely not lost on her. How rare it must be for her to let a person go, let alone three and a droid.

The lightsabers hiss as they turn off. Ahsoka looks horrified, and Obi-Wan's stomach churns at his decision. 'But Anakin will be safe,' He thinks to himself.

The queen grins. She has won.

***

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